I Loved Camp When I Was a Child and I Love the Galapagos Now

Sometime I feel like a child. I’m not known to be emotional, but knowing I’m leaving the Galapagos tomorrow is really causing me to be reflective and a bit sad. I’ve only been here for one month, but over this month I’ve developed close bonds with many people. It’s a bit like camp actually.
The town is small and we run into each other every day. I’m not sure how it happens, but some days I’ll pass one person 3 or 4 times within 2 hours with each time stopping to kiss them on the cheek, say hello, where are you going now, and welp, I’ll probably see you in an hour or so, adios! We don’t ever make plans really. We take each day as it comes. If we make plans for the next day or a few days in advance we end up changing them, dropping out, or end up disappointed with how our planned activity turned out. So when the lunch hour comes, we give each other a call or sometimes just walk to the kiosko’s (the street of restaurants with all the local food), and end up meeting each other for lunch. Then at lunch, we ask what one is up to for the afternoon (the siesta hours) or for the evening. If one says, “oh, I think I’m going to go to Tortuga Bay, or to Las Griatas”, all of a sudden 2 or 3 or all of us say, ?oh that sounds fun, I’ll be up for going too” and it turns into a fabulously fun time with friends. I really wish moments like these would be carried on in the states on a daily basis. I leave for Quito tomorrow, and after a week in Quito my world is going to change again.
There isn’t going to be any more running into people spontaneously throughout the day, there isn’t going to be any more group lunches or dinners, or going snorkeling during our long lunch hour, or discussing who’s going to drive for the night- instead we all walk, walk to meet each other and walk each other home- there isn’t’ going to be any more pausing for a few minutes during the morning walk to visit a friend to watch the sea lions and pelicans beg for scraps of fish from the fisherman at the fishermans pier, there isn’t going to be any more of making plans at the last minute which turn into some of the most memorable moments of our lives.
The people I have met here in the Galapagos come from all over the world: Australia, Bolivia, UK, Germany, Norway, Israel, Sweden, Ecuador, Colombia, and of course the United States too. We come from different cultures, different locations, different customs, and different jobs, yet we all share similarities. Similarities in which act as our foundation: a foundation that is strong. I hate to have this part of my life come to a close. And I hope these friends of mine do visit me when they eventually travel to the United States. The United States is so vast, so much to see and do; I really hope I have the privilege of showing these amazing people part of my country and continue our adventures together.

Location, location, location

I moved into a hostel on Santa Cruz Island 24 days ago. The hostel is in a prime location. I am two blocks away from the major street of restaurants, one block from the pier, one block from the hospital where I work, one block from the water store so I can refill my gallon of water bottles at a much lower cost than buying a new bottle (25 cents to refill compared to $1.25 to buy), close to stores and internet cafes, and am much closer to my friends now.

For seven days prior to moving into the hostel, I was living with a host family (there are a few blog posts on my experience at their home). While the home is located further from the center of town and was not the optimal place to live, there are a few things I miss encountering on my farther walk to and from home.

When walking to the home from work and the center of town, I walked about 11 blocks on one of the two main. On the way home or on the way to my destination, whether it be to the hospital, a restaurant, or a friend’s home, I had the ability to stop in many small stores. This allowed me to take care of some errands on my way to work, such as dropping my laundry off at the lavanderia, or stopping by the bank. It also allowed me to get a snack to eat during my walk. I would pass the daily market where there are fresh fruits as well as many other small convenience stores where I could pick up a piece of fruit to eat. And one of my favorite stores to pass, the bakery- a store I found difficult to ignore especially during the early morning when the aroma of freshly baked bread is spilling into the sidewalks and across the street. I loved being able to pop in the store for less than 30 seconds to buy one or two rolls of fresh bread and eat them on my walk.

Now that I am living in the hostel in a more touristy part of town, there is no bakery close by. So sometimes I leave my room early for work so I can walk to the bakery to get fresh bread prior to arriving at the hospital (passing the hospital on my way to the bakery).
I felt more as a local when living with the host family- I walked in their neighborhood consisting of houses instead of apartments; passed many people I have met or passed people that recognized me from some encounter; stopped by the local shops for snacks and dry goods; etc. plus lived in the home of locals and experienced their daily ways of living.

While I am much more happy living in the hostel, there is something to say for living with a host family and living further from the center or town (but of course still within walking distance of any destination). I am still experiencing life on the island as a local, but am more of a tourist living in the hostel compared to living with my host family. I prefer to live like a local- stay in a home, cook, clean, go to grocery stores, and see life as they do. In order experience their way of living and still do tourist activities, a one week of vacation time isn’t sufficient. Which makes the amount of time I have in the Galapagos quite prime. I enjoy both sides of the spectrum- I know the information the locals know, live in a room not quite like a local but not quite like a tourist either, and still get to do the tourist activities (with an insight of how to do things with spending little money).

Things I'll Miss When I Get Back to the States

- almouerzos aka the lunches
- la lavanderia
- siesta’s and the long lunch hours
- the amazing people I have met while traveling and have become close friends
- down to earth people
- being able to walk to my destination
- constantly thinking about the present and not stressing over the future

Show Your 20's and Hide Your 1's

Ecuador uses the American dollar, which makes traveling to Ecuador a little easier than traveling to other countries. I don’t have to worry about obtaining the currency prior to my flight, and I don’t have to constantly convert currencies in my head when shopping. However, a few differences do exist. For instance, one dollar coins are very popular here. One dollar bills are also common; both are accepted. The coins have Ecuadorian monuments on them instead of US monuments and US presidents. A large 50 cent coin exists. And pennies are rare. They are rare because they aren’t really needed. When something costs $2.50, it costs $2.50- no tax is added to make it a more difficult number to provide change for, such as $2.66.

ATMs don’t dispense 50 or 100 dollar bills, even when taking out hundreds of dollars. Instead, only 1’s, 5’s, 10’s and 20’s are dispensed. Any person planning to use a 50 dollar bill will have great difficulty finding a place that will accept the bill- even if purchasing an item that costs $48. The money seems to be constantly cycled on the island. I’m not sure when the money gets transported to a bank on the mainland to be exchanged for new bills, but I won’t be surprised if it’s only twice a year. Many of the bills I receive as change are incredibly oily, worn down to be paper thin (bills aren’t exactly paper since they are made of blue jeans), and are commonly held together with pieces of tape. The one dollar bills are most commonly found in these conditions- which helps make sense why one dollar coins are popular, coins don’t tear or disintegrate from excessive use.

Furthermore, and the most shocking difference for a tourist, is the expectation to have exact change or provide a bill that is only one or two dollars more than the cost of what you are buying. Both in Quito and the Galapagos, venders, restaurants, and stores will reject selling you an item if you cannot provide the exact amount or close to the amount. One time in Quito, I tried giving the sales clerk a $5 bill to pay for $1.80 worth of notebooks; she flat out refused my $5 bill and insisted I pay her the exact change- which left me with only a $5 bill to pay for the 25 cent bus ride I was about to take. I explained to her I wanted my change for the bus, but she didn’t seem to care; she told me to exchange my $5 on the bus. Now that was surprising! She wouldn’t except a 5 for a bill of 1.80 but she expected me to pay for a 25 cent bus ride with a 5 dollar bill?! I didn’t know I could pay for a bus ride with a 5 dollar bill until I took her word for it and tried it. And of course the bus teller didn’t like taking a 5 either- it holds up the line and gets rid of a lot of his wanted coins.

When shopping whether it be for food, clothing, or souviengers, if a cashier knows you have smaller bills or coins, he’ll force you to pay for your items with them. So, to avoid these situations, I keep my one dollar bills and my coins in one pocket and my higher bills (my 5’s, 10’s and 20’s) in another pocket. If a cashier doesn’t see my coins when I try to pay for a $1.50 item with a 5 dollar bill, he is much more inclined to accept my 5.

So, to you future tourists, hide your 1's and show your 20's

La Lavanderia

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To all who are reading this that were born in the 1940’s and 1950’s in the States, reflect on when you were a child playing outside. What did you commonly see? What did you frequently run around? Am I wrong to say you commonly saw clothes hanging from a clothesline, and ran around the clothesline poles?

My first memory of seeing a clothesline along side a home was at the age of 9 when my mother took my brother and me on a road trip to Pennsylvania; there, we visited the house she grew up in which still had its original clothesline. In both Quito and the Galapagos just about every home hang dries their clothes outside. Some families have a washing machine, but few have a drier. Also, the families that do have a drier rarely use it because driers are known to use a lot of energy and increase the electric bill.

The home I stayed in in Quito had a drier but the family preferred to use their clothesline just as often as their drier. Sometimes we were forced to use the clothesline because the propane tank, which provided the heat for the gas-drier, was empty.

One time when I had my bed sheets hung outside along the clotheslines, I came home to find the family dog (who lived on the roof terrace where the clothesline was) dragging my bed sheet all around the terrace. When I finally got the sheet away from him, he went for the other bed sheet still hanging- although he waited until I went back inside to make his attempt.

I purposely hung the bed sheets in a fashion to prevent the dog from doing this too. Several clotheslines run alongside each other with about a foot and a half between them. I draped my sheets over 3 clotheslines to make the bottom of the sheet higher off the ground. The sheets were a good couple of feet above the dog’s head, so I figured the sheets would be safe. Apparently, I was wrong. After taking the one sheet away, I watched the dog through a window leap and snap his jaws at the sheet. After about 10 tries the dog succeeded in clamping the bottom of the sheet between his teeth. He then pulled on the sheet until the force made the clothespins pop off and continued to drag the sheet around like he did the first one. That’s when I opened the door, retrieved my second sheet, took the rest of my clothes off the clothes lines, went back inside and placed my now filthy sheets in the washing machine for the second time that day. Thankfully, the home had a washing machine, as many do not- which brings me to another common practice in both Quito and the Galapagos.

This common practice (from my observation of course) is hand washing the family laundry. Behind every home, whether in a poor neighborhood or in a wealthy neighborhood, is a waist high wash table constructed out of concrete with a faucet above one side of the table. When I was living in Quito, I would wake up on Saturday mornings, open the window curtains, and see the neighbor two floors below me washing her family’s clothes on the concrete table. She, like all the others washing clothes by hand, rubbed a bar of soap used specifically for clothes all over the damp item of clothing then dunked it in a bucket of water, gave it a little rub to get the soap off, rang it out several times, then clipped the piece of clothing on the clothesline.

Before my trip to Quito, I never saw a bar of soap made specifically for clothes; I’ve only encountered powder and liquid detergent, both of which are used in washing machines. Mom and dad, did my grandparents use a solid bar of soap to clean your clothes when you were a child?

While in the Galapagos, I do not have access to a laundry machine nor a hand-wash counter; so, I bring my clothes to La Lavanderia, aka the laundry service. All the lavanderias on the island charge $1 per kilo ($1 for every 2.2 pounds) of dirty clothes. The first time I dropped my clothes off at a lavanderia near my host family’s home and picked the clothes up roughly 8 hours later. I was and still am impressed over how the family operated business treated my clothes. All of my clothes have been pressed and folded military style, including my underwear. So the following week, after I moved to a hostel roughly 15 blocks away from my first home, I figured my clothes would receive the same wonderful service at the lavanderia three doors from my hostel. After I picked up my clean clothes at the end of the day, I discovered green yarn sewn to every clothing item, including each sock. I became so frustrated while removing the green yarn from my clothes. And my shorts and pants were incredibly wrinkled- I learned, not every lavanderia irons the customers clothes and some sew yarn to the clothes as well. At dinner I discussed with my friends this strange occurrence. They informed me I should be happy there was green yarn sewn to all my clothes, and to think of the time spent removing the yarn as an exciting time, similar to when removing a clothing tag on a new piece of clothing. The yarn is sewn on to function as a tag. That lavanderia puts my clothes with another persons clothes into the washing machine. The other persons clothes have a different colored yarn, to prevent our clothes from getting mixed up.

Well, even though I should be glad none of my laundry was lost, I still prefer the first lavanderia. So the following week, I carried my bag of dirty laundry 15 blocks to the first lavanderia, passing many lavanderias along the way, and once again received excellent service.

My friends have had clothing gone missing and have sometimes found a child’s sock or another piece of clothing not belonging to them in their clean laundry bag. They know which lavanderias not to go to- which ones make mistakes, which ones damage your clothes, and which ones give you another persons clothes. So if you spend time in the Galapagos, get to know some people and ask for their advice on which lavanderia’s to use and which ones not to use.

Things I Miss From the States

- Hot Showers

- clean, drinkable tap water

- Vegetables: yes, that’s right, vegetables.  Vegetables are very difficult to find in the Galapagos.  And the people here consider potatoes a vegetable, not a carbohydrate. So for lunch and dinner, potatoes are served with rice- not something commonly seen in the US. My body is craving a really good salad, spinach, broccoli, and green beans.

- the comfort of knowing I will be treated in a sanitary and sterilized method if something were to happen to me medically

- Air Conditioning: there is no air conditioning in the Galapagos.  Even the hospital is not air conditioned.  As you can imagine, living on the equator can be quite hot sometimes.  Galapagosians and the long-term visitors or volunteers on the islands seem to be used to the heat and humidity- at least I don’t hear people complaining about the heat or the sweat rolling down their faces.  It’s just a part of life and doesn’t seem to be a big deal.  Stores keep their doors and windows open, the hospital does too.  And hotels provide fans in the rooms to help cool the air brought in through the windows.

- and my lovable dog: most dogs are street dogs and rarely come up to people; needless to say are rarely affectionate with people

So to all my friends and family back home:

Be thankful for all of your daily luxuries and conveniences.  You truly are fortunate.  Stop griping about not having the latest fashion, or the day being so hot that you don’t feel like walking your dog, or your ice being crush and not cubed, or not having a pepper grinder in the kitchen.  Make the most of what you do have and be thankful for having it.  Enjoy life.  Don’t let the small things weigh down your ability to be happy.  

Llamarme

When someone in Ecuador or in Colombia says “call me”, they aren’t just hoping for the flattery of receiving a phone call.  And they sure do hope you call them, so they don’t have to call you.  That’s right. Everyone avoids making the phone call, and for good reason. 

While the people in the United States have wonderful options for a cell phone plan, with the capability of having unlimited minutes and unlimited text messages, the people in South America do not. All the cell phones here have prepaid coverage.  After buying a phone (the most popular one is a standard nokia), one buys a company chip and minutes.  There are two cell phone companies- Porta and MovieStar.  MovieStar is less expensive so most people go with MovieStar.  However, Porta has better coverage in the Galapagos, so most people in the Galapagos have Porta. 

Knowing what company your friends have is important.  Calling or texting someone with the same company as you costs a lot less.  While sending one text message from Porta to Porta costs 5 cents, sending one text message from Porta to Moviestar costs 15 cents.  I’m unsure of the cost to make a phone call- it might cost 10 cents a minute.  The cost of calling a home phone from a cell phone really adds up- I heard it can be as much as 25 cents a minute. 

The catch of it all is receiving text messages and phone calls costs nothing.  So most people avoid making a phone call; and simply wait until the other person calls them.  When on the phone, conversations are kept to a minimum. 

Since the minutes for use are prepaid, the user doesn’t receive a bill.  Minutes are bought in many convenience stores, internet café’s, and other shops around town.  Finding a place to buy minutes is thankfully easy.  Because, often one finds themselves in a dilemma in which additional minutes are needed in short notice. 

From my experience, I have realized few people check their remaining minutes on their phone; I am also guilty of failing to check.  So, often others (including myself) are in the middle of a conversation when all of a sudden the call ends; the caller can not message or call anyone else until more minutes are purchased because the caller’s minutes ran out.  This is especially troublesome when the caller runs out of minutes in mid call and the receiver is also out of minutes (remember receiving calls are free so you can still receive a call when out of minutes).  Such an incident has happened to mostly everyone I know, including myself.  Luckily when it happened to me the other night, I was able to tell my friend where to meet me just prior to the call being dropped.  So we were fortunate to have gotten the most important part of the message across before having the conversation end prematurely without warning.

To prevent these situations from occurring and to save money, everyone prefers to receive calls.  So when someone says “llamarme” (“call me”), they really do mean for you to call them. J

El Baño

 

The bathrooms in Quito and in the Galapagos have several differences in comparison to the bathrooms in the United States.  Or I should say, the bathrooms in the United States have luxuries that are rare to find in Ecuador.  There are five main differences.  All five usually exist in public restrooms and usually only one of them commonly exists in homes. 

The luxury commonly not found in homes in Ecuador (and is something I’ve mentioned in previous blog entries) is a mirror.  The other missing luxuries are the lack of soap for hand-washing, the lack of toilet seats on the toilets, the lack of toilet paper, and the lack of paper towels.  These useful objects are even missing in the hospital on Santa Cruz Island.  How a hospital can have bathrooms without providing soap boggles my mind.  Hospitals should promote hand washing and the prevention of spreading germs; without offering patients or visitors soap, no promotion exists.  However, I do give the hospital credit for supplying a bar of soap for the physicians to use at the sink in the ER. 

The lack of toilet seats does make some sense to me.  When a man uses the toilet he commonly raises the seat, and when a woman uses a public toilet she often squats instead of sitting on the seat.  So, really, the seat in a public restroom often goes unused.  But even in the hospitals' physician restroom a toilet seat, nor toilet paper or paper towels, are placed for the physician to use. 

Few restrooms provide toilet paper….. and when it is provided it's common for the restroom to only have one dispenser of toilet paper at the entrance of the bathroom for the user to collect prior to going into a stall.  Other restrooms provide a teller to sell you a few feet of toilet paper for 15 cents.  And when one has used the toilet paper, the paper is to be put in a trash bin near the toilet- not down the toilet.  The plumbing isn’t up to par, so the toilet paper easily clogs the pipes; therefore, never flush the paper. 

After rinsing one’s hands (notice I didn’t say washing one’s hands- remember there is no soap), usually the only option for drying one’s hands is to let them air dry.  Sometimes a hand blow drier is available for use. The only paper towels I have encountered during my time in Quito and while in the Galapagos are the paper towels I have bought myself at the grocery store. 

However, the restrooms in tourist-trap restaurants usually do provide a mirror, soap, and toilet paper.  

Guilt Trip

I wrote this one week ago on a friends computer, am just now posting it:

Yesterday afternoon I moved out of my host family’s home and into a nice hostal.  Since I decided to leave that day and left during the day, I was unable to tell my host parents I was moving out.  I was able to tell the daughter and the nanny. I tried to leave money with them to pay for the one week I stayed in their home and for the breakfasts they always supplied.  Both the daughter and the nanny said not to leave any money, and recommended I go to the hospital where the mother was working so I can inform her of my move.  

Well, I first needed to take a taxi with my belongings to my new residence, settle in, and eat dinner before the restaurants closed.  So I decided to go to her house later in the evening to inform her (and to get the shampoo and soap I left at her home). When I arrived back at the home, at 9 pm, she nor her husband were home yet.  So I hung out with the daughter and the blind son until she arrived.  Around 9:30, I saw her walking down the street with two other men.  When I realized these men were coming inside the house with her I thought to myself I definitely shouldn’t break the news to her with them here and I probably wont get the opportunity to tell her, but she’ll probably realize I’m gone when she wakes me up for breakfast in the morning.  

I decided I should stay and be polite and try to break through our language barrier.  The gentlemen she came with were doctors from San Cristobal Island visiting Santa Cruz in hopes of improving some medical aspects on the island.  They were very nice, and I was able to have a good conversation in Spanish with one of them.  But as each minute of us talking passed, I thought I’ll never get to tell my host mom my news.  Finally, I decided I should just leave and tell her in the morning at work.  When I announced I was leaving, the gentlemen said they should go too.  So now I was stuck- do I stay or do I go?  I let the men leave before me and tried to not be awkward with my host family.  For here I was hanging out in their living room at 10:00 at night- something I didn’t do in the past week.  And so with a rat running along a rafter behind my host mom, and rat droppings laying next to me on the sofa, I broke the news.  First saying I wanted to live closer to my friends and secondly saying I didn’t like the rats.  She was so understanding! She knew my friends lived on the other side of town, which takes between 20 to 40 minutes to walk to where I usually spend time with them.  Regarding the rats, she explained to me that they are just a part of the life in her neighborhood.  Apparently there is a volcano behind her house (which explains all the lava rock); the rats like to live amongst the lava rocks.  She continued to explain the rats are indigenous to the island, are not angry, and wont hurt us.  This explanation helped me to feel a little better about living with the rats, but made me feel worse for moving out on her! 

After dropping the news, I thought it would be polite if I stayed a little longer and helped Maria, the daughter, with her English.  After I asked her several questions, it was her turn to ask me questions.  The first question she asked me was ‘When is your birthday?”  I responded my birthday was 2 days ago- the 21^st of November.  Oh My! The mom and daughter couldn’t believe I didn’t tell them it was my birthday.  They insisted they have a celebration for me.  They kept throwing days out that were good for me to celebrate.  But I already have plans for the entire week and am not sure when they can throw me a party.  I might have a b-day party with my old host family a week after I moved out of their house.  They were so enthusiastic about having a fiesta for me, I started to feel more quilty for having just told them I’m moving out.

When it was time for me to leave, I told her I needed to pay her for my stay but she refused. I was under the impression that I was living there for $150 a month- information told to me through a lady in my volunteer organization.  I had $50 in my hand to give her; I ended up having to leave it on a table because she insisted my stay in her home was free.  Then, to make me feel more terrible, she insisted I take a papaya with me as a going away gift.  After giving her and her daughter hugs goodbye and letting them know I will come back to visit, her daughter walked me down the street to make sure I got in a cab safely. 

So here I am, the spoiled little princess, that left a free room and board living with a very nice family (and with rats), to paying $84 a week for a nice clean room (but still have a cold shower J ).