Third World Country Status

Most tourists who travel to "the islands that changed the world" are probably unaware that they are touring a third world country. The areas of the islands that are explored by tourists are neatly kept, modern-ish and create a welcoming environment. After being here over 2 months, I have spent plenty of time outside of the tourist areas and have had a few experiences that bring me back to reality and remind me that I am in a third world country.

My daily walk to school is a little over a mile long. Although most of the walk is on a newly paved road, I pass a wide variety of living conditions. My house is very modern, spacious and well kept. On my walk I pass some houses that are similar, or nicer than mine, but there are other houses that I honestly can't believe people actually live in. One "house" that I pass is built out of sheets of plywood with a variety of random doors, no windows and a roof that looks as though it isn't secured to the "foundation". The yard is covered with other pieces of plywood, garbage and random pieces of material. If you look close enough, you can usually find a dog perched on this mountain of junk. What strikes me most interesting about their living situation is that the house looks like it could literally be blown over, but you can hear a TV inside and see the bright light emitted by the screen. The fact that that "house" can support people, and electricity, reminds me of how little you really need to survive.

"house" I walk by on my way to school everyday

my house

 



One of the first weeks that I was here, I went on a long run and came home drenched in sweat and so excited to shower. I got into the shower and when I turned the knob no water came out. I then tried the sink, no water. I went downstairs and found three 8 year old girls in the family room. No one else was home, so I attempted to explain the shower situation to them. The three of them marched up the stairs to my room and tried every knob in the bathroom. Still, no water. Eventually, Sandry (my host mom) got home. She explained that the tank on the roof that feeds my bathroom must have been empty. As a solution she filled a large container with cold reserve water that was kept in a bathtub out back. I bathed with the container of water and a cup that I used to pour the water onto my body. It was cold, but at least it was water. I realized that by bathing this way I used a lot less water than using the showerhead; I learned how little water I actually need to be clean. It reminded me of the kids in Africa that we saw walking back and forth on dirt roads to get fresh water to DRINK. It wasn't until I did not have fresh water readily available that I realized how blessed we are to have the resources to have a constant supply of fresh water; there are numerous people who do not have this luxury. It was quite an experience, and definitely snapped me back to reality.

bath time

One daily sighting that reminds me of where I am truly living are the dogs that roam the streets and roosters that crow at all hours. It is rare to go for a walk and not pass any stray dogs. The Charles Darwin Foundation has implemented a new law this past month requiring people to leash, collar and keep their dogs from roaming the streets. The dogs are harmful to the endemic wildlife here, especially the sea lions. The Galapagos has a ridiculous rule that dogs on the islands are not allowed to be vaccinated because certain vaccines contain living viruses (even though there are now vaccines for distemper and rabies that are not living). Unfortunately, the stray dogs harass the sea lions and often infect them with distemper (a lifelong cold). On another note, the roosters crow at all hours of the day, Mom and Dad can vogue for their excessive loudness since they have been able to hear them when we Skype...

As great an experience that living in a third world country has been, I am definitely looking forward to returning to the US and knowing that I will have hot water, a house with sturdy walls and a quite room to sleep in. Three weeks from today I will be home; it's crazy how time flies! Until next time, Chao!



Off the Beaten Path

Before arriving to the islands and since being here we have been warned time and time again not to go off the marked trails that the National Park has created. There have been stories of people disappearing for days or indefinitely because they strayed off a path and could not find their way back. We all wondered how this could be so, since the islands are so "small", but we learned yesterday that it is definitely possible.

This past Sunday, three of my friends and I, along with one friend's host dad (Pablo), 8 year old host sister (Ashanti) and 8 year old host cousin (Ariel), decided to tackle a path that we had heard about to a deserted beach. We had been told it was about a 45 minute hike to get there. We started the journey on a nicely laid stone path, which turned into steep wooden stairs and eventually a very dry, lava-rock, poorly managed path. With the exception of the steep stairs, most of the rigorous hike was downhill, meaning that the way back was going to be mostly uphill. We hiked/climbed over various lava rock formations on the marked path for about 45 minutes until we reached the first beach of many on the trail. Pablo told us that if we continued, there was a larger, nicer beach "muy lejos" (very close) to the first beach that we had stumbled upon. We decided to continue, and after 20 more minutes of hiking/climbing over uneven lava rocks we arrived at Playa Baquerizo.

View from the top lookout point

Playa Baquerizo was beautiful. It is a decently sized beach with only a few sea lions and completely isolated from civilization. It was empty of people, with the exception of us and one other family that made the treacherous hike. We spent 2.5 hours enjoying the beautiful beach and swimming in the crystal-clear (but freezing) water.

We started the journey back around 3pm. Pablo had explained to us that when he was a kid he would hike to Playa Baquerizo on weekends with his friends and spend Saturday night there camping and return on Sunday. We trusted him, since he had been to this beach countless times, and let him lead the way back to civilization. To avoid climbing the very steep, dry and uneven conditions of the hill Pablo suggested that we hike along the cliff; the tide was low enough that we wouldn't be caught by the water and it was "faster". We trusted him and opted to take his way to avoid the monstrous hill we had slid down earlier. 

Off the beaten path is an understatement. Our route back has probably only been explored by sea lions, blue footed boobies, sea birds and the few teenagers brave enough to venture off the path. We climbed up and down huge lava rocks along a very steep cliff. The lava rocks were covered in Boobie poop and I eventually gave up on trying to avoid it, deciding to focus more on planting my feet. Towards the end of the trek, when we could see the "caminata" (marked path) up ahead, we reached the scariest part of the journey. Pablo turned to us and told us to hug the wall; I looked down to see a 60 foot drop onto sharp lava rocks and water. The only thing to prevent us from tumbling down was to hug the wall and shuffle along the 1.5 foot ledge that supported us. At this point Ariel started saying "Voy a morir, Voy a morir" (I'm going to die, I'm going to die") - we were definitely all thinking it, but it took the 8 year old to say it.

one of the easier sections heading back

We eventually made it back to the caminata and were relieved to be standing on truly solid ground. The rest of the hike was a cake-walk compared to the previous part. When we finally reached the school we realized that taking the ledge, rather than the path, had taken about an extra 20 minutes. But hey, we got an awesome experience, full body workout and an adventure out of it, I'm just glad I'm alive to tell the tale. You definitely cannot spend a Sunday doing this in the cornfields of Lewisburg!

Until next time, Chao :)

Dia de los Disfuntos

November 2nd is Dia de los Disfuntos, or "Day of the Departed". My host family did not partake in any festivities here on the island, but my host dad is planning on flying to Guayaquil this coming weekend to visit his mother's grave. Abby, Emily and I decided to jump in a taxi and head up to the cemetery to meet Abby's host family and check it out. We really had no idea what to expect, except for a lot of people in the cemetery.

What we found when we jumped out of the cab was a busy street lined on either side with vendors selling roasted pig, empanadas, ice cream, almuerzos, fake flowers and candles. We walked down a slight hill to find the cemetery.

The cemeteries here have the graves above ground in white cement mausoleums, some that are bigger than some student's houses. This past week the people here have been working to clean the cemeteries for today. Today the cemetery was bustling with people, with everyone from infants to elders. I expected it to be fairly quiet and depressing, but kids were running around the graves with ice creams and people were conversing amongst themselves. The cemetery looked beautiful and was filled with life.

 

Each compartment within the mausoleum is cemented shut about 2 feet from the edge, creating little shelves. Each of these little shelves was decorated with various flowers, candles, pictures and, in some cases, the departed's favorite foods. Abby's host dad explained to us that it is a celebration of the departed's life and their accomplishments. Lots of families gather at (and on) the tombs of their loved ones and decorate the graves. When we got to the cemetery a mass was being held in the center. As the mass went on more and more people joined in the celebration.

When I spoke with my host dad earlier that day, he asked me if in the US we have a holiday similar to Dia de los Disfuntos. I explained that we don't and that most people visit the deceased throughout the year, especially on the anniversary of their death. As I explained it to him you could tell that he was puzzled by this.

As I spoke about it with friends we realized that in the US we look at death as a tragedy and something that is not talked about much. Here it is the opposite. When someone dies they celebrate the life they had and each year visit their graves with gifts and food to reminisce on the good times. I think the part that really impacted me were three little girls sitting on a tomb looking at the shelf. It made me wonder how much they actually know about the person buried there and how much they know about the holiday. I feel that in the US it would be considered disrespectful to sit on a loved one's grave giggling and eating ice cream, but here it a norm. Made me wish we had a day similar to this in the US to celebrate, rather than mourn, the life that the deceased lived. It would make it easier to talk about, and quite possibly lessen the fear associated with dying.

 

I am very glad that I got to experience this holiday first hand after learning about it numerous times in Spanish class. It is completely different than anything in the US, but it's these differences that makes each country and their culture unique.

 

On a funny note, here is an adorable sea lion who positioned herself perfectly to use the rock as a pillow:





 

Until next time, Chao :)