6/29/13
Day before yesterday ended
uneventfully; after Mateo's English lesson, Angelica's boyfriend took her and Matteo to a free concert at the
mall, which proved to be unhappening, so the three went to watch Monster's
Inc U in the theater instead. I was invited, of course, but still easily tired from
the sick recoop, so I decided to stay at Magaly's, where a lot of
re-directing happened. I decided that this restless feeling I've been
having (despite acknowledging the slower pace of life here and my recent
illness) is going to be put to best use by putting a hustle in the
mural project, finishing in the next two weeks, and then going to
Betsy Coello's house in another part of Ecuador for the following two
weeks. I'd really like to invest a lot of time with this family
because they were such a blessing to me last time, and because I'd
really love the daily ministry dynamic of being part of a family that
runs a church-- and in fact, lives on the top floor of the (narrow)
three-story church. I'll come back to Quito and Andrea for my last
week and a half. I also realized that I had lost my morning routine when I came to Ecuador. I resolved to recommence with the system that carried me
through the last school year so well-- exercise, shower, Jesus time,
and breakfast before my day starts. It involves waking up a bit
ridiculously early, but I don't mind. Soo Maury (Mateo's awsome
stepdad) took Angelica and I home, and in the morning, thanks to waking up early for my
new routine, I finally got a chance to have a real conversation with Angelica, who I still don't understand, but it's nice to connect a little. Then, after failed attempts to get a taxi,
Andrea helped me find a guy in the neighborhood who taxis from his
personal car-- apprently she's ridden with him before and he
otherwise has a good reputation-- to take me to the seminary where I
met Josue for a day of playing tourist with the gringo group that was
STINTing in Ecuador this week, for whom he had been translating. We
went to a volcano, the Mitad de Mundo monument and shops (I picked up
a sweet indian-style bracelet/ring hand jewelry thing and a plaque
thing of a beautiful, sad Guayasamin-style face), and a museum where
we learned about different indigenous groups (a little touristy, but
still super interesting and educational). Because the big Southern
Baptist group was hanging out according to their churches of origin
for the first time that week, they were all very tight with each
other, not rudely, but not super reaching-outy either (I don't blame them or
feel hurt in the slightest, and they're awesome people) so Josue and
I basically talked the whole time, sliding into Spanish when he got
tired or we wanted to talk like Heathen Liberals. On the public bus
back, I saw Anita, the woman whose family and ministry had hosted me three years ago, trying and failing to catch a bus. I've been trying to
reconnect and make reparations with that family, not because anything
dramatic or bad happened, but because I generally comported myself
like a boogar three years ago and therefore left an unfavorable
impression on them. It wasn't like I was purposely rude, but my aspergery introversion and culture shock (and personality incompatibilities
with some of the family) often came off that way. But I've learned a
heck of a lot since then and really want to see them. I sent them a
message on Facebook telling them I'm in town, but they haven't
responded, unfortunately. Anyway, I'm not worried about the
once-again-missed connection; God always has something better in
store when my plans are foiled. I took a taxi back home, where I realized I'd never picked up my keys from inside. But I'd learned
from last time I was locked out that I could talk to the block's
guard (not the creep up the street; a good guy), who, after talking
to the neighbor who cleans to make sure she hadn't left the alarm on,
went into the house from the back porch and opened the front door for
me. I stayed inside reading BadCatholic's blog (I'm absolutely an
addict, and have no shame), and my book of History Makers (also
addicted) until it was time to go to Friday night bible study, for
which Santi picked me up and which was particularly good. We played a
group game in which everyone was assigned military ranks and had to
stand when addressing (or being addressed by) someone above them-- if
they didn't, or if they stood for someone below them, they were
booted to the lowest rank. It was a pretty cool game, and while
that's not what the culture is 'like', it's definitely what the US
culture is not like, so I had a little sociological grin at myself.
Began writing a poem from the perspective of someone who's praying to
God about how she's been hurt by the church during the study (which
was about modern idolatry). To give you a sneak peak and an idea of my
inspiration, one of the lines is 'they called everything I love an
idol'. I get myself into trouble with this kind of thing; I'm not
being subversive or even arguing against the truth of what's being
said, I just get, I don't know, subversively inspired in new
directions. Which I don't mind. It's all love. Usually. Went home and
had a sleepy philosophical talk with Andrea before going to bed,
which was nice, even though I did too much of the talking. I feel
like she didn't mind, though, so I didn't either.
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