A Gringa Like Me

On Thursday, Aug. 26th,2005 I finally submitted my application to the Peace Corps. Part of the application is to write a couple of essays. One of them asks to describe a cross-cultural experience. Well, that was easy, I just took my last journal entry that I wrote while I was still in South America. I don't have an exact date, but I believe it was written last August 2003, in Cuenca. So, here it is:
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A Gringa Like Me

As much as I hate to admit it, I don’t have all the answers. Over the years I’ve tried to sate my thirst for travel only to finally accept my addiction to it. I cannot fully explain what about travel makes it so enticing and fulfilling to me. Yet each experience abroad has taught me many things about a different culture and about myself. I’ve learned that it’s essential to be flexible, to be patient and to have the capacity to laugh at yourself when you make a mistake (like when I accidentally ate deer cookies in Japan). Having a sense of humor has helped stave off discouragement, unhappiness and disillusionment.

Travel, like life, has its ups and downs. Before I left to teach English in Ecuador I accepted the fact that living in South America would mean lapses in health, homesickness and moments of frustration due to a clash in cultures. And I definitely experienced all of these things more than once. However, the adventures I had, the moments of discovery, the joy of living my life different than the norm has overshadowed those times of difficulty. I have priceless memories of participating in a coastal dance performance, watching a baby capybara teetering in the grass, holding a young Shuar child in my lap with my face painted like a jungle warrior, wandering around the countless outdoor markets trying to identify strange fruit and learning how to dance Salsa at the local neighborhood club. I made Ecuadorian friends who invited me to special events, such as a birthday party, baptism and a coming of age celebration. They took me to special places such as National Parks and Incan ruins. They offered me a different insight into their culture, such as when one of them asked me what kind of music is played on the buses in the United States?

I accepted the fact that I will always be a gringa to the locals. I cannot hide my skin color, my ethnicity, my culture or my sex. Nor would I want to. While I get tired of locals looking at me and seeing dollar signs it reminds me about the differences that exist in this world and that I set an example for my culture and my country. With humility, I try to set an example of an American who is not arrogant, ignorant or loud. I learned what the average Ecuadorian wage is and, compared to my teacher’s salary, it isn’t much. When I calculate the cost of normal, everyday items and compare it to their wage, I begin to understand why some may hold resentment towards gringos like me. Yet I meet many locals who are genuinely very friendly, like the man who owns the Columbian restaurant down the street, or the lady that sells bread rolls on the street corner. These people come across as being kind and happy despite these economically challenging times.

Some days I really tire of the cultural differences, the extra effort required to speak and communicate in another language, the inefficiencies when dealing with the slow wheels of bureaucracy, the personal questions strangers ask, the insensitive comments, being stared at or cut off in line, the scent of urine next to a street corner, the strange customs and festivals I don’t understand, like shooting random fireworks into a crowd of families and the lack of punctuality prevalent in this society. However, living in another country, experiencing another culture has made me, on occasion, question my own. I enjoy the slower pace of life, allowing people the chance to appreciate the beauty of each day and I like the stronger sense of family and community. The families of my Ecuadorian friends have adopted me like one of their own. I feel as though I’ve found a place to belong.

Through these dichotomies, these opposing contrasting joys and frustrations, I’ve been given an experience that I will always remember for the rest of my life—Ecuador will always be a part of me, for better or worse. I have mixed feelings about leaving it to return to my origins—my home country. I don’t look forward to the reverse culture shock and readjustment that I will inevitably experience. Yet I know it’s bound to happen and is part of the package deal, the last segment of the journey.

With teaching—-and the relationship with teacher and student—-I may think that all I have done is teach something to my students, yet the reality is that my students have taught me just as much, especially a different perspective and a new way of seeing things. My time in Ecuador has a parallel. Ecuador has taught me just as much, and much more than I ever expected.