bolsas

It has been an interesting week.  I can't believe it's actually been a week since I last wrote.  Where does the time go? Jana and I have been in Pimampiro for over two weeks now, that is  crazy in itself.  I am currently sitting in the "central park" of Pimampiro, using the free wifi (it works on the computer!!). There is so much to say, and so many thing I want to talk about, but haven't had the time or energy.

Friday we went to Chuga, one of the paroquias surrounding Pimampiro.  They say that Chuga is in "el cielo," which means the sky, or heaven, depending on the translation.  Either way, it was beautiful there.  You can see so much and so far, it was incredible.  We visited the clinic and a school there, but only for a brief time.  We then did the hour hike to the highest part of Chuga, where there is a cemetery.  We went with Fernando (works for Paulito) and his brother.  The entire hike was really steep up this mountain, on a very narrow path.  We asked, and the community carries the coffins all the way up this hill to bury the bodies.  I was a little scared walking this on my own, I can't imagine carrying a casket all the way up.  The cemetery itself was not what I was picturing.  It was not groomed and well defined like the ones we are used to seeing.  There were random plots everywhere, and they were all overgrown.  There were also still mounds of dirt where the coffins were, not buried too deep I guess. The ride there and back was definitely interesting.  I rode on a "moto" (dirtbike?) with Ramiro's friend, and Jana rode with Ramiro.  Looking back, the poor guy probably felt like I was assaulting him.  I had on scrub pants, which was a mistake because I was sliding all over the place.  I was literally hanging on for dear life both on the way up and on the way down (side note, he told me to hold onto his backpack straps aka waist on the way up the mountain, and to hold on to the handles next to my seat on the way down the mountain. just in case you find yourself in a similar situation, you will know what to do.).

Saturday we went to Paragachi, the little town next to Pimampiro (where we had played soccer).  Ramiro took us so we could get some of our surveys filled out because they were having a community event.  Jana got eaten alive by these little mosques (nociums?). Her ankles were swollen for days.  We finally got a hot tip from the peace corps worker to soak them in Mantico (an herb), and that finally helped.  This was after our mom had rubbed various home remedies on them, including a tequila/tobacco mixture that made Jana sick later on that night.  After that experience we backed a small bag and headed to Quito for a fiesta.  There were eight people from the peace corps, and a handful of them were finishing there assignments.  So we tagged along, and got a feel for the night life in Quito.   A cultural learning experience of course.

I have a lot more to write about, but for now I will move on to the random things.
1. Eating lunch the other day, there were many flies around.  Mom gets out the fly swatter and starts going to town.  What she doesn't see is that our friend Sonia (47%), has a fly swatter as well.  We are all watching here as she rears back, and has her aim dead set on a fly pirtched on the block of cheese.  It's slow motion at this point. None of us can move fast enough.  We are yelling "NOOOOOO" as she kills the fly directly on top of the block of cheese.  Solution. Rinse block of cheese and put it in fridge.  I couldn't stop laughing as I was eating my cheese and bread later that night. Yum yum.

2. We had a conversation with one of the peace corps workers about promises here in Ecuador. There is a certain hierarchy of what promises mean here. A pact, is something you can't break. For instance, Jana and I made a pact to stick together after our Haiti plans fell through.  A friendly agreement is something you agree to do, but have not really committed.  Like general future plans. An Ecuadorian promise is something that is mostly likely not to happen. If the phrase "ya mismo" is involved, it is almost certain not to happen.

3.  Bolsas.  So in Peru, the word for bag is bolsa.  So we assumed that it was the same here. Wrong. Yesterday we asked our mom my she used the word "funda" for bag, instead of "bolsa." She laughed and told us it was a bad word. She explained to us that bolsa was the word used for "sack," and I think you can figure the rest our from there.  We now understand why people laugh at us sometimes...