Friday, April. 23, 2003 - 5:01 p.m.
Mora
During the first week of the term, my housemate Jason had a little stray puppy follow him home (April 1st). Stray dogs are not uncommon here, there is no humane society. Also, people have a different attitude about dogs and pets here. They are not a part of the family like they are in the states. Many people keep their dogs tied up on a short chain or on a small balcony all day long. I think some dogs are only kept as watchdogs, nothing more. There are frequently stray dogs roaming the streets and occasionally I’ll see a cat, but not very often.
Well, this little puppy followed Jason home, so he brought her into the house. She was a skinny black mutt that had a limp in her back hind leg. She was shy around everyone but Jason, but very sweet once she let you pet her. She even followed Jason around inside the house as well, hardly ever leaving his side. Jason and I were enamored with her right away and wanted to keep her. Frank was more practical and not thrilled. “You know we can’t keep it,” he’d say. Jason tried to feed her, he even bought (expensive) dog food, but in 3 days she hardly ate or drank (or expelled) anything. We figured she must have parasites (and she definitely had fleas). We also knew that it was highly unlikely that anybody would take her to the vet, since it is very expensive here. So, she will probably always walk with a limp, and maybe never have perfect health, but we at least wanted to find a home where she would be taken care of.
For about a day and a half I was idealistically pondering how 3 English teachers who live in a flat without a yard and work all day could actually care for this adorable little puppy. But reality was staring us all in the face and we eventually had to accept the fact that it wasn’t possible. Not to mention the fact that we knew that our landlady would probably never be okay with us having any pets. We tried to be secretive about having the dog in the house, since the landlady’s son and girlfriend live upstairs. However, there was no way to cover it up a few barks from Jason’s bedroom when they walked up the stairs. Jason put a “Lost dog: Needs Good Home” sign up at school and even brought her to his ninos class one day, hoping one of his kids might want to keep her. In the meantime, we tried to come up with a name for her. After about an hour, the name came to me: Mora. It means “blackberry” in Spanish and really seemed to fit her. I started calling her by her name whenever I’d see her around the house. She started to wag her tail and perk up a bit, probably thinking she’d landed herself in heaven with all the care and affection she was suddenly getting.
After 3 days, Jason found a home for her. One of his nina students talked to her parents and said she’d like to have the puppy. We were all happy that we found a home for her, but sad to see her go. We knew that this new home for Mora would be much better than ours, since it was out in the countryside, away from the city and the family had other dogs that she could play with.
A few days after Mora left us I heard from Jason that Mora was doing very well in her new home (even if the other dogs were bigger, older and all purebreds!). I was also thrilled to learn that the family decided to keep the name Mora.
Saying Goodbye to Berni
When our group of 9 returned to Cuenca after our adventure in the jungle, Berni, Diana and Gary had an upsetting discovery. Their house had been robbed over the weekend and all of their passports, some money and other valuables had been stolen (CD’s, plane tickets, drivers license, etc). Besides the valuables, having their passports gone was especially troubling because all three of them planned to leave Cuenca when the term ended three weeks later. Having your passport replaced can be very problematic and means dealing with embassies and bureaucracy. It usually takes several weeks, if not more than a month to have it all sorted out. Berni had planned to continue her round-the-world trip, Gary had a job lined up to teach in Japan and Diana was going to meet a friend in Peru in about a month and travel with her for awhile. All their plans were affected by the robbery. I learned later that they eventually all got their passports and documents sorted, but Berni had to postpone her flight to Chile, Diana was delayed to Peru and Gary was unable to get the job in Japan due to other problems with the school, airline and governments. Guess it wasn’t meant to be.
During our Spring Break, a bunch of teachers including Chris and Berni went to the coast. Berni returned to Cuenca afterwards for a short visit before continuing on her round-the-world travels. I was thrilled to see her again, even though it was a very short and bittersweet stay. She was one of my closest friends in Cuenca. We had a going away get-together Thursday, April 3rd at a nearby bar/ restaurant. After she left Cuenca she went on to Santiago, Chile and then a brief visit to Easter Island (with those mysterious tall stone statues of ominous faces). From there she went to New Zealand and last I heard she is in Australia, preparing to be at Ayers Rock for her 40th birthday!
Easter Sunday
The weekend of Easter (April 18-20th) another group of teachers planned a trip to Vilcabamba, this one including a lot of new teachers who started this term who have never been there. This was my third visit and once again we stayed at the lovely hostel “Madre Tierra”. It was nice to return to this little paradise and a little strange since I was only there a month prior with my family, who had already returned to the states.
With Ecuador being a predominant Roman Catholic country, of course Easter was celebrated, but the interesting thing is that the days prior to Easter Sunday are celebrated more than Easter Sunday itself. The Thursday before Easter, I learned, is the day when all Ecuadorians traditionally go to seven churches and pray (symbolizing the seven times that Christ stopped walking during the time he carried the cross). I decided to take part myself and managed to go to four. The last one I went to was so crowded with people that I was praying that I would get out of there alive. It seriously reminded me of the time that I was caught in the middle of a student protest in Sydney and the crowd shoved me into the row of fist-swinging police officers! If there had been any reason for a mass exodus of that church, a fire or panic in the crowd, people would have been crushed and died.
Our gang of 13 departed for Villy in two different groups. I joined the early birds and we caught a 9am bus for the intervening town of Loja. What we didn’t know was that this day was also a big holiday in Ecuador and we discovered upon arriving at the bus station that everything was closed and there were no buses to Vilcabamba that day. We were stranded at the terminal terrestre in Loja on a hot sunny day arguing with taxi drivers on a reasonable ride to Villy. Eventually we struck a deal and were soon lounging in the refreshing swimming pool at the hostel, musing about how the other group was going to make out when they arrived in Loja and discovered the same predicament we had. We started to get worried when they hadn’t arrived by 5pm. A little later the wearied crew showed up and we heard their crazy story of hitching a ride in a cattle truck with another Ecuadorian family. Despite their request, the driver took them all the way into town and when they told him they wanted to be taken to the hostel about half a mile up the road the man rolled up his fists contentiously and started shouting at them, even the Ecuadorian family members started to get involved. Fortunately, they were able to get away without a fist fight.
I spent most of Saturday hiking with Penny, Pippa and Louisa up the mountainside to where there were several large wooden crosses at the top. It was a long day, and a challenging hike to say the least. But once we reached our destination, we were treated to a fantastic view of the lush, green valley below us. The next day was Easter Sunday and despite some interested individuals in our group, it turned out that I was the only person who went to church that day. I walked into the village myself and arrived at the little church overflowing with believers. By the time I arrived, all the pews were full, so I stood in the back of the church along with many others. This was the first time that I have attended a Catholic church service, or mass. The service was interesting, even though I couldn’t understand much. Most of it was the priest talking. I understood enough to know that he was telling the Biblical Easter story of Jesus and His rising from the dead. There were a few songs and recited prayers. Then they had communion, which I didn’t participate in since I’m not Catholic. Overall it was a very nice service and I was glad that I went.
