Author Archives: tim

01 Aug

The beaches of Quito

Today was more like Eileen’s Official Day Back in the US. Yesterday was very non-threatening cuz we were around family and friends the whole time. But today, we dove right into America.

First, some background.

I remember my oldest sister, the one with two kids, once telling me that she had taken her kids to the doctor after a series of bad winter colds in succession. She asked him why they had been so sick, and his answer was, “chaos.” He was supposedly a proponent of chaos theory and told her that some years are just bad. You’ll go several years without many bad sicknesses, and then boom!

I don’t know much about chaos theory, but our house seems to be undergoing something similar. The roofing has been postponed a few times (I think it will start tomorrow, but I’m not entirely sure), but that’s still looming over our heads (ha!). And my computer has been having problems that might be the result of a bad electrical outlet. There’s also the backyard, which was the guilty party in the basement flooding our tenants had to deal with this past winter, and when we returned to Madison from Mequon yesterday morning, we discovered another problem which will need immediate attention and money thrown at it: our refrigerator has died.

I was worried that it might be another sign that the electricity in our house was on the fritz (fritz?). So I may also call in an electrician to check things over, and we all know those guys aren’t cheap.

Today, Eileen and I went to three stores to begin the house-healing process. First, CompUSA. We were gonna look for something called an “uninterruptible power supply” to plug our computer into. We found it, but it remained unclear whether it would actually regulate the power output or not, so we passed. I was looking to Eileen for her thoughts on whether or not we should get it and I caught her staring up at the flourescent lights, looking a little frightened. “I know exactly how you feel,” I told her, and we left without buying the thing.

The next stop, unfortunately, was Menard’s for some more roofing supplies. Luckily I knew exactly where to go, but the process of checking out was further reminder that we’re back the the USA. Eileen opted to come in with me only because the alternative would have been waiting in the car in a shade-less parking lot on a 92-degree day.

The third and final shop was Kennedy-Hahn, where we felt like a couple of new homeowners as we were shopping for a new fridge. We decided we’d forego the service guys who would charge $70 minimally, and more for work exceeding 30 minutes. Apparently, a recharge costs about $200 – $250. And of course there was always the distinct possibility, since the fridge is probably from the 80s, that they would have just pronounced it DOA. So since a new fridge is about $400-500, we went that route.

It comes on Thursday.

I’m suddenly reminded of a song by Garth Brooks of all people, a song I haven’t heard in several years, called “The Beaches of Cheyenne.” It tells this story of a woman who lost her true love to a rodeo accident and then went crazy and walked out into the ocean. Now, her spirit walks on the beach. In the first verse, there’s a line, “The workers come on monday/ To fix the door and patch the wall.”

Here we are, back in the states. The workers come this week, to fix the roof, and bring the fridge. And our spirits are not yet wholly here. They’re back in Quito, riding the busses, walking the streets, staring at themselves in the windows of SECAP, looking at Cotopaxi from the roof of an apartment while they’re hanging clothes out to dry.

31 Jul

Back in town

I picked up Eileen last night at 6:00. Her flight was actually on time. In fact, it was almost 20 minutes early. I got there a touch late cuz once you get to the airport, the problem of where to put your car is . . . well . . . a problem. So I parked.

I went in and couldn’t find the arrivals info, so I walked upstairs to look for the screens. There is was. Flight 4073 from Chicago, twenty minutes early. So I went back down to baggage claim and found Eileen walking out of the American Airlines Baggage Closet (as it’s technically known). I said something like, “welcome home,” and she said, “you’re twenty minutes late!”

“What’s wrong,” I asked. And she explained that her baggage wasn’t there. We’d have to return four hours later to pick it up. Good ol’ American Airlines; they’re so dependably crappy.

We’ll post more “cultural readjustment”/re-entry/”reverse culture shock” stories soon. Just a note to say that we’re alive and back in Wisconsin.

26 Jul

RCS

Been getting the house arranged, roof planned, whatnot. The roofing starts tomorrow; today I need to go to Home Depot or an equivalent and order the materials. So far, I’ve been pretty successful avoiding stores and/or general interaction with strangers. My first time in the grocery store, I almost started whimpering. I can’t really explain why.

I’m also suffering from sticker shock. On Saturday, I was gonna work in the house until about 2:00 and then go to the sushi box for lunch. I walked down there, got into the restaurant, looked at the menu, and walked right out. A chicken teriyaki lunch (which doesn’t really even fill you up) costs $7.95!

Emily (Eileen’s taller bridesmaid) came back from Chile on Sunday. Yesterday, she called to say hi, and then came over to help out with the house a little. I ate dinner at the Whitesel’s last night. It was really comforting to talk with a friend who was experiencing the same sort of reverse culture shock.

Tember’s back at the house, helping out, but she’s bored. She’s suffering a little reverse culture shock herself.

21 Jul

Chalk one up for the third world.

I left Ecuador at 9:40 am, Wednesday. I got home at 5:30 am, Thursday. My plane was delayed out of Miami, then we sat on the runway for an hour and a half, then we were in a holding pattern before entering Chicago. I got into Chicago at 11:00, too late for a plane, bus, or rental car (which were sold out).

On the plane, I was sitting next to the only other person to travel from Ecuador to Milwaukee. We teamed up, using her cell phone, to call American Airlines, rental places, etc. After learning that we would be stuck in Chicago until a 1:00 flight the following day, we got an offer from Will to come come pick us up. We accepted.

He got to O’Hare at 3:30. We got to Mom’s house at 5:30. I called Eileen and then slept.

Total time it took to get to Ecuador and back through American Airlines, including delays, layovers, and flight time: 7 days.

And they call this the “developed world.”

20 Jul

Fin

I can’t do justice — sitting in this airport, watching some music video featuring Sugar Ray and Shania Twain, slightly disturbed by the amount of English I’m hearing and seeing — I can’t do justice to the emotions I felt at 6:06 when I was sitting in the apartment, eating cereal, looking at Eileen and thinking about how I had 15 more minutes left with her in Ecuador. I can’t do justice to the quiet descent of the SECAP stairs last night at 8:03, when, in my somewhat emotional state, I started cataloguing lasts: last time in the office; last time locking the broken door; last time on the 3rd floor; last time passing my classroom; and so on. When I walked by my classroom, incidentally, I saw a strong reflection of a woman who I think was in the classroom next door — the one separated from mine only by a couple of thin walls with many windows. The thing is, I passed by quickly and thought maybe it was a ghost, the ghost of the gringa teacher who haunts SECAP.

I walked with a couple students to the bottom of LaGasca and waited for my last bus up. Soon, though, a small minivan came by, a woman shouting, “La Comuna, La Gasca.” I got in the shotgun seat with a box of teacups (a gift from Byron), and some white roses (a gift for Eileen I purchased before class). I asked the driver what street he would turn on: “La Domingo Espinar,” he said. And I said, “ya.” He dropped me off right in front of my door.

But I can’t do justice, even now on the plane, to the series of poignant moments, like the one occurring right now: seeing four of my students just outside the gates of the airport, jumping up and down with an Ecuadorian flag. I can’t do just to these poignant moments, made so only by the awareness that they are fleeting, final, and unique. We have such moments every day of our lives; we just can’t live in that state of acute awareness all the time.

As I sat waiting to board the plane I’m now on, there was a tour group who was talking about how, “dude, when we get back, we just can’t describe to people how cool this trip has been. I mean we were in the birthplace of our theory of evolution! And then that lake, man. That lake was sick. It was wicked peaceful.”

I can describe why those kids were a little ridiculous. But just like them, I can’t begin to explain the impact of the final moments of this year, much less the year itself.