How to be Ecuadorian

Suddenly, it's day 335 and almost a year has gone by since I first arrived in this enchanted land on the equator. I've learned a lot since then so here are some of my best tips for living and loving life in Ecuador.

NB - this post may contain portions of sarcasm. 

1. Eat a lot of rice. Have it for breakfast, lunch and dinner if you can. Half a plate is not enough, always ask for more. However, keep in mind that you must eat your rice plain - adding spices is not allowed. 

2. Eat soup for lunch. As a starter, before your plate of rice. Do not eat soup at any other times of the day as this will immediately give you away as a non-Ecuadorian. Stare disapprovingly at ignorant foreigners eating soup for dinner. 

3. Be feminine. As a woman, it's important to always look your best. On this side of the world, that means growing your hair long, getting manicures and wearing high heels. Do your make-up on the bus. Stay in amazing shape. Somehow manage this on a diet of rice and sugary treats combined with no exercise.

4. Kiss everyone you meet. On the cheek, that is. And only one kiss on one cheek (the right one), mind you. Remember that you are in South America. We don't kiss on both cheeks here. Kiss everyone in the room to say hello and also goodbye. It doesn't matter if there are only two minutes in between. Kiss-kiss.

5. Make people wait. Endlessly. Of course they can take five hours out of their day to hang at the visa office. Take your time. Google things until the line gets a little bit longer. Then take a lunch break. Walk out slowly. Come back an hour later and google some more. When invited to a party that starts at 9 p.m., do not arrive before 11 p.m. The fun doesn't start until you are there anyway, does it?

6. Be vague. Whether positive or negative, do not tell people directly how you feel. This must be avoided at all costs. Expect people to understand what you want from them. Of course they can read your mind.

7. Experience emotions. Feel things very strongly. Welcome to the emotional roller-coaster that is not unlike a road trip up and down the Andean mountains. Just beware - once you're on it, there's no getting off.

8. Live on the wild side. If you're the one driving the bus, feel free to decorate your vehicle with proverbs and huge posters of Jesus or Virgin Mary. Play your music loudly, preferably reggaeton. Compete with other bus-drivers. Slow down at bus stops but do not stop completely. Let passengers jump on and off - it's more fun that way. 

9. Push people on the Ecovia. The fuller the bus, the more force you must use. It does not matter if you're carrying a guitar, a baby or a giant box of donuts. Getting on the bus is a matter of life and death and staying at the platform is the END OF THE WORLD.

10. Enjoy comfort. If you can afford it, buy a car. Drive everywhere. Complain constantly about the traffic and the pollution. Honk your horn often. 

11. Use diminutives (-ito,-ita) for everything and everyone. If your friend's name is Anna, call her Anita. If something is worth one dollar (un dólar), why not say it costs a little dollar (un dolarito) instead. Sounds way cheaper and cuter, doesn't it? To really fit in with the locals, add no más - no more. For example:

- How much does it cost?          - Un dolarito no más.
- How long will you be gone?    - Un ratito no más. 

12. Get up close and personal. Invade people's personal space and ask them intimate questions. Tell single foreigners to hurry up and marry an Ecuadorian.

13. Be incredibly kind to strangers. Treat foreigners so well that they never want to leave. 

14. Love passionately. Love your family. Love nature. Love God. Love soccer. Love Ecuadorian food. Love salsa. Dance!

15. Climb a volcano. Hike the mountains, enjoy the beach and get lost in the jungle. Believe in the power of magical plants and ancient shamans. Make sure you enjoy every single detail of this mysterious, miraculous, marvelous place in the middle of the world.

Do not pay a dolarito to ride a lama. Especially when you're actually afraid of them.

Poor is just a state of mind

The saleswoman studies me compassionately while I scrape the last coins out of my jeans pocket and stack them on the counter. Nine dollars and twenty-five cents. It's all the plata I have on me and just enough to buy me the smallest USB flash drive in the store. Truth to be told, I can't really afford this one either (that's this week's lunch money on the table) but my old memory stick has stopped functioning and I need one for work so I have no choice but to cough up my last dollars. 

It may be baffling to some people why anyone would actually choose a lifestyle where every single penny counts. Back in Finland, I made about three times as much as I make here and even though the cost of living is higher over there, life in Ecuador isn't exactly cheap. I knew before coming here that this year would be tough money wise; I didn't have a lot of savings and I had no plan except to look for adventure. Quitting my first job here and not getting paid for two months set me back even more and despite the fact that I'm now working full time, six days a week, it's a constant struggle to make ends meet. 

Once a month, I head to the bank with my paycheck and the cashier hands me a stack of twenty dollar bills. I then carefully walk home, silently praying that no one will decide to rob me that day. The following day, I pay my rent, which is about a third of my salary. The past two months, I paid twice that amount as a deposit for my apartment and this month, another large chunk will go to the renewal of my visa, which is an extremely costly (and emotionally weary) process in Ecuador. Once these payments have been made, I hide the rest of my hard earned twenty dollar bills in my sock drawer, hoping they will somehow last me until the end of the month. 

Some things are relatively cheap here. One ride on the public transport costs twenty-five cents, which means I spend about three dollars a week on traveling to and from work. For three dollars you can also get a fairly decent lunch, including vegetable soup, chicken or meat, always always rice and sometimes even a small dessert. Other things, such as cosmetics, are ridiculously expensive. I usually pick out the cheapest ones at the grocery store but still need to close my eyes and take a deep breath when I'm asked to hand over eighteen dollars for a mascara that will only last a couple of weeks. 

Normally our fridge isn't look quite as sad-looking but my roommates were on holiday this week and I was reluctant to spend the last of the money that my parents sent me for my birthday on groceries.

Some of the clothes I wear have holes in them (sorry, mom) but I can't afford to buy new ones so I come up with clever ways to hide the scruffiness instead. I really need a new pair of shoes though. The flats I brought with me from Finland are so flat and so worn out that any surface turns into a skating rink when it rains, which is pretty much every day. I've fallen flat on my face in the street a couple of times and whenever the bus brakes suddenly, I end up sliding from side to side. Luckily, there seems to always be someone there to catch me - Ecuadorians are good like that. 

What causes me the most headaches are the unforeseen costs. For example, last week on the bus, someone cut my bag open with a knife. I was only carrying books for work so fortunately nothing was stolen (I guess the thieves weren't interested in learning English) but I was rather upset about having to buy a new bag. There goes another twenty dollars that could have been spent on food for the week. Also, the new bag turned out to be to small for all my books so I'm still using the old one. A coworker rather creatively stitched it together for me and so far it's only ripped open once. 

Living on a tight budget can be somewhat daunting from time to time but even so, I can't imagine being anywhere else. It amazes me sometimes to think about the life I had back home where pretty much everything was available with the swipe of a credit card. Not that I was rich in any way but I could afford to travel and pay for clothes and groceries and anything I needed. Although I can't help but wonder if anyone actually needs organic teas and fancy superfoods like goji berries and chia seeds? Flights and hotels instead of buses and cheap hostels? And did I really use to fork out a hundred euros to get my hair cut?! Okay, so the three-dollar haircut I got here was a bit of a disaster but let's face it - it's just hair. It'll grow back eventually. 

Every day here, I see people of all ages begging for money. Little children sell candy on the street, teenagers sing rap songs on the bus and people with a handicap share their stories with resignation in their eyes, hoping that maybe this time someone will listen and spare a few coins to help them feed their families. I've also never come across so much entertainment at traffic lights. While waiting for the red to turn green, Quiteños can have their car windows cleaned, buy fresh avocados or enjoy a juggling performance. I even saw a tightrope walker the other day. It's a complete circus and I'm so grateful for the fact that no matter how "poor" I am, I will never end up living on the street. I will always have a home to return to and a family that supports me even when I make the craziest of decisions.

It's all about perspective, isn't it? I don't need special foods when I'm living in a country that is bursting with fresh fruit. Cheap green tea tastes more or less the same as the expensive kind and interesting conversations fill me up way more than any lavish meal ever could. Wine glasses and carefully prepared delicacies are not necessary for a fiesta - most guests will be more than happy to munch on nachos and drink whatever you serve them out of any random cup. Life is funny and life is short and most importantly, life is what you make it. I want to make mine about something other than material things - I want it to be about family, friendship and fun. Sunrises, sunsets and everything in between. Oceans and mountains and most of all, love. True love that will last a lot longer than any plata ever could.

A country of contrasts

He likes to call me his little white one. Mi blanquita. My tall dark-skinned friend who calls things as they are. He makes distinctions but never judges. To him, calling a person black or white is no different than calling a car red or blue. Just like you'd need to check the inside of the car in order to evaluate its quality, you have to get to know a person before you can make any assumptions about their character. 

Ecuador and it's inhabitants form such a colorful kaleidoscope of contrasts. When it rains here, it pours. The streets flood, the umbrellas break and people hide inside their houses for days to escape the cold. On the contrary, when the sun comes out, it gets so hot your skin will fry in just a few minutes. I was trying to buy sunscreen the other day but for some reason I could only find SPF 6 or 100, nothing in between. Unable to choose one or the other, I ended up buying a bronzing cream with sun protection that seems to have no effect whatsoever. 

My new daily commute involves a 15-minute ride on the Ecovia, which is kind of like a metro-bus. Sometimes, if you're lucky, the bus is half-empty and it's actually possible to stand without having your inner organs squashed (finding an empty seat never happens). Other times, it's so crowded I don't know how any of us survive getting from one place to the next. People on the platform push like it's a matter of life and death but in fact, it would probably safer to stay there than it is to get on the bus. My fellow commuters are a funny bunch though. While I'm breathing through my nose and trying not to panic, the Ecuadorians around me happily snack on fried bananas, change dirty diapers or shower each other with public displays of affection. 

Once I arrive at my stop, the climb starts. The second part of my daily trip to work consists of a 15-minute walk uphill so by the time I reach the school, I'm panting and sweating. Not for long, however, as it's always absolutely freezing the inside the building. Even when it feels like it's a hundred degrees outside and people are sunbathing in the garden, you need three layers of clothes and a thick jacket to get through the day inside one of the classrooms.

This is the view that meets me when I leave work

Last weekend, I took a taxi to go meet my friends and somewhere along the way, the driver got lost. He stopped by the side of the road to ask for directions and called a man's attention by yelling: 

Oye, flaco! - Hey, skinny one!

The skinny man approached the car, told us how to get to my destination and when my driver thanked him, he responded with:

De nada, gordo. - You're welcome, fat one. 

Neither of them seemed the least bit offended. Meanwhile, I hid silently in the back of the taxi, hoping they wouldn't address me in any way. 

Actually, I don't know how much I would have minded. I may never get to a point where I feel comfortable commenting on other people's physical appearance in such a blunt way but I'm learning how to not find it offensive. In addition, practicing yoga on a daily basis has taught me how to love my own body and accept it exactly as it is. Sometimes I'm gorda, sometimes I'm flaca and both are fine. Both are beautiful. More important than what my body looks like is what it can do. It can move, it can dance, it can walk up hills and it can climb to the top of mountains for crying out loud. Right now, I'm going to wrap it up in a warm blanket and get ready for the chilly night. Just need to put some lotion on the sunburns first.

Happiness is...

- Starting a new job where you feel appreciated and welcome

- Finding a job that allows you to be creative

- Teaching students that come up to you after class to thank you for a fun lesson

- Receiving good luck wishes from people who remember that it's your first day at your new job

- Moving back to a place that feels and smells like home and where everything is nice and white  and clean

- Living in the same house as your best friend

- Having a best friend that will share anything with you, whether it's a doctor's appointment in a sketchy neighborhood or French fries with mayonnaise at three in the morning

- Having friends that will love and support you (and put up with you), as much on your sunny days as on your rainy days

- Inviting friends over for a small get-together that somehow turns into a huge fiesta where no one knows anyone but everyone is having a fabulous time

- Dancing salsa so wildly that you bump heads with another dancer and end up with a blue little horn on your forehead for a week as a reminder of that one fantastic night

- Dancing with people who show up

- Saying yes to adventure and no to people taking advantage of you

- Making decisions that make your head spin, your heart flip and your stomach fill with butterflies

- Chatting with your family every day to find out how they're feeling, how their day went and what they had for breakfast.

- Appreciating the little things

- Being grateful for everything you have, everything that you've been through and everything that is yet to come

- Believing that the best is yet to come

Thank you, thank you, thank you

Chilly coincidences and charming encounters

Why do you travel alone? 

The Colombian taxi driver seems concerned. He's a handsome young man in his early twenties and he doesn't understand why I've come all the way to Bogota by myself. 

Don't you have a partner? 

Ah, great. The same question that every taxi driver in Quito also loves to ask. Of course, they usually follow it up with the suggestion that I could marry an Ecuadorian. And then they chuckle, seemingly content with themselves for having found a solution to my "problem". 

The truth is that I LOVE to travel by myself, although I often forget that I do. Right before a trip I always get cold feet and wish that I could just stay home and watch Netflix instead. But once I'm on my way, I feel so happy and free. I can wander around for hours and take as many pictures as I want, without anyone sighing and hinting that maybe it's enough for now. I can have my lunch wherever and whenever I want, without anyone complaining about there being no rice and no meat. I like to eat my quinoa salad in peace, thank you very much.

This was my favorite cafe in Bogota - De Una Travel Bar

The best part, though, has to be meeting other travelers. I know that you also meet people when you're with a partner or a friend but somehow I think we're more open to it when we're traveling by ourselves. And with most people that you meet, there's an instant connection. Especially with those who are also traveling alone because they just get it. For example, on my first day in Bogota, I joined a bike tour and had a blast with five people that I'd never met before. We cycled around the city for about five hours and then decided to have lunch together. We invited our guide to join us and two people from the tour office came along as well. They were great company and we had so much fun trying local food, sharing our stories and chatting about cultural differences. Then we kissed each other on the cheek and parted ways.

Bike crew at Plaza Bolivar

Or take New Years Eve. Who wants to be alone on one of the most significant nights of the year? Yet this year, I hadn't made a single plan. If nothing else, I was just going to stay at the hostel and catch up on the many hours of sleep that I've lost over the past couple of months. As it turns out though, life had a different idea. On Friday, I got back late after a night out dancing salsa and when I arrived at the hostel, there was a fiesta going on in the reception as well. That's how I got to know the American guys that I would later spend New Years with. A friend of a friend also happened to be in Bogota that weekend and since she was staying at a hostel just around the corner, I invited her to join us on the 31st.

New Years crew at Explora Hostels 

Saturday night around 11 p.m., we all decided to walk down to Torre Colpatria to watch the fireworks and join the midnight countdown. The other girl and I were a bit late getting ready so the guys left without us, even though they had promised to be our guardians on the way (Colombian streets are rather unsafe to walk around on late at night). Since my new friend and I didn't know the way to the tower, we asked a Colombian couple on the street for directions. After initially bringing us to the wrong place (an empty plaza), they agreed to share a taxi with us and we reached the tower at about a quarter to midnight. There, we ran into our American friends again, which was a lucky coincidence in itself as the place was packed with people and we never would have found them otherwise. The timing of our arrival just happened to work out perfectly.

Anyway, the guys went on to tell us that somewhere along a dodgy street, a creepy man had come up to them and threatened them with a knife. They all claimed not to have been scared but they were clearly shook up and one of them even decided to leave the party early and return to the safe quarters of our hostel instead. When I turned around to thank the Colombian couple for bringing me and my friend to the tower, they were gone. They had disappeared in the crowd and we never saw them again. Perhaps they were the actual guardians whose job it was to get us there safely.

Bogota by night - the lit up tower is where we started the year 2017

So there we were, this odd little group of strangers suddenly turned into friends. While we were counting down the seconds to midnight, the whole tower lit up in a rainbow of colors and the fireworks sparked all over the black Bogota sky. We all hugged each other tightly, feeling chills running down our spines as we realized that this must be the best way to start a new year - by being thankful for being alive.

Now, it's a new day and a new year. A chance to start over and make things right. An opportunity to face the world with an open heart and say yes to adventure. To trust that when the time is right, life (and our guardian angels) will bring us where we need to be. Fortunately for me, that place right now happens to be a beautiful beach in Cartagena, far away from chilly Bogota. It's my first night here and I just had a lovely dinner down by the water, under the stars with a cool breeze caressing my skin. While slowly sipping a delicious coconut lemonade, I realized that maybe there are some moments that would be nice to share with someone. Then again, it is only day one - who knows where, what or with whom I'll be eating by the end of this week? And that, I  believe, is the real allure of traveling alone - the possibility that anything can happen.

Cartagena by night - view from my apartment 

Full circle

Today, as I was walking home from the grocery store the ground shook slightly under my feet and I realized that I hardly even notice those tremblors anymore. I've become so accustomed to their regular occurrence that I almost find them as ordinary as shopping for groceries. Although actually, they're just as extraordinary as looking up from my daily walk only to have my gaze meet the snowcovered top of a volcano. That view always makes me appreciate how incredible this world really is. 

Last weekend was filled with wonder as my friends and I decided to go and visit the village of Quilotoa and its associated crater. The rain was pouring down when we first arrived but it stopped eventually and we were able to walk down to the bottom of the crater just as the sun set and the moon came out. It was an enchanted evening, wandering around the inside of a volcanic crater in the moonlight and then falling asleep under a thick blanket next to the fireplace at our hostel. 

Laguna de Quilotoa

The next morning, we woke up early to hike around the crater. It's a trek that goes up and down, down and up... not unlike my life here! It looks easy before you start but once you're on the path there will be times when you wonder if you're ever going to make it all the way around. In some places it's hard to see the trail, there's no safety net and some of those stubborn hills are absolutely brutal. But then again, I can't tell you how amazing it is to reach the top and breathe in the magic of it all. Minerals make the water shift in color from blue to green and the stunning view makes your heart skip a beat. It's definitely worth the climb. 

The hike around the crater takes about six hours and somewhere halfway I started guessing which one was going to be our ultimate uphill.

This has to be the last one, I said at least ten times to my worn out friends. It looks really steep but once we're over this one the rest will be easy. I promise. 

Nevertheless, I was wrong every time. As soon as we got across one hill, there was an even steeper one waiting for us on the other side. Eventually, I stopped guessing and walked on in silence instead, allthewhile reflecting on life. It never gets easy, does it? Some steps are always going to be hard but once you get going all you really have to do is just put one foot in front of the other. Pretty soon, the hike will be complete and you will find your tired but happy self right back where you started. Your feet may be touching familiar ground again but something inside of you has shifted. And that shift changes everything. 

A year ago, I decided that I would go to South America in 2016 and here I am, with no regrets. Despite the uphills battles, I can honestly say that coming to Ecuador was the best decision I ever made. The year is about to end, the ground has stopped shaking (at least for now) and my heart is content. The circle is full. 

Even so, my only wish is that you were here to share the magic with me. That's all I want for Christmas this year.

Time to spread the eagle wings and fly

What no one tells you about living abroad

So you're about to embark on an adventure and you think you're all set. You've read the guidebooks, you've talked to people who've gone on similar explorations and you've prepared yourself as much as you possibly can. You know it will be different - the food won't taste the same, things won't work the way you're used to and you will have to adapt to a new home, a new lifestyle and new surroundings. But no matter how ready you think you are, there are certain things that no guide book and no other traveler can prepare you for.

1. How easy it is to make new friends

Within two days of arriving in Ecuador, I already had eleven new friends. Sure, we were all there for the same reason (to survive the Celta course), we had things in common (leaving our native countries to teach abroad) and on top of that, we spent every day together for the next five weeks so it was fairly easy for us to bond. But everywhere I've gone since then, I've had the same experience. Nice, friendly people come and go and as soon as one person leaves, another one arrives, usually in the company of ten others who are also more than happy to hang out, talk and become friends. For a night, for a month, for a year or for a lifetime. The time doesn't really matter but what I've learnt is that every goodbye always brings with it a new hello. That being said, no new friend could ever replace an old one and everyone I meet along the road enriches my journey in some special way. 

My first friends in Ecuador

2. How exhausting it is to learn a new language

I love foreign languages so much that I've made a whole career out of teaching them and sharing this passion with my students. I never had any interest in learning the second official language of my country but I would spend hours hunched over French novels, singing along to Latin music or repeating the colloquial words that make the German language so interesting. So it was only natural that one of my motives for coming to South America was to improve my Spanish, a language that makes me so inexplicably happy. And it certainly has improved during my time here. I'm learning new words every day and understanding people gets easier and easier. Still, there are times when I get frustrated because I just can't find the right way to express what I want to say. When I'm tired, everyone around me seems to speak faster and faster and I can't keep up. I miss parts stories that I would love to hear and therefore don't know how to respond. Then, I call home and suddenly I can't find the words in my own mother tongue either. I know they are there somewhere but it's like looking for a black nail in a black hole - simply impossible. Two days later, the correct expression will come to me, whether it's in Spanish, Swedish or English but by then, the moment is gone. 

Lost in translation

3. How exciting it is to learn about a new culture

Everyone I meet here, from taxi drivers to co-workers to friends of friends, wants to know the following things:

• Where are you from?
• Did you come here alone?
• How old are you?
• Are you married? 
• Do you have children? 
• Do you have a boyfriend? 
• Can I have your phone number and/or your Facebook? 

In the beginning, I was a bit offended. I come from a culture where it's considered inappropriate to ask intrusive questions when you first meet someone. Nevertheless, I'm quite used to it by now and normally I happily engage in the conversation, asking the same questions back. Like my Swiss friend always says, us Europeans are ashamed of so many things for absolutely no reason. Why would it be embarrassing to tell someone your age? It's just a number after all.

Another thing that fascinates me in this country is the transportation. The buses are a mystery that I just can't figure out. On long distance buses you sometimes get salsa music as entertainment, which can be quite nice. Other times it's a violent karate movie. I've yet to watch any other kind of movie on the bus here, even if it's 6 a.m. and most passengers would prefer to sleep. Trying to catch the local buses is an adventure in itself, with the key word being catch. More often than not, you have to run alongside the bus, grab hold of the door and swing yourself on board.

On the other hand, something that I've come to love over here are the words of affection which are used in all contexts and applied to pretty much anyone you come in contact with. Ask a guy on the street for directions and he will somehow manage to call you mi amor, mi vida, mi corazon (my love, my life, my heart) all in one sentence. Taxi drivers will call you linda (beautiful) and saleswomen will address you as amiga (friend) or hermana (sister). The same words are also used for the people that you actually feel that way about so the closeness of the relationship doesn't seem to matter. At first, it made me wonder how much those words really mean if we go around saying them to any random person but after four months here I've stopped analyzing and just enjoy it. 

4. How much you will learn about yourself

I used to think that I liked spending time alone but what I've come to realize is that instead of creating space for myself, I was building walls to keep other people out. Here, I've learnt to live with no walls and no boundaries. I have absolutely no control over who comes into my life or who leaves, which makes me extremely vulnerable but I actually prefer it that way. It makes me feel more alive and I'd much rather live with a broken heart than a closed one. 

So far on this journey, I've learnt that I'm a woman of contradiction. I'm mostly calm on the outside even though tornadoes may rage on the inside. I can't sit still for too long but moving around too much wears me out. I always think of others but get annoyed when they don't think of me. I fear commitment but despair when the other person won't commit. I want to settle down but can't wait to travel more. I hate planning but get upset when plans change. In any case, the most valuable lesson that I've gained is probably the insight that I don't have to be one or the other, it's okay for me to be both.

5. How it will all be worth it in the end

I will never forget the day that I was first introduced to chilimoya and maracuya. It's unfathomable to me that I lived for 35 years without knowing the taste of these delicious fruits. Nor will I ever forget the feeling of freedom that I had while dangling in a parachute above the ocean. Or the excitement I experienced when a humpback whale jumped out of the water right in front of me. Or that moment when I finally dared to open my eyes on the bus only to realize that I was somewhere high above the clouds, right on the edge of a narrow mountain road. So close to death but so, so alive. And the stories. The endless stories of people so willing to share things about their lives. As my Cuban friend always says, cada persona es un mundo (every person is a world) and we have so much to learn from each other. 

Those of you who are teachers will understand what it's like to first struggle with a student in your class and then have that same kid come up to you in the break, wrap his little arms around you and tell you that you are the best teacher in the whole wide world. You know that feeling? That's what expat life is like sometimes. It can be such an uphill battle but my god, it's worth it. And to me, this adventure is by far the most amazing teacher I've ever had. Not least because it has shown me that the most difficult hikes are often the ones that lead to the most beautiful views. 

Illustration by one of my wonderful new friends, the talented Betsy Alvarez del Castillo