BIENVENDO!

I have officially arrived in Guayaquil.

It was definitely bittersweet.

I went through the usual and consistent insecurities while departing the plane... going through security... awaiting my luggage and, of course, heading down that long corridor to the open double doors of anxiously awaiting friends and family...
In fact, every turn I made, I thought "Oh God... the arrivals lounge"... then it would just be another airport hallway...

I was trying to remember if I was more nervous this time or the first time that I flew in to Guayaquil.  Perhaps the first time, because I didn't speak ANY Spanish, had no idea what was waiting for me... and also, regardless of whether I like the people waiting beyond the double doors or not, I was stuck with them for a year.  It was a lot for an 18 year old punk to process at the time. 

You would think that by the time I actually reached the arrivals lounge, I would have my emotions in check, tears dried up and I'd be strong enough to just walk in and say "hey."  Casual.  Cool.

Nope.

Bags in hand, heading down that hallway, fidgeting the entire time... sunglasses on, sunglasses off... I suddenly saw them waiting there, right in front of the door.  They were difficult to miss with their balloons and 'Welcome Joanna' sign.

Before I even made it through the double doors, the flood gates opened and emotion over took.  I threw my bags aside, arms in the air, tears streaming down my face!  

Mami!!!!

I threw my arms around her!  She just kept saying "Mi hija. Que linda!"  Spanish, English... it didn't matter.  We were back together again.

Krystel, the daughter of Mari, was there, as well as Melanie and Dana, the beautiful daughters of Duvalito.  

Conversation was limited... but feasible.  My problem right now is the I know some words & verbs... some past tense, some present, some future... but definitely not all.  So mostly I just throw random words out there, in no particular order... and eliminate the words I can't remember from any conversation I'm attempting... which proves well for communication if you enjoy broken, confusing, unfathomable sentences of mispronounced words.  Sometimes I even shake it up a little bit and say something in French.  I try to keep everyone on their toes... including myself.

We all crammed in Mari's little white car and headed home, with a quick stop at SuperMaxi to pick up some much needed supplies for myself.  I assured the family that I had both Google translate and a Speak To Spanish app on my phone... we were going to be ok... fingers crossed.

We headed North to where everyone lived, in an area that was not built when I lived here... so it was difficult to recognize anything.  And the HEAT... love the heat.

I kept trying to explain how cold it was in Quito, and how I'd been wearing the same outfit for a week... but then I realized that due to my lack of Spanish knowledge and my certain inability in being able to piece the proper words together that I did know, I was only making myself out to sound like a dirty bum.  So I shut up.

I was promised laundry back at the house.  Dreams do come true. 

The day was spent mostly just trying to get to know each other again, with our limited communication.  A lot of smiles and then some more smiles.., but honestly, the entire day, we didn't stop talking.  Their English isn't great at all... so Spanish it is.

It better come sooner that later.  

Mari is on holidays from work until next week, so we have planned a trip to Cuenca for the weekend. There is a Devil's Nose mountain train excursion that I have been wanting to go on, that won't accept less than 2 people - stick that to the singles out there.  How rude.  

Mari had been looking in to another tour- double the price... train without mountains... and not going to Cuenca...  Finally, I had to say no, because the whole reason for the train ride was to see the mountains and experience close to what I had experienced before.  I'm not hard up for a boring train ride.  And not to see Cuenca?  Well that would just mean that I would have to go again another day.  

Duvalito

But it all worked out.  We are going to rent a car, head in to the mountains on Saturday- stay at a hostel for the weekend- and do the tour on Sunday. Returning on Monday.  Should be fun.  Hope my Spanish is better by then...

Mami

Duval (my host brother) and his wife came by in the night for a visit.  His wife, Pamela, is the reason that I found the family in the first place.  When I searched out 'Duval Muentes' in facebook, it was a photo of the two of them from her profile that appeared.  By the time they left, my Spanish had improved 10 fold.  All questions were directed at me and I either had to understand or figure it out... either way, I had to answer.  

There were a LOT of laughs and reminiscing.

Mami is the same... although she is 26 years older, and has gone through such a difficult time losing Papi... she is still beautiful and tiny!  I tower over her.

Papi

When Papi got ill... it cost so much money that the family had to sell off everything that they had to help with medical bills. She explained to me that she had to sell all her possessions, jewelry... and go live in New York for 6 months to work in a factory... just to send money back to Ecuador to help out financially.  It broke my heart to hear this.  Papi was such a grand man... full of life and smiles.   And so incredibly generous.  This picture below was at a celebration of Reina de la Tercera Edad Ecuador.  How do I explain this?  It was almost like a beauty pageant for older ladies.  Anyway- my host grandmother was a participant, and at this particular event, Papi said to me:

"You is my son."  

I wasn't insulted, due to the fact that he was three sheets to the wind, didn't speak Spanish... and what he actually meant to say was "You are my daughter"

... and that meant a lot.

TOO EARLY TO SPEAK SPANISH

As I wrote this, I was sitting in the Quito Airport, awaiting boarding information for my flight to Guayaquil.  I have to admit that I was more than a little bit nervous.

I kept zipping in to the bathroom to have one more look at my red nose, my bloated cheeks, my wrinkles and my dry, fluffy hair.  God... what an impression I will make.

The last time that these people saw me, I was 19... 

I’ve aged… I should have stopped smoking years ago. I should have started back at the gym in September, like I'd planned.  Why did I cancel my hair appointment before I left?  I'm at a loss.

My insecurities are going in to over drive...

Ok... tranquility...

Last night I was on the WhatsUp app with Mari (my host sister) and I asked the big question,

“Who’s coming to the airport to meet me?”

From what I recall, families here have a tendency to meet and greet in droves.  I had to mentally prepare myself.  I had to be ready for the flood gates to open.

Much to my delight though, she told me that it was just going to be herself, Mami and her daughter, Krystel.

Bueno. I could cope with that.

She also 'reminded' me that she has a 'brave' dog.

"Brave?"

Like... the building is on fire and the dog runs in to save the babies - brave?

No.  Not really.  Perhaps 'brave' isn't exactly the word that we are looking for here.  In fact, I think that these words might be more suitable;

• Aggressive
• Hostile
• Mean
• Untrained

Apparently she rescued him from the streets after the earthquake hit Ecuador and he's very 'protective.'  She has assured me that he will be kept in the back room the entire time I am here, for fear that he'll attack me.

If you ask me, nothing says "Welcome to my House" like the fear of an aggressive animal.

Wouldn't be a holiday without it.

Anyway, I caught a taxi from the hostel at 8am.

While I was waiting, I tried to buy a bottled water.

No change for a $10…

The one thing about here that astounds me is that no one ever has change!  It’s a thing. A real thing.  It wasn’t like I was paying with a $50… it was a $10.

The taxi drive was slightly infuriating, although kind.  I shouldn't be so mean, I was just cranky...

He just kept talking & talking & talking.  
Now… seriously, my Spanish isn’t THAT bad.  I can get by.
But it was early, I had hardly slept and I was really not in the mood to discuss how many hills there are in Canada, if I like the cold weather, what kind of a car I drive… etc etc...

There are moments in life, where I firmly believe that silence is bliss.

Massages… dental hygienist visits… taxi rides in foreign countries when it’s too early to think...

Now on the flip side of this… I am confident that my Spanish is coming back, bit by bit.  If I am confused by something, I find out the word and it’s locked in! (maybe... hopefully... sometimes.). Or... slightly easier... if I don’t know a word, I often find myself saying it in English, but with a thick Spanish accent.

I have noticed that I do have my usual expressions that I use more often than not, that almost make me sound & feel fluent… "hip"... 

• Que t’al?
• Claro
• Bueno
• Si
• Perdoname

They’re getting old though… I need to come up with some new ones.

OH God… I was getting more and more nervous by the moment.  All I was hearing over the loud speaker was:

"Attention Passengers- Flight A blah blah blah... is now boarding to Guayaquil and San Cristobal - please have your passport ready."

That is MY flight... exactly.  So confused.  I was pretty sure that the board said that my departure gate was A5... but everyone was lining up at A6.  Maybe they changed it last minute.  Who was I to complain or judge?

Got my ass up, got in line… off I go!

Standing in line- thinking 'this is it'… I’m on my way to see my family… and of course, if any of you know me, I started to swell up with tears.  It was going to be such an emotional moment... after all these years. 

Standing in line to board my flight, tears have started to stream down my cheeks... thoughts of the reunion ahead of me, flooding my mind.  Where were the reality TV crews when I needed them?  This was going to be a BIG moment.

Big. Huge.

But... almost immediately, I'm snapped out of sentimental delusion, as a very loud siren goes off, indicating that I’m attempting to board the wrong flight. 

The attendant looked at my pass and pointed over to the A5 departure gate; 

"You board there."

Stop your blubbering, idiot. Wrong flight.

Back to my seat, tail between my legs.
I KNEW it was A5...
Errrr....

We boarded next.

When choosing my seat, I actually thought I was playing it smart and picking at the front of the plane… but the jokers tricked me by turning the seating map around.  So I am actually in the VERY back on the plane, shoved in the corner… which means I am the last off.

That can be a good or bad thing.

I look at it like this;
If you are first off… more anxiety watching your bag never come down the carrousel.  Sends me in to panic most every single time.  My bag has never been first off…

But... if you're last off… you run more of a risk of someone stealing your bag.  "This one has been making the rounds a few times, grab it!"

If you really think about it though, if I was a luggage thief, I would probably opt for designer set… and not the dirty hippy backpack. 

NOT… that I’m a hippy. 
Just thinking realistically and stereotypically.

Off to Guayaquil... :-)