The Kids Are Alright...

This past Monday I started my volunteer work at CDI San Francisco.  I was originally told that I would be working with older kids, helping them with their school work, etc..  However, the good people at Simon Bolivar decided that either a) more help was needed in the daycare center and/or b) my Spanish skills are that of a 3-4 year-old and, therefore, my services would be best utilized with the younger children.  No matter the reason, I arrived that afternoon ready for an afternoon full of nose-picking and finger painting. 

I was amazed at how quickly the kids warmed up to me.  After about 5 minutes of bewilderment, it was like I had always been there.  By the end of the day, they were calling me ¨Tia¨(Auntie).  It is adorable to hear them speak to me in Spanish with their little voices. The most amussing part is that they still haven´t figured out that I can´t understand most of what they tell me. Communicating with the kids is tricky, but I have mastered a few key phrases: ¨Sientate¨(sit down), ¨Calmate¨(calm down), ¨¿Cuidado!¨ (careful), ¨¿Que paso?¨(What happened?), ¿Que es eso? (What is that?)---this last phrase comes in especially handy when one of the kids brings something over to me for inspection (usually a piece of a chewed up toy).

While the niños exceeded my expectations in every way, I was shocked by the dismal state of the facility itself.  There are barely any toys in the classrooms save a few blocks, some puzzles, and a scattering of some of the worst children´s literature I´ve ever seen.  Most of the books are simply Disney movies that have been shortened into 6-8 page summaries, which are then mass produced at print shops in the city.  In addition, there is very little in the way of furniture.  In my classroom, there are two chairs and no tables.  The kids do all of their sleeping, eating, and playing on the floor.  There is furniture in the other classrooms, but it is generally under utilized.  The staff do the best they can with their minimal resources, but it´s a hard pill to swallow.

Ok, I´ll stop being Debbie Downer and share some really cute pictures with you:

 

Of course, the most common occupational hazard associated with childcare is the guarantee that you will get sick A LOT (regardless of how much hand sanitizer you use).  It only took two days of contact with a room full of hacking and sneezing kids for me to catch something, which I still haven´t managed to shake. 

Moving on, there is a new American girl living in my house.  Her name is Anna and she is from Boston (of all places).  Anna is having a pretty easy time here, seeing as her father is Columbian, her mother is Puerto Rican, and she is fluent in Spanish.

This past weekend was my last in Ecuador and I decided to spend it in Vilcabama, which is about 4 hours south of Cuenca.  Vilcabamba is often refered to as ¨Valley of Longevity¨ because there are a disproportionate number of 100-year-old residents there.  I booked a room at the Hosteria Izhcayluma, which numerous people told me was their favorite spot in Ecuador. 

After last week´s bus debacle, I decided to go crazy and take a $12 shared van from Cuenca to Loja and then a taxi to Vilcabamaba because I would be arriving so late in the evening.  My hopes of having a tranquil ride south, however, were quickly dashed.  Our van was supposed to leave at 6, but we didn´t get on the road until 6:45, which meant one less hour in paradise for me.  In the hope of making up for lost time, our maniac driver decided that he would travel at twice the speed limit the entire trip.  I had the unfortunate luck of sitting in the middle of the second row, so I could see every insane move that this guy made.  Pass a cattle car at 80 miles per hour around a blind curve?  SURE!  Drive on the wrong side of the road for long stretches of time for absolutely no reason?  Don´t mind if I do! 
Oh, and the cake-topper: because the main road winds through numerous mountain passes, the fog was impenetrable and the guy behind the wheel was basically driving blind for half of the trip. Seriously, I almost crapped my pants.

Another divine miracle occured and we coasted into Loja around 10 o´clock.  I was not looking forward to wandering around the city in search of a taxi, but serendipitously, one of the other passengers in the van lived in Vilcabamaba and offered to share his taxi with me.  Vladamir, a kind, vegetarian, Russian expat, was truly my saviour that night, and I just want to give him a big shout-out here!

I got to Izhcayluma and, since the reception desk was closed, wandered down to the open air bar where a bunch of laid back hippies were enjoying their evening.  I met Cecilia, the receptionist at the bar and she told me to just relax, have a beer, and she´d get me to my room eventually.  Over drinks, Cecilia invited me on a horseback riding trip she was going on the next morning.  Since I purposely hadn´t made any plans for the weekend, I happily accepted her invitation. 

I woke up the next morning and made my way up to the dining area for breakfast.  Since I arrived so late the night before, I hadn´t been able to see anything.  The view from the restaurant was incredible:

At nine, Cecilia, two other girls, and I packed up and left with Rene, the owner of the horse outfitter.  Cecilia had warned me the night before that it was going to be a long, 6-hour ride/hike to a waterfall up in the mountains.  The last time I was on a horse was about 5 years ago, and it was for about an hour and consisted of a super mellow ride through a grassy field in New Zealand.  So, when we left town at a full gallop, curving in and out of traffic on the dirt road leading up to the trailhead, I knew that I was in way over my head. 

Once the road ended, we slowed our pace and began our ascent up into the mountains.  The trails were extremely narrow, rocky, and erroding from frequent floods, but my trusty steed, Sultan, navigated the trails with ease.  One of the girls on my trip did not have such great luck with her horse assignment, and after her caballo tripped and almost sent her flying, she dismounted and abruptly decided that she couldn´t and wouldn´t go any further.  And then there were 4...

The rest of the day was great, the waterfall was beautiful and the avocado sandwiches provided by Jamie, our guide, were just perfect.  The ride back down was a bit more nerve-wracking, and by the last 20 minutes, my body was sore everywhere.  And as if the weather gods were playing a cruel joke, just as we neared town, the skies opened up and drenched us to the bone. 

That night, I was exhausted and went to bed early so that I could wake up and have a full day before returning to Cuenca.  I spent Sunday walking into town, people-watching as locals and retired expats lulled about the town squre.  I sat and enjoyed some delicous fresh fruit juice at The Juice Factory and spent my last few hours reading by the flower gardens at my hostel.  Vilcabamba is a truly special place.  The air just smells better there and a lingering sense of calm seems to fill the entire town...

...even the puppy at Izhcayluma.