They Like to Call Me Pacha Mama

It’s officially been a week since I have been in Ecuador. I know…it’s been a long time for me to post my first Ecuadoran entry. It has been a bit crazy for the first week, and today is the first day of classes for my students. So now I have some time to catch up on emails/Facebook/blogs/news. For the past week, we have been non-stop immersed in tours and sightseeing of Ecuador. Our tour guide is a fountain of knowledge and knew exactly what every building and statue had significance. Since traveling take a toll on humans, I could tell that my students were dragging as the tour guide trailed on about the significance of a plant or a rock.

For those who are interested in the details of the trip, well, here you go (I’ll get into the touchy feely stuff of reflection part later): Our first day, we took a tour of the city of Quito. We saw everything from cathedrals to government buildings to fountains. Then later on the day we were able to visit the equator. That was pretty cool. Apparently, before the existence of the GPS, a “fake” equator was made and there was a monument built on it. Now, one can visit that “fake” equator and buy t-shirts that say “I straddled the equator today. What did you do?” That monument is now surrounded with touristy restaurants and shops where you can buy hand bags and bracelets with Ecuador on it that look very similar to ones that you can buy in another Latin American country with a different country printed on it. We then went to the real equator according the GPS. There we were able to see the touristy demonstrations of trying to balance an egg, walk in a straight line and watch which way the water goes down a hole. For a moment, I thought that I was going to feel this cosmo power through my veins as I straddled the equator, but I just felt dumb because of the forces (some science thing) I could not walk on a straight line. I would have failed the drunken driving test. After a full day of being tourists, we had a late Ecuadorian dinner at a local restaurant where many of us where first faced with different foods.

The next touristy day we went to Otavalo, where we spent most of the day sightseeing and shopping. Many students had their first experience of bartering. Some walked away with a great deal, others were ripped off…although I didn’t have the heart to tell them. Throughout the day we were able to see how the textiles were made, learned about the different volcanoes, and embraced different aspects of Ecuadorian culture. I felt that my head was going to explode from culture and allergies. Quito gave me the give of allergies, which till this day I am still fighting. Thank you, pollution and pressure. On the way back from Otavalo and once we arrived in Quito, things started to pick up. We had a Ecuadorian traditional ballet to attend that night and we were pressured for time. With traffic and miscommunication, we were getting deeper and deeper in our time crunch. To top things off, our bus broke down. Great. We were about a 10 minute ride to our hotel. So what did we do? We grabbed taxis, which took forever. We had to find taxis that were willing to drive into downtown and then divide our students up. The students were great. Actually, I think they were excited for this little adventure. All in all, we ended up at the hotel, grabbed a quick pizza and changed for the ballet. Again, we had another taxi adventure and ended up at the ballet 5 minutes late. Right on time. The traditional dance was great. Probably a little overwhelming for some of the students, but they enjoyed it. Again, culture hit all of us that ended the night was exhaustion.

Thursday we made the 10 hour bus ride to Cuenca. Yup. Despite my head about to explode with snot, the scenery was beautiful. About 75% of the bus ride, I watched Ecuador’s beautiful mountains and people ride by. With my headphones on, I was able to see the beauty of Ecuador and embrace more of the uniqueness of the country. My students were also amazed of the Ecuador’s beauty and also able to catch up on their sleep. On the way to Cuenca, we stopped at Ingapirca to see some ruins. I was given the privilege to translate. Let’s just say I was a little rocky at first due to the guide’s accent and my lack of translation practice. We took some fun pictures with dusty rocks and make some jokes. It was a good time. That night we meet our host families. Students were anxious and nervous about meeting them. I was more excited to meet mine. Right off the bat, my family was so warm and accepting.

Friday morning was spent with students telling stories of their first night with their families. There was a lot of laughter while stories being exchanged. That is the key to traveling. You have to be willing to laugh at situations and at yourself. We had three hours of culture classes and then the students were tested on their Spanish. The day ended with us chilling in downtown and grabbing some ice cream.

Saturday we went to Gualaceo, which is known for cheap jewelry. We spent the day exploring the little city and looking at the beautiful creations. Yes, I did a little shopping. I was embracing the culture.

Sunday was church day. It felt great worshipping in Spanish again. The church here is very similar to my church in Houston, which made me feel right at home. It was great.

Now the touchy feely reflection part: I am thankful for this opportunity. My students are great. Yes, they ask a billion questions a day and most of the time I say “I don’t know”. Yet, they are willing to learn and laugh at themselves. They are honest and open about certain things. They also are eager to embrace what Ecuador has to offer to them. I’m already being quoted and made fun of, which means that we are bonding well. Oh and they like to call me Pacha Mama…which means Mother Earth in Ecuador. Yup, that’s how it is.

My host family is great. My host dad loves, probably a little too much, about how I will find my guy here. I keep reassuring him that I don’t have good luck with guys, yet he doesn’t believe me. He also likes to listen to Kei$ha, reggaeton and dances around the house. He also likes to pride himself of having Facebook and a Twitter account. My host dad is nuts and I love it. My host mom is just as great. She is willing to listen. She is easy to talk to and very encouraging. She also likes to share her amount of jokes as well. I have two younger sisters, 16 and 9 years old. Gabi, my 16 year old sister, is just as crazy as I am. She loves to talk and loves to dance. Amelia, my other sister, can talk all day without getting tired, which means I pretend to listen half of the time. I could not ask for a better host family. We have already had some bonding moments and our share of jokes. Of course, we have danced in the living room and shared our food. Yup, it’s going to be a good month with them.

It’s been a week and I’m already feeling at home. Funny, I feel more comfortable here than I do in Indiana. Things are starting to slow down here and we are starting to develop our relationships with our families. I am beginning to see the other side of the study abroad experience. Memories from my study abroad experience fills my mind. I remember when one of my professors would always say parte de la experiencia, which means “part of the experience”. I would always cringe when he would say that. Now I completely understand. I appreciate him more.

Funny, now I’m the one saying that to my students….parte de la experiencia.

Taylor, one of my students, looking out the bus window at one of Ecuador's volcanoes

Purpose of the Study

Today I have been spending over 4 hours straight in the library, and I’m expecting to spend 324,989,843,839 hours more. This lovely thesis is keeping me engrossed with numerous books and articles about identity. It’s funny how I am having the hardest time coming up with the benefits and reasons why my thesis topic of ethnic identity development is important to research. You would think that I would know the answer right away. Wrong. Well, at least I thought I knew all the reasons. Frustrated I went to the restroom for the 100th time in order to clear my mind.

After doing my duty, I looked up into the mirror while washing my hands. Well, there it is, my reflection staring right back at me. I noticed my black curly hair surrounding my face and my brown eyes staring right into my own soul.

I was looking at my identity.

My heritage was screaming from my features.Taking a deep breath, I freaked myself out and walked, very fast, out of the bathroom.

Strolling back to my seat through the bookshelves, I was looking at all the titles and noticed I was in Anthropology section. Then the Latin American books popped out at me. I couldn’t resist. I sat for about 20 minutes flipping page after page of images of the beauties of Latin America. At the same time, my mind began to fill with my own memories. Then I picked up the Guatemala book.

I seconded guessed if it was wise to go through that book. “Oh, what the hell”, I said to myself.

The images of the Maya Indians and the scenery pictures did more justice that I thought it would. With a pull at my heart, I placed the book on the self and walked back to my seat.

Papa Lima is driving from Guatemala to Houston as I type this. I was so jealous that he was able to go back to the Motherland. Reconciliation needed to happen. The next time that I will go back to Guatemala, it will be by myself. No external influences; just me, the motherland, and anti-diarrhea medicine.

My obsession with Identity development started in my senior year of undergrad, right after my study abroad experience (hence the thesis topic). I was doing an independent study in Cultural Anthropology, which then added fuel to the fire. When I read this quote in Anthropological Insights for Missionaries, by Paul G. Hiebert, it all made sense to me:

“We who live in the bicultural community are generally marginal people who in many ways do not fit anywhere. Since we live on the borderline between different worlds, we find that no matter where we are, we are not quite at home. We are never fully assimilated into our second culture, but after a while we no longer fit our first culture either, because we have been changed and influenced by our experiences... This loss of identity in our first culture is not only social. It is also cultural. When we return, we can no longer identify uncritically with our home culture, nation, or even denomination. Consequently, when we criticize them, we so arouse the suspicions of our relatives and friends that they accuse us of disloyalty and even heresy…


Psychologically, because we internalize two persons belonging to two worlds, we face an identity crisis and need to find out who we really are. As we have already seen, we may choose to reject one or the other of our two identities, but thereby we kill part of who we really are. We can compartmentalize our existences, living as one person in one world and as the other person in another world. The result is cultural schizophrenia. Or we can seek to integrate our two selves into a single integrated whole, but this is a difficult process, for we must find a resolution to the fundamental differences that do exist between our two cultural selves.”

As I am on this journey of finding my cultural identity, I know that I have one identity which beats out all theories or studies. My true identity is in Christ. Hands down. Yes, I have dark crazy hair and can't say all the English vowels correctly, but I am a child of God.

I am His daughter. I am His beloved. I am called to live that out every day.

My friends here in Indiana are His too. It’s not just my identity in Christ but they have it in Him too. We are called to come together and “become a dwelling in which God lives by his Spirit.”

I Eat Baby Carrots Instead

(Note: This is a second post on little insights into my life. Also they are in no particular order.)

1) I prefer to be called Lima. Even though I have a pretty cool first name, Melissa, being called Lima brings another sense of identity. It may have to do with the fact that Lima is the capital of Peru, and I like it when people think I’m from Peru. Then they get confused of where I am from and then I look mysterious to them. (Side note: some people actually do call me Peru for that reason…which is also one of my favorite nicknames) “Lima” is shorter and it sounds cooler. It sounds triple cool when a two year old says it.

2) Just to clarify, when I say “I miss Texas”, it’s more of I miss the people that are currently located in Texas. The state itself does have some unique and beautiful things about it, but it’s not the “greatest nation” in the world. Officially, I am from Texas since I have been “living” there for four years. Yet when people ask me where I am from…I have no idea what to say, but that’s a different story. I miss my people down in Texas. Although, the Mexican food down there is not as bad. Oh yeah, and I have blood family down there. That would do it for me.

3) Pet peeve: When people chew with their mouth open and talk with food in their mouth. Close your mouth when you eat. It’s gross…I don’t want to see it. Ew.

4) I’m addicted to coffee. Enough said.

5) I watch too much TV and movies. Society also puts a damper on how bad it is for watching TV and movies in mass quantities. It’s not like I sit all day on the couch with a bag of potatoes chips and watch reruns of “Everybody Loves Raymond”…I eat baby carrots instead. I will admit that I like to watch the wittiness of Juno and listen to the melodies of Grease.

6) I get this high satisfaction feeling when I find a new favorite song. I will listen to that song over and over again until I can sing it in my sleep. I would like to take this time to thank Starbucks and itunes for providing free “discovery” music.

7) I hate wearing wet clothes. They stick to your body. Then they get damp and it gets more uncomfortable. I feel like I can’t touch anything. I don’t want to sit anywhere. I just feel stuck.

8) I think in both English and Spanish. I also dream in both languages. Side note: if I am yelling at you in Spanish that means that I’m too upset to translate it in English.

9) I love books and art.

10) I do not like living alone. It’s creepy. It’s boring. It’s lame.

Me trying to be artisty at a museum in Dallas, TX.