top of page

¿cómo estás?

Hola! Long time no blog. It's been a busy two-ish months since I last sat down to do this. A lot has changed, and more is changing. I feel like I've aged 10 years. Let's get into it.

First things first, we went on two trips in November! The first trip was to Otavalo, an indigenous city north of Quito. It was a lovely place to spend Día de los Difuntos (Day of the Dead). We stayed at a hostel owned by an indigenous family that baked pan de maiz and slaughtered guinea pigs (a delicacy here) for the special occasion. We met quite a few international travelers during our stay there. I love when my path crosses with an interesting stranger I will likely never meet again. Isn't that a strangely wonderful part of the human experience? God wink!


On our way to Otavalo!

Me contemplating life at our beautiful hostel.

The other trip was to an indigenous community close to Otavalo called San Clemente. We stayed with a family there that has been opening its doors to international visitors for educational retreats for about two decades. They teach these groups about their culture and way of life. It was an incredible place and a beautiful experience. I was honored to learn from the people there.

In the last two months, we've also hosted lots of visitors. Four members of Rostro's board of directors and the founder of Rostro visited us in early November. At the beginning of December, our first immersion group of US students came from Santa Clara University for a week. I would describe both trips as learning experiences for the four of us and for Rostro. Personally, they helped me see how far we've come since our first weeks in Quito. Showing people around the neighborhood and introducing them to the friends we've made so far made me feel slightly more stable in my life here. The fresh eyes were very reassuring.

Both groups also prompted us to confront the ethical challenges of leading and participating in immersion programs abroad. The mutual joy we share with our neighbors during face-to-face visits is what makes me believe in the value of this experience for all parties involved. There is something beautiful and irreplicable about the opportunity that Rostro presents to meet people where they are, in a new culture and way of life, whom we would otherwise never have the oppotunity to meet. That being said, the ugly history of colonization and conquering in South America make our presence here inherently delicate. Additionally, as I am here only temporarily, I will eventually fly back to the US and continue my privileged life, which is obviously not a choice that my neighbors here have. That is hard for me to reconcile. I will continue to acknowledge these issues, and our community will continue discussing them throughout this year and after.

...I digress.

During our free time in November and December, we have been getting to know our neighbors and neighborhood. We meet new people every week, and I am excited to grow in our relationships with each of them throughout the year. The time I have spent with the abuelitos has been especially rewarding and beautiful. Those visits are feeling more and more like the most important part of my work here.


Us going on a visit to an abuelito in the neighborhood.

In related news, my work site, meaning my official "job" here, has changed! In my first blog, I wrote that I would be working at an after-school program on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays and then doing home visits with the abuelitos who live alone in the neighborhood on Tuesdays and Thursdays. After living into the experience more throughout our first few months, Rostro decided that the home visits are a big project for just one person, especially one still learning Spanish (me). We'll now go on those visits as a community, and I'll be filling my Tuesdays and Thursdays with various other commitments. Anna and I will be helping out at a comedor for kids on Thursdays, which is basically a lunch program for kids in the area. We show up around 8 and help them cook until the kids arrive around 10:30. (I'm getting very good at chopping onions.) I'll also be helping at a similar program for the elderly on Tuesdays. Finally, I'm going to be teaching an English pronuncation class! There's a French foundation down the street from us named Ecuasol, and I've been hoping to get involved there ever since we decided to change my work site. They recently invited me to teach a class in January, and I said yes. I'm equal parts excited and terrified.

An update on my Spanish: my progress is slow and basically imperceptible to the naked eye. I know that I'm improving because I can now survive in conversations by myself, which was not always the case. I'm starting to believe that a version of me who can speak Spanish without fear will eventually exist, which I didn't always believe. That alone is progress. Tengo esperanza.

Another (very sad) update is that Alex, one of our community mates, decided to leave the program last week; she flew back to the US this past Wednesday. Her reasons are varied and plentiful. It was painful to see her go, but we all respect her decision and know how much thought went into it. I'm currently in a place of mourning our community with her and preparing to adjust to what it will be without her. She's been a huge part of my first few months here, so it's going to be hard to get used to the change.


Alex and I on our roof. We miss her already.

Finally, I have been thinking a lot about what I want to do with my life after this. Personally, I think we approach this question wrong in the US. We ask kids "What do you want to be when you grow up?" as early as, like, 5 years old. I believe that this question creates a false illusion for young people that in all of our lives there will be a magical day when we are (A) grown up and (B) aware of one thing that we want for the rest of our lives. What if those things never happen? My problem is that I'm pretty sure I've reached the age which most people would agree is "grown up," but B still doesn't apply to me. What's worse is that I am actively hoping that B never applies to me. I never want to know what the rest of my life will look like. That sounds incredibly depressing. I also don't want to "be" just one thing for the rest of my life. That sounds equally depressing. What if I'm not ready to give up all the other options?

I recently read The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. There is a famous quote from the story that I've heard before, but entirely forgot about until I was reading it again in the book. The main character says the following:


I saw my life branching out before me like the green fig tree in the story. From the tip of every branch, like a fat purple fig, a wonderful future beckoned and winked...I saw myself sitting in the crotch of this fig tree, starving to death, just because I couldn't make up my mind which of the figs I would choose. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest...


That's way too relatable. I can see many figs in my tree: a traveling journalist, a professor in Germany, a lawyer at a non-profit, a high school teacher, a policy analyst in Washington DC, a communications specialist in New York, a liberal hippie in Portland, and so on. I'm not exactly sure how to figure out what's next for me. Does anyone have any tips? Do you think there's a different fig that I'm missing? I'm genuinely asking. Please send me a message lol.

Anyways, that's where I'm at right now. As usual, there are many other things to share and not enough time to share them. Expect another blog post soon. I need to catch up... my Grandma wants more updates.


Chao for now,

Grace <3


P.S. I found out I've been spelling chao incorrectly this entire time. I thought is was ciao, but that's actually the Italian spelling. Pretty hilarious to discover that after four months here.


Comments


bottom of page