A Gastronomical Tour of Ecuador: Part 2

Sugary Sweet, the Pitahaya (or dragonfruit) has the texture of a kiwi. Ranging from the size of a large apple to a small grapefruit, the fruit is from a cactus.

Botanical Gardens, Playa de Los Friales

This weekend I visited Los Frailes--part of Machalilla National Park, Ecuador's only coastal park. The park was pristine and free of loud music blasting from subs in cars parked along the beach. This is a view from a short walk to a look-out tower.
I am happy that I am out of the water for a bit. A wave attacked me while swimming and I ate sand and toppled in the surf. Later, I was still finding sand in my ears. A healthy respect for the sea was restored to say the least.

This last week, I also visited the Botanical Gardens of Portoviejo with friends. Being that it is rainy season, I left with flip flops caked in mud and about 20 new mosquito bites, but it was well worth it.
I do not remember the name of this small mammal native to Ecuador, eek. He was quite friendly and followed us as we walked through the garden. Unlike most zoos, we were encloused in a wire tunnel and the animals wandered freely throughout the park. The guide insisted that they were so accustomed to their habitat (and 3 meals a day) that they do not try to leave the grounds of the park. Many of the animals in the park are native to Ecuador and were found as illegal pets in homes. They are brought to the Gardens for a time of rehabilitation before being sent back to forests and jungles. Interestingly, the guide noted that while it is illegal to have any animal native to Ecuador as a pet, Ecuadorians can legally (for a high price) have the pheasant that was in the park as a pet, or another animal whose home is Colombia, Brasil....etc....

Fishermen in Crucita

Young Boy watching fishermen bring in the catch.
Clouds of birds fly overhead. One happened to poop on me. I think this is good luck, even though my expression looks a bit shocked. Later that day, I found a lost earring.

This older gentlemen was very proud of his catch. On the right, are a dark-meat fish. The nutritionist I shadow here, always suggests patients eat black-meat fish.
Fishermen lined up their catch: tuna, dolorado, albacore.
Young boys quickly carry in the catch, trying to dodge pesky birds trying to get a fish.
Piles of smaller fish are thrown on wooden plank tables. Women and men quickly gut the fish with a large knife--barely looking at their hands as they do it!

At the Beach: San Clemente

Drive back from San Clemente to Portoviejo. The cattle in the middle of the road seemed to be a normal occurence. Cattle, chickens, and hogs seem to roam somewhat freely along roadsides.



The Beach in San Clemente. Wide with fairly calm waves, it was perfect for kids looking to play in the surf. Cloudy days like this are keeping me from looking like a tomato. Yay.

Between the Pages: Infidel by Ayaan Hirsi Ali

Ayaan Hirsi Ali was born in Somalia and grew up in Ethiopia, Kenya, and Saudi Arabia before fleeing to the Netherlands to escape an arranged marriage. Her memoir carefully shows the appeal of radical Islam and her careful decision to leave Islam. While in the US, most thoughtful people are careful to be very politically correct when discussing Islamic practices in the Middle East, Ayaan Hirsi Ali tells her story without careful regard for insulting her upbringing.

An excerpt from the Epilogue:
"My central, motivating concern is that women in Islam are oppressed. That oppression of women causes Muslim women and Muslim men, too, to lag behind the West. It creates a culture that generates more backwardness with every generation. It would be better for everyone--for Muslims, above all--if this situation could change.

When people say that the values of Islam are compassion, tolerance, and freedom, I look at reality, at real cultures and governments, and I see that it simply isn't so. People in the West swallow this sort of thing because they have learned not to examine the religions or cultures of minorities too critically, for fear of being called racist. It fascinates them that I am not afraid to do so."

Needless to say, this memoir leaves me wanting to read a more positive account of the varied Islamic cultures in Africa and the Middle East. Still, Ayaan Hirsi Ali's descriptive, honest, blatant account let me see another world that I would like to believe is only a reality for a minority of Muslim women. It obviously is not.

I also just stumbled upon this preview for a segment on Minnesota Public Radio: "Civil War Kids: Young Somalis in Minnesota." Minnesota is home to the largest population of Somali-Americans in the country. This photo-montage parallels much of Infidel's discussion of challenges to integration into a Western society.

Terremoto En Haiti

Haiti is in the thoughts, prayers of Ecuadorians here on the coast. The tragedy of the earthquake--terremoto--is covered 24/7 on CNN en español and the local paper.

I ran across NYT journalist, David Brooks' op-ed, "The Underlying Tragedy." A thoughtful article, it points out the central role of poverty and lack of infrastructure in this disaster. In light of the article, NPR's radio expedition "Voodoo and West Africa's Spiritual Life" is an interesting background on voodooism in Africa today.

I first gained a bit of a closer look at Haitian culture through a memoir and film last year:

• Brother I'm Dying by Edwidge Danticat--In her memoir, Haitian born Danticat tells the story of her uncle's flee from Haiti in 2004 and subsequent death while detained in Florida and begging for asylum.
• The Agronomist--"A profile of Haitian radio journalist and human rights activist, Jean Dominique....includes footage before Dominique's assassination on April 3, 2000."

I highly recommend taking the time to read Danticat's memoir and watch the profile film to gain a closer look at the central role of poverty, dictatorships, oppression, and lack of infrastructure in the current Haitian tragedy.

A Week at the Clinic with Visiting Medical Team

This is the view from the clinic window. Only at the beginning of December, there was no green. Now, with rains, some of the trees have gained color. Up on the hill, there are a number of houses mostly made of brick and sugar-cane like material. Laundry drying on lines dots the hill. A bus terminal is off to the left in the photo. Often, loud music from the little cantina at the bottom of the photo, can be heard in the clinic.
Part of the group here the past week for plastic and orthopedic surgeries along with volunteer physicians from pediatric clinic. It was fabulous to have the opportunity to learn from such a wonderful group of people and care for children here. Much of the week, I was the only one translating in the clinic--this gave me a great respect for the capability of those that normally perform this work.

lluvia

I woke up last night to what sounded like white noise. I was surprised to find when I peeked out the window, that it was a torrent of rain. This was the first time I have seen rain here in Portoviejo, since I arrived in October. Needless to say, I took the time to watch the sheets of rain pour down in the middle of the night. A refreshing morning of misty rain followed.

Back on the Coast and in the Clinics

As of last week I am back on the coast. The past two days have been spent at CAS clinic, helping with preparing patients for physicians (weight, height, blood pressure) and shadowing a gynecologist, Dr M.* I really enjoy learning from Dr. M and assisting her with examinations. Women from many walks of life, from teenagers to seniors walk into the extremely modest exam room. Yet with the little resources available (no patient gowns, no change of patient bed sheets), I admire how Dr. M is able to talk compassionately with patients, test, diagnose, and counsel.

The heat here is a bit unbearable (33 degrees Celsius)…but knowing how cold it is at home, I realize that I am happy my toes are not numb from subzero temps. It was even featured in the local newspaper today that temps in Miami have dropped to below 32 degrees F. Eek, South Beach brrr.

*All names in hospital/clinical settings changed for privacy. Clinic names shortened for privacy.

New Year´s in Ecuador

This is Aragon, beloved black lab. The small paper dog next to Aragon is a año viejo. I returned to Ecuador on the 30th and was intrigued to find new vendors on every streetcorner, selling años viejos (paper mache characters of cartoons and people, as well as paper masks). At midnight, Ecuadorians burn the años viejos, as they say goodbye to unfavorable parts of the past year and welcome the new year. It seems that the burned character is either done in good fun (Aragon), or something you truly despise.

Burning of años viejos outside the house. In the hour surrounding midnight, it sounded like a warzone. Fireworks went off from all surrounding streets with a whiz, pop, and crack!

The view of the Sunset from Crucita. Absolutely breathtaking. This beauty is tempered by a hog eating refuse in the seaside dirt street.

Photo Update on Ecuador, Before Christmas

30-nov-2009 I went on a Rotaract trip to Riobamba, a town in the Sierra region of Ecuador. Rotaract is party of Rotary International, a service group based in communities throughout the world, Rotaract is specifically for youth, 18 to 30 years old. While in the Sierra, we hiked around Chimborazo, the tallest volcano in Ecuador. We couldn’t see the top because their were too many clouds! They first appeared as shadows in the clouds. Then the Alpacas emerged. (Unless I am mistaken, and they are llamas). This picture is almost as cool as the (many) photos my dad has of the three fawns in the backyard at home. In Riobamba, we rode around in a la chiva for awhile. It is the colorful open-air jalopy-bus behind us, top photo. This is kind of like crusin’ in a car, only with louder music, and more friends. Everybody in Rotaract tries to pile on top of la chiva as it slowly goes through town.

Between the Pages: A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

For a time, I have walked past copies of The Kite Runner at Barnes and Noble and sitting on my brother’s desk. Always meaning to read it, but never picking it up. Yet, Khaled Hosseini’s A Thousand Splendid Suns was given to me with the warning, “you won’t be able to put it down.” So on Christmas morning, I creased back the first page.

Hosseini intertwines the stories of two Afghan women, Mariam and Laila, during thirty tumultuous years in Kabul and the surrounding area. In the novel, Afghanistan, a land of intrigue and unknowns, is most often described from the eyes of these two women. In one of the few panoramic views of Afghanistan, Hosseini writes, “The two Buddhas were enormous, soaring much higher than she had imagined from all the photos she’d seen of them. Chiseled into a sun-bleached rock cliff, they peered down at them, as they had nearly two thousand years before, Laila imagined, at caravans crossing the valley on the Silk Road.”

The novel traces changes of power in Afghanistan, from Soviet to Taliban to the current war. While many of the women in Afghanistan may not have a voice to speak to the Western world, Hosseini has attempted to tell their story, and has done so beautifully, humbly, and thoughtfully:

“Mariam had never before worn a burqa. Rasheed had to help her put it on. The padded headpiece felt tight and heavy on her skull, and it was strange seeing the world through a mesh screen. She practiced walking around her room in it and kept stepping on the hem and stumbling. The loss of peripheral vision was unnerving, and she did not like the suffocating way the pleated cloth kept pressing against her mouth.”

I was most intrigued to learn that Khaled Hosseini’s novel The Kite Runner, was “written in the early hours before setting off for his ‘day job’ as a doctor.” I wonder if he still has his doctor gig after such literary success? (Nope, his bio notes he practiced as a physician from 1996 to 2004).

Minnesota Christmas Morning: Crème Brulee French Toast

We enjoyed this easy dish on Christmas morning. It was easy to make, as promised by friend from the Windy City. Warm from the oven, this French toast deserves your complete attention as you savor every morsel. Thanks to K. for the recipe below:





Creme Brulee French Toast
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter
1 cup packed brown sugar
2 tablespoons corn syrup
1 (8 to 9) inch round loaf Challah bread
5 large eggs
3/2 cups half and half
3/2 teaspoons vanilla
3/2 teaspoons Grand Marnier
1/4 teaspoon salt

In a small, heavy saucepan, melt butter with brown sugar and corn syrup over moderate heat, stirring until smooth, and pour into a 13x9x2in baking dish. Cut 6 (maybe more) 1 inch thick slices from the center portion of the bread, reserving ends for another use, and trim crusts. Arrange bread slices in one layer in baking dish, squeezing them slightly to fit. In a bowl whisk together eggs, half and half, vanilla, Grand Marnier, and salt until combined well and pour evenly over bread. Cover bread mixture and chill at least 8 hrs and up to 1 day. Preheat oven to 350 degrees and bring bread to room temperature. Bake bread mixture, uncovered, in middle of oven 35 to 40 mins until puffed and edges are pale golden.

December 4th, 2009

Quito to Minneapolis....
I have been in Ecuador almost two months. Today I am returning home for interviews and Christmas at home.

I am bursting at the seams with the thought of being home during December. From a logistical standpoint, this makes little sense. It will be dark at 5pm, or earlier. It will be cold. It will be colorless, particularly if there is no snow. The drab earthly rotting hues permeate every corner. Nonetheless, it is that very drabness that allows the shining Christmas lights to glow against evergreen and beneath a blanket of snow. It is the coldness that validates my choice to drink tea, coffee, and hot chocolate. It is the damp cold that urges us to build a fire in the fireplace. It is the quiet darkness of twilight that begs conversation, music, and laughter to break the silence.

I already am anticipating that I will be ready to go back to the Ecuadorian coast at the end of this month. The lure of balmy temperatures, sunshine strong enough to wipe out any SADD sufferer’s worst symptoms, and tropical fruits not at import prices. More than clime, the privilege of being a part of an amazing Ecuadorian family, my observation/volunteer work in the hospital/clinic, and making new friends leaves me more than excited at the prospect of spending several more months south of the Equator.

For now, I am bracing myself for the 18-degree temperatures awaiting me in the tundra-land. I am trying not to think about how I just paid $3.20 for a bottle of water at the Miami airport (that costs 25 cents in Ecuador). I am strangely comforted by the words of the tattoo-covered customs officer in Miami, “Welcome home.”