Fiestas de Navidad and Some Good People

Today I feel very lucky. Although the last few weeks have not been the easiest (I was mugged at knifepoint, then I was robbed in a taxi, then I got homesick, then I started to question what I'm doing here), my friends and family here in Ecuador have totally carried me through. As I prepare to spend my first Christmas away from my parents and sisters, I am trying not to dwell on what is far away. I have a lot close by.

Holiday parties have taken on a new level of importance since I'm away from my family. I'll highlight two of the best. First, Chandra hosted a cocktail party for all the Fulbrighters in Ecuador last weekend. About half of us traveled to Latacunga for potentially the most American thing to ever hit highland Ecuador. AMAZING. Cultural exchange is great, but I think anyone who has lived abroad for an extended period of time would agree it's sometimes necessary to speak your first language, eat familiar food, and jam to your tunes.

 Chandra's face says it all. At the end of the day, we're lucky people.

The spread: deviled eggs (...my suggestion, making the Lewis' proud), sweet potato fries, hummus, bread, guacamole, cookies, sangria.

From left: Shannon (studying Afro-Ecuadorian culture in Quito), Lindsay (English Teaching Assistant in Cuenca, her research is about special education), Maria (making a film about sex trafficking in Quito), and Chris (Maria's Husband, our favorite Fulbright "dependent" currently in Ecuador).

 

Dancing. Age range 2- 65.

Me and Raaj. Raaj studies parasites and other gross things in Quito and Esmeraldas, but he just returned from a slew of med school interviews in the good ol USA.

And second, I hosted a little Christmas fiesta in my apartment Wednesday. It was a notably less classy occasion than Chandra's, featuring jeans, pizza, beer and some serious reggeaton beats. And here you thought I left college. Although I only had enough chairs for 1/2 the people who attended (I own 5), my completely empty apartment makes for an excellent dance floor. And don't scoff, dancing is serious business here. I don't think I've ever been to an Ecuadorian party where there wasn't a (usually multi-generational) dance session. Love it.

Marco is one of my best friends here. He is also my neighbor. Also my brother. I'm spending Christmas Day with his family.

Some amigos. That's happiness written on my face.

And finally, I swear I actually am a teaching assistant. This is one of my classes-- 5th semester English students (juniors)-- in the lobby of our building. You'll locate me in the back row next to Marco. They invited me to their Christmas party, which featured a slew of speeches, some tears, and beautiful expressions of gratitude and wisdom. I wish I could transplant Ecuadorians' overflowing, no-holds-barred affection and honesty into my home culture.

Enjoy the Holidays, everyone.

Changing and Not

 

Quito Barney, Dec. 2008

 

Cuenca Barney, Dec. 2010

Jamie, Sophie & I, Quito, Nov. 2008

Amanda, Raaj & I, Latacunga, Dec. 2010

Despite what the above photos might indicate, my 2010 Ecualife is really nothing like its 2008 precursor. This time around I'm living on my own, driving my own classes and my own projects, traveling less--but meeting more people-- and starting to call a little city home. Plus a lot has happened in the past two years; even when I see similar things, I don't perceive them in quite the same way.

And yet.... I still think the plethora of bubble-blowing Barneys in this country is hilarious and absurd (key difference: 2010 Barney is totally grabbing my butt, hence the novel expression). I still have a community of peers to host English-language social hours every once in awhile (key difference: drinking white wine in '08 and red in '10). There's comfort in repetition. And probably more comfort when you're in a foreign place.

"Experience isn’t interesting until it begins to repeat itself, in fact, till it does that, it hardly is experience." (Elizabeth Bowen).

Catchup Part 1 (Volcano and Census)

BBC picture- I'm further away, but this is what I see.

 No, I have not been buried in lava. Only grad school applications (worse?). But now 5 out of 6 "submit" buttons have been hit, I'm down a few hundred $ in application fees, and ready to start typing about something other than future research plans. Before I fill you in on personal news, here are two news-worthy things from Ecuador that have happened in the past month:

<-- Volcan Tunguraha began erupting again in late November. I mentioned Tungurahua, which is about an hour from my house, in this pre-eruption post a month ago (see third picture). Although Ambato has not been evacuated, living in the shadow of an eruption means the city is intermittently showered in volcanic ash. One day it actually appeared to be snowing. Everyone here warns ominously that you should wear a mask (volcanic ash is filled with toxins), but no one does.

City of Latacunga- "Volcanic Threat Zone" signs

One night, my landlord brought me outside to see red lava glowing in the distance. Sometimes I feel like I'm living in a mythical land. Occasionally I can hear the volcano gurgling. In Quichua, Tunguri means "throat" and Rahua means "fire." So Tungurahua... "throat of fire." The gurgling is real.

This sticker proves your house has been census'd.

Moving on. Sunday November 28, Ecuador administered its National Census. This was not ANYTHING like the U.S. Census. On Sunday the 28th, between the hours of 7am-5pm, no one in the entire country of Ecuador was allowed to move. Seriously. By law, you had to be in your (or a) house, and were not allowed to leave. The logic? Everyone had to be counted, and how can you count people if they're all moving around? All commerce and public/private offices shut down, with the exception of police/hospital. People caught on the street were arrested.

Every Ecuadorian high school student was trained and assigned about 10 houses to administer the census to door-to-door. Two very frightened 15 year old girls "censo'd" me-- I was the first house of the morning, and took the census interview in my PJs. The picture below from the national press-- it's President Correa being administered the census in his house. How lucky is the student who was assigned the President's block?!

Random kid administering census to the President in his home

The census itself was a bizarre 50+ question long behemoth of a questionnaire with many development-oriented questions like "how many light fixtures are in your house?" and a slew of  racial categorization questions (which are complete BS for reasons I'll explain later). High school teachers and state employees monitored the streets to ensure that high school students were not kidnapped while they take the census. Most people invite their high school students inside their house. This method of administering the census would NEVER work in our country for sooo many reasons. But I kind of liked it.

PS- If I ever take a month break from blogging again, I have 3 wonderful Fulbright ETA counterparts in Ecuador, and they all blog too: Chandra, Lindsay, and Amanda.

Diary of a Turno

C558 is a turno. One lucky person sitting in this hot, crowded Ecuadorian migration office is holding a slip of paper with "C558" printed on it. When a loud BEEP interrupts the telenovela blaring on the TV in front, the entire room will inhale and glance at the board, praying it's their turno. Person C558, assuming they haven't lapsed into a coma during the wait, will release a small cry of joy as they proceed to Module 11.

Ecuadorian bureaucracies are something else. I mention it because I feel as though I spend huge amounts of time at their mercy. Since arriving, I have needed to visit at least two of the following per week: post office, migration office, electric company, water company, bank, private mail company, _________ (some unforeseen office, which a well-meaning person will tell me it's urgent I go to without providing adequate physical directions [how to get there] or conceptual directions [what my goal will be when there]).

The picture at left was taken by a friend in Quito's migration office. In addition to getting a visa, registering our passports, attending security briefings, and completing multiple (inconvenient) trips to banks and embassies, we apparently need documentation to prove we're Ecuadorian residents and not tourists. My friend snapped this photo as I realized I was turno C592... still 34 turnos away.... at a rate of 4 turnos per hour. We left.

Swimming: the old, fat, south american chapters

12 year old Kim, who could kick 22 year old Kim's butt

Swimming and coaching are the most recent additions to my Ecualife. Colegio Bolivar is a large high school about a 5 minute walk from my house. They have a beautiful, recently-remodeled 6-lane pool. Marco (my brother/neighbor/best friend) took me to the pool last week. What do you know? There was a club team practicing, and Marco knew the coach. Although I actually intended to swim alone, it was decided that I would practice with the oldest group (ages 12-15) to get some exercise, as well as help coach.

The past few years, I have been fortunate to get my chlorine fix by working/traveling with Denison Swimming + Diving. But I haven't done a "practice" that someone else created or swam in a group setting in a long time. I'm now the out-of-shape old person sharing a lane with teenagers, with little knowledge of Spanish swimming vocabulary. I also lead drills, watch the kids' technique, and try to help. It's pretty much hilarious. Here are some actual excerpts from my first swim practice in 3 1/2 years:

Coach: The first set is butterfly. Kimberly, you're going first.
Me: Oh, hmmmm.... I can't do butterfly. Bad shoulders. It's a perk of retirement.
Coach: The first set is freestyle.
*my lane of 12 year olds cheers*
Coach: No, you all are still doing butterfly. Only Kimberly does freestyle.
*my lane of 12 year olds emit sounds of disapproval*
12 year old: I wish I was old.

Group of 12 year olds whispering in my lane: Do you think she speaks Spanish?
Me: Yes, I speak Spanish.
12 year old: Oh shit. I mean... oh crap. Wait... how did you learn Spanish?
Me: School. I studied hard.
12 year old: Can you help me with my English homework?
Me: I don't speak English. 

That pool I love in Ohio.

*after 6 sets*
Coach: Have you all done 8 sets?
12 year old: Yes, we just finished.
Coach: Kimberly, have you all done 8 sets?
*lane of 12 year olds looks hopefully at me*
Me: Totally.
Coach: OK you're done for the day then.
Me + Lane of 12 year olds: YAY!

Familia & Day in the Park

<-- a favorite pasttime of N + M is to coat my face in makeup designed for 5 year olds (big, chunky glitter, hot-pink hues) before we go out in public.

I like Sundays. Chaos reaches all-time lows, traffic is lighter, and I feel slightly less likely to be mugged on the streets. Often, friends invite me to tag along on their family outings. Togetherness is serious business here; "individualism" is not a godly virtue like it is in the US.  Consequently, the news that I am a young, unmarried woman living ALONE often evokes horror and pity: 

"Pooor Kimberly, living all alone, and not even a mother to cook for you, or a husband to keep you company... poor thing, you will spend Sunday with my family." 

But anyway. I spent a recent Sunday in nearby Parque de la Familia ("Family Park") with my adoptive family.The park is about a 20 minute drive up a nearby mountain. Although Ambato is your average Ecuadorian city-- 99% concrete, super polluted, not-at-all-attractive, and extremely utilitarian-- Parque de la Familia is the exception. It is by far the most beautiful, expansive, public space I've seen anywhere in Ecuador. It's like a little Eden overlooking concrete chaos.

And, not that I ever like to brag about friends, the park was designed by an Ecuadorian Fulbrighter. Victor Hugo Molina did his graduate work in landscape architecture at the University of Arizona. [Fulbright is "bilateral" educational exchange program, which means Ecuadorians also get to study in the U.S. under Fulbright grants.] I met Victor and his wife and children at their home in Ambato a few weeks ago. Besides the best (or maybe just the most american) cup of coffee I've had since arriving, they were delightful company and had great things to say about Arizona's new immigration law. Meeting new and interesting people is my favorite part of living here.

(Above picture: Yes, the treacherous black shadow looming over the park is yet another actively erupting volcano here in the always-pleasant Ecuadorian ring-of-fire. On clear mornings, it's first thing I see upon walking left out of my front gate).

Nighttime View/ Independence

This is the city of Ambato from my apartment, which now features 3 plastic chairs and a string of Christmas lights. I'm making friends. It feels good to have people sit in my chairs.

November 12 was Ambato's independence day. Besides having the day off, I watched a parade (morning) and fireworks (night) from my porch. I've now attended 3 parades in 3 different cities in a span of 9 days, so I consider myself an expert. Ambato's independence parade was a bit weak... mostly high school marching bands and girls with batons. And it only lasted 2 hours-- SO short in Ecuadorian parade time.

Throughout the weekend, there were also free concerts in the open-air theater adjacent to my house. The first night was death metal. The second night was off-key evangelical praise music. I found both rather excruciating-- too much screaming and no dancing at either one. Living next-door to an outdoor theater also makes your stoop a public urinal. And in an extra-fun twist, the city shut off my water for 24 hours with no warning (Viva Ambato!). My neighbors, of course, saw the water thing coming, and laughed when I knocked on their door to ask why I couldn't shower.

Mama Negra Highlights

La Limpieza/ The Cleansing Part 1: These Juacos or witches are praying I am spared from the wrath of nearby Volcano Cotopaxi. If, like me, you've lost all notion of "personal space," it's really quite a nice blessing. Also pretty Catholic, despite the antlers and facepaint.

La Limpieza/ The Cleansing Part 2: This man spit-sprays sugercane alcohol all over me. As the Juacos leave, it's customary to give them change as a sign of gratitude for the cleansing (and presumably to help offset the cost of spraying several thousand people with alcohol).

Here's a brief recap the Mama Negra (literally "Black Mama") festival in Latacunga, which was by far the weirdest Saturday of my life. I also recommend reading Chandra's full account of Saturday's festivities here.

La Mama Negra herself.

As mentioned previously, no one knows exactly where this huge carnival-esque phenomenon originates. My googling and informal interviews indicate that Mama Negra is a combination of things:

- A ritual to ensure Latacunga isn't flattened by Volcano Cotopaxi... again.
- A reenactment of the first time local indigenous people saw Black slaves, who the Spanish brought to work in nearby mines.
- A celebration of the expulsion of the Moors from Spain in 1492.

It's like Carnival meets Where the Wild Things Are.

Mama Negra kicks off with an enormous parade that lasts several hours. Pretty much every man, woman and child in a 100-mile radius marches, plays in a band, dances, or performs as a character. There are lots of men in dresses. And it's interactive-- the crowd does not merely watch, but participates.

Alcohol is central. Everyone in the crowd can expect to receive at least one spontaneous "cleansing" (see my experience above). Characters also approach you and shove bottles of cane alcohol in your face, which means "drink." Turning down alcohol at Mama Negra is considered rude and contrary to the spirit of the festival.

Volcano Cotopaxi

Mama Negra is ambiguously religious. Throughout the parade, men carry these enormous altars with whole roasted pigs, bottles of alcohol, other assorted dead animals... and, a picture of the Virgin Mary.

Mama Negra might be an overtly racist, disgusting interpretation of "blackness." The central spectacle of the parade is the appearance of "Mama Negra" herself-- a white male in blackface and women's clothing, spraying milk onto the crowd from her "breast." Other central characters in the parade include The Moorish King, The White Angel, and some swamp monsters (see photo of me, some fellow Fulbrighters, and a few characters above).

Lenin Moreno, the Vice-President of Ecuador. Sitting in the crowd. Love it.

So, now you know about Mama Negra, kind of. If you found this post hard to follow, and aren't sure what to make of this festival, I'm right there with you.
 

At Least 3 Readers Will Appreciate This

For a seriously good laugh regarding the recent deer-in-campus-commons incident at Denison University (my alma mater), I recommend Betsy Fischer's interview with an eyewitness.

Happy Birthday

To my sister Jenny, who is 20 today, who can make me laugh just by glancing in my direction, who is basically the peanut butter to my jelly, who I want to be when I grow up, and who will hopefully smile upon reading this.

Life-Altering Decisions

There are many huge, complex decisions one must negotiate while building a life in a new culture. The personal and intellectual growth that comes from figuring out who to trust, what to love, and where to go is interesting and important. But that's not what this post is about. Instead, I want to explain instead some of the small, trivial decisions which actually occupy my brain most of the time:

Ordinary view in Ambato

Issue: Long, crowded bus rides.
Options: 1.) Stand. 2.) Sit. But, with the person who didn't get a seat's crotch in your face, trying to inhale shallowly through your mouth, since the crotch in question is radiating a dead-animal-esque odor.

Issue: Laundry.
Options: 1.) Wash by hand in concrete pit. Pros include a bit of exercise, saving $5-$10, and the satisfaction of knowing you are capable of being like all the locals. Cons include the sneaking suspicion that nothing actually gets that clean, a backache, and clothes that (without the heat of a dryer) always fit awkwardly loose. 2.) Take to laundromat. Pros include ease, fresh smells, and the shrinking power of a dryer. Cons include having to carry your laundry several blocks to a laundromat that is only open 1 in every 4 times you go, while locals chuckle at your inability to wash by hand, and the loss of $5-$10 (which will buy several multiple-course meals).

Terrible Brazilian telenovela I was once addicted to.

Issue: Entertainment.
Options: 1.) Purchase a TV, entertain yourself, and submit to the 4 ridiculous telenovela-filled stations since there's no cable hookup in your apartment. 2.) Don't purchase a TV. Perhaps enhance intelligence by reading a book, but lose touch with local/regional news, and- bummer- the internet isn't fast enough to stream video.

Holiday Line Up

I have the week off! Monday through Wednesday are national holidays, and the only days I teach anyway. Here's the multi-cultural, travel-intensive celebration agenda:

October 31 (USA): Halloween. Lewis' take holidays pretty seriously, but Halloween was an especially big deal growing up. My Dad and Uncle Dave would drive my sisters, cousins and I around in this weird hay tractor contraption through the Cleveland snow. (Left to Right: Chris as masked ghoul, me as best-facepaint-ever clown, Mike as armed Batman, Dana as cheerleader, Jenny as cute fairy, Catie as witch. We'd probably all be the exact same things today). And yes, Mom, I remember the incinerated coat incident, almost as much as the Christmas-Day-"excuse-me-your-house-is-on-fire" incident. Although I wasn't able to attend, this year I was invited to the US Embassy in Quito for Trick-or-Treating/ Happy Hour.

November 2 (Latin America): Dia de los Muertos/ Day of the Dead. Like its more famous Mexican counterpart, Ecuadorians flock to cemeteries to honor dead relatives. The symbols and traditions, however, are nothing alike. In highland Ecuador we eat guaguas de pan (bread babies, like the one I made in 2008 on right) and drink colada morada (a purple fruit cider, prep pictured above).

November 3 (Ecuador): Fiestas de Cuenca. All the major cities have their own annual "fiestas" or independence celebrations. This makes for lots of national holidays. Today I'm traveling 6 hours south to Cuenca with a few friends to live the party firsthand.

November 6 (Everywhere): Diwali, or the Hindu festival of lights, is the most important holiday on the Hindu calendar. I'm celebrating in Quito. "Diwali involves the lighting of small clay lamps (diyas)  filled with oil to signify the triumph of good over evil. During Diwali celebrants wear new clothes and share sweets and snacks with family members and friends." An Indian-American Fulbrighter here in Ecuador will be missing his home culture, so he's invited all the grantees over to celebrate.

November 7 (Latacunga, Ecuador): La Mama Negra. In typical Ecuadorian fashion, no one is sure why this holiday exists, although people love it. One website says: "The general consensus is that the festival was established when the Cotopaxi volcano erupted in 1742 and it seemed that Latacunga would be destroyed. The locals of the region petitioned the Virgin of Mercy, the patron of Cotopaxi, to spare Latacunga. When the town escaped the wrath of the volcano, an annual celebration was set in place in her honor." Bottom line: The whole city (which is about 1 hour north of me) turns into a giant party.

Mailing Addresses

Letters/ sentimental value only:

Pizarro #01-09 y Cortéz

Ciudadela Vicentina

Ambato, Ecuador

(and because I don't trust the provincial mail system):

Packages/ carries material value:

Kimberly Lewis, Becaria

Comisión Fulbright del Ecuador

Diego de Almagro N25-41 y Av. Colón

Quito, Ecuador 

Some Recent Happenings (Mostly Food)

I am continuing to learn to use my little blue gas stove, which has two temperatures: treacherously hot and absolute Hades. Good for quickly boiling water. Bad for low-temp foods. It also potentially leaks gas just a little bit, so I keep the kitchen windows open. -->

- Last week I attended M's 5th birthday party, so I also ventured into the oven (I consider baked goods the highest form of social currency). High altitude + 8 million degree oven = cookie nightmare. And yet, you would have thought  I had brought chocolate encrusted gold leafs to the party. People loved them. I'm now charged with teaching every Ecuadorian housewife in a ten mile radius how to make gringa cookies (secret: back of the tollhouse chocolate chip bag).

<-- A friend invited me to visit her husband's family's farm in Patate. Patate is a lovely agricultural village about 30 minutes south of me, at the foot of Volcan Tunguraha (a volcano which has been actively erupting for 11 years). We went on a hike and watched her Uncle's soccer team (players aged 13-60, it was awesome) play in the rain. We ate a LOT. First a huge lunch. Then avocados and mandarin oranges from their farm. Then in town we had fritada, which is a typical Ecuadorian dish of fried pork, potatoes, plantains, and corn-- prepared in a huge brass dish over an open fire. If pork-fat covered stuff is your thing, you'd like it here.

(thanks google images, since my camera broke) -->
- I'm continuing to search for a public pool in Ambato. It's getting serious. I need chlorine and the familiarity of swimming laps. Plus, the black plumes of smoke radiating from city buses make this a less-than-desirable place to jog. I had one lead, but when I called, the man laughed and told me the pool is closed for repairs. "Pool closed for repairs" meant at LEAST 1-2 weeks at the US Army Base I used to train at. So, in Ecuadorian time, I can only assume we're looking at a Spring 2011 reopening for Ambato's pool.

On Being Different

There are not many other Americans here in Ambato. I don't know any, actually. This isn't a tourist destination. Here are some thoughts on being hopelessly different, from someone who has spent much of her life being similar to those around:

People stare. I could be doing the most ordinarily Ecuadorian thing exactly like an Ecuadorian would, and people would still stare. I feel like a celebrity. Or a zoo animal. Sometimes at the same time. Children turn their heads to stare when I'm walking down the sidewalk. People watch what I purchase in the grocery store and how I get on and off the bus. Being "under-the-radar" is rarely an option. Invisibility is impossible.

My individual and cultural differences are a popular topic of conversation here. Cab drivers gush about the color of my eyes. Coworkers touch my earrings. Friends comment on the way my clothing fits, the way I sit, the way I laugh, the way I write, the way I sneeze (I've been told I sneeze in English), the way I dance and sing, and the way I carry my grocery bags.

About 99% of the time I do not mind being different. I let people stare, I laugh at jokes even if I don't fully understand why they're funny, and I happily deflect the advances of creepy cab drivers. But 1% of the time I just want to sneeze and carry grocery bags without all the fuss, you know? I want to tell English jokes to people who will laugh, I want to fit in, and I want to look like everyone else. 1% usually comes on Mondays.

Series of Unrelated Things I Like

<-- I need to see Mamachas del Ring, a documentary that follows female indigenous wrestler in Bolivia, ASAP.

*Alex Getz is a talented photographer and first-year MFA student at Savannah College of Art and Design. (He's also my cousin.) His new blog, Geronimo Projects, highlights the local art scene in Savannah. You can also view his personal portfolio at Alex Getz Photography.

* Chandra Brown is a fellow Fulbright ETA here in Ecuador. When not teaching in Latacunga, she is collecting stories around river life, in order to do a comparative study between Ecuadorian and Alaskan (her home state) river folklore. Her blog "Cuentos" is honest and smart; I especially recommend her overview of Ecuador's education system  and proposed reforms to higher ed.

*I love Hidden World of Girls, a new multi-media series on NPR: "Stories of coming of age, rituals and rites of passage, secret identities—of women who crossed a line, blazed a trail, changed the tide."

Apartment: Chapter 2

This is my big, empty living room. I'm thinking about investing in a small TV for that little table. Other options include buying some incense and starting a community yoga studio, getting giant canvasses and making it my painting space (wish i knew how to paint),  or acquiring some roller skates.

This is the view from my terrace. The largest white building on the far left is Ambato's main cathedral, which was rebuilt in 1949 after an earthquake flattened the city. People are still talking about the Great Earthquake. It's part legend ("the earth split open and swallowed people"), part remembrance, and part warning ("we're past due for another one..."). It's also a way to scare the crap out of foreigners who have never lived on a fault line.

This is where I work. Through that little window is the kitchen. When I lock myself out of the kitchen (the complexity of my locks deserves its own blog entry), I can shimmy through that window to get into it.

This is where I will wash my clothes, when I figure out how people typically use concrete pits to wash clothes.

 This is evidence of a few things. 1. I do actually have some stuff in my apartment. 2. There are people nice enough in Ambato to lend me a bed, and a mattress. 2. That free blanket they gave to coaches/athletes at National Swimming Championships in 2009 was the best gift the NCAA ever gave.

Apartment: Chapter 1

 

In 2008, a woman in Muisne gave me the best advice I ever received about living in Ecuador. She said that if you want anything-- anything-- tell 10 people. Just mention it. Relationships are serious business here. Each person will direct you to another. Many will make several phone calls on your behalf. If you have the patience to weave this confusing web of acquaintances, you're bound to get what you want by person #10.

That said, I'm renting an apartment from my friend's student's mother's cousin's ex-husband. The apartment was not only unlisted, but not even for rent. It has sat empty for years. After some coercing from the chain of aforementioned people, this man decided he is comfortable renting to someone he "knows" (yes, our 5 degrees of separation constitutes "knowing") and who will, in his assessment, "not steal and not have children." Glad I fit the bill.

My apartment came with hot running water, gas, and a full kitchen. But no furniture. Thanks to the generosity of Ambatenos and "rule of 10", I have acquired the basics: a bed, blankets/sheets, a few little tables, a chair or two, some pots/pans. My rent is cheap enough to purchase other necessities as the weeks wear on. But why did I want it, really? The view. I'm on the top floor at the top of a hill, I have a private terrace area, and my kitchen is almost completely windows. I can see most of the city, and at night, it's really quite stunning. I'm also in a quiet/safe neighborhood, close to bus routes, and a couple blocks from my adoptive family. And I have a guest bedroom with your name on it.

The first two photos are outside. A note about picture 2: that's not my bathroom, but my throne-- a toilet from a bathroom that was never finished. People often run out of money and stop building partway through projects. The kitchen is split off from the rest of the apartment, so I have two outside doors. Photo 3 is the kitchen. More photos to come when my internet is not so painfully slow.