5 Reasons I Would Retake My "Bridge Year" to Ecuador in a Heartbeat

I have been home from my bridge year in Ecuador for almost two years. I am still absolutely convinced that being a Global Citizen Year fellow was the most impactful experience in my life to date.

Five reasons I would retake my bridge year over and over again:

1.  I had the chance to learn another language, through hands-on experience.

(A skill that served me through my mission, my career and in my personal life.)

2. I got to know students (fellows) my age with the same passion and love for life & adventure

I have made lifetime friends,
and when all of these people are famous/successful, future career connections ( ;) ).

Ecuador Archives: Hiking Chimborazo

Ecuador Archives: Riobamba

Once, Betty, Nate and I got on a bus and went to Riobamba..

Here are a few random photos from the adventure:

Middle-to-Upper Class Guilt

I am not wealthy.

I am far from being wealthy.

Yet I am actually pretty wealthy.

Sometimes I wait a few seconds for the tap water to get cold before filling my glass, and I don't think much about the clean water going down the drain.

I drive a car. I own a car. I can pay for gas to fuel my car.

I have a job. 

I had the chance to graduate high school.

I go to college.

I have free time.

I am not wealthy.

I am far from being wealthy.

Yet I am actually pretty wealthy.

Should I feel guilty?

I lived in Ecuador for a year. I lived with a host family, worked in a local clinic and tried my hardest to immerse myself into the Ecuadorian way of life.

I felt many emotions when I was leaving Ecuador to come back to the United States. I wondered how I could possibly mix my new simplified way of life with my old, energy-inefficient American lifestyle.

I had a dream a few weeks before I left:

I dreamt that I was walking through my town in Puerto Quito. It was a normal day, except for some reason I was in a hurry. That was odd, as I was hardly ever in a hurry; rushing just doesn't mesh with the relaxed Puerto Quito lifestyle.

Some boy was whistling at me.

I kept walking.

Men whistle at women all the time in Ecuador and it annoys me more than anything.

I assumed this boy wanted my attention and I was in a hurry. I never gave him a second glance.

..but this boy was very persistent. He was abnormally persistent; he was annoyingly persistent.

As I sped-walk to the bus station, he kept trying to get my attention. I continued to ignore him. Can't he take a hint?

Finally, I turned toward him to yell at him to stop.

I was shocked by what I saw.

This boy was not begging for my attention to tell me I was guapa or su reina. No. There was something wrong with this boy.

His entire face was gone. Just gone. It was morphed into a black hole of nothing. It appalled me. It scared me. He didn't want to annoy me; he wanted my help.

The guilt I felt in that moment was real and pure guilt, stronger than I had ever felt in my life. I could not believe that I ignored this hurting young boy for such silly reasons -- being in such a rush and immediately stereotyping this person I didn't know before I even took a moment to look at him.

I woke up to the intense guilty feeling. My heart was beating a million miles a  minute and I was sweating. Even though it was a dream, I could not forgive myself for being foolish and ignorant.

From that moment forward, I decided I would try my hardest to never ignore someone in need. Even though my life would become busier and less energy-efficient and totally different, I would always remember the lesson that dream taught me.

In America, I can waste water to my pleasing. I can drive a car. I can go to college.

The fact is that I can enjoy these things while many of my sisters and brothers throughout my country and my world cannot. Should I feel guilty because of this blatant inequality? Is there anything I can do to ease the guilt I sometimes feel due to it?

I am still figuring out the answer to those questions for myself. I honestly don't know if feeling guilty is an appropriate response to the obvious injustice I see everywhere. I honestly don't know if feeling guilty leads to any improvement of anyone's situation. I honestly don't know what I can do to better this inequality yet.

But, for now, I do know that I can open my eyes and stop ignoring the people around me in need. While I may not have a big picture solution to the unfairness yet, I can make a difference to one person for one moment and it does make a difference. I can buy a meal for the homeless person I see on my drive to work. I can offer a kind word to a stranger who seems to be having a bad day. I can offer a helping hand and a willing heart to a friend in need. I can offer my time and talents to a local charity. There are a lot of things I can do to make the world a better place today, and the first step is opening my eyes to the boy with no face who is asking for my help.

edit: "Not All Passports are Created Equal"

ER Stories 6: Before and After - Amputated Toe

Another ER Story from Ecuador:

Short Background Story to these photos: On my first week working in the clinic, I met a woman who recently had a good section of her middle toe/foot removed as an eventual result to her diabetes. I cleaned her foot every day and after a few months her wounds heal. 

Long & More Interesting Background Story: http://everydayambassador.org/2013/01/07/looking-up-from-sympathy-to-respect/

I am humbled to see the drastic before and after. Our bodies are miraculous.

Before:

Ecuador Archives: An Armed Robbery Story.

Quito is dangerous.

Quito is really dangerous.

I knew that.

In fact, that very week the entire Ecuador cohort and I had received safety training from the US Embassy.

It was dark, but not late at night. Maybe 8 pm or 9? My host mom is a nurse and she was giving a patient their medication. My sister was rummaging through bags of the new school supplies; my host dad had just picked us up from the mall. He was sitting in the driver's seat. My mom's seat was empty. My host sister was to my left.

We weren't sitting there for more than five minutes.

................

A man wearing all black and a mask appears at my dad's car door. He is holding a gun.

It all happens very fast after that.

Man holding gun aims at Dad. I can't speak Spanish well yet, but I know he has just told him to unlock the doors.

The doors are unlocked.

Man One stays in place with gun pointed at Dad.

Second Man sits in passenger seat next to Dad. He is shaking Dad down. He is demanding Dad's wallet, which Dad willingly hands over. He is rummaging through the glove compartment. 

Dad is always so calm, but right now his eyes are bug eyed and his hands are up on the air in surrender. He keeps saying the same words over and over again. I don't understand them, but I am sure he is telling them to take whatever they want and not to hurt us.

Man Three opens the door on my side and forces his way in. He scoots me to the middle to make room for himself. This man is holding a long screw driver. He points it at me while he yells instructions. Or maybe he isn't yelling. I cannot tell you. All I hear is words I don't understand. Dad's eyes are so big.

I am squished between Sister and Man Three.

He is wearing a mask so I cannot see his face. Maybe I could see his eyes, but I don't dare look. I only notice he, too, is wearing all black.

Man Three looks through my sister's shopping bags. He asks her what is in them. Sister is frantic, in tears, screaming. She yells that it is only notebooks and school supplies. I understand those Spanish words. She is not lying to him. Man Three looks through the bags anyway. 

Sister is scream-crying. I am afraid, but I do not scream. I only sit, stunned.

Man Three is patting us down. First Sister and then me. He keeps saying words to me. I do not understand them. I say "¡No hablo inglés!" because it's the first words I think of. I just told him "I don't speak English!" I think he gets the point, though.

I wonder if we may be abducted or killed. I have an odd thought that this scenario would make a good opening scene for a Criminal Minds episode.

I reach to hold Sister's hand.

Man Three is patting me down again. He pats every part of me, including pulling my dress up in search of anything I may be hiding.

My Ecuadorian ID, my banco de barrio card and my cell phone are all in my bra (a trick I had learned from the US Embassy earlier in the week). I should have willingly given them up, but I am not thinking logically. I am only praying he doesn't find them. I don't know if he will be angry if he finds something I intentionally hid from him.

He doesn't find anything.

I am so grateful he doesn't find anything.

..........

It is over as quickly as it began. The entire scene played out in under ten minutes. I imagine the longer it takes them, the more risk they have of getting caught.

..........

Man One continues to hold the gun to Dad's face while Man Two the Wallet Thief, Man Three the Screw-Driver Assailant and Man Four the Trunk Rummager flee to their car.

Man One waits until they are a safe distance and then runs after them.

I sit still a moment. The fear is really setting in. I think they have left, but I don't feel safe. Are they really gone? What if they come back?

I turn around. They speed off but not before I look The Four Men Dressed in Black right in the eyes. 

My heart is beating fast, or it has stopped beating altogether. I'm not sure which. 

Sister is still crying loudly. I am still holding her hand. I don't want to let go. I lock my door. I don't know what else to do. What if they come back?

Dad keeps asking me if I'm okay. "Estoy bien. Estoy bien," I insist. I am fine. I am shaken but I am just fine.

They're gone, I think.

Ecuador Archives: Carnaval 2013 Part 1

Carnaval 2014 happened in early March, so I'm a little late for the year mark. It's a good thing this is my blog and I can do whatever I want.

Carnaval in Puerto Quito is an excuse to throw paint and water at everyone you love and everyone you secretly hate.

You make some enemies. I made the mistake of throwing paint at a little kid with a squirt gun. He followed me around with his squirt gun and then a hose for an hour. I thoroughly regret making that enemy.

Betty & myself before :

Alright, Betty.. white shirts? We deserve every ounce of paint thrown at us; we were asking for it.

Betty & myself after :

(Feel like you're playing "Where's Waldo"? I made it easier for you....)

¡Feliz Carnavales, Puerto Quito! Te extraño.

Part Two: The Food

ER Stories 4: Medical Gore

I geek out over medical gore.

I find the human body absolutely fascinating.

It's crazy to me that our bodies are so strong and so fragile at the same time.

Anyway, let's get to the good stuff:

WARNING: GRAPHIC IMAGE :)

ER Stories 2: It's a Boy!

Before I worked as an ER Tech in the States, I worked as a CNA in a little clinic in Puerto Quito, Ecuador.

We have a small Emergency Room and I got a lot of hands-on experience with the burning, the broken and the bleeding (and I loved it).

...........................

In this little clinic, we have a small room dedicated to giving birth. I knew about it, but in the six months I had been working at Patronato, we had never used it.

On February 7, 2013 I came into work to find that little room occupied by a doctor, nurse and mother in labor.

Um, what?

I stood outside the door for five minutes wondering if it was appropriate to knock on the door and ask to help. I tend to over think things. I finally decided it was an opportunity I could not pass up, and knocked.

"¿Quién es?" I recognized Dr. Rios' voice. "Sydni," I replied and he immediately opened the door, welcoming me inside; but not before he instructed me to scrub in.

things are happening [red cross]

I joined my local chapter of the Red Cross!

I feel so much more justified in taking photos with my friend/coworker of us wearing the leftover Red Cross shirts from our clinic.

P.S. I am a Disaster Recovery Specialist/ShelterSurveyor.

Ecuador Archives: Dear Mom,

February 25th, 2013

Mommy,

                Heya. I thought I’d write you a letter to let you know how I’ve been doing.

                I just got back from TS3 (Training Seminar 3). We went to a nearby province called Imbabura to a town called Otavalo. Otavalo is super touristy because it has the biggest outdoor market in South America. Good part: Lots of really cool Ecua stuff. Bad part: I totally judge tourists.. not all of them.. just a significant chunk of them.

                Otavalo was really fun. This is what we did:

This is Otavalo.

We stayed in this cute place.

     Took plenty of photos.
 












Hiked this mountain with our weak, low altitude Cloud Forest lungs… it was hard, but worth it because we took TONS of photos and it was beaaautiful!

This is Betty, my “site mate” (that’s a Peace Corp term I’ve decided to adopt). 

We got a cleansing by an Indigenous woman. To cleanse you, she rubs a cuy (guinea pig) all over. The cuy takes out the bad spirits. (If the cuy dies fast it’s because you had a lot of bad spirits.) She rubs the cuy all over you until it dies. Then she puts the cuy in a bowl of water, takes off the skin (without a knife -- she starts at the anus and pulls it inside out) and examines the insides. Where the blood accumulates is where you have a sickness. Based on where you're sick, she then gives you recommendations for how you can feel better. (My diagnosis? Healthy! ..not a very exciting one)

Ecuador Archives: Puerto Quito

Just a few photos with no particular significance, except that they are of my favorite place in the whole world.

(my fake & beloved Ray-Bans)


Next on my Ecuadorian adventures: Porch Sitting & my Best Friend Betty.

Ecuador Archives: Porch Sitting & My Best Friend Betty

Hobbies.

Betty, the only other American living in my Ecuadorian town of Puerto Quito, and I developed a few new ones while in Ecuador.

Knitting:

[Oh darn! I lack a proper photo of us knitting, Betty. I assure you, though, this became a large part of our lives. We spent many days/evening knitting in my house or hers, making scarves. And only scarves because we had not learned to make anything else yet. And by "we" made scarves, I mean usually I worked on the same scarf I'd been working on for months while Betty knit a few lines and then redid it because it wasn't good enough.. over and over again. That's my perfectionist Betty.]

Walking / Rain Forest Exploring:

We found a cute little oasis a few miles out of Puerto Quito during one of our walking adventues.

Cooking

Okay... Betty did most of the cooking... all of the cooking...

Double Dating

Oh, the memories...

Archutilla Hunting:

  Bags of them. Good work us.

All of these hobbies were great, but our favorite newly acquired hobby?

Porch Sitting.

Yes, you heard that correctly.

Let me explain for those of you novices in the art of Porch Sitting:

This is Betty's house.

Otherwise known as the perfect Porch Sitting location.

Let me zoom in a little bit:

It's pretty simple. Betty and I sit on the corner of the sidewalk, facing the street.

Really, that's it. 

We fill our time talking about nothing or our jobs or boys or life goals. Feel free to talk about whatever you'd like. Topic of conversation does not affect the quality of your Porch Sitting Session. We say hi to passers-by. We people watch. 

This Porch Sitting Time is yours. As long as you stay on your porch, the rules are not very strict.

Leading expert in the field, Aidan Holloway-Bidwell, teaches us more on the subject:

 "Porch sitting, not to be confused with porch standing, or its similar counterpart, reclined porch sitting, has been a common practice for longer than you might imagine. All one really needs to join the ranks of porch sitters around the world is a chair (rocking chair is usually preferred) and the willpower to just sit. Oh, and a porch."

This location is particularly ideal because the road you see leads out of town, so many motorcycles (sometimes being driven by cute Ecuaboys whom I have been known to whistle at a time or two *cough*) and cars and people use it to go inside and outside of Puerto Quito.

"I would say the most rewarding part of Porch Sitting is feeling completely calm and welcoming of whatever your day brings. Some porch sitting sessions end in fascinating conversations with total strangers. Others simply end because it's 8:30 and dark and you figure you should go home and eat dinner. Either way, you leave that porch with a newfound feeling of fulfillment."

-Quote from an avid Porch Sitter (me)

Some of us are not as fortunate, though..

 "A lot of people have no porches to sit on..." Galen Tsongas, San Francisco Resident, writes. He continues: "A sad story... But no matter how much I wish for a porch to sit on, one won't appear, and the bureaucratic city government hears not my pleas for such an addition to the apartment complex..."

Please be aware of our porchless sisters and brothers and, if possible, offer them a rocking chair next to yours.

Next on my Ecuadorian adventure: I leave Ecuador...

Ecuador Archives: 14 de febrero, 2013

Otavalo, Ecuador

February 14, 2013



Next on my Ecuadorian adventures: Otavalo Part 2.