Crap. Of course I bought the wrong USB cord for my camera. Regretfully, I cannot post pictures of my new apartment. I'll try and find some shop here that sells the right cord, but they're probably painstakingly expensive so it may take a month or two to save up some money. That said, I'll try and describe this setting as best I can, but be patient. My mind is living in like six different dimensions right now.
At the end of last week I moved into my second-story apartment overlooking the Pichincha mountains. My roommate is a 31-year-old mujer (woman) named Nancy. She works for some non-profit with innumerable branches and is earnestly typing away at some 80-page manuscript at the moment. From what I gather, it's about violence in the homes of indigenous women, and the manuscript will be presented to the local judiciary next week in the hopes of garnering funding for the project she's proposing. I hope one day to know more in detail about who it is she works for, what it is she does and what her paper is really about.
Nancy doesn't speak a word of English, which, in the bigger picture, is of great advantage to me. I must say though that it can be quite frustrating when I can't properly express or explain myself, but I can sense that if the communication barrier wasn't there we'd make good friends. I chose the challenge in hopes of greatly improving my Spanish, so I will gracefully accept the hardship that comes along with that decision. At least she is patient with my lack of vocabulary, though she already asks me repeatedly when I start taking Spanish classes and how many times a week I will be taking them.
On Saturday she took me to the market. While waiting for the bus, I wondered how on earth someone could identify and differentiate which bus travels where-there are more signs on the dashboards than there are fruit carts in the entire city. I also wondered how the bus driver would know we were waiting, since we weren't standing near any post. Nancy simply said, "It's easier from right here, I'll show you." Next I knew she was hopping onto a moving bus, motioning me to follow. I didn't have time to think twice. I reached for whichever bar was nearest and hoisted myself up. I'm pretty sure my eyes were closed-at least that's what my memory registered. Once we were safe and seated, she launched her jokes about my novice skills. If she didn't have such a contagious laugh I might have felt a little self-conscious--but hey, I get to play the newbie card for little awhile.
Oh, and I guess there's some small sign on the lower-left corner of the dashboard that states where the bus will end up. Shit.
Perhaps because they are an integral part of my daily routine, or perhaps because they simply scare the shit out of me; buses here are constantly on my mind. For now at least.
Last Friday, I hopped what amounted to three different buses to get to work. Not because that's how many buses are required to get me there, but honestly I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I got to work late, but I guess I got a great tour of the city.
Beyond that, the buses here take some getting used to. No matter the hour of the day, or the direction one wishes to travel, the buses are guaranteed to be packed-to-the-brim, and just by boarding it does not ensure your right to breathe properly or to escape once you reach your stop. No, once you get on and grab a stake you claim your territory-and you don't give in to the pushes. If you do give in, you'll be securely locked-in from 360 angles, and you can forget about making it to the doorway in time. Riding this form of transport takes skill, of which I have not yet fully developed. I look around and see all the women clutching their handbags; men with wandering eyes. I wish I didn't have to be gender-specific, but that shit is all-too-apparent here; machismo in its highest form of power. Nancy told me not to be afraid to yell "Eres idiota" at any muchacho who makes a pass at me on the bus.
Though buses will take time, I feel l like I may finally be adjusting. I again feel comfortable being alone with my thoughts for the majority of the day, and I've gotten the grip on myself that will be required in order to turn this city into a temporary home. Everything does still feel quite foreign, though.
When adjusting to a new place, the challenges are infinite, but they're nothing a good sense of humor and self-assuredness can't overcome. So I guess those are the two aspects of my personality I will rely on and strengthen during the upcoming weeks.
I managed to take a couple pictures of my room with my computer (backwards):
At the end of last week I moved into my second-story apartment overlooking the Pichincha mountains. My roommate is a 31-year-old mujer (woman) named Nancy. She works for some non-profit with innumerable branches and is earnestly typing away at some 80-page manuscript at the moment. From what I gather, it's about violence in the homes of indigenous women, and the manuscript will be presented to the local judiciary next week in the hopes of garnering funding for the project she's proposing. I hope one day to know more in detail about who it is she works for, what it is she does and what her paper is really about.
Nancy doesn't speak a word of English, which, in the bigger picture, is of great advantage to me. I must say though that it can be quite frustrating when I can't properly express or explain myself, but I can sense that if the communication barrier wasn't there we'd make good friends. I chose the challenge in hopes of greatly improving my Spanish, so I will gracefully accept the hardship that comes along with that decision. At least she is patient with my lack of vocabulary, though she already asks me repeatedly when I start taking Spanish classes and how many times a week I will be taking them.
On Saturday she took me to the market. While waiting for the bus, I wondered how on earth someone could identify and differentiate which bus travels where-there are more signs on the dashboards than there are fruit carts in the entire city. I also wondered how the bus driver would know we were waiting, since we weren't standing near any post. Nancy simply said, "It's easier from right here, I'll show you." Next I knew she was hopping onto a moving bus, motioning me to follow. I didn't have time to think twice. I reached for whichever bar was nearest and hoisted myself up. I'm pretty sure my eyes were closed-at least that's what my memory registered. Once we were safe and seated, she launched her jokes about my novice skills. If she didn't have such a contagious laugh I might have felt a little self-conscious--but hey, I get to play the newbie card for little awhile.
Oh, and I guess there's some small sign on the lower-left corner of the dashboard that states where the bus will end up. Shit.
Perhaps because they are an integral part of my daily routine, or perhaps because they simply scare the shit out of me; buses here are constantly on my mind. For now at least.
Last Friday, I hopped what amounted to three different buses to get to work. Not because that's how many buses are required to get me there, but honestly I had no idea what the hell I was doing. I got to work late, but I guess I got a great tour of the city.
Beyond that, the buses here take some getting used to. No matter the hour of the day, or the direction one wishes to travel, the buses are guaranteed to be packed-to-the-brim, and just by boarding it does not ensure your right to breathe properly or to escape once you reach your stop. No, once you get on and grab a stake you claim your territory-and you don't give in to the pushes. If you do give in, you'll be securely locked-in from 360 angles, and you can forget about making it to the doorway in time. Riding this form of transport takes skill, of which I have not yet fully developed. I look around and see all the women clutching their handbags; men with wandering eyes. I wish I didn't have to be gender-specific, but that shit is all-too-apparent here; machismo in its highest form of power. Nancy told me not to be afraid to yell "Eres idiota" at any muchacho who makes a pass at me on the bus.
Though buses will take time, I feel l like I may finally be adjusting. I again feel comfortable being alone with my thoughts for the majority of the day, and I've gotten the grip on myself that will be required in order to turn this city into a temporary home. Everything does still feel quite foreign, though.
When adjusting to a new place, the challenges are infinite, but they're nothing a good sense of humor and self-assuredness can't overcome. So I guess those are the two aspects of my personality I will rely on and strengthen during the upcoming weeks.
I managed to take a couple pictures of my room with my computer (backwards):
Hey Niece-y
ReplyDeleteI’m tuned in and glad to see you’re adjusting to your new environment. Looking forward to reading all about your latest adventures and the characters you meet along your way.
Have fun, stay safe and watch out for all the muchachos!
"The happiest people don't necessarily have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything they have"
ps- it only took about 12 hours to figure out how to comment!