I’m almost 5 months into this adventure. On one hand, I can’t believe it’s already December, but on the other hand, I do feel like I’ve been here a while and feel quite established and rooted where I am. At this point, Sangolquí feels very much like home, at least a home away from home (side note: Sangolquí is where we live, our Centro is in Rumiloma, a much more rural town about 3.5 miles away). Unfortunately very few of my fellow Sangolquians feel the same way.
Sangolquí is a suburb outside of Quito that is small enough and far enough away from touristy Quito to not be used to a constant stream of gringos; however, it is also big enough to where I will see new people everyday for the entire year I am here. I think to think of it as a Brentwood — in terms of size only! You can get to know your neighbors, the clerk at the local store you visit, etc, but it’s not the kind of place where everyone knows your name and story. This makes being completely comfortable here tough because while I feel like I am at home as I walk down the street, to the bus stop, or through the grocery store, I am constantly stared at as a stranger. On many days I am confronted by people who are surprised when I speak Spanish to them and bus drivers who make sure I know that the bus is not going to Quito. It’s an odd paradox, and even odder feeling as I try to feel at home in a place that constantly reminds me that I don’t belong.
Not all is pessimistic, there are definitely people who aren’t shocked to see us. The copy place across the streets always greets us warmly and probably does not go a day without seeing a PD, at the market our lady always gives us two mandarins for free to take for the road, few bodegas and restaurants out front know our faces quite well by know, and sometimes we see people from the Centro out in Sangolquí, which is always the best. Still, it’s hard to ignore the stares or surprised looks.
When we go into Quito I always feel so different from the tourists all around me, but I know that I look no different and am treated no different from any of them. In defense of my fragile state of feeling at home, I don’t hesitate to respond in Spanish to vendors in the market when they assume they have to use their broken English with me. Or correct them when they say something about my “vacation”. And I usually carry my censo, rather than my American license around. Oh the things we do for comfort and security.
Today I was hissed at and grabbed getting off the bus. Unfortunately, this isn’t that uncommon. And what made me the saddest about this event was that I recognized the guy who did it — he is one of the bus attendants for the bus we take to the Centro everyday and I probably see him about 3 days a week. People often ask why we don’t live right in the town where we work. While there are many reasons for this, which I may go into in a later post, I was so happy that we didn’t this afternoon as I couldn’t contain my disgust or keep on the “profe face” for this guy who was so forthrightly rude and demeaning — whew, the topic of machismo here will definitely have to go in a later post. In conclusion to a very scattered post, for all of Ecuador’s quirks, I love it here. I know I am where I am called to be; sometimes I just wish I could call that place home and really feel it too.
haz todo con amor 
I really want to see the ‘profe’ face! Its crazy to think that here in America there is so much diversity, that if you are from a different area but speak the same language that no one thinks twice about it. But its so different down there. I can’t wait to see what its like.