Ecua-Endurance

I won’t lie to you (or myself) and pretend that I have the same kind of stamina I had in college.  Staying at a bar until closing or pulling an all-nighter sounds completely unappealing to me.  I mean, I am almost 25 here, what can you really expect?  Just when I thought those days were behind me, I moved to Ecuador.  This country has other plans for me.  A few examples of how I need to step up my game to match the Ecua-endurance I have been encountering:

Kiki, myself, and fellow PCV Sarah at our party

The first was a party held at my house here in Galera.  The party was a Despedida/Bienvenida; the “bienvenida” was to welcome me to my new home, and the “despedida” was to say goodbye to the volunteer, Kiki, who I have replaced.  The whole town was invited, and Kiki and I made signs to hang at the bus stop so that everyone would know about it.  The party was advertised to start at 9pm, so that should have been my first clue. People started showing up around 10pm, when the music started.  Drinking commenced, followed by dancing, followed by “dinner” served at 2am, and cake served at 4 am.  The party ended around 6, when the music stopped. Might I add, the people left until the end of the party were not youthful teens and twenty-somes, there were middle-aged parents, grandparents, and kids as well.  I took a two hour nap until I heard the music starting up somewhere else in the neighborhood.

The Mariachi Mujeres of Galera

My second story is about the seemingly benign holiday we had last weekend: Mother’s Day.  Día de las Madres.  In the US, at least for my family, Mother’s Day is fairly quiet.  Taking Mom out to lunch, maybe a movie, giving a small gift or sending flowers… Appreciative but simple.  Surprise! This is not how it’s done in Ecuador.  I had told my host sister who is a member of Galera’s women’s group that I would help the ladies with the town fiesta that was happening.  On Saturday night, I was hanging out my window and talking on the phone (better reception that way!), when my sister, Monica, walked by and invited me to a meeting at 10pm to talk about the festivities.  It was already 9, so obviously I was already showered and in my PJs.  I agreed to go, even though I was already tired, so at 10pm I put jeans on and walked over to the president’s house.  Conveniently, the president of the Junta Parroquial (who is my official counterpart in town) is married to the president of the women’s group.  Talk about a power couple!!  So Monica had me writing down the names of several women in our town and the surrounding towns which belong to our parish, or parroquia (might I also mention that for extra fun, the power went out for about 30 minutes, so I was writing by the light of my phone and moths were dive-bombing at my face and hands).  Meanwhile, the four ladies in attendance changed into mariachi costumes, I assumed to practice for some sort of performance at the fiesta the next day.  Imagine my surprise when, at 11:15, Monica said “¡Vamos Daniela!” (actually, she said “bamo”, on account of that endearing coastal accent) and I asked “¿Vamos… Adónde?”  I have learned that you should ask an Ecuadorian where they are taking you and how long you will be gone; otherwise a “walk on the beach” results in a 3 hour octopus hunt and a very sunburned gringa.  I’m not sure whether they just don’t tell you because they think you won’t understand, or if they assume you already know, or if they believe you don’t have any other plans you need to get back for.  Always better to ask.  So in response to my question, Monica just said “Estero,” and walked down the stairs.  She was referring to Estero del Plátano, another small town about 15 minutes away.  Without further explanation, I was led to my counterpart’s Land Cruiser where he and some of the local guys were installing some huge speakers in the back, connected to some power source which I’m pretty sure was at one time a boat motor, or part thereof.  When the speakers were hooked up, we piled in the car- all 12 of us- and headed out.  I was so tired I started to doze in the front seat, but I was sitting in the lap of a stranger so I tried to keep it together a little bit.  Estero del Plátano came and went, and we were still driving.  I decided not to ask, as it would have absolutely no effect on our destination.  So we drove on, to a town called Quingue.  Quingue has a party reputation; as my host mom

My host mom and sister, one of the mariachis

A lively round of musical chairs!

At the Mother's Day fiesta in Galera

says, they are a bunch of borrachos (drunks).  So when we pulled up to a bar, I wasn’t entirely surprised.  I figured out that the ladies’ mission was to serenade the moms in our parroquia for Mother’s Day, and we were in Quingue to surprise one of their mothers at this bar (Quingue, by the way, is NOT in our parroquia).  So they sang a song, the mom was surprised/moved, and we squeezed back into the car.  Next stop, Estero.  We pulled up in front of a few ladies’ houses outside of town (it’s almost 1am at this time), hook up the speakers to two microphones, and the mariachis woke these poor women up to sing to them.  I thought that was it, we would head back to Galera, and I would sleep. Boy, am I dumb.  We made several more stops in Estero, each time piling out of the car, the ladies sang a song or two, then we piled back into the car (did I mention it was raining?) and drove on to the next stop.  Eventually we made it back to Galera, where we hit up pretty much every woman’s house to do repeat performances. I just tried to imagine how my mom and other mothers I know in the US would have reacted to being awoken in the wee hours to be serenaded.  Maybe I’ll try it for Mother’s Day 2014??  Anyway, we finished around 5am, just as the roosters were cockadoodledoo-ing.  I got to sleep for a few hours before the neighborhood music started up and my host mom was knocking on my door.  I opened up and wished her a happy mother’s day.  Her response: “¿Estás chuchaqui (hungover)?” Nope, just sleepy! She laughed, and told me to head back to the presidents’ house because the ladies needed my assistance in tracing and cutting out 150 foam hearts for the fiesta. They, of course, had been up and bathed and had bathed and fed all of their children.. Where do they find the time?? So I do the hearts, head home for an omelette and a shower, then over to the cancha (soccer field) in the middle of town to start set up for the fiesta.  My host brothers were sitting around drinking while I was eating lunch, and one (who had been in the mariachi entourage the previous night) asked if I had slept yet.  I said “Sí, un poquito.  ¿Y usted?” He said he had not, yet there he was drinking and laughing, not showing any sign of lethargy.. Did I mention that he had spent the whole day before working his construction job? Also he’s in his mid-30s, so obviously I felt like a gigantic wuss right about then.  So I went to the fiesta where all the mothers received a foam heart, courtesy of yours truly, with a number on the back that made them eligible for a raffle.  There was music, dancing, some games, and even snacks! The mariachis performed again (in case anyone was able to sleep through the serenade the night before), and I called it a night around 8pm so that I could talk to my own mother back in the US.  Through the phone, she could clearly hear the music playing out on the cancha.  I can’t tell you what time the party actually ended, but despite the music blaring, I was finally able to fall asleep around 10pm.

And so now I know why it’s nearly impossible to find energy drinks or decent coffee in Ecuador.. the Ecuas don’t need the caffeine! They have some sort of internal mechanism that keeps them from getting tired when there is fun to be had.  When there isn’t fun to be had, you will find the majority of the town sleeping in hammocks.  Moral of the story: Being a well-integrated volunteer requires that I tap into my inner-college freshman and remind myself how to function with sleep deprivation.