Dear family and friends,

Somehow it seems more marvelous to be whisked, with only a modest expenditure of time and money, to a place you formerly did not know existed, than to such cities as London or Paris, places you’ve always known about. The leg from Miami to Quito was not an Ecuadorean experience, though, because a large number of the passengers were either missionaries (lots of bible reading on that flight) or else school kids on a trip. One group consisted of French-speaking Montrealers; another of English-speaking Montrealers, who were going to the Galapagos. These had last year been to China.

The plane got in somewhat later than expected, unfortunately just behind another plane, with the result that getting through immigration took ages. Then, finally through the entry process, it was onto the baggage—but I looked over all the bags, again and again, and my two were not there. Just as I was looking around for someone to contact, an airport employee approached and told me that if I was on flight 967, my luggage would be at the carousel in the other room. In my focus on the specific, I just hadn’t seen the other carousel. As I left, I saw someone with a sign with my name—from my Spanish school—and the couple –for $8--drove me to my family, who were waiting on the sidewalk, thanks to the miracle of text-messaging.

We reached agreement on breakfast at 7:30; I was shown the bathroom and was looked at kind of reproachfully when I pointed out that it was not a private bathroom. As the landlady spoke of sharing, I felt like a kindergarten boy who had not behaved properly. She wished me a good night’s rest, the kind of expression in which one uses the subjunctive. Facts are facts, or at least we used to think so, but we do more with language than convey information, and in so many of those cases Spanish speakers use another verb form. After all, it was not certain that I would have a good night, and I did not. I realized that the layout of the room was such that I had to unpack, not just get out necessities, because suitcases would be blocking the door or otherwise in the way. In that process I saw that three drawers I thought were mine were filled with other stuff, that the closet had only flimsy wire hangers, that there was no glass in the room, no bottled water—and I realized I had gone into the bathroom and brushed my teeth with tap water. Would I be sick in the morning? This was against the background of a dog who barked at irregular intervals.

As I lay in my bed, I couldn’t help but formulate and reformulate Spanish sentences asking for various things, sentences to reproach José, the school head, who had put me up here. And, then, it came to me: Did the wireless internet connection work? I just had to find out. Yes, it did work, and I sent a message to Mary. I figure that sleep came at about 2, though then it was broken several times by getting up to go to the bathroom. Yes, I am a nervous traveler. In fact, things looked better by the light of day. With some organization I got everything stowed away nicely. I got a glass. The room really is of a decent size, but more like a European hotel room than the large rooms in American hotels. And I will learn the word for hangers and try to get better ones.

Well, I’ve survived on 4 ½ hrs. sleep before, and I did today. The plan had been that I would be picked up by Chris Morck, an American working with the Episcopal diocese here, who would take me to the Cathedral School for a flag ceremony at which all the students and teachers would be present. Chris, who has been my contact, is here with his wife and two young children and expects to be ordained here in May. He is a friendly person whom one immediately likes. He had been told to be there at 9; and although we were somewhat late, it turned out that only the head of school, the bishop, and a custodian were already there. Somewhere around 10, the ceremony started.

The school and the diocese have seen hard times. (The previous bishop had been deposed for misuse of funds, and some property that he had had in his name had only just been acquired by the diocese.) The school has children from 1st to 7th grade, about 70 in all I think, but with some higher grades having only four kids, a reflection of the earlier problems.

The ceremony was a flag-promising ceremony. The kids, in their school uniforms and led by two boy flag bearers and their girl escorts marched to a tarred over area. There was a lot of reading of proclamations of various sorts that I didn’t understand, awards handed out to many children, the singing of a hymn to Quito, and at one point the whole group promising something to the flag, then the flag bearers handing over the flags to an escort, kneeling, saying “I promise,” and kissing the flag, followed by their escorts doing the same. It was all done with the children stepping smartly in military fashion.

I’ve never taught English to children, so that makes me edgy; but there is an American woman, Maureen, who has been teaching them three days a week. She’s beautifully organized, has written down in notebooks what she’s been doing. She’d never done it either, but she seems to be enjoying it. One has each class for only 20 minutes, so perhaps I can keep them from boredom for that period. I’m hoping that Jesse will have some suggestions.

It turns out that there are two Haitian kids in the school. What happens, I gather, is that Haitians cross the border into Santo Domingo, and then from Santo Domingo they are able to go to other somewhat less poor countries in Latin America. After meeting everyone connected with the school and touring it, Maureen and I went downtown on a bus. The fare is 25 cents; but the fare collector handed me back 13 cents (a senior discount). Ecuador uses the American dollar; and although they have their own coinage, of the same denomination and size as the American, U.S. coins freely circulate.

Our purpose in going downtown was to go to the Spanish school, where Maureen is also a student. She’s going to go to Lesley College in Cambridge in the fall, and she’s down here because she would like to be a teacher in Latin America. After being enrolled in the school, Maureen and I had lunch in one of her favorite places, where we had a small three-course fixed-menu dinner for $2.25 each. Then we walked back to my house (Maureen was somewhat curious to see the house, but I think she was also determined to be absolutely certain that I was home safe). In addition, though, she simply is a laid-back person who is determined not to let life be a rush from one thing to another.

I slept for 3 hours, had dinner, and feel just fine. I did at one point in the morning have a headache that I wished I had brought along Tylenol for; but I’ve had no altitude sickness. Possibly I owe my acupuncturist thanks for that, because last Tuesday he worked on my breathing points, with the idea that I would be helped to breathe in more deeply.

I wish I could learn not to go on so long...