2013-04-23
Happy Easter from Ecuador. I write to you today to share some of the goings-on of Semana Santa, or Holy Week, here in Ecuador. As many of you might have guessed, Ecuador, like most Latin American countries, consists heavily of Catholics because of Spanish conquest and installation of the Catholic faith hundreds of years ago (Note: exceptions can include...
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2013-04-23
A drinking culture is undoubtedly very prominent in Ecuador and more specifically very prominent in the Kichwa communities surrounding Tena. When I lived in Alto Tena, it was common to see the community borrachos stumbling around at all hours of every day, and there was rarely a weekend without a community party. Something I heard...
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2013-04-23
*This is a poem written shortly after I moved from Napo to the province of Chimborazo to live* — What is the meaning of change? The definition? Is there even one? Most importantly, how do we learn to embrace Lo que nosotros no conocemos? (What we do not know) When a life you worked hard to create Slips through your fingers Leaving a trail of...
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2013-04-22
This is a video I made which I will show when I speak about my experience during my capstone presentations. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EgrDPn81Ml0&feature=youtu.be
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2013-04-14
Song As my time here is beginning to come to an end, and realizations of college being my new upcoming reality, I can’t help but think what it is this experience has done for me. I know I’ve changed in many ways; various means that I will never even realize have altered. I’ve been gone...
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2013-04-14
As the sun goes down, the colors around the mountain emerge. The roas gleams burnt orange against the array of greens that blossom up the hillside. Yes, the houses blend in with the brown of the brush but the flowers bloom brilliant reds and oranges. Mangoes droop from tree branches, fading from a pale yellow...
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2013-04-14
Someone once told me that a person’s story could be told by the soles of her shoes. She said that the shoes’ movements, trails, rhythms, and placements could converge to reflect a unique tale. Although the narrative of my past eight months often feels as multifaceted as the collection of sand and dirt particles perpetually...
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