Aqui No Hay Gringos

For your reading pleasure I present a special guest blog written by my dad who recently came down with my step mom to visited me here in Ecuador...

So if you are a Norte Americano (gringo/gringa, race is actually not important) who has traveled in Ecuador outside of Quito, you may skip this blog entry. You already know about the God belief inducing scenery of the Andean mountains and the Amazon jungle, the long dusty gut sickening bus rides, the seemingly poor but self sufficient indigenous people, the total lack of central heat and the gently relentless entrepreneurial spirit where one can buy anything from nail clippers to a live guinea pig on the street. This morning we passed a Quichua girl carrying a live chicken in a bucket, lending new meaning to the term "bucket of chicken." You have already seen four feet tall women the color of good coffee, their necks wrapped in tiny gold beads, carrying huge bags of Alpaca shawls and scarves with a leather forehead strap. You have stayed in hotels that cost $15 American with fantastic courtyard gardens filled with white and yellow calla lillies, hand painted frescos on walls and celings, and mattresses hard enough to grind corn on. You know about the Parque Condor where the endangered carrion eating birds with the ten foot wingspans are rescued from extinction by a few dedicated Ecuadorians. You know about the incredible open air market in Otavalo where we spent the day shopping row after row of wool and leather goods, tiny paintings and strange to me fruits and vegetables never seen in El Norte. You are familiar with scruffy street dogs who turn up their noses at my wife´s offering of fresh bread to tear open a bag of garbage and chow down with tooth and paw.

What you may not have noticed here, however, was that almost all gringos and gringas are, like ghosts or certain same-gender species of insects, invisible to each other. You can be walking down a very narrow sidewalk populated by numerous locals, any one of whom will say buenos dias, but when you encounter a gringo (easily identified by the fact that they are usually at least a foot and a half taller than everyone else and wearing adventure clothing worth roughly one year´s earnings for the average Ecuadorian. They almost never say "hello" or even make eye contact. Are they afraid of being caught 3000 miles from home, as if this were some sort of international crime? Do they not wish to be reminded that they are rich, and possibly rude as well? Some sort of reverse comeraderie is at work here and it baffles me. I want to scream "It´s OK, at least you´re not on a cruise ship". But of course they are already gone at warp speed in their perfectly broken-in Merrills.

The Secret to Integration...Stop Caring So Much

I was recently told by a friend "Katy, your blog sucks. It is totally not pulling its weight on my
bookmarks toolbar." In an effort to remedy this and retain my position of influence on bookmark toolbars around the globe here is a brand new and hopefully unsucky post.

Life in the jungle is good. Filled most recently with a lot of interesting projects at work and a wonderful visit from my mom and our friend Jessie. Having them here and watching their reactions to all the little oddities and inconveniences of life in Ecuador got me thinking about culture shock.

I suppose for many people coming from America straight to Ecuador the culture shock is more disconcerting and bizarre than a meflaquin dream. However, I have been here a full year now and for better or for worse I've grown accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of my temporary home. Things that once drove me into fits of frustration or panic like 10 hr bus rides without a bathroom break, plagues of giant insects, and the cat calls of teenage boys marinated in cheap cologne no longer even register.

There are all sorts of theories and studies on coping with culture shock. It's a favorite topic of tedious workshops at international job trainings everywhere. But I can confidently say that I have found the true solution to culture shock and integration. The answer is not in exchanges of international values or language immersion or analyzing your inner western biases. The key is to just stop caring so much and give into plain old acceptance. Accepting that as strange or annoying or frightening as this may be it is simply the way things are.

Maybe there are deep religious, social, and economic roots behind every cultural quirk and I should be more understanding and contemplative but that won't persuade the guys on the corner to stop shouting "I love you baby" or make anyone show up to a meeting on time or even stop the bus driver from simultaneously chatting with his girlfriend and eating a papipollo while careening around the sharp curves of Andean roads. So I may as well just order my own papipollo with extra mayonnaise sit back and enjoy the ride.



Mom getting ready to eat her first truly Ecuadorian meal. Ayampaco...yum



I am really happy here because no one died (or was even seriously maimed) on our jungle hike.



Drinking Guayusa. The saying goes that anyone who drinks this tea in Macas will never leave. They seemed more frightened than enchanted by that idea.

Muy ocupada...mas o menos

I have to apologize for not writing in ages and ages. So much for keeping all my friends and family back home updated on my life here. In my defense the less I write the busier I am so things are going well.

Work is finally starting to pick up. I have two ecoclubs running at the grade school and the high school in town. Imagine a youth group that does a combination of outdoor trips and environmental volunteer projects. The kids are incredibly energetic and excited which is great.

Ecoclub kids on outings to hot springs and the river.




I also just got approving for funding for three school gardens to improve nutrition and teach some basic environmental education concepts like soil conservation and organic agriculture. This should be interesting considering the basil plant on my balcony lasted exactly two weeks. I was able to keep the rosemary plant alive for a month. We won't even begin to discuss the turkeys...

I am hoping to get a bigger project rolling soon as well. If all goes well I'll get a grant in the next few months to spearhead a sustainable cattle ranching project. As much as I am sure you all want to hear the fascinating details about higher protein grass species and nitrogen fixing trees I'll just summarize to say that hopefully with some simple changes to local cattle ranching practices we can seriously slow down deforestation rates in the region. Told you I would save the Amazon!

Other than work I've spent a lot of time the last few months hanging out with my new Peace Corps friends celebrating American holidays.

Happy Turkey Day!
Merry Christmas (jungle style)



And killing a ridiculous list of jungle creatures that seem to find their way into my apartment including approximately 5,672 moths, 46 grasshoppers, 15 beetles, 1 bat, 1 snake and an army of rats (still working on this one).

My bloodied floor in the aftermath of the snake battle. I won.

Bullfighting Ecuadorian Style

You know the classic image of a bullfight? Some Spanish man in tight sparkly leggings with a funny little hat that looks a bit like mickey mouse ears dancing artfully around an enraged bull waving a red cape. An Ecuadorian bull fight is absolutely nothing like that. It's way way better.

Instead of the one master of the bulls who has spent years training and studying the art of an ancient ritual you have a dozen regular working joes ready to face death against a bull pulled straight from someone's field and shoved into a makeshift ring surrounded by cheering fans.

These country farmers turned bullfighters boost their courage by drinking lots and lots of alcohol. Once they are too drunk to be afraid of the bull anymore they all pile into the ring and start taunting. There are no swords and no red capes just a crowd of drunken men trying every trick they can to irritate the bull into charging and then desperately trying not to get gored.

It is both incredibly dangerous and really really hilarious.

I had the chance to witness this spectacle on a recent trip to the northern sierra and it is officially my new favorite public sporting event.


This guy is trying really hard to get away.

Worth a thousand words

Just a short post with some photos.

I do a lot of baking in my new apartment. In part because I have so much free time and in part because a lot of delicious things that are easy to buy in the states like bagels or wheat bread are harder to find here. This is from the day I made cinnamon rolls for a river picnic.

Ecuadorians are in absolute awe of baked goods. Even something as simple as chocolate chip cookies amazes them and I've found that giving out baked goods to my neighbors and coworkers is a good way to be instantly liked.


My apartment has a small gap between one of the walls and the ceiling. It's nothing too noticeable and isn't really big enough for any creatures to get in except for moths. Every night dozens of moths flock to the glow of my living room light bulb. Usually I squish them without mercy but this one landed on my fridge and was so pretty I decided to spare it's life and take a photo instead.
A bird's eye view of my town.

Would you like a side of hypocrisy to go with that idealism?

As a natural resource conservation volunteer I have to deal with an extra challenge that doesn't quite apply to other Peace Corps volunteers. There is a certain element of irony (to put it nicely) in me as an American doing environmental conservation work in Ecuador. Essentially, I flew 3,000 miles from a country that has the world's highest rates of wasteful consumerism and environmental degradation to a place where most people don't own cars or washing machines to teach them about saving the environment.

I thought a lot about the ridiculousness of this situation before deciding to join the Peace Corps. I was worried that Ecuadorians would immediately see through my "do as I say and not as I do" message and not take me seriously. Luckily, this hasn't been the case. Most of the Ecuadorians I've worked with have been incredibly welcoming, eager to collaborate, and passionate about environmental issues. In fact as a whole Ecuadorians are far more cooperative and open to environmentalism than the Americans I talked to while working on global warming issues in Chicago.

However, yesterday giving a workshop on environmental education to teachers at a local high school I finally had my hypocritical skeleton pulled out of the closet. After the workshop finished I was talking to a science teacher about international environmental issues when he asked me, "Why hasn't the United States done anything to establish better control of the large industries that are causing global warming?" I explained that it was a very complicated political and economic issue and that while many Americans are in favor of more regulations other people don't believe that global warming is real or that it should be the American government's job to stop it. To which he logically replied, "Well then why aren't you in your own country changing their attitude about the environment?"

Yikes. That's a stumper. I told him that I fully intend to return to America after two years and do just that but for now I wanted to learn more about Ecuador and the environmental issues here. He seemed satisfied enough with my lame response. But I kept thinking about his question all day.

"Why wasn't I fighting the battle for the environment in my own country?” The United States certainly has more power to address the biggest international environmental challenges than Ecuador does. On the one hand my decision to come to Ecuador was purely selfish. I wanted to travel, to see the incredible beauty of the Andes and the Amazon. Also, I must admit the work I get to do here is a lot more gratifying and interesting. In America I would be lost in the labyrinth of political tension, money, and public apathy that is environmental advocacy. I might feel eventually that I had contributed some small piece to the passing of a new progressive law but overall it’s a battle that requires huge efforts for very slow results. In Ecuador I get to see the tangible and immediate impact of my work. I can see how many schools implement new environmental education programs, how many farmers begin experimenting with organic agriculture, and how many acres of land are reforested because of my efforts. Too often environmental activism in America feels like just words here in Ecuador it’s all about action.

I also know that I will eventually be a much more effective environmentalist because of my time spent in Ecuador. I have seen first hand a different way of living that uses less resources and produces less waste and I will bring that back to America. The chance to see a different perspective on the world and its future has forever changed my outlook on what exactly I am fighting for as an environmentalist. When I go back to America and enter once again into that labyrinth of politics, money, and apathy I will know for certain that the world is a lot bigger than the Senator who doesn’t believe in global warming or the thousands of Americans who think the pollution of today can be dealt with by the generations of tomorrow. When that labyrinth seems impossible to untangle what I have learned in Ecuador will give me hope.

The Shuar

One of my favorite things about living in the jungle is the opportunity to experience the incredible variety of indigenous amazonian cultures. The largest indigenous group in my region of the country are the Shuar and the more I learn about their history and traditions the more fascinated I become with this unique people.

The Shuar are probably best known in the Western world for the practice of making tzantza or shrunken heads. The tzantza were once a sacred ritual used to preserve the heads of particularly fierce enemy warriors slain in battle. The Shuar believed that this process trapped the soul of the warrior for ritual use by the tzantza owner.

The Shuar were remarkably good at resisting foreign rule and it wasn't until the late 19th century that outsiders established strong trade relationships with the Shuar and the mid 20th century that missionaries finally brought the true invasion of the outside world. The foreigners were fascinated by the tzantza practice and offered huge economic incentives for what they assumed were morbid war trophies. As a result warfare between the Shuar and nearby indigenous groups increased dramatically as warriors sought new heads to be sold to Western museums and collectors.

However, the Shuar are far more complex than the fantastical stories of spear wielding head hunters that visiting traders returned home with. They have an ancient spiritual tradition closely tied to the natural world that they live in.

Today the Shuar people and other indigenous amazonian groups face a new and much more dangerous threat from the outside world. Their ancestral lands sit on top of vast deposits of priceless minerals and oil. Since the early 20th century the Shuar have struggled with the invasion of national and international forces seeking to exploit these valuable resources. It's a complicated struggle that I am still trying to understand it within the tangled context of local and international environmental politics but it is a fascinating drama to see played out first hand.

The future of the Shuar lands is uncertain. For now I feel very privileged to have the chance to better understand this culture that seems so far removed from the outside world and yet has been profoundly impacted by it.





















This little girl is wearing traditional Shuar dress.














Shuar crafts at a local artisan fair.
















Mukindi a traditional Shuar dish of grilled giant beetle larva. I tried eating one. It's not so bad (as long as you chase it with a beer).