12/02/09

Things continue to evolve well down here, and we just had a full weekend that featured a camping adventure, followed by a national championship soccer match that made the Super Bowl feel lame. But for now, we will practice the art with which we are most familiar, that of complaining.

Today’s Theme:
A Commentary on a Small Portion of the Ecuadorian Male Population In Terms of their Behavior towards Women

You may have read in an earlier post Becca’s unfortunate run-in with an outspoken 20 year-old the other week while jogging. The incident did not leave lasting damage, and Becca’s physical safety was never threatened. We have met many outstanding men and women here, but unfortunately there is an undertone of sexism that has the subtlety of lightning. Please allow the following ventilations.

I was walking along the river this past weekend in the afternoon and noticed a teenage girl strolling innocently towards me. If we were the only two characters in this story, the incident would have been unremarkable. Unfortunately for her, there was a profoundly disinhibited 50 plus year-old man in between the two of us. As the distance closed between the two of them, the man proceeded to reach out towards the woman in an attempt to slide his hand across her chest. The teenager, unfazed, as if she had confronted such situations routinely, expertly swatted the man’s hand away and walked on unharmed.
I trail behind the man until he stops in the middle of a bridge. Something in my brain tells me to make a comment about the tranquility of the river. He looks at me, confused, and then I realize this is the time for confrontation. It is also at this point that I realize I do not speak Spanish. I utter the following: Senor, la mujere (the woman)- really? No, Senor, Come on! He looks at me, perplexed and perhaps slightly irritated, and I walk away. No, it was not a seminal moment in the feminist history of Ecuador.

Our neighbor recently left her husband after discovering text messages on his phone that revealed an ongoing affair. When confronted about the infidelity, he commented “Soy hombre (I am a man),” as if this not only explained but provided the moral foundation for his actions. Becca and I are really hoping they do not get back together.

Okay, enough of Greg’s voice; this is Becca now. While I am equally if not more enraged by the machismo here, Greg and I have also been quite touched by the community-mindedness of Cuenca. As you all can probably imagine, we were anticipating that Thanksgiving would be a lonely day here--all of our family in the U.S. and no Ecuadorian celebrations here. One point during the day was particularly sad; it was an hour after we’d told our friends to arrive and we were convinced they had forgotten. The food was getting cold, and I was staring at the computer waiting for my family to call me- this was a low moment. Greg and I began debating about whether or not to invite strangers in to eat with us when Maru and Pablo arrived, all dressed up, with a nice bottle of wine and a genuine interest in learning more about the holiday. Pictures from the night are at the top of this post.