Home Sweet Home

I am now officially the new renter of a lovely apartment in Ecuador. Peace Corps policy says that volunteers need to live with a host family for their first three months in sight. Add to that my two months of training and I have been living with host families for five months now. Don't get me wrong I think that the host family policy is fantastic. My host family in site has been incredibly kind and welcoming and living with them offered me a great opportunity to better understand Ecuadorian culture and traditions. However, after five months I am definitely ready to leave the nest. Just being able to sleep in late on the weekends and cook American food for myself will be great.

Also I have found an amazing apartment. It's close to my office, nice and spacious, with sliding glass doors and a balcony, and best of all you can pick fresh oranges from the tree that grows outside my living room window. I'll be moving in August and seeing as the apartment has absolutely no furniture not even a refrigerator or stove the next few weeks will be a veritable shopping spree.

As one of my wiser more veteran volunteer friends told me moving into your own place marks the next stage in Peace Corps service. It will certainly be more lonely and less exciting than the bustle of an Ecuadorian family. However, it also means that I'll have more freedom and that I'm putting down roots in Ecuador. This is my home now. Which is a good feeling to have after five months of floating in and out of other people's homes.

To use one of the few Spanish phrases that everyone seems to know "Mi casa es su casa." Seriously, I have tons of space so if anyone has the desire to come experience the jungle my door is always open and my orange tree has fruit all year long.


My new living room and doors to the balcony.













View from my new bedroom.












My orange tree!

Guess who's coming to dinner

I was sitting at the dinner table the other night when my host mother suddenly screeched and pointed at the wall behind me with a look of terror on her face. I turned my head to see a giant tarantula moseying her way up towards the ceiling. My host mother then told me that this particular type of tarantula can jump several meters and is venomous. At this point I felt it would be a good idea to escape to the other side of the room and hide in the corner behind the refrigerator.

My host dad, possibly the most fearless person I've ever met, took out a broom and killed the unfortunate intruder. He then brought out his reading glasses and a needle intent on spearing and preserving his slightly squished victim. My host mom however wasn't going to stand for a large hairy spider hanging on the wall in her kitchen and insisted he throw it out. Don't worry I made sure he put it in the organic bin.

Unfortunately, I didn't get any photos of our dinner guest but for a little perspective hold out your hand with the fingers spread wide. Now imagine that hand covered in black fur and put fangs on it. That's more or less what the spider looked like.

Never a dull dinner in the Oriente.