Ecuador – dannypeck.net

Dust

When I would spend the summers in Ecuador, it was always interesting to see how things would change over the course of a couple months. Ecuador has only two seasons: rainy season and dry season. Rainy season lasts from roughly October to April. So when I arrived in May, sometimes it was still raining every day. But by June it had definitely stopped, and by August you would be places where you wished for rain. So when I would hike up the mountain at our retreat center in May, sometimes the path would be so covered in mud that my boots would slide around on the slick surface and I would just turn around. But by late July, the path would have totally dried, and where once there was mud, there was now just a layer of dust atop the ground. My footfalls sounded totally different. I would take a step, and where it visually seemed like my foot had touched the ground in front of me, my shoe would actually sink about a half inch down to the layer of harder ground below. Instead of a step, step, step, noise, you would just hear a sort of phUMTH! phUMTH! phUMPTH! and the dust would float up, coating pants legs, working its way annoyingly into eyes and lungs, and drifting in a cloud behind me, like I was a cartoon character in a hurry. That dust was in desperate need of water to pour down on it so it could stay put.

When I feel tired or restless, or hear someone speak of a metaphorical dry season, I think about those hikes up the mountain. And especially in a week like this where we’ll hear the phrase “remember that you are dust,” I don’t want to remain like the moistureless dust on the path, not as solid as I seem, dry and drifting; I want to recall Paul’s words that God will bring his work to completion. I’m reminded to be receptive to just what it is he is pouring into me, soak it up, and stay put in his love.

Notes: This is a reflection on a post I originally wrote in July of 2008. When Google searching for a photo to include in the version for my SUMC Family Ministries Update, I stumbled upon the photo above… which was taken by my friend Jim Olsen. Here’s what he wrote about the dust in Ecuador in 2015.

You Haven’t Quite Got This Figured Out Yet

One of the places I always take my short-term teams in Ecuador is the Artisan Market between North and Central Quito. There are rows and rows of stalls where vendors have all kinds of handicrafts: blankets, paintings, sweaters, dishes, tablecloths; all kinds of woven or carved or painted objects to use or to have as souveniers. Even in a market that takes up an entire city block (it’s entertainingly on the corner of Jorge Washington and Reina Victoria streets in the gringolandia neighborhood… they know their target demo, I suppose), I know after all this time exactly where some of the vendors are. Who is selling what, and who will give you a good deal. And reliably just outside the market on the sidewalk, every day of the week, is a man who sells flags. He has all different sized flags sticking out of a backpack, and he’s usually carrying around an oversized flag in his arms. A few will have the Quito soccer team logo, but most are the Ecuadorian national flag.

All over the market you can hear people shouting what they have for sale. “Sueters!” “Cobijas/blankets!” “Camisetas/ t-shirts!” Vendors who are energetically trying to get your attention and your dollars. But the flag guy just leisurely paces up and down the sidewalk, slowly saying, at a volume just barely above a normal speaking voice, “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeecuador! …Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeecuador!” Not “flags!” Not even “banderas!” (the Spanish word). Just “Ecuador” over and over again. If you wanted a flag of the city of Quito or of the Liga soccer team, you would have to happen to know that he has those. He does the worst job advertising for himself of anybody in the place. And yet, I’ve been going there since 2007 and I have never once not seen him. And as much as I always want to say to him “Dude, you have not got this figured out,” he seems to keep making sales after all this time.

Nine weeks into stay-at-home orders and social distancing and online everything… we don’t all necessarily have this whole thing figured out. But I hope that we all continue with endurance, recognizing the Grace that covers our weaknessas we all go on to Perfection.

Go Out Dancing

Any time there’s a few minutes to kill, or when we’re saying good-bye, or just when we’ve got a break between worship and lunch, the tradition at Emaús is to get everyone dancing. The dance team from the church shared a couple of traditional dances with us, but the team got to share a little as well.

The team and the congregation dancing together after worship.

The team taught some of the dancers from Emaús how to do the “Wobble.”

Caroline decided she could drive the bus. I think Lauren’s reaction is appropriate.

Francis wasn’t much for dancing, but she was a big fan of Anita’s dog, Señor Salchicha.

Remember Your Baptism

The Baptismal font and the “flinger” at Emaús.

As a staff at Soapstone, we have been reading Liturgy of the Ordinary by Tish Harrison Warren. From the first chapter, it has sparked a lot of conversations both about how we are mindful of our faith in everyday activities, but also about having intentionality in all aspects of worship.

I have used many of her examples about Baptism in the last few weeks as I have taught Confirmation and UMYF, and led discussions on missions. The call to Remember our Baptism keeps bringing me back to living in Gaujaló and working at Emaús. At Emaús, the Baptismal font lives right next to the door so it’s easy to touch the water and be mindful of it upon entering for work or worship. When Lourdes was the priest in charge here, she would end every single service by sending water flying with a metal “flinger.” I’m sure there’s some ecclesiastical term* for it, but “flinger” really gives you a picture of what happened. Because Lourdes has an arm. I think she missed her calling as a softball pitcher. When that water was flung at the face, it hurt. You couldn’t help but remember your Baptism.

Lourdes used to use the same flinger, or sometimes a branch, to send water all over the place when she would bless a house for someone who had just moved in (including when her own family and I moved into the house above the tienda). The blessing of the household was a reminder that God is present with us not just in the church building, but all throughout his creation, even what we consider the mundane. My friend (and star youth ministry volunteer) Sylvia remarked recently that her biggest monthly expense is rent, so in being mindful of how she uses her resources, she tries to find ways to use her home as a place of fellowship to glorify God, and I’ve appreciated that reminder as well.

There have been two Baptisms of small children since I’ve been at Soapstone. The first was of an infant who looked over his mothers shoulder the whole time trying to see the font. He wiggled and squirmed quietly, not trying to escape, but trying to get in the water. He just wanted to dive right into the water if Baptism. The second was an elementary-aged girl who seemed very skeptical as Pastor Laura began drenching her, but began to smile as the words of blessing were spoken over her. You could see in the change of her expression the way she was beginning to give in to what God was already doing.

At different times in my own life, I would describe both of those reactions as “mood.”

There’s nothing special about the water in the font, or on the flinger, or on my face or the wall of a home. But there’s a reminder in seeing and touching and hearing it splash of the fellowship and the Grace that we get to live into every day. And writing this post four feet from the font and ten feet from my team members, I’m excited I get to live into that with a new group at one of my favorite places for another week.

*Turns out when I looked this up, even the Catholic supply stores refer to the “flinger” as a “Holy Water Sprinkler.”

Good Omens

On the bus ride from the airport to the hostel, Caroline and I had barely learned the team’s names, but I already called that this was going to be a good, fun, low-maintenance team. It may be that I’ve just hosted so many groups at this point that I can pick up on their vibe like a guinea pig¹. Or maybe they’re just that chill a group that anyone would notice.

The days have seemed pretty long because they have been so full, and because I was so low on sleep by the time I arrived via Houston. It has truly only been a small number of hours we have all been together. But even this morning as we received our welcome from Reverenda Nancy at Emaús, it seemed more accurate than normal when she told the team that this is their home. I’ve been thankful already for Lauren, the team leader, who is super calm, easy-going, and consistently expressing love to all around her. That kind of thing rubs off on a team in a big way, and I will probably continue to remark how much a leader can make or break a team. The other fun thing about our first few days is that despite it still being rainy season, it has been unbelievably clear outside. In the US, we talk about the sun being out. Here we talk about the volcanoes being out. On a particularly clear day, from here in Quito you can see the snow-capped volcano Cotopaxi, even though it is a whole province away. We had a gorgeous view of Cotopaxi for most of the way to Guajaló this morning. And when we walked up to the roof of the building we were even able to see the Panecillo from here. It is really not all that far away in the city, but the clouds or the fog usually stop us from seeing it.

The Panecillo and the Virgin of Quito (way in the background between the trees) from the cross on the roof of Emaús.

It has been years since I could see Cotopaxi while I was in the bus with a team, and I told them what a treat it was to have the view we have even from the roof. Being in this place is always fun and meaningful, and I can see God’s work even when it pours so hard we get rained out of going to the park. But it certainly makes it easier to be in a good mood when all of God’s creation is on display so blatantly in every direction.

A rare view of Cotopaxi during our commute.

I also think it’s a good omen when native Spanish speakers manage to correctly spell my name (both “N”s and no “I”).

The people at Emaús always find a fun way to make sure everyone on a team knows they are welcomed.

¹People here say that guinea pigs can “sense auras.” When a group walks past a guinea pig pen, the animals will squeal if a group is anxious, but they’ll be quiet and still if the people in the group are calm. I never tell my groups this in advance, but I’ll tell them when we leave the pen if the guinea pigs were quiet when we were around.

Old Places And New Friends

I have variously described day one of a team’s schedule as Tourist Day, Question Day, and Forest Gump Day (“So I went to the Basilica… again”). This time around it has been more like Reminiscing Day. Caroline and I started talking early this morning on our walk to the hostel about all the Sewanee teams we have hosted together. We ate breakfast at El Descanso and I remembered all the people who have run this place over the years. I stood in the balcony of the Basilica sanctuary and thought of all the groups whose photos I’ve taken in front of the strained glass window. A woman there with her family even saw me taking pictures and said out loud “that guy looks like he knows what he’s doing,” and asked me to photograph them (which brought me back 11 years to Sarah Miller telling me how we’d all end up professional photographers by the end of that summer). As we gazed out over the city from the walkway under the tower I remembered how I felt the first time up that ladder (and how much out of my depth I felt most of my first summer as a host).

I’ve taken this photo several times over the years, but this time I got to do it repping Soapstone UMC.

As we walked down the Via de Siete Cruces, Roberto and I were talking about the streets that are now closed to vehicle traffic. That happened sometime last year, either before I was here in March or before I was here over the summer. And as I tried to sort those out in my mind, I remarked to him how strange it was that I was just here eight months ago.

There have been plenty of moments over the last twelve years when I have been sad about all the people who used to be here that have gone back to live in the US or elsewhere. Or when I miss how things used to be when you didn’t have to wear seatbelts and could cram 19 people in a Chevy Suburban and didn’t have to stop at red lights after dark. Or I think about a restaurant that used to be somewhere, or the good old days when the Strawberry Soda had real sugar in it and they still made the spicy Doritos in the black bag.

But then I walk into the youth world office and run into a group of people I mostly met and got to know within the last twelve months and they’re so excited to see me that we wind up with this:

A large contingent of our summer staff reunited. Apparently they liked me.

really And thinking through the changes I’ve seen I have to remind myself that so much here really I s the same. And so much of the change has been for the better. But either way, I’ve gotten to experience it with so many people. I can’t possibly tell my teams about all the different times I’ve been to the Basilica and Plaza San Francisco anymore. There’s not enough time to give them every bit of history and experience that I’ve gotten at each of those places. But I get to think about parejas who I’ve learned from, and students I’ve brought to share my beloved country with, and teams who have asked me questions, and leaders who many times had no idea of how much their personality would make or break a team. I smile thinking about Sarah and Amalia and Deborah and Jóse Luís and Kelsey and Dana and Darío and Emma and Gavriella and Joe and Julie and Marina all being with me at each of these places. But now I get to introduce a people and a place and an experience and a philosophy of mission to another new group of friends, who will go in twelve different directions nine days from now, into whatever and wherever God calls them in the post-field. And hopefully by then all of us will be changed.

Lauren, Ezechias, Emma, Gracie, Maria, Jennifer, Ginnie, Olivia, Melanie, and Victoria (not in that order) climbing to the tower atop the Basilica.

I’m New Here

It’s been a long time since I’ve made an effort to give out my blog address. So since I might have a new audience for the first time in a long time, I’m going to start my 2019 Quito Quest blogging journey by answering all the questions I usually get from people who are trying to figure out what exactly I do in Ecuador.

What exactly do you do in Ecuador?

I will be hosting a short-term team. In general, teams come for between 1-2 weeks to work with ministry sites in (and sometimes out of) Quito. The team hosts are around basically to take care of the team. Food, housing, transportation, translation, cultural acquisition… all the things they need to be running smoothly so they can do their projects, interact with people in a healthy way, and stay safe… that’s my job.

How long have you been doing this?

I started going to Ecuador in 2007. I’ve been hosting teams since 2008. I’ve lived there for several springs and summers and a big stint between 2009-2010. These days I just go back for two weeks or so every March to host a team. Since the first time I went, the longest I’ve ever gone without being in Ecuador was 15 months (between March 2012 when I hosted a Canadian team in the jungle and July 2013 when I took my own high school students from Elizabeth City on a team).

Where do you stay?

My wonderful friends the Vivanco family let me crash with them. Cameron, Roberto, Graham (7), Liam (5), and Francis (3) will be part of the cast of characters in my daily recaps. So, probably, will Luciano (the cat), and Caroline (my partner, who is also flying in from the U.S. just to be a host).

Do you get paid to do this?

That’s cute.

What are you doing these days, Danny?

People have joked around with me for years that they can’t keep track of what country I’m in. But it seems like I can hardly keep track of where I’ve been lately myself.

In February I left my job at First UMC in Elizabeth City. I came back to Ecuador to host two short-term teams and hang out with a bunch of people I love. And those people convinced me I should come back to Ecuador this summer as the Maestro for the Education=Hope program. So I’ve been doing just that, helping to train and supervise both the E=H interns and the Quito Quest interns who are serving with E=H sites and teams.

But in the midst of my preparations for Ecuador, God dropped another crazy opportunity in my path, and after weeks of calls and texts and emails and Skype calls and plane rides, I accepted the position of Director of Family Ministries at Soapstone UMC in Raleigh, which I will be starting in August.

It’s been a crazy few months. It has been hard sometimes telling people what’s next for me, especially because since January, I quite often haven’t known beyond about the next two weeks what was really next for me. It’s about to be a crazy few months as well, because I need to finish well here with Quito Quest and Education=Hope, and dive immediately back into Conference Youth Events, moving to Raleigh, and starting a new job. I won’t be back home in Elizabeth City until about twelve days after I return to the United States, and “home” won’t really be home after that anyway.

I’m excited. I’m terrified. I’m actively trusting God to give me the ability to do all the things that He’s called me to do. And I can’t wait to tell everybody about this whole new adventure.

Maestro-ing

Over twelve summers, I have had a lot of roles in our short-term program. I’ve been a team member, a team leader, a Quito Quest host, a site host and an additonal staff member on teams. I even once helped train a couple of hosts who would both the next summer become my maestros. But I have never actually done the Maestro roll until now.

Since 2008 I’ve been telling people that Quito Quest is the most work not the least sleep you’ll ever get, and I use that statement to make a point of just how much I love this program, because I keep coming back and doing it again and again. And while my perspective has slowly changed over time about how much sleep you actually need to do this job (I’m old… I need way more sleep now than when I was 22), my perspective has changed dramatically this summer on who it is that really has all the work to do.

When you’re a team host, you are responsible for all the people on a short-term team, for their food and housing and schedule and translation and cultural acquisition, and their medical needs. You’re there to take care of them from the moment they walk out of the secure section of the airport until you drop them off right back there eleven or so days later.

When you’re a maestro, you’re responsible for all that stuff, except for the interns, and for three months instead of a week and a half. And when seven of your eight hosts have never hosted before, you wind up being responsible for a lot of their job too, because it’s simply impossible to learn how to do this job perfectly in the two weeks between intern arrival and the start of Block 1 of teams.

An intern asked me after my Basilica orientation, “How much of that are we supposed to remember?” She had this seriously worried look on her face, and I just laughed, and tried to compassionately explain that I’ve been doing Basilica orientations for 11 years, and I’ve been there with all kinds of people, so I have learned a lot about the place. I dumped it all on those unsuspecting interns, hoping they’ll be able to regurgitate 40% of it or so this summer. I want give them all the information and experience and wisdom I have, but I certainly don’t expect them to know cold in one summer what I’ve been compiling since 2007.

Cameron has been laughing at me all summer as I ask deep questions to the interns and then press for answers. She remembers exhausted 2008 Danny who had to be forced to give more than one-word answers. I hadn’t figured out back then that it was okay to be an introvert and an internal processor. But I also hadn’t quite figured out back then how much the staff needed me to get out of that comfort zone and verbally let them know how they could take care of me. She also remembers 2008 Danny who would debrief teams until 11, get home at midnight, blog until 2am, and get up at 5 or 6 to do it all over again, because he thought you had to just run yourself into the ground to lead a team well. And now she’s watching me tell interns to hide out in the book bag room and take a nap or catch up on finances so they don’t have to stay awake so late at night.

It’s also a lot of work to put team hosts together as a pareja and to match those parejas up with teams. Figuring out how to compliment people’s gifts, and how to match them up with projects and team leaders and teams and ministry sites is a giant puzzle. And just as it’s impossible for the hosts to do their job in a perfect way, we (maestros and directors) will never quite get this part of our job perfect either. But I can tell you we talked about it and processed together way more than I ever thought would be necessary.

I love being here for summer, and I love getting to train and oversee all these hosts. But as I jump in and out of teams’ schedules and ministry sites, and do my best to care for our hosts who are caring for them, I have a lot more appreciation for Bryan, Dana, Darío, Christy, Manuel, and Kristin, who were all maestros for me at various times.

Soccer Match

We don’t have sports, plural, in Ecuador, we pretty much just have soccer. And in Quito, for the most part we don’t have fans of different teams: everybody here is a Liguista. So when you are invited to a soccer match, it’s a Liga game, and you had better be hyped for it, and you had better have your jersey.

A number of our team hosts are off this weekend, so they joined the staff and the site hosts tonight for Liga vs. Emelec at Casa Blanca.

Pablo got our tickets this morning, but he clearly didn’t trust the gringos to know how to act at an Ecuadorian soccer match, so he sent us all instructions before he would hand them out.

Blue is actually one of LDU’s colors, but not when they’re home against Emelec, so Pablo was actually trying to make sure we don’t start a fight. And people will definitely fight when it comes to soccer.

It took forever to get on the bus this afternoon because each one that came by was already so full, and everyone at the station was wearing their Liga jerseys, so we knew we’d be crammed in like sardines all the way to the stadium. The general admission seats in Casa Blanca were packed out as well, but it was a ton of fun to participate in singing and cheers and listening to all the fans in the stadium heckle the referees… and the other team… and sometimes our team.

Liga scored a goal early in the second half, but Emelec got a penalty kick to tie, and the score stayed like that the rest of the match. One of the players on the other team passed out due to altitude, which sucks for him, but at least we were reminded that doesn’t only happen to team members. All in all, it was a great cultural experience, something I haven’t done in seven years, and a really cool day off with some of our staff.