Sensation

Life looks like...

children in school uniforms; beat up and ripped soccer balls; brightly painted canchas (paved soccer fields) and schools; acres of cane houses strewn among swampy standing water and dirt roads; cattle, chickens, and mangled stray dogs; smoke rising from piles of burning trash; dark skinned, dark eyed Ecuadorian faces; kids running toward you with open arms about to hug you; sunsets that set the world on fire; Manos kids walking down the dirt roads back to their cane homes at 5pm with the glow of the pre-setting sun sanctifying them; broken crayons and eraser-less pencils; cursive handwriting; unsuccessful attempts at copying letters by kids who unjustly have been given up on by Ecua-education; students in blue polo shirts at Santiago; pregnant girls and women; very small babies being help by their mothers; people of all ages selling things on buses and on the streets; constant dust in the house blown in from the streets; torn, misfitted clothing; cheap jewelry and tacky tight shirts; tiny black sandals with rainbow straps worn nearly every kid; blue cane church in 28 de Agosto; graph paper; multiplication table on the back of notebooks

Life feels like...

small hands holding mine; tiny underweight children hanging onto you wanting to be carried and held; bumpy bus rides and metal seats; cold showers; never really feeling clean; the unique stomachache and intestinal problems that can only be caused by parasites and worms dying inside of you; scorching heat and sweating all over; sitting in tiny kid chairs at Manos; getting hit in the face with a soccer ball; people leaning against you on the morning busride to work; dirty hands and dirty ankles; breeze from a ceiling fan; hugs from community mates; kiss on the cheek to greet people; plastic chairs; the lack of softness of clothes that are hung to dry

Life smells like...

burning trash; amazing cooking; unbathed children; bleach and dish soap; banana bread in the oven; laundry detergent; gasoline and exhaust; lunch preparations at Santiago; port-a-potty smell on the street corner of Santiago

Life sounds like...

kids laughter; 30 seconds of silence at Manos; rolled r´s and Spanish everything; constant latin music flowing through the streets; ¡mano! during soccer games; buses and cars passing; ¡hola niña!¿cómo estás?; my own stumbling through Spanish; in dept conversations about the pillars and mission of RdC; awkward silences when visiting neighbors; ¡elisa!; señoriiiiita, ayudameeeee; a constant whiny tone of voice that is a cultural norm yet still vaguely annoying; young adults singing and playing guitar at mass; the horrendous Barney song in Spanish played by ice cream trucks passing by

Life tastes like...

room temperature water; rice & beans; fried plantains; juicy, fresh pineapple; lentils; green peppers, tomatos, and onions; lime; hot, sweet, fresh bread; lemon lime popsicles for 5 cents in 28 de Agosto; listerine; bananas; instant coffee; honey tea; cinnamon and brown sugar in oatmeal