Machismo and Uselessness

Since the workers on the farm consist of Marcelo (40 ish?), Pato (39), and David (23), we get hit on quite a bit. Taryn and I have both been to Latin American countries so we both knew that men flirt relentlessly with any female that’s in front of them. This can include whistling when we take our sweatshirts off, staring directly at our butts, or making sexual jokes about us. I never feel threatened by any of these because I know men here are held to a different standard than men in the US or some European countries. When men whistle or say something, you simply ignore it and take it as a compliment. Of course, this can get out of hand, but I never felt uncomfortable on the farm.

Even Marcelo who is married and definitely not into us will whistle and joke along with Pato and David. Pato is a different story entirely- he likes his women older and is not afraid to tell us all his stories. Although some people in the US will scoff at the actions of these men, this is simply what they know culturally. There is no reason for me to get upset over a whistle when I know it’s a way of joking around with us. I cannot hold men here to the standards of men in the US because they are two different cultures. That being said, there is a line between harmless flirting and harassment and it takes a bit of time and experience to differentiate between the two.

Machismo on the farm leads to the three of us female volunteers being inútil, or useless. If we can’t shovel fast enough or we don’t know how to cut the logs a certain way, this equates to us being inutiles. Maddy has the hardest time with this and one day it was her job to herd the goats back into their pens. Now, the goats are mini devils- they can smell the gringa radiating from our un-calloused skin. So for Maddy to herd all the goats herself is a difficult task but Marcelo decided she could. When Maddy is supposed to be heading back with the goats, we see her walking slowly, goat-less. We then see the goats in the cow field so she runs after them and tries to herd them into the right field. After they escape several times and all we can do is watch, Marcelo yells her name over and over, thinking this will help. Maddy turns around, enraged, and yells “WHAT?!” in English. Marcelo of course doesn’t understand and only laughs which makes her even more upset. Maddy eventually gives up and lets the goats graze in a different field and Marcelo only laughs and says inútil over and over.

To sum this up, machismo can’t be taken personally. You can’t fight it by simply yelling or talking back, but you need to prove yourself as strong and able. Ignoring men is the best way to do this. 

Latacunga

The closest big city is called Latacunga. It’s not a touristy city at all, so there’s not much to do but we were relieved to have internet, laundry, and restaurants. The first morning we were there, Maddy woke up sick, so Taryn and I hung out at the hostel and made necessary trips to buy soda and limes. We walked around a bit and I called home to find out my grandma, Gaga, was very sick in the hospital. This really threw me off since it was so unexpected and of course I made a big scene in the store. I tried to shake it off and promised I would call later that weekend. After, we walked around the big Saturday market and bought fruit and a sugary substance called panela that I came to love.

That night, Taryn and I really wanted to go salsa dancing so we found a small bar (after arriving at a club that had been shut down two years earlier) and sat down at a table. Soon after, a middle aged man sat down and didn’t say anything. He proceeded to show us his military ID and pay for our beers with a $20 bill without saying a word. He was really weird. I didn’t enjoy talking with this mime, so we acted very uninterested but he had trapped us in the table so there was no escaping. Finally a guy from another table came and made him leave but not before he dramatically blew out the candle on our table. After that was over, we salsa danced with some normal guys for the rest of the night.

The next morning, I woke up with a huge headache and knew I had to call my family. As it turns out, my grandma had passed away a few hours before. Since it was a Sunday morning and everything was closed, I had to call from my cell phone where the only reception was in the middle of a public park. So I caused a big scene there, too. I was extremely frustrated because I could only talk for a few minutes and all the internet cafes were closed. I realized how much I had taken communication for granted since I couldn’t talk to my family for another few days.

That Monday on the farm, I became sicker and sicker until Marcelo made me go to bed. I walked an hour by myself to San Ramon only to find out there was no internet which made everything ten times worse. To cheer me up the next day, Marcelo and David caught my favorite white fluffy llama, Santiago, and let me ride him!! He wasn’t too happy and his sister, Luna, spit in my face but it was so worth it. 

Ministerio del Ambiente

As some of you may know, I have a deep interest in the environment. My academic studies usually focus on environmental aspects in international relations and so working on the farm has given me some insight into aspects of agriculture and endangered species. When Marcelo mentioned that three people from the Ministerio del Ambiente (Ministry of the Environment) were coming to the farm, I couldn’t believe my luck. When they arrived, I followed them around wide-eyed, listening intently to everything they had to say.

The reason for their visit was to check on the condors we have on the farm. In Ecuador, there are only 70 Andean Condors remaining, so they are extremely endangered. Our farm has two condors in an enclosure an hour up the volcano and the Ministerio del Ambiente is very interested in relocating them to a larger enclosure once one is built. The three workers got in their truck and asked if I would like to go visit the condors with them and I course I nodded very enthusiastically. The ride up, we talked about different species, Latin names, and how to treat deer with diseases. Although it was relevant, I wasn’t that interested and so once we got to the condors, my interrogation started.

They were very good teachers and listeners so they answered all of my questions. I started talking about policies surrounding endangered animals and then snuck in some questions about Indigenous communities and the effect of oil. I also asked them how their department has been working with these issues. I got a lot of very interesting information that I feel I shouldn’t share on the internet. Let’s just say that their opinions weren’t exactly the opinions of the government, who they work for. I enjoyed my time with them and am planning on setting up an interview with the main worker when I’m back in Quito. 

Skinning the Alpaca

So today, I came back from shoveling goat shit and almost fainted when I saw a dead alpaca lying near our bedroom. Apparently Jack, the dog, killed it and so we needed to skin it to feed it to the bear and condors and it was David’s job to skin it. David is 23 years old and is Marcelo’s cousin (or nephew- I’m still not sure). He lives on the farm and is a really nice, strong guy who doesn’t flinch for anything.

Anyways, David strung the alpaca carcass up on a high beam near the hens and asked if we wanted to help. I was very reluctant to even look at it because I figured I would faint, but when I saw it, it was oddly beautiful. Taryn helped David as Maddy drew and I took pictures. The alpaca was all muscle and hardly any fat which created beautiful patterns of red and purple veins all over its body. Once the feet, head, and fur were removed, David let it hang there to dry for a few days.

I know many of you are probably gagging and thinking “how disgusting.” I thought I would have that reaction, but helping in this process made me realize that death is a natural part of life and when one animal dies, it helps the others live. I decided not to include a picture of the skinning to be respectful to the alpaca. 

Daily Schedule

Every day on the farm was different and brought surprises, but here’s a schedule of a typical day.

6:00 am- Wake up, hit snooze.

6:15 am- Roll out of bed, put Muñeca (the dog) outside, and go to the kitchen to cook breakfast.

7:00 am- This is the time we’re supposed to start working.

7:20 am- This is the time we actually start working.

7:30 am- Feed the bear and deer. Move the sheep and pig pens.

7:40 am- Herd the goats up to the field where they graze all day.

8:00 am- Start a project. Examples: digging water canals, cleaning out the river, shoveling a garden bed, weeding.

12:00 pm- Lunch!! We cooked different variations of rice and vegetables every day.

12:20 pm- Since the guys didn’t have to cook and ate really quickly, they would play a game, Zapo, right outside our kitchen.

1:00 pm- Finish the project.

3:00 pm- Volunteers stop working. If we were bored, we would help out with the animals the rest of the afternoon.

6:00 pm- Dinner!! We cooked more rice and vegetables.

9:00 pm- Usually we went to bed really early because there was nothing else to do. 

Arriving at Ilitio

“Take a bus going south. When you hit the town of Lasso, get off the bus at the second intersection. Get in a pickup truck and go east until you hit the farm.”

These were the directions I had to find the farm, Hacienda Ilitio. I knew that Cotopaxi was south of Quito, so I headed south hoping I wouldn’t get too lost. I arrived at the bus station and heard someone yelling Latacunga, which was in the direction I needed to go, so I ran to the bus and managed to get the last seat. I sat next to a very flirtatious old man who interrogated me about my love life, Mexico, and tried setting me up with a man sitting across the aisle. When I needed to get off the bus, he insisted on getting my phone number so I temporarily forgot how to speak Spanish and hopped off the bus unscathed.

The bus pulled away and I was left on the side of a highway, alone, with no camionetas (taxi trucks) in sight. I took a deep breath and ran across the highway to a store that would know where the camionetas were. I looked like a ridiculous tourist: big straw hat, two big backpacks, and a bag filled with food and a frying pan. The woman in the store started laughing and asked if I needed a camioneta which I responded to with a weak nod. When the truck arrived, I climbed in and told him I needed to go to Hacienda Ilitio and 45 minutes later, he pulled up to a picturesque farm house and told me to get out. I was greeted by Sebastián, the farm owner, Marcelo, the live-in farm manager, and Taryn, another volunteer.

The farm was unbelievably beautiful. The huge orange house was straight from a magazine and behind it, the volcano Cotopaxi popped out of the clouds showing off its breathtaking glaciers. There were fields filled with alpacas, llamas, horses, sheep, cuy, hens, ducks, falcons, and even a bear! The gardens were overflowing with quinoa and cauliflower and many unknown greens. Our bedroom was big and the bathroom was an actual bathroom complete with warm water and a toilet! We didn’t have to work until Monday and so Taryn and I hung out for the rest of the day. 

The Hostel Life

I have had the luck and privilege of traveling to many amazing places and not having to follow the typical tourist path. My first week in Ecuador, however, I experienced a whole new level of traveling: the Hostel Life. When I landed in Quito, I had to take care of some errands that required me to stay in the city. I found a really great, friendly hostel called Vibes and was immediately invited to a big party the second I walked through the doors. Of course, no one spoke Spanish and everyone had the money and means to travel through South America for months on end just partying and taking Spanish lessons.

The thing about hostels is that they provide you all the comforts of home including English, hot showers, and pizza. What they don’t provide you is the culture of the country where you are staying. I spoke with many of the people staying at the hostel and they “had enjoyed” Quito, but admitted to not having experienced much of the city even though they had been there for a few weeks. I’m disappointed to know that the Europeans and Australians (and the occasional traveler from the US) will go home to tell stories of hostel parties and getting lost because they don’t speak the language.

Most of my time in Quito was spent running around the city, registering my visa, and buying items I would need for the next month on the farm. I did not have time to do much sightseeing or wandering the streets, but I knew I would have plenty of time in the next 10 months.