Thoughts about leaving Ecuador

Some thoughts about leaving Ecuador:

It’s a mash up of sadness and excitement as we pack our bags and sell our bikes. We’ve been here 11 months, had some major ups and downs, grown as a family, and learned a lot. It’s hard to know how to summarize our time or reflect on all that has transpired. Perhaps only time and distance will bring things into focus. In the meantime, I’ve been contrasting and comparing what I am ready to leave behind and what I will miss about life in Ecuador. 

Many things bridge the two categories:

1. Easy Peasy climate: Although many Ecuadorians complain that Cuenca is freezing, it’s pretty much Alaskan summer year round. It’s more California than California. Sweatshirts and flip flops every day. It’s the kind of climate that makes you pretty soft. So, of course, I am going to miss it. But it’s perfection is tiresome. I miss seasonal variation and marking the passage of time by light and leaves. I miss switching up my exercise routine based on trail conditions. I miss manic summers and wood-stove winters. I miss my crazy extreme northern home.
2. Neighbors: Our “urbanización” is a pillar of our Ecuador lives. We know just about everyone in our little community and love the close-knit feel. Sam spends endless hours on the small “cancha” perfecting his soccer tricks, Locke checks in on all the neighborhood animals daily, and Robin is like a little butterfly, flitting in and out of houses bringing us the neighborhood news. On the flip side, we long for our own house, yard, dog, and our AK neighbors, who are almost like an extended family. I miss the comfort of my own space and familiar trails. I can’t wait to be back in my own kitchen with my ingredients. 
3. Urban living: It’s been fun living a walkable/bike-able place where we have not one, but 5, easily accessible corner stores.   I love living in a place where public transport works. It’s been awesome for Sam to be able to get places on his own, not dependent on getting rides from us.  I equally miss the freedom of having a car and the easy access a car gives me to remote places. I’m pretty sick of waiting for buses, then waving my hand at them frantically just to have them blow past, ignoring the stop. I’m sick of organizing rides, negotiating prices, and squeezing our family into a taxi.
4. Life with lower expectations and fewer plans: I love my free-form days. This time has been a gift. A chance for learning and redefinition; to pursue new skills and follow interests. The kind of time that kids have but often don’t recognize or appreciate and that adults long for but rarely have. But it also makes me itch for more purpose; searching for ways to not just learn but put my skills to work, to contribute, to work towards connections and solutions. We have done a lot of work as a family this year and it has brought us closer, but now I think I am ready to get back to work.
5. Spanish: This is a big one. I love living in Spanish. It inspires and humbles me every day. I love waking up and realizing that I was dreaming in Spanish. I love thinking of the world through a lens of Spanish and what that can teach me about cultural norms and personal interactions. Even more than my own progress, I LOVE hearing my kids speak Spanish. I am amazed at (and a bit envious of) the plasticity of their brains. They even throw in Kichwa words since they have largely learned to speak by imitating their classmates, who mash up Kichwa and Spanish. But, we are all very ready to start living in English: the taken for granted ease of opening our mouths and having conversations, the idioms and jokes that we understand, the unspoken customs and cultural norms that make sense. 
6. Adventuring: I love exploring. Maybe above just about anything else. I will miss adventuring around Ecuador. We’ve criss-crossed the country several times in buses, learned about countless cultural pockets, visited every climatic zone, and marveled at the biodiversity. I will miss the friendly conversations and interactions I have with Ecuadorians on trails, in tiny villages, and at bus stops. At the same time, I am ready to return to my wild place. I miss the easy access to wilderness in Alaska and the community of friends who love it as much as I do. I miss knowing how to plan and execute a trip and having the appropriate gear to do it. I miss the wildlife of AK and living closer to nature. Ecuador has been a whirlwind adventure, but I’m ready to get back to the everyday adventure of the Alaskan wilds.

Things that have been amazing in Ecuador that I hope to carry forward into our AK lives:

1. Prioritization of family time: I love living in a culture where family is first. Period. No questions asked. Of course it is. It’s not idyllic: family here is still complicated and not always easy or peaceful or comfortable, but it comes first. As our lives again get busy with work, school, and activities, I hope that we can hang on to this salient truth, always.
2. Resilience: A thread that stitches together all of our experiences in Ecuador has been managing our discomfort: discomfort with Spanish, with lack of cultural understanding, physical discomfort on 14 hour bus journeys and with food that we don’t want to eat. The kids have described many of their school days as an all-day-long exercise in distress tolerance. We’ve all pushed ourselves up to and beyond our growth edges. And it has led to fear, anger, feelings of failure, and at times resignation. But that is what life is about: sitting with..marinating in….discomfort because it will pass and can lead to connection, learning, joy, and growth. As a family, we have supported each other, practiced distress tolerance skills, and will emerge more resilient.
3. Personal interactions. It took several months, but then one day walking into the corner store, the shopkeeper called me “veci” (short for vecino, neighbor). It felt like a validation, a recognition that maybe I can never blend in, but I can fit into my Ecuadorian neighborhood. I can be part of the community fabric held together by unhurried interactions and spontaneous get togethers. At first, I was sort of annoyed by the drawn out pleasantries of chance encounters. I had a hard time letting go the timeline of my personal agenda. But I have come to appreciate the full presence and good listening that Ecuadorians bring to all types of personal interactions. And I’ve tried to reciprocate, because do I really need to be in that much of a hurry? 
4. Creativity: Devoting time to creative endeavors is food for my soul. It has fed my heart and mind and shown me opportunities and connections which before I may not have seen. As we get back to the North American rigamarole, I put forth a heartfelt intention to hold space for my fledgling creative inner child, for she too needs to be nurtured.

And the few things that I just don’t think I’ll miss:

1. Air pollution: It’s a reason to keep wearing a mask. Although universal masking is pretty much still required, many people now wear their masks as a chin strap when walking outside. However, I am frequently happy to have it on when I am bathed by a thick cloud of noxious emissions. During the pandemic, many people bought cars, not wanting to take the risk of public buses anymore. I’m sick of running through traffic, getting sprayed by soot and dirt and holding my breath as I pass through dark clouds of who knows what kind of chemicals.
2. Mean street dogs: Most of the street dogs are nice. There are some that I would want to bring home if we were staying. They are all skinny and skittish, likely have been through some rough times. But some of them are mean. I commonly grab a couple of rocks to have ready in case I cross paths with a mean dog. I’ve never hit a dog with a rock, but if they come at me snarling with raised hair and teeth bared, even the act of pretending I am going to throw a rock is sometimes enough to get them to back off. I especially hate having to navigate a mean dog when I’m walking with Robin, because she gets so scared. None of us have been bitten, yet.

Lastly, things that I am just not excited to return to:

1. American gun culture: It really scares me. As a mom of school-aged kids, it terrifies me. I thought I would feel less safe in Ecuador than in Alaska, but the truth is that I feel safer here. Sure, there’s crime. Theft. You’ve got to watch your electronics. But if a fight breaks out in a park or on a bus, chances that it is going to become a gun fight are nil. Nobody owns guns. Looking at the entrance to my kid’s school, you’d think this is a gun culture. There is a guard who monitors the gated entrance to the school all day, and he wears a bullet proof vest. Maybe it’s a vestige of a more violent past, but it seems like American schools need these vested guards and gated schools more than Ecuadorian schools. 

In a parallel life, one not too far away from what is actually happening, instead of packing our bags to return to Alaska, we would be packing up to move across Cuenca, to a house with a yard and a garden, space for chickens and maybe a goat. We would be buying a car and arranging to bring Mowgli here to live with us. We would be figuring out ways to start working.  It’s hard to know how all of the small decisions that we’ve made led us to the big decision to move home. One moment just leads to the next, each one a natural consequence of the infinite web of interactions and circumstances that make the present possible. So, here we are. Packing our bags and excited to move home and sad to be leaving. At least we now know that this is possible. Most likely, we will fall right back into the groove of our much loved Alaskan lives. However, we will be leaving small parts of ourselves here in this beautiful country, entrusting corners of our souls to the Ecuadorian people. And we will take with us the possibility of return. Like holding onto a lucky penny in our pockets and knowing that our Ecuadorian parallel lives aren’t going anywhere.