So, no one told us where the toilet paper is supposed to go.

This post is dedicated to the cultural questions, misunderstandings, and mistakes Adrienne and I have both made while in Ecuador. Intrigued? You should be.

 

1. Nothing is open on Sundays. Nothing. No lavanderia, no museos, no cafes con internet. Nada.
2. This next fact requires a bit of storytelling. So, Eve, James, Adrienne, and I are walking towards Av. America to catch a taxi to Quito Viejo. Eve mentions that, apparently, there is a curfew in this neighborhood at 7 pm. I think, curfew, at 7? Why? Someone says something along the lines of, protests about the rights of the indigenous people, it makes sense. On our walk, a sign is pointed out: “Horas Nocturna”. And indeed, it says something about this neighborhood, 7 pm, and it looks official with a logo that looks like its from el gobierno. Adrienne, who majored in Spanish at Temple, glances at the sign and nods. It’s confirmed. Curfew. Which is a bummer because apparently Quito has a lively night life with coffee shops, movie theatres, and restaurants. Fast forward 6 hours later, when we return to our homestay and lament about this strange protest-induced curfew. Curious, Adrienne asks Francia, who, very wise at 78 and leaning against her baston (cane), gives us a puzzled look, “Ehhh, que se dice? Donde ve?” Then suddenly, both of us remember seeing “basura” on the sign and we run out to the street (the sign is just around the corner) to make sure. No, no curfew. But now we do know that trash is collected at 7 pm every night.
3. Dolor y Dollar are pronounced very differently (which I am apparently not doing well enough) because a women corrected me in el mercado. Fair enough, but when I say it really fast, it sounds the same to me! Must fix this. I can’t be telling a guy I’ll pay 10 hurts for his painting.
4. Question, what is with the ku klux klan statues and posters everywhere? To be clear, nothing is racist about these except for our own knowledge of its connotation in the US. They are simply men (maybe women?) in klan hoods and robes in blue or black. Perhaps it is a religious thing?  
5. Security guards for parking lots carry guns. Just small pistols. I’ll let you guess what the police men/tourism security carry. (Hint: shotguns). It’s a little disconcerting to say the least.
6. And now, to the stunning finish. I would have thought that someone would have mentioned that the pipes in Ecuador are muy delgado, or skinny. Meaning that, when Adrienne attempted to use the facilities this evening, to her dismay, the toilet would not flush. I only find out because she walks into my room, wide eyed and asks, “Sarah, have you been flushing the toilet paper down the toilet?” I reply yes, of course. “Francia just said we’re not supposed to do that. I’ve been doing that this whole time!” O dios mio. There is no plunger. Francia is not fazed, she says that she’s been meaning to put up a letter in the bathroom so people know. Adrienne and I are sitting in the kitchen, mortified and so sorry that we had clogged this poor woman’s toilet with toilet paper.  She disappears for a moment and comes back with a wire hanger, determined to fix the problem. Her nieta, Monteserra, (la hermana de Constanza) who has visited with her Grandmother for the evening, is quite handy, opening up the upper tank of the toilet and declaring that the piolo has been cut. She fishes out plastic string from the courtyard and fixes the problem. Adrienne and I are relieved, but still feel very bad. Then I ask Adrienne, “So. Then. Where are we supposed to put the toilet paper?” In the trashcan. This raises other issues for me, mainly about sanitation, but I’m not going to judge. That’s just the way it is here.