Staging, Training, Spanglish, and Avocados

I'm here! I'm in Ecuador! I'm in South America! After a day of staging in Dallas, a trip to the airport at three in the morning, a layover in Miami, and a rainy arrival in Ecuador, I'm officially a Peace Corps Ecuador Trainee with Omnibus 107. There are thirty-six other trainees in my group, and everyone is wonderful. I arrived in Ecuador on Thursday night and stayed at the training center for the first two nights with my fellow trainees. Training thus far: shots, signatures, shots, safety, thirty-minute Spanish lesson, signatures. There is much more to be done in the coming eleven weeks--in fact, 8 hours a day of training! 

After two days at the training center, I moved in with my host family yesterday. Peace Corps placed me with an older couple and their older son (people here live with there parents until they get married; much different than the U.S.). They are wonderful people. The host mother, Rosa, was extremely disappointed when she found out  that I am vegetariana, but she is very nice about it. Although, she does put a small piece of chicken on my plate at every meal. Their home is surrounded by avocado and lime trees (more description further down). Today, Rosa and I went to the market in the morning to buy bananas, papaya, watermelon, melon, pears, pineapple, and claudias (small peach-like fruits=delicious); she makes fresh juice every morning. At the market, I realized she has taken to introducing me as mi gringa--maybe she forgot my name. Just kidding. As for my Spanish: it's kind of a joke. I could probably have a fantastic conversation with a two-year-old. But, my host family doesn't speak a word of English, so there is no time like the present to learn, quickly.

My room for the next 3 months.

On another note, I love to write descriptions about my surroundings, so here is a passage I wrote last night about my first day with my host family.

As I sit in my room, giant avocados droop from branches, lushly green, verde, in the Andean rain. Mist-laden mountains come in and out of focus with the passing layers of clouds. The squeak of guinea pigs, cuy, biding their time drifts through the slightly open window. Swirling scents of freshly showered leaves blend with the unnameable scent that is the Ecuadorian Sierra. Lime trees create a wall of citrus around the blue rectangular house. The chatter of Rosa returning home pulls my mind back to the present. Hola. At least I know that part. Unfamiliar words blend with slightly more familiar ones. Mercado, market, and la vuelta de bus, bus ride. Four blocks from the house, the city center of Tumbaco begins. At the market, Rosa and I play the "name that vegetable and/or fruit in Spanish" game and purchase vegetables for the gringa that doesn't eat meat. A practice bus ride follows to the Peace Corps training center. On the crowded bus, cool mountain air blows against my face as the bus jolts up a dirt road. Two little boys in striped shirts hang their heads out the window and bark relentlessly. The boys exit, and Rosa and I change buses. As the bus driver hops on the bus, he calls me guapa. Rosa won't stand for that; she asks him if he meant both of us, including her (mind you, she's a grandmother). I laugh as we head home.