Seis Puerqueños

I made a new rule today, one I plan to enforce until after Carnival. It started on Thursday walking home from the passport extension place. We were minding our own business, when WHAM! “OWWWW!” And then it took me a minute to realize I had been hit hard in the back with a waterballoon, not a glass bottle. Good thing we were pretty surprised/shocked, or else some Ecuadorians would have gotten beat by my husband. After the fact it still took him a half hour to calm down. Me about half that time. Waterballoons and eggs are pretty normal occurances here during the 3 days of Carnival, but that isn’t until February… Today I was walking to go teach a self-esteem class, when a driver wearing a scream mask drives by and his 8-year-old attempts to throw a waterballoon at me. He misses because… I am walking to fast? Or because he is 8 or has bad aim. Either way, the new rule is: on all the one way streets in town (which is most) only walk towards traffic, so at least you can see it coming at you. And also, I have decided probably the driver’s side of the street is preferred because less of a chance of thrower on that side. And come February, I will have my tennis racket ready.

The country of Ecuador wants to throw us out before the date on our return tickets in April. We carefully calculated the maximum days allowed, but since we were here in 2006 in December the computer is counting that as days, so we don’t have enough days. We are looking into different ways to get around this (like leaving the country for a bit) but will probably just end up changing our tickets to a week or so earlier. Then to come back within the next year we will have to apply for a visa, which is annoying. But the fine for “illegally residing in Ecuador” is $200 each so I think we will try to avoid that.

Aaron’s parents are coming in a week and a half. We are really excited to see them. We have been thinking of all the really fun and great things we will do when they get here. Also, church changed to 8am this year, something that is awful for me, especially with the “restobar” playing horrible “music” all night long.

I had something else to write about, but I forgot it now.

Last night, Kelsey quite deliberately (and probably only semi-consciously) reached over me, grabbed the edge of the blanket, and wrapped it over herself. Luckily, I’m not so cold-blooded, and we live in a fairly temperate climate.

Today I got the following official looking notice:

This isn’t a one time occurrance. However, it was particularly blatant (or maybe I’m just usually more asleep.) I did notice, however, that it was unsigned, so it is possibly a forgery. Also, the sincerity is edging towards “begrudging.” I’ll take it

So about three or so mornings a week since we have lived in this apartment, we have heard this pressure washer type noise. We thought “hooray city for keeping your streets so clean” but really stop doing that at 6-7am. The other morning they were at it like usual, but then in the afternoon we heard it too. Were they cleaning up after the parade? We finally looked out the window to one of the open courtyard big dwellings below and saw that our powerwasher was actually a floor sander, being used to fix the floor. Hmmm. So they were fixing it up, and someday soon the morning “power washing” would stop! Hooray!

Wrong. The next day they worked late into the night, and the following night the entire night long we heard that machine and saws and all sorts of things until 8am or so. We thought, ok they are on vacation and are trying to get a lot of work done before they start work again. This will all be ok.

WRONG! Two nights ago we heard some “music” coming from the central park. “Man that is awful” “Yeah, I know, what happened to the guys playing the same traditional music over and over?” But it stopped by 10 something so it was ok, and it was just in the park after all, must be post-Christmas pre-New Year celebrationing. They love to party.

STILL WRONG! Last night it started around 9:45 and didn’t stop until? 3? I don’t remember. I just remember wanting to kill someone. We looked out the window and realized our worst nightmare had come true. The remodeled place was finished and is a loud loud dance bar restaurant. And the “music” was worse than the night before. And did I mention how loud it is? Imagine having your own radio on in your room at a pretty good volume. And then add the horrible bass. Aaron just said “that place has to go out of business because no one likes that music. Not even people who like techno, they will think that sucks too.” I hope so.

Just now (which pushed me to finally write this) they started their horrible sounds full blast again. It’s 330 on Sunday afternoon. And because we live in the commercial district there is little we can do. Except throw rocks. Which is something that is becoming more and more desirable by the minute…

Primero Acto:

Waiting. The distant sounds of nuns singing and strumming guitars. Children laughing and playing. Reading “Cows Can’t Jump” and waiting. Sweating in a fuzzy red uniform. The signal. Tucking in my shirt pulled out from too large a belly. Cinching the belt and straightening my mustache as I stride out from behind the corner of the building, shouting “HO HO HO!”

Where are the kids? Here are a few, cowering. One or two shake my hand. “HO HO HO HO HO,” I try again, moonwalking. An older boy comes forward, accuses me of fraud, pokes my belly, pulls my beard, somehow determines both are real. “Ho Ho Ho! Feliz Navidad!” and the children warm to me. Two climb into my arms. One leads me by the hand. The rest of the kids are eating soup. I try some through the cotton beard. “Mmmm, rico!” I am compelled to take a sample from each bowl. I am dragged from room to room to see the babies, the workers, the babies again, back to the kitchen, exclaiming “Ho Ho Ho!” to avoid answering prying questions from the older kids, and inability to answer the adults. A trio of nervous visitors giggles each time I pass through the lobby, being pulled by the robe, the beard, both hands. Workers demand dulces and regales, but I have none, even for the kids. I whisper in Kelsey’s ear that Rudolph is waiting and try to make my escape. I’m followed out the door, and return, submitting to their lead once again. Eventually, I dart out the door, make a change as quick as Clark Kent, and toss the red suit into the rosebushes. I walk back in, breathless, saying I just saw Papa Noel fly away. One boy points to the the window and says “Su ropa,” pointing at the rose bushes.

Segundo Acto:

Waiting again. For an hour this time, in the suit, in a locked room. Doing stretches, making sure my sneakers are properly tied. Another day, another fiesta. Backed against the wall because the windows open on the courtyard where the kids wait too.

Finally, a knock, a turn of the lock, and running to the back entrance. “Ho Ho HO!” again. A hundred times in a parade around the yard. This time ringing a bell in time with the music. Confetti getting in my beard. More waiting, more sweating. I get to hand out bags of treats this time. Where’s the bell? I don’t know. Finally it’s time for a puppet show. I make my exit, my quick change, and then change back for a photo. More waiting. Then a parade. I shook Joseph and Mary’s hand. And several shepherds, and a wiseman, and two angels.

Terco Acto:

Yep, waiting. In a darkened room. Knowing my shoes will give me away this time. Calls for Papa Noel, an entrance, more “Ho Ho Ho’s!” Applause this time. A big bag of treats over my shoulder. Passing them out. Running out, being warned not to run out. Parents and alleged parents begging for my last two treats. Surrendering them bag and all to a responsible looking young woman with chubby cheeks. Pictures with the kids. No dancing or jumping this time. A quick change, because there’s food at the end of the rainbow this time for me. Chicken and salad (have you ever seen a bottom refrigerator drawer full of salad?) and smoked rice, and fresa soda and gravy. And a spill on the floor, help clean it up, and get to the business of eating. Another spill, leave it.

It’s a wonderful life. Only now I have to return the suit, beard and all.

Today we went to our first Christmas party of the season, it was at the baby-5 year old orphanage. It was quite fun, and at the end when Papa Noel came he was a big hit. Well ok, at first all the kids kind of hid behind whatever adult was standing nearest to them, but after a little bit they warmed up. But right away Papa Noel was a hit among the adults and volunteers, with his awesome dance moves. It was really a shame my video camera battery was dead, I will work on finding it from someone else. Eventually Papa Noel was popular with the kids, getting hugs, requests to get picked up, and getting fed soup by the kids. The pictures I really wish I could post are of a 4 1/2 year old boy in Papa Noel’s arms trying to acertain whether or not this is actually Papa Noel. First he looks at his beard, then touches it, then kind of lifts it up. He seems satisfied enough (I have no clue how, it’s a horrible beard) and then proceeds to open up Papa Noel’s jacket to see if there is a pillow inside. When he just sees a red shirt with a fat-looking belly (pillow nicely fit underneath) he seems to be satisfied that this is Papa Noel indeed. Later when Papa Noel had to leave, he and the 7 year old girl who had been hanging off each of his hands had to be restrained. Papa Noel flew away into the night, and they weren’t as excited to see Aaron walk in the door as they normally are.

Here is a picture I am allowed to post because it is my friend Mercedes who works there and her beautiful daughter Carolina. Carolina was probably the only kid not scared at the beginning.

I guess I should add that I would post the other pictures, but it is against Ecuadorian law to put pictures of orphans on websites/internet without written permission of the orphanage director. So you will just have to enjoy this one. I also want you to note the nice nativity they have built in the background, which includes a lot of plastic toy/doll houses. It makes me laugh kind of hard.

Tomorrow we have two more parties, another orphanage and church party. It is rumored that Papa Noel will be visiting both. More pictures to come.

Oh, and here is our awesome tiny tree that cost $3. The star is held on with a bobby pin, hence why it is having some issues.

On Saturday afternoon I went to teach my weekly self-esteem class at the girls orphanage. I couldn’t find my older girls for the class, let alone any girls at all, it was strange. I wondered why the girl who let me in hadn’t said anything… But on my way to search for the girls, I ran into my old friend Diana. She was a girl who lived there back when I was here, she was probably 19 or 20 then. Her mom also lives there in the elderly care unit, although she is not that old. Both Diana and her mom have a disease that none of the doctors here seem to be able to name. But what it does is slowly make you not be able to walk or talk or move much, all the while you still understand everything anyone says to you, and what is going on around you. When I lived here in 2004 Diana was still walking by herself, still understandable, still living with the girls. Diana now lives with the older women, uses a walker, and I have the hardest time understanding her. But she remembers me. She can tell me what day the OSSO girls come. She can tell me most of the colors in English and door and window too. I offer to bring her things to decorate her walker (which she hates) and she is excited. She is still my Diana from before, just a little less able to take care of herself.

And I am heartbroken. I remember spending time with her mom when I was here, how much pain she was in, and how she understood everything, and how scared I was for Diana. And Diana is not there yet, she is still walking, but she is going there. And there is nothing I can do but visit her and sit and hold her hand and try my hardest to understand what she is saying. And that’s all I can do.

It makes me remember, to always be happy with my body. To be happy for the things it can do. To be happy that I can walk, talk, run, jump, stand up, go up and down stairs without any problem at all. It is so easy to get hung up on having a bad hair or face or body day. But what about having a body? What about having hair? How many times do I not stop and be grateful for that? Anyway, I just needed to get that out so I remember.

In less dramatic news, Thursday at OSSO I was helping Lindsey practice Spanish when the Spanish teacher came downstairs from class with the girls. Somehow after talking for a while (and he telling me my Spanish was perfect and me eating it up, not caring how untrue it was) we ended up with an inexpensive flexible teacher for Aaron! Hooray!

Also Aaron is getting excited for his stint as Papa Noel this Friday, both at the orphanage in the morning and church party in the evening.

1. I was thinking today about September when Aaron and I went with my dad and Jama to the Smashing Pumpkins concert. Mostly I was thinking about the part when I kept telling my dad to yell “I love you Billy” because I’m pretty sure he has a man-crush on him. Finally it was pretty quiet and Billy was talking softly to the crowd and I elbowed my dad and said “do it now!” And then he did. And then Billy made a sort of surprised face and turned to a man in one of the rows in front of us an proclaimed “That guy has the rock and roll spirit.” It’s ok dad, we all knew it was you, not that guy.

Later dad thanked me for making him do that, and told us that he would surely need to write about it in his journal. He wanted us to think he was kidding, but we all knew he wasn’t.

(I wasn’t really blogging much then, or else I would have surely written that before)

2. My mom sold my car, so I give her one million cheers for that. I even got her this award:

3. There was something else, but I forgot when I was getting that award for my mom.

I started a new blog today, about heroes. People, not the show.

http://thisweekshero.blogspot.com