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.”
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.”
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1 comment:
I enjoyed your post claire. Reading about winter and Christmas and curling up with a book made me excited to go home. Hope you're enjoying your hot hot hot weather!
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