OMG PLANTAINS!!! And other awesomely Ecuadorian things

In addition to cebiche y su mercado artisanal, Guayaquil is known for its iguanas. An extremely resilient species, iguanas can thrive in a variety of climates, and those that inhabit Ecuador are particularly suited to the equatorial environment de aqui. As is the case for all cold-blooded animals, the body temperature of the iguana depends upon exterior climate conditions; thus the outside world determines how the iguana will behave. That is what it means to adapt—like the iguana, I have learned to take Guayaquil’s unfamiliar cultural climate as the standard to which I adjust my own behaviour.

Here are some of my favorite things about Ecuador that, when taken as the norm (as they have to be), have forced me to reevaluate my North American way of looking at the world:

You have to throw the toilet paper into the trash and not the toilet. This makes you much more conscious of your toilet paper usage, for example I use exactly three squares each time (MATCH THAT). In public bathrooms, there is one toilet paper dispenser on the wall and you have to get it before you go into the stall. Or if you are unlucky there is no toilet paper. And there is never any soap.

No one recycles :o( This is the one thing that makes me sad.

When you are eating, it is not rude to reach way across the table, and if you are eating with a lot of people, then it is more likely that you would even get up and go to the other part of the table where the food is instead of just asking someone to pass it. It is also apparently fine to poke around in a dish with your fork in order to decide which piece of whatever it is that you are going to stab and put on your plate. Lunch is the big meal of the day—the first day when we were eating lunch I was like oh man, if this is lunch, I can’t wait for dinner! But then dinner turned out just to be a sanduche. They think this is more saludable because you don’t go to sleep on a full stomach, except that OMG the food is so good sometimes I do anyway.

It is very impolite not to greet someone fully with a kiss on the cheek (yes, this is indeed a phenomenon that some of the young gentlemen try to take advantage of). If you are sitting and someone comes in, you need to get up and walk over to them to go greet them properly, and if you come into a room where there is a full table, you are expected to walk all the way around the table and kiss every person. Also letting other people go through doors before you is a huge deal. I have yet to convince a man that it is okay for him to walk out the door before me, much less to go through one that I am holding open for him.

When you want to take a taxi, you first poke your head in the open window of the passenger seat and ask them if they are going in that direction, and only if they say yes do you get in the back. (Except that foreigners should never take yellow taxis! See below).

Also everyone drives like complete psychos and there are few rules and those that do exist are more like guidelines, anyway. Literal guidelines (like to divide lanes) do not exist in the street and everyone drives ridiculously close to one another. One-way street means that you should feel free to drive in either direction, and I was told explicity that red lights should actually be considered stop signs. Plus, the traffic lights frequently do not work and people just do whatever they want anyway. Things would be so much more difficult if everyone had to drive stick…Oh wait.
The second that a light turns green, every car behind the first one honks impatiently, but every time that I have been in the first-in-line car, the driver takes advantage of the stop to delve more deeply into conversation and look me earnestly in the eye, completely unconcerned with the light. Hilarious.
The pedestrians are as insane as the drivers, if not more so, and will run out into the street in a way that I would not even do in the US where I have more confidence in the drivers. During red lights in high traffic zones (where the lights are more or less obeyed), everyone will cross the street, weaving in between the tightly packed cars. There are also vendors, beggars, and thieves who run into the street, taking advantage of the fact that none of the cars can move in order to try to sell their wares and take your money voluntarily or by force. You are most likely to be robbed in your car in these high-traffic situations, which means during the late afternoon rush hour, in broad daylight in front of all of the other people here (like last week when my boss had her Blackberry stolen while driving home from work!).

On a similar note, getting robbed is pretty much a constant possibility to which you accustom yourself. If you are robbed it will be at knife or gunpoint, a fact that has ceased to instill terror in me because basically you know that if you just give them your stuff then they will leave and not try to harm you in other ways, so in the end, it doesn’t seem like that big of a deal, really.

They have this thing called ‘Ecuadorian hour,’ meaning that if someone invites you to do something at a particular time, it will not happen until about an hour thereafter. It's about time I learned to chill out.


Unlike the iguanas, I find myself less adapted in the morning than I had been the night before. The little things you barely perceive—you do perceive them, but at first it is difficult to pinpoint exactly what they are and what it is that is different—to which you had accustombrado yourself before falling asleep are upon awaking again novel and unexpected and unfamiliar, likewise the language, with which you had become somewhat at ease the night before, is again uncomfortable and your tongue clumsy.

It is strange to realize that each day you have to start the process over, to find that each night, you have adapted a little more, but each morning, you are a little less adjusted than you had been the night before. And even though everything is still a little unfamiliar, one of these days I too, will be green and scaly and fluent in Spanish, basking contentedly in the Ecuadorian sun.

Campus Safety Alert...Except Real

Warden Message
Taxi Kidnappings and Crime in Coastal Ecuador

June 11, 2010

The U.S. Embassy in Quito and U.S. Consulate General in Guayaquil wish to remind U.S. citizens traveling to and living in coastal Ecuador of ongoing safety and security concerns related to taxi kidnappings in the cities of Guayaquil and Manta.

The U.S. Government continues to receive an alarming number of reports of U.S. citizens who are kidnapped and robbed in taxis in Guayaquil and Manta, incidents known locally as "secuestro express," or "express kidnappings." Taxi kidnappings have also been reported in Machala, Playas, and other coastal towns.

Typically, U.S. citizen travelers become victims of "secuestro express" after hailing a taxi cab on the street. Shortly after entering a taxi, the vehicle is intercepted by armed accomplices of the taxi driver, who is normally complicit with the crime. The accomplices enter the vehicle, threaten passengers with weapons (typically guns and/or knives), rob passengers of their personal belongings, and then drive to various ATMs to withdraw money using the victims' debit cards. In some instances, victims of "secuestro express" have faced physical violence and/or have been sexually assaulted.

"Express kidnappings" have occurred even in the more affluent areas of Guayaquil, and target both local citizens and international visitors. Incidents involving U.S. citizens are most frequently reported at the north end of the Malecón 2000 near Las Peñas, outside of the San Marino Mall, and in the Urdesa restaurant/bar district, but have been reported in all areas of the city.

Due to the seriousness of this crime, all personnel working for the U.S. Diplomatic Mission in Guayaquil have been prohibited from riding in taxis hailed off the street, even yellow taxis. Yellow taxis, local buses, and other forms of public transportation are expressly off-limits to U.S. diplomatic personnel in Guayaquil. As an alternative, employees have been told to use their personal vehicles, or to call one of the vetted taxi services available on the U.S. Consulate General's website: http://guayaquil.usconsulate.gov

It is vital that U.S. citizens understand the risks associated with using taxis in Guayaquil, how best to avoid dangerous situations, and who to contact if one becomes a victim of crime. U.S. citizens are urged not to hail taxis on the street, and to exercise caution when selecting a taxi in all areas of Guayaquil, regardless of location and/or time of day. We strongly encourage U.S. citizens in the Guayaquil area to use only vetted, radio-dispatched taxis, such as those listed on the U.S. Consulate General's website.

If you find yourself involved in a taxi kidnapping and/or robbery, it is best to be non-confrontational and cooperate with the perpetrator. Nothing material is as valuable as your life. Following a criminal incident, U.S. citizens are encouraged to file a "denuncia," or "police report," with the local police and to inform the American Citizens Services Office at the U.S. Consulate General in Guayaquil.

* * *

Americans living or traveling in Ecuador are encouraged to register with the nearest U.S. Embassy or Consulate through the State Department's travel registration website https://travelregistration.state.gov , and to obtain updated information on travel and security within Ecuador.

Americans without Internet access may register directly with the nearest U.S. Embassy or Consulate. By registering, American citizens make it easier for the Embassy or Consulate to contact them in case of emergency. Please see the following links for local Warden Message information in Quito and Guayaquil, respectively: http://ecuador.usembassy.gov/ and http://guayaquil.usconsulate.gov/.

U.S. citizens should consult the Country Specific Information for Ecuador and the latest Travel Alerts and Warnings and Worldwide Caution at the Department's web site at http://travel.state.gov. Updated information on travel and security in Ecuador may also be obtained from the Department of State by calling 1-888-407-4747 within the United States or by calling 1-202-501-4444 outside the United States.

The U.S. Consulate General in Guayaquil is located at the corner of Avenida 9 de Octubre and Garcia Moreno (near the Hotel Oro Verde); telephone (011-593-4)232-3570 during business hours (8:00 a.m. to 5:00 p.m.) or 232-1152 for after-hours emergencies; fax (011-593-4)232-0904. See the Consulate General web site at http://guayaquil.usconsulate.gov/.

The U.S. Embassy in Quito is located at Avigiras E12-170 y Eloy Alfaro. The hours and telephone number for American Citizen Service enquiries is (011) 593-2-398-5000. Within the same city use the last seven digits. Add the city code for intercity telephone calls. Public call-in hours are Monday through Thursday 8:00 to 10:00 a.m. and Friday 10:00 to 11:00 a.m. Appointments for passports, Consular Reports of Birth Abroad (CRBAs) or Notaries can be scheduled through the Embassy Web site: http://ecuador.usembassy.gov. Appointment times for passports and Consular Reports of Birth Abroad (CRBAs) and are between 1:30 p.m. and 3:30 p.m., Monday through Thursday, excluding U.S. and Ecuadorian holidays. Appointment times for Notary services are Monday and Thursday from 1:30 to 3:30 pm. Appointments times for Immigrant Visas are Tuesday and Thursday from 3:00 to 4:00 pm and should be scheduled through the Call Center at 1-800-010-145. No appointment is required for adoptions and re-entry permits. Walk-ins are welcome Monday through Thursday between 1:30 p.m. and 3:30 p.m. Walk-ins for Federal Benefits are accepted Tuesday and Wednesday between 1:30 and 3:30 p.m. Walk-ins for reports of death, to pick up passports or CRBAs or for emergencies are accepted Monday through Thursday between 1:30 and 3:30 p.m.


This email is UNCLASSIFIED

Cinco Segundos

With reference to the guest conductor who is currently present at the Orquestra, one of the trombonistas summarizes the relationship between conductor and orquestra así: beginning the moment that the conductor steps onto the podium, tiene cinco segundos, nada más, to win over the orquestra or to lose them forever. Five seconds in which to seal your fate, and then it’s over. Para siempre.

And so, not 24 hours after I had been asked to do so, having turned down invitations to do cool Friday night things like ir al bar or asistir karaoke night at a local restaurant in favor of sitting alone in my room staring apprehensively at the baton and 82 pages of score that had just been placed in my hands and listening a thousand times to a hundred versions of Mozart’s Serenata Notturna that were not enough to make me feel prepared for the upcoming occasion, unsettled by a sleepless night and an emotionally draining morning (during which each person upon whom I had depended to drive me suddenly became indisposed, taunting me with the simultaneously relieving and immensely frustrating posibilidad that I would not even have to do it), and además an hour late, I stepped in front of the orquestra de cámara, ready for the moment (or five, as it were), of truth.

Though I look forward each morning to the Orquestra’s rehearsal, where I can forget about the effort that it takes simply to exist in my nonnative language, where I do not have to try in order to understand the music, the demonstrative singing, and cualquier otra non-lingual communication, my own first rehearsal no fue un relief así. No less frustrating than mis tentativas inútiles to communicate through singing was each attempt to speak to the orquestra, thwarted time and again by my utter lack of Spanish musical vocabulary.

Referring to most basic and necessary things suddenly became a huge ordeal—knowing how to say “eighth” and how to say “note” does not get you very far when what they call them, corcheas, actually means quaver. QUAVER. Why would I know how to say quaver? Or even that that is what I am supposed to say?

But at least maybe once you know how to say one note value, you can refer to all of the other ones in terms of their metrical relationship to that one—dream on, Maestra. Because while that is the case for semicorcheas (sixteenth notes), not so for negras (black)—quarter notes, blancas (white)—half notes, y redondas (round)—whole notes. ROUND! Alright, note, it is not too difficult to be ROUND when you are a CIRCLE.

And then try to name the notes when you are used to using the alphabet, but it turns out that they prefer to use fixed solfège (where C is always Do). So aside from the fact that oh, hello, I don’t read viola clef—alto clef? I mean C clef. Except not actually, because THEY DON’T SAY C, okay yeah, la clave de do in tercera línea, that’s the one—that problemita notwithstanding, I cannot look at a score and, without thinking, tell the orquestra that they need to enfatizar la línea “fa mi re.” Drop of golden sun, anyone?

Those were the struggles that I confronted in the part of musical nomenclature that I had not even realized was metaphoric (I learned that you cannot discuss music at all but through a complex system of metaphors—however you refer to the notes on the page, in the end they are themselves only symbols); the metaphors that we use consciously to describe the manner in which something is played (heavy, light, give it body, presencia, cosas así), are here completely distinct from those to which I am accustomed. Por ejemplo, to tell los músicos not to ‘rush’ you say instead ‘correr’ (run)—this needs to happen frequently as the nine million second violins are always in a hurry (they are second for a reason and Dios mío there are so many of them).

There were other things too—I felt stupid knowing only one way to say ‘again,’ and God only knows what improper tenses I used conjugando commands and trying to tell people that they were supposed to be doing something (subjuntivo, you kill me).

And while in English we just atrociously pronounce all of the words as they are written in Italian (or occasionally German or French), here instead they prefer to translate everything into Spanish, so that if you tell them to play more forte they will pretend that they don’t know what you are talking about until you ask them to do it ‘fuerte.’ Or when you tell them that you play the piano they will ask you to play “Para Elisa” and you will be extremely confused since you do not recall having met anyone named Elisa, until finally you realize that they are talking about Für Elise.

But in the end, lo más importante is that you get up and do it. And you start to realize that their expectant looks maybe do not indicate that they are expecting you to suck, but instead that they think it is their job to look expectantly a la directora, awaiting her instructions (Band, take note). And that maybe, even though you know that you are young and inexperienced and that no one has ever taken you this seriously before, you should just believe them when they trust that you can do it—and then when they treat you like an actual musician, who has earned their respect and their high expectations, you will not be afraid—Because you can.

Even if it takes six seconds.

Afuera del Comfort Zone

In the midst of an unfamiliar park in an unfamiliar city, speaking an unfamiliar language with a woman that I have known for maybe an hour, hay un lugar que será siempre familiar—the concert hall.

On the first step of the foreboding staircase, I can already perceive the scent of the orquestra—the characteristic oily, metallic smell of the brass, and the resinous, woody odor of the strings. And the rough sounds of a rehearsing ensemble are all too close to my heart: the jolting start and stop of each few measures at a time, the music overlaid with the conductor’s impassioned commands—Tenuto! Attención aqui! Crescendo…

I am fascinated to watch each rehearsal, Maestro Jorge apparently unaware of the baton that exists in his hands only incidentally, but which is siempre natural and very graceful, with bastante control. Sometimes, as though it were too cumbersome or somehow inhibited la libertad y movimento de su expresión, he seamlessly transfers the baton from his right to his left, which wields it equally naturally and dexterously.

Y estoy demasiado acostumbrada también a las tendencías de los músicos, who well know that the conductor can see their cell phones on the stands behind which they are only half-heartedly concealed, who deliberately stare into their scores at the most exciting places of the music in order to play through the conductors cut-off, and whose vocal and instrumental chatter unfailingly emerges from each break in the music. Just as well I understand the feeling as the conductor (a guest director from Honduras, porque Maestro David está en Mexico para unos días) succumbs to the perilous and futile temptation to use the baton as a percussive device in an inevitably ineffective attempt to bend the orchestra more forcefully to his will.

There are other parts of the rehearsal to which I am less accustomed, like the possibilities that are all of the sudden available to the conductor when the musicians know their parts cold, y toman en cuenta their dynamic markings as though they were as important as the notes themselves. Además, when each musician recognizes his identity not as that of an individual, but as belonging to part of a group, ‘balance’ pertenece not only to la relación entre los miembros de la orquestra, but more profoundly to the equilibrium that each individual musician strives to achieve, giving his sound as much presence as possible just short of the point at which it would take precedence over the sound of the orquestra as a whole, to which it is always secondary and of which it is always above all a part. And when every instrumentalist toque así, the result is magic.

Llena each measure de sonidos, movimientos, y eventos musicales. There are not many things to which I can be attentive for a three-hour period, but to these rehearsals I am. The music makes you smile, makes you dance, makes you part of something when you would otherwise be alone: con la orquestra pertenesco—this is why I’m here.