Teaching Efl in Quito, Ecuador: A Journal

By Gail Popp

Teaching EFL in Quito, Ecuador: A Journal is a written record kept by author, Gail Popp, while she was working as a teacher in the foreign lands of Ecuador.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Aug 29, 2021
• ISBN: 9781664192461

Gail Popp

Gail Popp was born near Spencer, West Virginia in 1935 and grew up with her three sisters and one brother on her parent’s farm. She is a retired elementary school teacher and principal and has lived and taught English as a Second Language in Ecuador and Japan. Gail is a mother, grandmother and great grandmother. She currently resides in her home in Marietta, Ohio and teaches part time at Marietta College.

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Copyright © 2021 by Gail Popp.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

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Rev. date: 08/27/2021

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter 1     Meeting The Family And Settling In

Chapter 2     The Fulbright School

Chapter 3     Lucia’s Cousins Come To Visit

Chapter 4     Tour To Otavalo

Chapter 5     A Visit To The Old City

Chapter 6     A Local Tour Around Quito

Chapter 7     The Farm At Riobamba

Chapter 8     The Military High School Teachers’ Workshop

Chapter 9     The Oriente

Chapter 10   Banos & Ambato

Chapter 11   A Visit To The Old City & The Protestant Church

Chapter 12   My Sisters & Brother-In-Law Visit

Chapter 13   A Bargain Is Not Always A Bargain

Chapter 14   Myra’s Wedding

Chapter 15   Nearing The End Of My Stay

Chapter 16   Galapagos

Introduction

The following journal was written during the time I spent in Ecuador teaching English at the Fulbright School in Quito. It is a daily account of my impressions and activities while I was living there with a host family arranged by the director of the Fulbright and sponsored by Ohio University in Athens, Ohio. The names of people have been changed, but the places remain the same.

It was my first time to live and work in a foreign country and I found it to be very rewarding and stimulating. Everyone I met was very helpful and friendly. It was also my first time to live with a host family and my host family could not have been nicer to me. They were truly wonderful. They introduced me to many new foods and customs and made an extra effort to share with me their family activities and outings. I felt very much as though they were my new family away from home.

The teachers and supervisors at the Fulbright were very good to work with and the students were delightful. I learned as much from them as they learned from me, I think.

I am convinced every day that the differences between peoples of the world are of no importance because we are all much more alike than we are different. It is a matter of how we view others and ourselves. In everything that counts in life, we are all the same. We have similar needs and desires, regardless of our language or life style. In learning about others, I have learned more about myself and have gained a greater understanding of life in general.

Gail Popp

Chapter 1

MEETING THE FAMILY

AND SETTLING IN

DAY 1 FRIDAY JULY 15, 1994

It was 7:30 p.m. and dark when I looked out the window of the airplane as we approached the Quito airport. The city below nestled between Volcano Mountains looked like a thousand fireflies sparkling in the darkness. I was going to teach English as a foreign language (EFL) at the Comision Fulbright in Quito. Ohio University in Athens, Ohio was my sponsor, as I was participating in a teachers’ exchange program, and my contract was for six months with a possible option to stay longer. On the plane I met two teenage girls from New Mexico going to Quito to visit their grandparents for two weeks, they told me. They looked out the window, talked excitedly and giggled anxiously like kids anticipating presents at Christmas. It was their first time to travel alone and they could hardly wait for the plane to touch down.

After landing, I stood in a long line to go through immigration where they took my airport entrance form and checked my passport. Then I stood in another line for baggage and after that for customs. A boy came to help me with my bags and took me to the gates outside the building where Dr. and Mrs. Gonzales were waiting for me with my host mother, Lucia Morales and Marie Gabriela Garcia, director of English at the Fulbright. Dr. Gonzales was the person with whom I had interviewed for the position at Ohio University. He was the executive director of the Fulbright program in Ecuador and was associated with the United States Embassy there.

Outside the gates it was very dark and people were crowded around the fence and gate. I looked around for a familiar face and saw a sign with my name on it and nearby was Dr. Gonzales. There were spontaneous hugs and kisses on the cheeks. My bags were collected and I was directed to a waiting car. The Spanish greetings were a bit overwhelming because I knew very little Spanish. However, the body language was unmistakable and I had a warm and friendly feeling. In the car I realized just how little I understood Spanish as the conversations continued, to which I could only answer Si or Gracias without really knowing what was being said most of the time. Thank Goodness, Dr. and Mrs. Gonzales spoke English and translated for me. The ride in the car was a rush and dare game in the heavy traffic around the airport.

We were soon at my new home, a family apartment building, where my host family lived on the third floor. It was dark and I could only follow the lead of my hosts. Upstairs I meet Mateo and Myra, the father and daughter in my new family. We sat in the living room for a few minutes and had a cup of coffee. I was told to rest, walk slowly and take time to get accustomed to the 9,250 feet altitude. Some people evidently become dizzy and sick at their stomachs during the first few days, but I felt none of that. After Dr. and Mrs. Gonzales left, Myra, who spoke English very well, took me for a tour of the apartment. The Spanish style cement block building had tile and marble floors and carpeted bedrooms and was nicely furnished. The family’s apartment had a living room/dining room, kitchen, three bedrooms and two baths. My room was small, but adequate and I had a private bath across the hall. Lucia and Mateo’s bedroom was next to mine. A cousin of the family had died recently and Lucia and Mateo left the apartment to attend a memorial service as I was going to my room to unpack. Myra’s teenage cousin, who lived in another apartment of the same building, came to meet me and visited briefly. The cool fresh mountain air came through the open window in a gentle breeze and reminded me of my childhood days on my family’s West Virginia farm. It was 11:30 when I went to bed and I slept like a baby.

DAY 2 SATURDAY JULY 16

The bright sunshine came through the window in full force at 6:45 a.m. and a rooster crowed in the distance announcing a new day. Lucia was in the kitchen making a delicious sweet and tasty juice drink called tomate de arbol to go with a breakfast of bread and cheese. Lucia didn’t know any English and since I knew very little Spanish, we had some difficulty communicating, but we managed to understand each other using gestures. Lucia showed me how to turn on the hot water tank that hung on the wall in the kitchen and helped me to understand that the bottled gas was very expensive. The gas was only turned on for showers and special occasions and then turned off as soon as possible.

Later in the morning we went to the farmer’s market in Mateo’s red Ford pickup truck north of the Avenue Rio Amazonas with Mateo, Lucia and me all in the front seat. The streets were crowded with automobiles and the market was crowded with people looking to buy and people anxious to sell their fruits, vegetables, meats, eggs, fish and other small items. Lucia in her baseball cap and brightly colored blouse moved among the vendors with her plastic shopping bag bargaining as she went. The open field that served as a market place was cluttered with temporary stands and food piled high on the ground usually on large plastic sheets. Some vendors sold from their pickup trucks or set up their stands under umbrellas and tents. Others walked around shouting their wares. Small children played near their parents while others slept in the carriers on their mothers’ backs. Little black heads were barely visible above the bundle of colorful scarf that was wrapped around the mother’s shoulders and tied in front. Some mothers nursed their toddlers while resting on the ground beside their stands. The vendors’ faces, chapped a reddish color from the sun and cold mountain wind, were generally friendly and smiling. Others however, looked sad and beaten by the hard life they endured. Children often came up to me showing their items and encouraging me to buy, their sweet anxious faces looking up at me with anticipation. I had no money and so could only shake my head no and say, No, gracias. I took some pictures of the colorful valley market with the Pichincha Volcano in the background. The market reminded me of a patchwork quilt in motion.

After returning home from the market, we went to the airport to get my air cargo, but it was closed. Lucia fixed a big delicious dinner with potato soup, meat, rice, salad and pineapple juice. We all helped with the dishes and then I went to my room to write letters but took a nap instead. Myra and her cousin watched the World Cup Soccer Game on television while Mateo worked on his truck. It was 6:00 and dark outside when we had our evening meal of tea, coffee, bread and cheese. Mateo and Lucia also had choclo, steamed corn.

At 8:00 we put on our jackets and tennis shoes and went with Lucia’s sister, Maria and her husband to a church celebration for St. Peter in the hills just outside the city. As we drove up the rough bumpy road between the houses, we could look down on Quito nestled in the valley of the plateau, thousands of dots of light glowing in the darkness. The city is long and narrow from north to south with Mount Pichincha (15,728 feet) towering above it on the west. We were driving a little way up the side of Pichincha to the church.

When we arrived at the church, many cars were parked in the narrow space of road that dead-ended above the church. A long white cement block building, a square building, and another middle-sized building composed the church area. A tall white cross stood nearby. In the darkness a bonfire was just getting started and people were greeting each other with kisses on the cheeks and handshakes. Families stood around the fire and were on the steps that led down to the buildings. We walked through the crowd being greeted warmly by all. At the bottom of the steps was the small square building that held the statue of St. Pedro (Peter), vases of flowers, and burning candles. Four chairs were placed along the walls on both sides near the door. Two ladies and a man were sitting there and others were entering and leaving and looking through the glass windows. We stopped at the entrance and then went on to see the middle-sized building, which was a kitchen area. The largest building was for gathering. Many chairs lined the walls and a few were in the center. There were only a few people in the large room. We walked back outside to where the shrine was and a band was forming, about twelve men and boys with drums, a cymbal, clarinets, and trumpets stood along the walls at the base of the steps in front of the shrine building. It was not long until they played a song and all the people came to stand on the bank at the top of the steps and along the outside of the buildings to face the band and the shrine of St. Pedro. Lucia’s brother-in-law led the service in honor of St. Pedro, repeating in Spanish the litany of the Catholic Church and the crowd responded. Afterward, the band began to play with gusto and firecrackers and fireworks boomed periodically. The bonfire grew bigger, giving off more heat in the cool of the evening. A few people walked about among the others with a whiskey bottle filled with a special lemon juice drink and a cup, which was offered to all the adults, but only about a fourth of a cup was poured. Everyone was drinking, but I was afraid of getting sick, so I said no and Lucia told them no and it was all right. The celebration continued as friends visited and soon people were dancing to the music and shouting and laughing. Outside a loco vaca (crazy cow) charged among the children making them run away only to come back and tease the cow with a coat. The cow was an A-frame of wood decorated to represent a bull with horns. The horns were torches that burned at the top end and when the person inside the frame (a boy or man) charged, everyone scattered. It was a fun game that all enjoyed. Food was offered from the kitchen, but we didn’t go there. The music and dancing continued and an old man asked me to dance and I couldn’t refuse. It was fun, but before it was over, my legs were aching and I was out of breathe. It was a very fast shuffle, Latin music, of course. Later Mateo asked me and I tried to dance with him, but I mostly just stepped around, because I couldn’t keep up. Outside on the long cement walk beside the building was a long line of young people dancing a similar version of the Virginia Reel with couples sashaying down the center and weaving