An Ode to Dad...

For those of you that know my Pops you probably know that every morning he wakes up and repeatedly says to himself, “I feel great today”. Growing up he would come into the room that I shared with my sister and have us exclaim the same mantra at the top of our young lungs until we collapsed into giggles or screamed for him to let us stop. As I moved into my tumultuous teenage years and developed a monstrous chip on my shoulder I refused to partake in what I deemed a pointless and corny ritual. Now, as an adult, I find myself returning to my Dad’s optimistic philosophies and muttering “I feel great today”, at the very least, twice a week. I attribute my many good days of late solely to this and even more so to the days that are not just good but absolutely and unequivocally great. These types of days are ones where I feel life rushing through my blood, where possibilities and opportunities are endless. I just so happened to have one of these great days last week..

On my way to work, I realized something was off, different if you will, as I stepped onto the TroleBus. Key word being stepped, as there was actually room to step into the Trole, as in there was not 100 people packed liked sardines in this particular bus and no one around to stare at my body parts, what was I to do? This was strange but I took it as a good sign for the day to come and left it at that.

Upon entering SECAP I realized the electricity was out again (here's an article about the current Ecua energy crisis) and I would have to walk up five flights of stairs. It’s here that some may say I’m crazy, might question my sanity but I must beg to differ. The thing is I’m enjoying teaching with limited resources, including not having lights. It has sparked a creative and spontaneous flair in me that I did not know I had and I look forward to the daily challenge. It also helps that not one of my students, or any Ecuatoriano that I know, has complained about the looming few months of rolling blackouts. They may have a whining type of tone of voice but they rarely complain, as complaining gets them no where. Asi es la vida. I like this.

After class I head down to Plaza Foch, Quito’s Time Square, for what is supposed to be a quick meeting with my Field Director, Kate. Instead her, myself and a 2^nd year WT volunteer visiting from Ambato end up having 8 quite fantastic mochachino’s between the three of us while talking as if we have been friends for life. We have the kind of conversation you can only have once every couple months, it’s deep and real. Over the three hours questions are asked, advice is thrown, pasts are shared, and futures are pondered. We realize how lucky we are and although all three of us may have taken different and more difficult paths than our parents or friends or both, we are happy and we all agree, quite egotistically, that we are better people for it.

From there I grab a quick bite to eat before heading to my two hour Spanish class. Here Carla, my teacher, pushes me hard. I’m writing, I’m reading, I’m asking and answering questions for two hours straight, all in Spanish. She pushes me well past my comfort zone and trust me every last bit of teaching karma comes back to bite me in my behind but it’s good and I am learning, a lot.

Then I head over to the South American Explorers Club where I meet one of my night students, and now a friend for a few hours of tutoring (English for her, Spanish for me). I first realized that I wanted to be friends with Isabel when she told my night class about her families’ tradition of playing chess. I’ve always been intrigued by chess and asked her to teach me how to play. We have been meeting every weekday since then, although we haven’t gotten to playing Chess just yet. Isabel is one of the two Ecua friends I have and she represents one side of me that not many people recognize nor appreciate. She is intelligent, educated, independent (especially for an Ecua woman) and mostly curious. She is my link to Latin America culture, sharing books and movies, inviting me to the Indi movie theater and her Tango classes. It is good to have a friend like this. It is on this particular day that she tells me she has received a scholarship to get her MBA in Italy and will be leaving in late December. I know what this type of decision takes and I am more than happy for her, not to mention the fact that I will now have a friend in Italy (riding bikes through a small Tuscan village here I come). As the hour of our night class approaches we hop on the bus together and it is here that the best part of the day happens. After five minutes of talking I realize that I have just had my first real conversation in Spanish. I didn’t have to think about what to say next, it just came. Of course it disappeared the second I realized what was going on but something I never thought would happen did and I was so excited that I almost made us miss our bus stop.

As is the norm in my night class, I put my students right to work. While they were working and I strolling through the room helping I was able to catch glimpses of the yellow, orange and pink rays of the sun setting over Pichincha and briefly casting a glow into my classroom. Only in one other place has a sunset and landscape such as this created a calming, reflective happiness in me and I hope that when I leave Quito I will be able to find that place on the coast of California again.

If this were an average day, my writing would end here. But you must remember this was a great day and great days rarely end after work. I meet up with Kate again and we head to the Mariscal, where the lights are frighteningly out but the restaurants and bars are lit by candle light, quite the romantic feel. We grab some sushi and some mojitos as we celebrate another friends birthday and I once again find myself deep in conversation. As the small group heads to Salsa I decide to return home as I haven't seen Piedad in a couple of days and I want to savor the day rather than drink it away.

While I'm getting comfy in my wool blankets I think about my Pops and how happy he would be to hear about my day. And if he were to ask me right at this moment how I feel, as he did when we were little, I would have no reservations in screaming back at him, "I FEEL GREAT TODAY, Daddy-O!"