paparazzi and blowguns

Well, I know many of you are anxious to hear more about my adventures in the Waorani community of Tiwino... Yes, I made it back in one piece, and I have lots of good stories...but you´ll have to hold that thought because I have even more tales to tell from today. As I type, there is a huge parade passing the internet cafe. This town loves a parade! Not sure what the occasion is...but what the heck.

So, the U.S. Ambassador to Ecuador made her much-anticipated trip to Puyo today. I´m told she is the highest ranking U.S. official ever to visit the entire Province of Pastaza (the largest in Ecuador). A pretty big deal. Jeremy and I were invited to meet her at the airport and travel with her delegation, so we met the Embassy reps, a USAID contact, the Waorani Nation president and several other random, but evidentally important people. We rode in the monster SUV with embassy plates to the airport in Shell to await her arrival. Although we didn´t get the opportunity to talk with her at any length, she remembered us from our Swearing-In and her previous speach to the trainees (where Jer and I were 2 of the 5 who asked questions) and greeted us warmly, which, among all the paparazzi made us look almost important. From there, we piled back into the monster SUV and went to the Military Hospital, which is a stones throw from our apartment, where she was touring the hospital and thanking a brigade of doctors and nurses from the U.S. (many of which had U.S. Navy scrubs on) who were providing free medical care for 10 days. For the last few days we had witnessed the throngs of people lined up outside the hospital and had heard that people were camping out to save a place in line to get medical care for their kids. We talked to one of the nurses who was part of the group. She was in Ecuador for the first time---and this was her first medical volunteer experience, too--and she was really moved by the whole experience---it does change your life. She was describing some of the ailments they were treating and that there was just no way they could see everyone. She described a 12 year boy who has a tumor on his nose that has likely entered his brain, as it appears to have been growing a while. He needs extensive neurological attention by a specialist that he likely will not find in country. She was hoping to help him find a sponsor to take him to the states. Anyway, it was pretty cool what these doctors were doing and made me feel sort of patriotic (and that´s a rare commodity for me, as I´m more often annoyed by the our country´s foreign policy of late). I ended up traveling with the delegation most of the rest of the day. It mostly involved gladhanding and speaches from local officials thanking the Ambassador for this and that. It also involved the exchange of gifts. I have to say that the Ambassador made out!!! She got so many cool things, from beautiful orchids, to intricate indigenous art and feather crowns, incredible pottery, a hand-carved wooden key to the city, etc. The embassy gave hard cover "coffee table" books of random places in the U.S. --wine country, yellowstone, etc...all in English. There were three body guards stationed around the room that I could see. One had sunglasses on and his hand on his gun the entire time.
Ambassador Jewell´s final stop was at the Waorani Nation office--the only indigenous group in Pastaza that was included in the days events. I had spent the last two days assisting the Waorani Women´s Association and the Waorani Nation prepare for the event, which was pretty cool. I helped write and edit the Waorani Women´s Association VP´s speech (although it got edited about 6 more times after that so I can´t claim much of the final speech), set up the room where the event and press conference would be held, picked out the tablecloth material, decorated the room with Waorani artisania, made table tent name tags for all the dignitaries (there were a lot!) and otherwise helped with random other preparations and details. Of course things were running late, so I ended up having a number of fascinating conversations...including one with Enqueri (one of the main characters in Savages) who had just returned from his trip to the jungle with our friend Fabio. FABIO UPDATE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Well, it turns out that they survived their trip....barely (and mind you, this iteration of the story is likely exaggerated, as all good aventure stories are). Evidentally they saw extensive illegal logging on Waorani lands by Colombian and Ecuadorian outfits. They had to do some hiding out for a while, because they also saw some of the Taegari, one of the Waorani spin-off tribes that live in the no-contact intangible zone (as in, if they see you, they might kill you!) and feared that they would be mistaken as loggers, so they stripped down naked and slinked off into the forest. I can´t wait to get Fabio´s version. I sent him an e-mail asking for details...or at least his version of the story. Evidentally, it had been some time since Enqueri had been deep into Waorani Territory. He has pretty much become an urban-ite here in Puyo and still may be involved in some shady deals on the side with the oil companies, as he had done in the past (this is well documented, I am not making wild accusations against my peeps). I also had a fascinating conversation with a guy who is working with the Waorani on a community tourism project, which sounds super interesting. He seemed pretty knowledgeable and helped fill in the blanks of some of the politics of the Waorani in the intervening years since Savages was written---the type of account I had been trying to peice together for weeks now.

So, the event with the Waorani and the Ambassador went off without any major hitches (although there were certainly some minor ones...including a couple late additions to the speeches that were not previewed to USAID, much to their chagrin...and candidly, were not appropriate!). The Waorani showered the Ambassador with more gifts, including a hammock that was hand woven...and probably took a good 3 months to make. The Waorani President presented her with a blowgun and darts and then proceeded to demonstrate how to use it (which sent many people ducking for fear that he was going to actually use it). He didn´t, of course, but, he brought the house down by saying that she could aim it at the President.

Oh, and if U.S. foreign relations couldn´t get any more complicated, there was almost an international incident outside the office when two people from the Venezuelan media were asked to leave by a Waorani employee, fearing that it would exacerbate U.S. - Venezuela relations or something. Realizing the act of censoring them would have been worse yet, they were eventually let back in.

By this point it was almost 4:00 and I hadn´t eaten anything all day (I was hoping to be invited to lunch with the Ambassador, but no dice) so my friend and co-worker Noemi and I went to split a beer and chow down on pizza and celebrate the event being over. She and I had done a lot of work in prep (which includes another funny story about keys and being locked out...a different story than that of the fair sciencking).

Well, Jer is ready to roll. Hope to have more time to write this week. Many more stories to tell. Ciao.

clotheslines

It has been a pretty low key week so far...but that is all about to change I am sure. Tonight I head "adentro" for the first time. I am really excited about getting out of town and experiencing life in a Waorani community. It is quite a haul to get there... a 12 hour bus ride! It really isn´t very far as the crow flies, but there are no roads that connect the villages to Puyo, so we have to go waaaaaay out of our way to get there. It will be an adventure for sure. I´ll be back late Monday night, then will be taking time to get ready for a big meeting with the U.S. Ambassador! Very exciting stuff. I´m told that she will be the highest ranking U.S. official ever to visit Pastaza Province. We are ordering a sign that will welcome her in Wao terero, English and Spanish. Should be cool.

In more mundane news, I have had some nice conversations with several of our neighbors. They are older folks and are very nice. Everyone wants to know what I am doing here, how long I´ll be here, and if I have a boyfriend (they ask this when I´m not with Jeremy, of course). I also met the family that lives above us...they knocked on our door the other night...and rather than introduce themselves, they proceeded to tell me that I hung our clothes on THEIR clothesline, and that we need to buy our own clothesline... and the poor wife had no where to hang her clothes...I apologized and said I didn´t know...and then introduced myself! I was kind of annoyed, because the landlord had previously told us we could use the clotheslines on the roof... oh well. Jeremy is already plotting his revenge...

Well, I´m going to head back to the Waorani handicraft store. We´re taking inventory and I´m helping them sort out the high quality necklaces from the poor quality ones and price them accordingly.

I am sure I will have a more interesting entry next week after my weekend in the interior. Ciao for now.

Fabio´s Jungle Adventure continued

I have received several desperate emails--and even a call from the states-- begging me for my next blog entry so you can learn the fate of our fair Fabio. Well, loyal readers, I will attempt to pick up where we left off with our soap opera star and will try to do so with as much energy to provide all the gory details as I did earlier…but after last night´s craziness I´m a little low on fuel this morning. Last nights events are worthy of another 4 page description if I can ever find the time and energy to capture all of its glory.
(continuing where I left off in my last blog entry)
So, Fabio looks up at me with a look of what I think was part surprise-part relief. I eyed him suspiciously and ask him casually, “What´s up?” He launches into a long, drawn-out story about how he really is a student and he really is interested in medicinal plants, and the Waorani culture and he is here for other reasons too…and the reason he couldn´t tell me about them the other day is because they are somewhat private. He launched into a less than articulate explanation about how Correa is viewed with much suspicion in the States…and that with the current political situation well, you know…and the need for his backers to remain on the QT, and you know… reasons that he can´t really talk about it much detail. But he danced around them anyway, saying he also wants to take some video clips of the Waorani communities and the oil company impacts, illegal logging, etc. He eventually got around to admitting that he had family and friends in “positions of power” in Hollywood and he had to protect their identities (you know, given the politics)...and that they are more or less complacent and that he wanted to essentially wake them up to the gravity of these problems and pique their interest with some film footage. He said he wanted to travel in Waorani territory for, oh, say 2 or 3 weeks, or even a month maybe. He didn´t know. Sadly, his Spanish was sub-par. I found myself feeling somewhat protective of my new Waorani friends. I told him that they are more careful about who they allow in their territory because they´ve been so screwed over in the past. I asked him how much he already know about the Waorani, i.e. had he read Savages, seen End of the Spear or the other recent documentary by an independent filmmaker...not to mention read any of the many anthropological studies on them. He said he read ¨part¨ of Savages and that he was somewhat familiar with the Waorani. But he came off pretty clueless. I thought that Fabio was sort of sketchy, but in a more of a naive rather than malevolent way. After finding myself getting a little defensive, I chilled a bit and rationalized in my head that the Waorani needed broad support, and if he truly can shed some light on what is going on in the Amazon, then it is worth giving him the access he seeks. Plus, if what he says is true and a big-time film ever comes of it, I am hoping to see my name on the big screen...in supersmall point size type rapidly scrolling at the end of the credits along with the list of hundreds of others who helped in making the film possible). Right?!?!?
Ironically enough, my organization couldn´t help him. He needed to go to NAWE, the Waorani Nation headquarters in town to get the required paperwork to gain legal access to their territory. The VP of my organization asked me and a young Waorani woman to escort him to the artisanía (handicraft) store and then take him to NAWE. I followed my marching orders and walked the few blocks to the store and not-so-subtly urged him to buy a lot of artesanía (hey, that´s part of my ´job´ is to promote their artisania!). At some point in our previous conversation he had subtly explained that he had “access to resources” to do what he wanted to do, so essentially money wasn´t an object. So, in sales mode, I kept pulling out different things to show him and to explain more about how they are made, etc. I am quite positive that his one-day purchases equalled all of last months sales at the store. As he is perusing the necklaces, woven bags and spears that adorn the walls of the store, he talks about how other kids in Hollywood say they are in to Spiritualism (as is he, too, he says) but they are all lazy and don´t know what is really going on in the world...and that the plight of the Waorani is going to be big...that it is a big story and that they were just clueless, but he was going to help tell the Waorani story...and wake the rest of those slackers up. He kept skipping around subjects. He said he is into chrystals...and reiki...and (repeating himself) Spirituality. He talked briefly about how he had spent the previous two weeks with a Kichwa shaman who had a t.v. (he was somehow shocked by this) trying to learn more about shamanism. The intensity of his convictions seemed sincere enough I guess.
So, from the artisanía store we hopped in a cab to the NAWE office. I had never been to it before. I had been wanting to check it out and was happy to catch a free ride to the building---which was off the beaten path—down one of Puyo´s many unpaved, pot-hole laden roads. The cabbie swerved all over the road trying to avoid driving in the sizable potholes. It is somewhat of a sport it seems. After some confusion with the receptionist when we explained what we were there for and who we wanted to talk to, we were eventually lead up the stairs to a small office where we sat down with the Waorani tourism director and his worn-out almost illegible map in order to plot Fabio´s jungle adventure (p.s. I found out Fabio´s real name, but in order to protect his identity and that of his “high powered Hollywood friends,” I will continue to call him Fabio). The tourism director was very accommodating and offered a few suggestions of places he might want to go. Fabio seemed pretty determined to plot the most difficult, physically demanding and logistically tenuous route possible---one not unlike the infamous one Joe Kane embarked on in Savages...but of course since he hadn´t read the book, he didn´t know this. On paper, it all looked quite simple. You just catch a bus or camioneta (truck) down the Via Auca (literally translated as the Road of the Savages) blazed by the oil companies to the Waorani territories in the West Central portion of their territory. From there, you take a canoe and go via one of the rivers to another Waorani community he pointed to. Fabio insisted on a NON-motorized canoe, which would have to be hand propelled for at least FOUR days, UPSTREAM through one of the more remote (read: snakes, caimans, etc.) portions of the rainforest, including a part of the “intangible” zone where the Tagaeri tribes have threatened to kill anyone that enters their land...before getting to the next main Waorani settlement. From there, he would have to go on foot, hiking—and hacking a trail through the jungle--- at least 13 hours (but my guess it is way more than that) to the other village he pointed to. From there, he could catch a camioneta from one of the oil company camps back to Coca. It was, basically, an insane plan. A bunch of Waorani guys came in to huddle around the map and learn more about what the gringos were up to. They raised their eyebrows when they learned of Fabio´s ambitious agenda, told him about some of the snakes there, and started ticking off some of the basics he would need to bring: rubber boots, lots of repellant, “pastillas,” (which means pills, the catchall Spanish phrase for medicine) flashlight, a tent, food, water... NONE of which Fabio possessed, and little of which he had an interest in purchasing, because, well, he wanted to basically go native. He wanted to do it all as the Waorani traditionally lived. He preferred to go barefoot, because “I spent some time in Africa...” As if by not finishing this sentence it intoned that he was tough enough to trek through Ecuadorian Amazonia sans footwear. I teamed up with the Waorani men to convince him that he really must buy boots. He refused to buy a tent or take a mosquito net, saying that he would just get a hammock, stressing he really wanted to live like the Waorani did. I asked him if he was on Malaria meds. He said no. I asked him if he was at all concerned about contracting malaria. He said no, adding “I heard it wasn´t really in this area.” Uhh........
As we were talking, the clouds cleared and we suddenly had the most spectacular view of the snowcapped Volcan Sangay. Fabio was mesmerized...then quickly pulled out his hollywood issued video camera ´(okay, I don´t really know if it actually came from Hollywood) to capture some images. The view really was quite stunning. And not 5 minutes later, it looked like a plume of smoke puffed out from the top of the volcano. It at least LOOKED like smokey ash coming from it, but I didn´t think that Volcan Sangay (unlike Volcan Tungurahua) was active. Again, Fabio grabbed his camera and got some footage. We were interrupted several times by other random people popping in; we got off topic several different times which inevitably happens. The tourism director wanted to know more about where we were from, get our emails, and ask if we happened to know the 3 other North Americans he knew. The meeting stretched on and on. Finally, someone decided we had better go to town to get supplies for Fabio´s adventure. As we were waiting for a taxi, Fabio gave me a chrystal (no NOT chrystal meth!) as a small token of his appreciation for my help. He explained what type it was, where it came from, and its uses. Pointed up, I could get high off of it. Pointed down, it could help ´ground´ me. Tucked under my pillow, it would augment my dreams. “I doubt I´ll be doing that,” I quipped. “The mefloquine does that quite well already.” I could tell he was sincere in his appreciation for my help. I gave him my email and insisted that he write me and tell me about his trip. I really DO want to know how this story ends! About a dozen Waorani piled in the back of the pickup truck and rode into town to follow Fabio around to the stores to pick up supplies. First we went to buy boots. It is a pretty well known fact that if you´ve got big feet, you´re going to have big problems finding footwear that fits here. Finding a size 45 (about a size 12 American, I think) is virtually impossible. Fabio squeezed his foot into the one size 44 we found, the whole time, I´m thinking “oh, that´s going to hurt.” Rubber boots are part of the rainforest uniform...but they are notoriously uncomfortable. They offer no arch support, and all you do is sweat in them...and they give you blisters. Yeah, Fabio will have fun in those on his 13 hour hike! From there, we went to find a flashlight. The first store offered a crappy plastic one made in China that would have cost a buck in the states...for $8. We wandered some more in search of a more reasonably priced alternative and eventually stopped at the TIA store (which is a chain sort of like a dollar-store version of a Target). The TIA is the only store in town with armed security guards patrolling the place. They make you check your bag when you walk in. Rather than face the hastle, I offered to hold on to Fabio´s stuff while he went inside. Meanwhile Jer stops by and I give him the 20 second recap. Fabio comes out with his purchases, and chats briefly with Jer, in which he says he is excited about “submerging” himself in Waorani culture. Oh boy. From there, two of the Waorani guides, Fabio, and me decide to continue our discussion over a beer. We walk around town trying to find a place to grab a bite and a beer. We wandered aimlessly for a while, because the first two places they took us to were closed. The guides really wanted tilapia. I razzed them about being certified guides (for the jungle, of course) and us not knowing where to go in Puyo. We eventually settled on a little hole in the wall that served Tilapia in traditional Oriente maita style, which is wrapped in leaves and grilled. I have to say that it was the best yuca and tilapia I´ve had so far in Ecuador. As we are eating, Fabio decides to totally unbutton his shirt. It was warm, but not THAT warm! Not that he was unattractive, but his hairy chest was not something I want to see while I was eating, ya know. He asks how long Jer and I have been married. Six years, I reply. “Oh, you must have been pretty young when you got married.” “Uh, yeah, I was 26; I guess that´s pretty young.” “Oh, huh...yeah, I´m thinking about getting married,” he said, without adding anything further. I didn´t press him. Through the course of the conversation, though, I learn that he basically went AWOL at one point---ditching school, leaving his family, etc. to explore the world... AND, it turns out he is only 21. This explains a lot. He was a piece of work, I must say. But despite the cheesiness, I still felt compelled to help the kid out. After Fabio picked up the dinner tab, the guides—via my translation--instructed him to bring a copy of his passport, his supplies, etc to the NAWE office first thing in the morning and they would grant him the paperwork he needed to gain entrance to the territory, and set him up with guides for his journey. By this point it was late and Jeremy was calling to see where the hell I was. I cringed when I looked in my wallet and only had a single $20 bill. (You see, NO ONE has change in this country...for a $5 bill, much less a $20!) Without prompting, Fabio flipped me a Sacajawea dollar coin; I wished him luck, and then I flagged a cab to take me home. I fully expected that to be the last time I saw Fabio. ... But no, he showed up in my office two days later to thank me again and to let me know that he had everything lined up and that he was leaving that afternoon. He said there was some confusion with the planning and the costs involved, but he got it worked out. He said that at first they were going to charge him $2,000 for the trip, but in the end it isn´t costing him anything because the Waorani are really interested in his film project. I admit I felt a little miffed about that. The Waorani want to expand tourism...and here´s a guy who´s willing to pay...and they´re giving him a free ride? But, not missing a beat, I hand him a copy of the grant proposal I had just finished translating, and said, ¨Well, since you have all those resources freed up, maybe you—or some of your friends back in the States—can support the Waorani Women´s project. Here´s their proposal.”
“Yeah,” he says flipping through it. “Cool.” I wished him luck again, and then he was ambled out the door...and into the jungle.

THAT guy

Wow, what a wonderful and weird week I´ve had. Where do I even begin? I have been so busy I haven´t had a chance to catch my breath much less try to type up a summary of my adventures.

So, last week my counterpart was in Quito and she called to tell one of the women here to tell me to translate their grant proposal from Spanish to English. No problem. I´d be happy to. Except…she wants it tomorrow… AND it is 34 pages long. ¿Mande? (that´s the Ecuadorian word for ´what´? --Very important to learn for those of you planning to visit). I basically told them that I would try my best, but it would likely take at least four or five days to get through it all. I started worked all of Thursday afternoon and most of Friday on it. On Friday I was also asked to help with some interviews. The accountant in our office admitted that she had never done them before and wondered what we should ask during the interviews, how much time we need for each one, etc. I struggled to verbally communicate my ideas, so I sat down and typed up a little form with suggested questions to ask (you know, the typical stuff) which seemed to be helpful. Earlier in the week, mestiza (non-Waorani) women kept coming in the office with their portfolios and they would walk right past the Waorani women and go straight to the white girl to ask the questions. Interesting, eh? I, however, was clueless. AMWAE had evidently aired radio ads promoting the opening of this secretary/program assistant job…but I didn´t know that. So these women ask all these questions about this supposed job. “Uh…I´m just a volunteer…my Spanish sucks…uh…ask the accountant…oh, she´s not here…uh, well, I´ll give your portfolio to her and you can come back in the afternoon to talk with her.” I was finally clued into what was happening--but only after I looked pretty silly. Oh well.

So, Saturday morning I put on some business casual clothes for the interviews and go into the office. I think I overdressed. One of the interviewees wore jeans…as did my counterpart paired with a I (heart) NY shirt. About seven other women sat in for the interviews ---making the room quite crowded and quite hot. A fascinating process actually… the woman who was absolutely perfect for the job commanded a salary three times that which the organization could pay. I suggested that they try to contract with her or hire her part time for the program assistant part of the position (she was so highly qualified and excellent I think she could get the job done working on a part time basis). Some of the women really liked my suggestion…but my counterpart was luke warm. She ended up leaving the next day for New York for the UN meeting…so who knows what will happen now.

Saturday afternoon we went to the Pastaza Fair (Puyo is the seat of the Province of Pastaza --a political jurisdiction which is sort of like a state, but more like a county I guess…) which was great fun. The main feature was big car displays. There are no car dealerships in Puyo, so the dealerships in the bigger cities of Ambato and Quito bring the cars to Puyo…along with really big speakers which blast competing cheese rock… and women dressed in skin tight black leggings and stiletto heels---all to help boost sales I guess. The fair also featured livestock displays of mostly cows, a few horses, goats, rabbits and guinea pigs. There were booths promoting eco-tourism destinations, booths handing out samples of local fare—from yogurt drinks to pork rinds to these fruit that taste sort of like a cross between a tomato and cherry---booths selling all sorts of random stuff…booths actually performing what looked like cosmetic surgery…or maybe just skin peels and botox….and a booth offering free massages. These guys asked if I wanted a free massage…and well, I fell for it. Actually, I had just told Jer how much I missed Stacey´s massages, and the cheap mattress that we bought is, well, cheap. Well, it was a mediocre massage…I guess I can´t complain since it was free. And then…the guys asked me to go out with them to the disco that night. I was a little creeped out by it…that and the fact that I swear they were trying to cop a peek when I put my shirt back on. The one dude even chased me down the aisle and asked for my phone number. yikes.

Jer was staffing his organization´s booth, so I was roaming the place by myself…which was fun because I could take my time to look at some of the cooler offerings (like super cute leather shoes made in Ecuador…but I didn´t buy any because I´ve already been reprimanded for bringing too many shoes with me!) I wondered off towards the stadium area and stood on my tip toes to peer over the heads of the Ecuadorians gathered around. Everyone was fixated on this ´competition´ of sorts which pitted a bull against a bunch of guys who ran around taunting the bull trying to get it to chase them…and then when it did, they would run and climb the walls way before the bull could get to them. Of course there was one guy…you know, that guy, who wasn´t too bright and not real fast who kept falling or tripping and having all sorts of close calls (much to the fans delight)…well, straight out of one of those shows of stupid people doing stupid things, shocking, the guy got gored. Bad. In the face. It was on the other side of the ring, so I didn´t get a close look at it, thank goodness. They rushed him off to the hospital…no, I take that back. They didn´t rush him. They first had to find the ambulance driver who was MIA for a while and then they rushed him to the hospital. I guess he´s ok now. Needed quite a few stitches. From the bullring area, I wandered to the municipal government building display area which had really nice glossy promotional brochures on Puyo and Pastaza...and they also had an artist doing body painting. I´d seen photos of some of the finished work on posters around town and on the bus, etc., but never seen it done before. It was pretty elaborate stuff…and the model is wearing nothing but a thong. The artist often creatively incorporates women´s breasts into his designs. Behind him was a slick video showing some of his other work. All these Ecuadorian guys were gawking and taking photos with their cell phones. No, I didn´t take any photos…I didn´t want to be that girl.

Jer and I are making a habit of visiting the big open air market on Sunday mornings. We discovered it by chance the weekend before last and came back again this Sunday. It is sensory overload…and I love it. It is packed with people; the venders call out to you to buy their potatoes or their fish; there are huge blocks of brown sugar, monster bags of flour and pasta, piles of fresh avocados (5 for a $1), juicy ripe tomatoes that actually have flavor, bags of big leafy spinach (25 cents), bundles of fresh cilantro (10 cents) and mounds of exotic fruit—most of which I have never seen before and haven´t learned the names of yet. We have decided that each week we would buy something we had never had before. Thankfully, PC gave us a great cookbook with instructions on how to prepare and cook the mystery fruits and veggies. Well, we darted between cars on the crowded street in front of the market and as we walked up the steps to the market, this dude sort of steps in front of me rudely and then leans bends over to the side or something…it was all weird, and I remember being really annoyed because I had to stop abruptly, making me almost fall over him. I look back at Jer, who is behind me, and he says, “my phone is gone.” I look back at the guy who was in front of me and he´s buying something from a vender. I spin around looking for..I don´t know what...and then the guy starts walking fast down the aisle. I tell Jer, I think it is the guy in the gray shirt. I have absolutely NO evidence, as this all happened behind my back, but I just had this weird sixth sense about it all. Jer starts after him; my heart is pounding; I pull out my phone and speed dial Jer´s phone to try to hear it ringing or spot someone who might instinctively pick it up if it is ringing…and then I see Jer across the market confronting this guy and I get this sick feeling like…oh crap, I just made him accuse a totally innocent kid of stealing. This is going to be ugly. I start walking towards him, and then Jer waves his phone in the air and flashes me a smirk/look of relief/annoyance. Evidentally he just went up to the kid and said, “hey, where´s my phone?” and the kid says, as he motions to a black plastic bag with unknown contents, “I just bought this. I just bought this,” even though Jer had no way of knowing what was in the bag. The kid basically sets the phone down on a pile of veggies and then takes off. Weird luck. Actually, he´s super lucky to get his phone back. Pickpocketers are notoriously slick in Quito...and there are some lame wanna-be´s in Puyo, too, I guess. We went back to the fair to sit at the CODEAMA booth for a few hours and pass out brochures on water quality and watersheds. As we were sitting there, this tall gringo guy comes loping along asking us if we speak English..and if we know where the French doctor was. I gave him a puzzled look, but Jer immediately said, “I haven´t seen him,” as if everyone knows who the French doctor is! Duh. It turns out he was looking for this guy who specializes in medicinal plants and is associated with Pura Sana (I think that´s what it is called) which sells organic plant-based medicines and products. Incidentally, I had visited the booth the day before and bought an organic remedy to try to treat my many mosquito bites. I told him I would show him where it was. But first, I must relay a brief description of him. Without sounding cheesy (okay that probably is impossible) he was sort of striking on first glance. As I mentioned before, most gringos stick out anyway. So the fact that he was a gringo, super tall, and had long wavy hair made him stick out even more. I guess you could say he was handsome, but in a young Fabio/ cheesy romance novel cover sort of way-- especially since he had on a white oxford shirt only half buttoned---which was a little too much for the fashion police in me. As we walked toward the exposition area, he asked what we were doing and I explained that we were Peace Corps volunteers, briefly described our counterpart organizations, etc. He seemed very uninterested and/or distracted and/or stoned. I obligingly reciprocated and asked him what he was doing in Puyo. He offered a very hesitant, kinda cagey answer about doing his ´thesis´ on medicinal plants and shamanism…but he was also here for nondescript personal reasons that he´d ranther not discuss. He was calculatingly cryptic in his explanation. By this point we got near the exposition building and I could see the men in the massage booth, and rather than risk another uncomfortable run-in with them, I simply pointed to the building—told him approximately where their booth was, wished him luck and did a quick 180 to head back to the CODEAMA booth. Jer of course wanted to know “Fabio´s” story (I never got his name, so I kept calling him Fabio). “Let me guess, he´s French.” “No, actually, he from Santa Barbara,” I replied. –“Humph, ´medicinal plants´ eh? Sure…” Jer replied with a smirk. “He looks lost.” “Yeah, you could say that,” I said and then went to buy the big cup of fresh tropic fruit with a scoop of ice cream that I had been eying earlier.

So, the rest of Sunday was pretty uneventful. We went for our first jog together in Puyo. The sun was out—which it isn´t out often here, but when it is it is SUPER intense—and we crossed over a bridge where a bunch of kids were swimming. It looked sooo refreshing. We only ran 20 minutes but my face was beet red and I worked up a good sweat, which made our cold water shower finally feel refreshing rather than punishing like it usually does.

So Monday morning I diligently continued working on my grant proposal translation (despite a 2 hour delay because I was locked out and no one had a key to the main office where I had my document saved). Over the weekend I had talked to the accountant and a woman who works for Save America´s Forests (who has been working with the Waorani) where I expressed my concerns with submitting such a long proposal to U.S. foundations. I told them that I had submitted numerous proposals at my past job and I know that they have to be super concise-- many have strict page limits and most are no more than six pages. I expressed concern that the 34 page proposal which basically says the same thing but in 5 different ways (tables, charts, narrative, blah, blah, blah) would not be very effective. They thought that it would be fine for me to cut it down and re-work it to put it in a more standard U.S. grant proposal format. Whew! While I was relieved I wouldn´t have to translate word-for-word the last 18 pages of the grant, it still was a fair amount of work to reformat it and add some critical details that were missing from the Spanish version (like additional background on Waorani culture, the biodiversity of their traditional lands and the Yasuní National Park). I was plugging along, until the Vice Prez of the organization called me into her office to help her. I walk in, and sitting there in his half-buttoned white shirt, is "Fabio" sitting at the desk. The VP was having trouble understanding him and asked if I could help translate. They both looked confused. Indeed, lost.
Well, faithful romance novel...er blog subscribers, I am out of time. You will have to log back in latah!
To be continued...

"Savages"

I´m well into week 2 of my work with the Waorani Women´s organization. Right now I am trying to essentially be a sponge and absorb as much information as possible. I finished reading Savages by Joe Kane –it was fantastic--- and it provided great background information on the history of this fascinating culture and it is just a great story. A MUST read for anyone coming to visit me…or those of you living vicariously through me (you know who you are). The very next day after I finished reading it, I met several of the main characters in the book. It was surreal. I have since started to re-read the book and it is even that much richer now that I can match a face with a name with a story and compare the one dimensional description with the real live person now. For those who have read Savages, fast-forward about 12 years and here I am…working with many of the same people…including Moi, Enqueri and Penti. It is incredible. I feel like I have stepped into the book and am now living…and observing…and participating in the next chapters of this amazing story. It is all a little surreal I have to admit. All I can say is this: read the book.

So, today I worked on some descriptions, in English, for some of the artisania that the Waorani women make. I also put, what I call ¨Gringo¨ prices on them for when my counterpart goes to New York next week for a big meeting at the UN (yes, THE United Nations). Most of their handiwork was severely underpriced which I think undercuts the value of their talent and seriously hard work.

Last Friday we saw our first Ecuadorian parade here in Puyo. It was awesome. Jer and I stopped to have a drink at a little café on our walk home from town and saw people assembling…and then whaddyaknow…there´s a huge, elaborate parade. I´m working on uploading the photos… This capped off an already pretty cool day. Jer and I got up at the crack of dawn and caught a bus to a community south of town to interview some teachers to gauge their interest in hosting a PC volunteer who would work with the youth of the community. After our ´meeting´ we hiked a really great trail that led to a big waterfall. It was awesome. We did not see another human being the entire time we were hiking.

Oh, and p.s. I am the proud new owner of a 100% authentic Waorani bow and arrows. My counterpart gave it to me as a gift. She showed me how to use it by aiming at some unsuspecting people across the street. Luckily they didn´t look our way or they would surely have freaked out. I wish I had taken a picture of me walking the streets of Puyo with my bow and arrows. While, being a gringita, I garner a lot of double takes as it is…Gringa plus bow and arrow…that´s a photo moment!

On a less interesting note, we finally have some furniture for our living area of our apartment. It is nothing to write home about…even though I guess I am doing that right now, aren´t I? Anywho…it is hardly fashionable…but it will work for now…and provides a decent place to sit and read…which is a far cry from the white plastic chair…or on our mattress on the floor. Yay! It clashes beautifully with the plastic shower curtain that we are using as ´real´curtains. (I think we scare the neighbors enough already without letting them get a peep show, too!) So, yes, for the bargain basement price of 99 cents, we have ugly floral shower curtain curtains. It will work until I can get my international interior designer (kay) to export some wares via my mule (Krista) in June.

Well, it is 5:00 somewhere. And that somewhere is here. Ciao for now.