Think Bee

A New Leaf

2010-10-21T23:36:00.009-04:00

Not to make this a blog about my dog, but...

...she's just so great, I can't help it.

Well, all is well here in my little college town. Not much to report, if you haven't guessed by the 3 and 1/2 month hiatus from blogging.

I've settled into a cozy but very humdrum quarter. Love the new apartment, and Stanz loves it, too.

I spend my days in class and at work, and my weekends dancing, studying, and going to the park with Stanzi.

I am comfortable. I can't make any big plans for now, so I'm enjoying have a routine, a home, and some stability.

I'm sure it won't be long 'til all this stability gets to me.

Next stop: grad school. Where I'll be- nobody knows.

I'd love to give Stanzi another year of shacking up like this... she really seems to be thriving here!

I love her and I love fall, and I love A-Town.

But like Stanzi's dog bed, it can feel a little small sometimes.

New Digs

2010-07-04T20:18:00.006-04:00

Welcome to the Bee Hive

Kept watch over by my ferocious guard dog.

Entrez vous!

La cucina/the kitchen

il bagno/the bathroom

(mine, all mine!)

la camera di letto/bedroom

la sala/living room

un po' d'arte

Roomate- watching a good movie?

Drop on by sometime!

Hitting the Books and the Caffeine

2010-06-08T00:25:00.006-04:00

Almost done with my junior year of college;

B.A. nearly 3/4 complete.

Here's what's on the menu for finals week:

Tuesday: History of the Communist Revolution, Part 1.

Wednesday: Kingdom Animalia and Sounds of Languages.

Четверг: Русскиӣ яӡык!

Then packing Friday, getting ready to move into the new apartment on Saturday.

'til then... Peace, love, chocolate...and a good night's sleep.

Meet the Meat

2010-05-31T18:58:00.004-04:00

Bee and Sam at the 19th annual Great American Rib Cook Off.

Cleveland, Ohio-Memorial Day Weekend 2010.

Ribs, ribs, ribs.

Southern Comfort.

$7 crappy beers.

A beautiful day to be out and about in the Cleve.

Straighten Up

2010-05-24T22:28:00.018-04:00

Clark Kent is Superman and I'm still Bee.

DUH.

Once in a blue moon, I straighten my hair. I do this for various reasons- sometimes I do it as part of a costume, or because I just feel like being someone else for a day. Today I straightened my hair because I was hoping to trim my bangs more easily.

And every time I do this, it is STRIKING how many more men check me out! Just that subtle difference- curls to strait locks, and BAM, I'm hot stuff.

It's like looking more like everyone else somehow makes me stand out more? Whaaaat?

So I figured out the whole straight hair thing. It's like those "inspirational" teen movies where the nerdy girl starts dating the popular guy and she gets a "makeover" and all of the sudden she's hot stuff, when all that REALLY happened is that she took her hair out of a ponytail and put contacts in.

It's like, really? And I suppose you really can't tell Clark Kent is Superman on account of a pair of GLASSES.

Anyway, I object; what makes me unique also makes me beautiful.

Whatev. Looking different helps me weed out the losers.

And there are PLENTY of losers.

Shut Down

2010-05-16T21:32:00.001-04:00

I write this from a laptop I checked out at the library, as my hard drive has crashed! Bee's MacBook has gone kaput, hopefully temporarily.
Updates soon to follow.

External Validation

2010-05-12T00:30:00.001-04:00

Strangers view my photos while they sip their beers.
Last quarter I entered a photography contest. One of my photos placed in the contest, and several others are now on display at the local worker-owned cantina.
Let's enter, shall we?
These boozed up and slightly unpleasant folks enjoyed beer and a game of cards underneath my virgin pic and the skyline of Cuenca, taken from a centro rooftop.
"People Category"- pics of Fernando and the TEFL gang taking a lunch break.
These are all photos you can check out by clicking on the slide show on the right.
And they put my best photo on the flier for the contest! That's Merci, checking me and the girls out when we first met.

Thanks for reading! If you find yourself in Athens, head down to Casa Cantina and see the rest of the lovely photographs from the contest.

-Bee

no matter

2010-04-25T23:09:00.000-04:00

On to more important things.

friends
family
midterms
spring
love
chocolate

being myself.

Odi et amo

2010-04-19T15:55:00.001-04:00

Ghosts of Lives Past
In January I talked a little bit about struggling to merge three different phases of my life (and thus three different selves): Italy, Athens, and Ecuador. One life that I don't talk about, and that I don't try to merge with the other three is the one I had no control in creating-my adolescence.

...dun dun DUN!

I think I also mentioned, when talking about regret a few weeks ago, that my brain manages to forget things that I don't consider pleasant memories. As a result, I barely remember high school.

I remember my art nook. My senior year (well, it was my third and final year) of high school I studied AP Studio Art. I was the only one. Because of this, I didn't get a class for it, and there wasn't any space for me in the art room for me to work on my paintings when other classes were going on. So I got moved to the art closet.
The art closet was also known as my office. It was a small room down the steps off of the side of the art room. It was filled with art history books, biography videos of famous artists, random objects that would be pulled out a couple of times a year to make still lifes out of. There were supplies like chalk and masking tape, and miscellaneous things like balloons. Magazines from the 1980s used for making collages.
There was even a real human skeleton- it used to be used for teaching about bone structure and portrait drawing. We called it Skelly. I sometimes dressed it up in my clothes.
It was there that I worked on my art. My portraits. My portfolio pieces for getting into art school and passing the AP test (it was the only AP test that I ever passed).

I also remember my first love, the first of only two relationships I've ever had.
He was my best friend.
We were in love, in a semi-dysfunctional way.
We were together for over three years.

We broke up a little over two years ago.
We haven't spoken in almost a year and a half.

Out of the blue we started emailing each other last week. And sadly, and somewhat surprisingly, that didn't last long. After just three emails (!), I already felt under attack, and I read too much into things that he said and became overly defensive. So I told him that I'm not ready to be friends with him.
And now I don't know if I'll ever be.

I also don't know why that bothers me so much.

Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat

2010-04-13T20:39:00.011-04:00

Fortune Favors the Bold

Let's hear it for the resolute and unafraid.

Fortes Fortuna Adiuvat- this phrase was born to describe brave men, who, in return for their bold tactics received the help of the goddess Fortuna.

Julius Caesar received an empire. That is, until, he became so bold as to disregard bad omens and go into the Roman senate on the Ides of March.

So how about being bold for intrinsic reasons: Wanting to make a difference, wanting just to be different. Fear of settling down without having done anything exciting, worldly, and adventurous.
No one wants to look back and see that they've never taken any risks or never done anything exhilarating.
I think it's hard for a lot of people to settle down for this reason. You don't want to put yourself in a permanent situation (such as marriage or starting to climb the career ladder) without having first done something straordinaria.

Spend a year volunteering in Africa.
Ride the Trans-Siberian Railway from Moscow to Mongolia...with nothing but a backpack.
Trek to my great-grandparents' hometown in Syria.
Study something completely new for a year at a university...in Armenia.

So what is a girl to do? I want to have adventures, I want to have a thrilling career. I'm a little scared of one ruling out the other. (Maybe I'll feel better about that once the economy's out of the crapper.) I'm even more afraid that a thrilling life and a meaningful life may be mutually exclusive.

All in good time, I know.

I do believe that Fortune does indeed favor the bold, but I think the bold are already favored by Fortuna.

That is, they are blessed with the great fortune of being bold.

Regret?

2010-04-04T00:02:00.002-04:00

A dear friend of mine, with whom I'm not at the moment as close I as I truly wish I could be, just wrote to me about regret. Paths taken, choices made, people she got involved with on the way, and the consequences thereof.
Some people live with many regrets. I try not to have any myself, but in true Bee fashion, I know I tend to block out experiences that I'd rather not deal with or remember. People regret tattoos or boyfriends (I can't speak for boyfriends, but I know I don't regret any tattoos). So what do I regret?

Giving in too easily.

Trusting too much, but mostly not trusting enough.

Not standing up and yelling when I should have.

Fleeing rather than confronting. Forgetting. Ignoring.

Getting involved, and not getting involved.

Listening too closely to words of warning, and vice versa.

Staying in one place when I should have spread my wings.
Squandering money that could have helped me spread my wings.

Taking risks, but above all not taking them.

Anyone could have a long list of regrets. But at my age, and at my friend's age, it's ridiculous to assume that these regrets need to shape the rest of our lives and our future happiness.

Go back to school.
Do as my friend Adam did and sell all of your belongings, buy yourself a plane ticket to Mexico, and start an adventure.
Go live with Buddhist monks in Asia for a month. Start a blog about it.
Save up some money and move to a place you want to be. If you persevere, maybe you can get a job there.

We all love, we all lose, we all regret.

(Or if you're like me, you might just choose selective memory.)

I don't know about you, but I don't want to carry immaterial regret into my adult life. My real life. My Bee life, the one I will make for myself in the coming years.

It's not worth it. There's still so much time to change our lives. Taking risks and changing your life may be complicated by obligations with work or with school, or more complicated still by people you love and are afraid to lose.

Just be sure you don't lose yourself along the way.

Please feel free to comment, and tell me, what regrets do you have?

Bee Day

2010-04-01T13:15:00.013-04:00

A Birthday in Athens

Just one day a year, why not make a splash?

A night of great friends, drinks, and fun.

It was a night of reunions for everyone.

Classmates that became friends

Cousins!

And for the first time in 9 months, some TEFL friends!

Dan's still big pimpin'.

But he's got nothin' on Kemi... look at her working her magic!

Everyone got along swimmingly.

And a surprise birthday cake was provided courtesy of Steve!

CAKE!

With cherries on top.

By the way, you might have noticed my birthday treat to myself- I added a little chile pepper to my chocolate locks.

It was a casual celebration that I won't forget, thanks to my wonderful friends and a heavily bearded bar tender wearing a Goonies shirt...
Happy Spring to everyone.

Back in the Cleve

2010-03-24T17:32:00.012-04:00

Whacky Wednesday and a day out on the town

Started small...
Went to the UPS Store to mail off my brother's birthday present.

Went to the bank.

Got cash money!!!

Needed spinach and meat pies, bulgur wheat and pita bread, so I went to Aladdin's Mid East bakery, downtown.

...which is next to this big church.

...and down the street from what I knew as Jacobs Field, but what is now Progressive Field, home of the Cleveland Indians.

I continued west and crossed the Loraine-Carnegie Bridge.

This bridge was renamed the Bob Hope Memorial Bridge a few years ago, but everybody just kind of ignores that fact and calls it by the name we've always called it.

We rename stuff a lot in C-Town.
It doesn't always catch on.

West-ward ho!

Went to Value World! My favorite west side thrift store and home to some of my most successful thrift purchases. Had a less than fantastic experience.

Found weird women's blouse with animal buttons.

Didn't buy it.

Had gen-u-ine street vendor hot dog for lunch!

Mustard and onions: just like I like it.

Added a pop to my dog for 75¢

In the last few years, I've sold out and joined the rest of the English-speaking world by adding the word soda to my personal lexicon.
It was nice to see my ginger ale advertised under its true name: POP!

As I headed back my way, I stopped at Unique Thrift on Loraine and West 35th.

As part of their "Whacky Wednesday" promotion, fellow customers and I competed to win a ticket good for half off of two items, allowing me to buy my very first Coach purse!

Lightly used but in good condition, I snagged this vintage over-the-shoulder bag for only $10!

Ha! Now I can stop begging my mom to let me borrow hers. Not like she ever lets me anyway.

Stopped at a red light, I admired the skyline on my way home.

Here comes the sun...

2010-03-08T19:58:00.000-05:00

Winter is my bitch.

The End is Near...

2010-02-28T23:29:00.003-05:00

Winter has its last hurrah.

...and I'm almost in the clear.

So long to the longest shortest month of the year!

Positive Vibration

2010-01-19T20:27:00.007-05:00

I'm picking up now.

For three weeks now I've been back in the tiny college town in the foot hills of Appalachia that I'll continue to call home for the next two and a half years.
I went a way for only half a year. I went to a different continent, had a different job, different friends, and led a completely different life that no one here ever witnessed.

When you've experienced things that no one knows about, it makes you question reality. How could I lead an entirely separate life than the one I left in June, and come back to find Athens untouched?

It's an enigma I'll have to get used to, because this is the life I have chosen for myself. These are the lives I have chosen to lead. All my lives and experiences come together to form an ever-evolving Bee. I am a work in progress, I say again.

Sometimes these lives clash upon convergence.

My work-oriented lifestyle here, my play-oriented lifestyle in Ecuador, my warm and meditative Italian self. One person, three different mode di vita.

I'll pile on a few more lives in the years to come, all sure to add to my one existence. But for right now, back to the haste of classes, homework, last-minute lesson planning, and work at the lab, all put to the somber backdrop of winter. But beyond the toil and tedium also lay the comfort of old friends, and an optimism in knowing that spring will come and with it, renewal.

Chao.

2009-12-21T16:13:00.002-05:00

A modest and affectionate despedida to Cuenca.

Cuenca may have won in the end, but I have many more cities to conquistar.

Nacho=Baile

2009-12-08T16:44:00.002-05:00

Monday Night

Pakistani Dance Party

Yes, you heard me correctly.

And here's our DJ, Manny.

My efforts to document my last week in Cuenca are off to a good start. Monday night, some friends and I hit up our usual hookah and shawarma bar, Dubai. Not what you'd expect at 2 a.m. on a weeknight.

*Even though the bar is called Dubai, the owners ARE from Pakistan.

Lately we've been going for the fruit punch variety of pipa arabe.

Some Urdu you just pick up on, such as the word nacho, meaning "dance!".

We were charmed by the belly dance stylings of one of the few openly gay men in Cuenca, Juanito.
Everyone was pretty into his dance number. I gave him a 50 cent tip.
For our Pakistani friends, who seemed to be energized from the tea they drink, as their religion does not permit them to drink alcohol, dancing is a group effort.
And for us, beer and hookah is all we need to get going.

One Week and Counting

2009-12-07T16:22:00.006-05:00

My last week in Cuenca...

I shall try to bring you a detailed account of my exploits as I attempt to cram as much Cuenca into one week as possible.

Starting with...
Wig Night II

Our strawberry blonde and brunette alter-egos: Daphne and Isadora.

Who's wearing a wig in this picture?

Trixie, Mr. Fleischman, and Isadora.

Thanksgiving

2009-12-02T14:56:00.003-05:00

Comer, Tomar, y Estar Feliz

20+ Gringos, Ecuadorians, and one Canadian came together to celebrate a Cuencano Thanksgiving. Zhumir, wine, Turkey, greens, tiramisu...

An international booze and schmooze.

We didn't have enough silverware for everyone, so I helped myself with a serving spoon.

Tina, like me, zealously noshed on our Thanksgiving feast.

Julia and I, waiting for our second wind.

Husband and Wife- sitting separately, but always together in spirit.

More trans-continental couples.

Letting the food settle is the best part.

Even after the food was gone, we stayed around the table for hours... talking, laughing, and swapping stories about being foreigners.

Out of Denial

2009-11-20T08:00:00.005-05:00

Bee Jenkinian is nobody’s fool.

What do I want out of life? Was getting married really what I wanted? Why do I now feel like that would be the ideal ending for me? Just being independent satisfied me for so long, until I was offered more. Then all of the sudden being alone wasn't enough.

Well, I’ve made a decision:
I DON'T CARE ANYMORE.

I am lucky. I have food to eat and clothes to wear and friends that love me.

I am mortal.

I am not thin, nor exceptionally intelligent.
But some people find me funny.

I have three gray hairs, and I love them.

If our bodies are our temples, my temple is decorated with piercings and tattoos, and lots of curly hair.

Where I go, cleavage is sure to follow.

I wear huge earrings, and my hair has a mind of its own.

But I got style.

I am a work in progress.

I have a red leather jacket.
I have love.

And I need nothing more.

Ode to Off-Brands

2009-11-14T11:00:00.005-05:00

Just a little blog entry on an entertaining phenomenon.

In Ecuador, if something is from the United States, it's practically a status symbol. Thus, Ecuadorians have made a huge effort to make their products and stores as close to the U.S.'s as possible.

I bring you: Knock-Offs

Victoria's Pink is a chain of stores that sells girly stuff and lingerie, much of which was bought in the States and has been marked up considerably.
I bought a pair of leggings there- they cost me $15.

Godika Chocolate

There's one Godika chocolate store in the center of town, and a kiosk in the mall near my house. The chocolate is delicious, but I don't think there was ever anyone named Lady Godika.

Asefot

This one has nothing to do with knock-offs. I just think it looks like Ass Foot.

Vasenol

The design of these bottles is a VERY good copy of the Vaseline lotions I buy in the States.

*I was taking pictures of knock-off brands in the supermarket near my house, and an angry man in a suit, who was apparently the manager, came and stopped me. He said no photos are allowed in SuperMaxi.
"¿Por qué?" I asked.
"Those are the rules!" he said. And upon my asking, he claimed that all of the SuperMaxi stores forbid photos.

Well that's good. I could be an international spy or something.
You know, the kind of international spy that takes pictures of lotion bottles.

Hell Kitty

You're eyes aren't fooling you- this is a real store, and it is called Hell Kitty.This small boutique sells cutesy children's clothes. It kind of looks like the Home Shopping Network threw up in there.

Thanks for reading!

Embracing Pandemonium

2009-11-07T13:00:00.010-05:00

Learn to love thy mayhem.

Are your students a bunch of moody teenagers?
Feel like your future might be heading toward mediocracy?
Do you live with your ex-boyfriend?
Perhaps you need

Bee's Ways of Coping

1. The Brownie Ball.

The bakery near my abode is home to what my roommate and I call the Brownie Ball. This is a magical, fudgy lump of goodness that sits in your ribs and releases euphoric feelings into your digestive system. Experts agree that one per day is not overdoing it by any means.

2. Earrings, earrings, earrings.

I. Love. Earrings.
Every time I'm feeling down, I head to my local artisano jewelry market and check out fabulous hand made earrings that usually go for $1-$3. They pick me up when I'm feelin' blue.

3. Girlfriends, wigs, and wine.
Okay, so hard liquor works too.
Have a bitch fest with your girlfriends.
Put on a wig, go out on the town incognito.
Get a little buzz going and dance the night away.
Note: dancing with a wig on can get a little hot.

Then, eventually, it should be okay to be you again.
Nose ring and all.

Appreciate the experience. Embrace the challenges. Love thyself.

Halloween

2009-11-02T12:00:00.010-05:00

Have Gringos, Will Party

One Hallows Eve, four roommates set out to host the greatest Halloween party Cuenca has ever seen. Those roommates were Little Red Riding Hood, some slutty goth fairy, Cleopatra, and La Diabla.
Go ahead, click and zoom in on my eye make up!

Casa llena.
Try to spot the fifth roommate that didn't help with the party at all.

Chalk it up to the Durazno.

Cleopatra and the Devil(s).

Cleopatra and the Uva

Couple's costume: Leppers from Jesus Christ Superstar. Nothin' a little Zhumir won't cure.

Now you can tell us apart! Las hermanas: la Reina del Nilo y Caperucita Roja.
Both homemade costumes, lots of borrowing involved. She's wearing my red dress and I'm wearing her necklace as a headdress. I safety pinned her a makeshift hood, and she helped with my accessories...

In this picture, can you find:

a grape
Frieda Kahlo
an over-the-top hipster
the Queen of the Nile
some random Armenian guy wearing a mask

...?

There he his-my new Haya cousin, dressed as a page from Don Quixote.

For these Ecuadorian guys, including our landlord, why dress up when you could sit around drinking while the foreigners in costumes embarrass themselves?

It was a good fiesta, and I think Satan, the Joker, hot Ecuadorian girl, and Dead Ballerina Barbie would all agree.

Movin' On Up

2009-10-07T09:00:00.007-04:00

It's hard to enjoy the present when the future requires so much attention. Though trying to revel in living and working in Cuenca, Ecuador, I must already think to this coming summer.

Kazakhstan, anyone?

Filling out internship applications here in Ecuador brings back harsh memories of filling out college applications while in Italy those three short years ago.
At the time I had no idea where I would end up, but I eventually gave into the feeling that everything would work out.

A 17-year old Bee, eager to see what the next chapter would hold.

I am making a promise to myself now, to my 20-year old self, that as soon as the applications are out of my hands, I will think only to the present moment, to that which I can control, to that which I can enjoy.

Hogar.

2009-09-30T16:00:00.003-04:00

We look for places to call home.

An apartment we like, a career we love. A city that enchants us, a circle of friends that cares for us.
I have found it.
And to my surprise, home has me asking myself many questions about my goals, my passions, and what I really want.

I have met many street artisans and performers. One friend rode across the Columbian border on a unicycle.

A more wealthy artist friend rents a studio where he makes art and displays it to a select group of individuals.

Sometimes I think about how I got to where I am. Could art school have led me to having my own studio? Could this wander lust of mine, left uninhibited, lead me to becoming a street artist?

I want to travel, I want to make art, I want to learn languages.

I may not be doing all of the above, but I'm currently basking in what I do have.

An apartment to come home to at the end of the day.
A tree that takes your breath away.
A place to people watch.
A bakery where people know you and worry if you don't show up for fresh rolls every morning.
A space to run around.
A community that cares.

'Intravenous de Milo'

2009-09-14T10:18:00.006-04:00

Under the Weather, South of the Equator

Been a little sick for the past week, so pardon the lazy blogging. I somehow contracted an intestinal infection, which has been keeping me pretty dehydrated and feeling tired. My only regret is that I have missed an entire week of salsa dancing, one that I will never get back.

☹

Getting sick in a foreign country is definitely a reality check. You see how the rest of the world receives their medical treatment. By "the rest of the world", I mean anywhere outside of Cleveland, Ohio.
I don’t care what the sitcoms say; Cleveland is fabulous. Cleveland has spoiled me. Cleveland boasts the best hospitals in the world, where Saudi kings and Italian Prime Ministers come for open heart surgery, and, as Tina Fey put it, to “club out down at the Flats and have lunch with Little Richard”.

Lying in bed, I have had lots of time to think, dream, and evaluate. I had a dream about riding on a killer whale and swimming with stingrays and dolphins. I dreamed that I did Jerry Springer's dishes at OU. I had [another] dream that Barack Obama was my BFF.

And I thought about being alone, in a foreign country…

...About how I’m turning it into a habit.
...How it affects my loved ones.
...And how it affects me when things don't go exactly according to plan.

I thought about how much I tell myself I have to do before I "settle down" some day.
I like to know what makes me happy, because I hate wasting peoples' time, including my own.
I have learned a few things on my journeys that will keep me from wasting time in the future, like:

I can't permanently settle in Italy. Can't do it.
I need my mom every once and a while. Sounds wimpy, but it's true.
Any crappy situation usually doesn't compare to what other people are going through in the country you're in.
I can't marry an Ecuadorian. Or date one ever again.
Strangers become friends, and friends become family.

As I keep learning, I'll keep sharing.
Please do the same.

Paz.

Exodus

2009-08-31T19:50:00.000-04:00

And that's a wrap...

(dress)

I write this from my beloved city of Cuenca, as I have fled the coast. I didn't fancy being a character in a surf soap opera anymore, so I bolted, quite suddenly. I made some dear friends there, though, and I would have liked to have spent more time with them.

Patty, Mauri, Liz, Marisol, Kat, Andrea, Becky, Linda, y todos, les quiero mucho y les extrañaré mucho, y gracias por su hospitalidad.

Sorry that some surfistas ruin it for the rest of them.

But back en la Sierra...

I hereby pledge my allegence to Cuenca.

I mean think about it, Cuenca is just like Italy.

Just like Italy, except:

It's dirtier.
I can afford it.
The people aren't as stuck up.
I'm actually hot here.

So I fail to see the bad here. The only thing I have to do is adjust my Italian to be, well, Spanish, and I'm good. In the last couple days I've even been mistaken for being Latina, and people aren't treating me quite as much like a dumbass.

Woot! Here's to adjusting.

...¡salud!

Could You Be Loved?

2009-08-19T01:00:00.014-04:00

(Take note- while I’m on the coast, all my blog entries will be the names of Bob Marley songs…)

My name is Bee, but you might know me as the gringa with the ‘tude problem.

That’s how most people see me here, and by people, I mean men in their 20s. Just because I’m from the U.S., I’m supposed to swoon every time a guy feeds me a romantic line? I don’t think so. For thwarting their efforts to seduce me, I've become known as the Wicked Witch of the West Coast.

¡y tu perrito, también!

Fortunately, I’ve always had trouble giving a crap about what other people think of me.

I am not looking to fall in love here. I believe in fate, and I believe in soul mates. I have many soul mates: my parents, my dog, my friends.
I fall in love with places, and states of mind… with chocolate, shoes, the perfect cup of coffee.

I love art.

I love puppies.

I love good friends.

I just don’t fall in love with men. Not romantically, anyway.

Thus, I’ve earned a reputation in Ecuador as the stone-cold grimalkin that eats men alive with her icy glare.

Bee [bī; bɛː]
noun
1 an insect with a habit of stinging people

2 the famed North American Ice Queen, found in the Andean mountains and coastal regions of Ecuador (see photo)

I look back at the male associates I’ve known and label them as follows (Please note that these are just men that have at one point or another walked in and out of my life and left an impression. Romantic interaction/contact is NOT implied):
The boy who thought he loved me and was willing to cause destruction to prove it; the young man whom I loved profoundly and unconditionally for too many years, and who held me back even though he couldn’t love me back; the Egyptian who wanted to leave his wife for me, and threatened to kill himself when I rejected his affection; the English teacher; the bartender; the only lifeguard in Canoa, who would have gladly made me his surfboard bride.

Yes, I label people. So what? I’m judgmental, so deal with it.

How do they remember me? The bitch that thinks she’s better than them? The ball and chain? The hard-headed woman, the tease, and the trophy girlfriend with a wayward disposition.

But I’m just Bee– the self-reliant teenager that was afraid to ask for help; the doting girlfriend that thought she deserved more; the girl whose middle-eastern appearance and American demeanor unintentionally reeled in a psycho; the young professional trying to make a life for herself in a foreign country; the bold gringa aching for a connection; and the bored and self-centered traveler, with no intention of sticking around.

But I'm never dishonest about it.

Satisfy My Soul

2009-08-14T10:54:00.008-04:00

FRIENDS WANTED

American girl seeks friends in Canoa

age: 20

occupation: bartender
interests: Spanish, friends (without benefits)

for more information, please send an email to whereisbee@gmail.com

It’s pretty impossible to have friends here. As an American woman in Canoa, I have three options:
1. Date a Canoan man and spend time with him, his family, and his friends.
2. Spend time with foreigners only.
3. Be alone. …All the bleeping time.

There is no mixing and matching. You absolutely cannot have native friends without a boyfriend. This is because only Canoan men are available for socializing (women work, study, and take care of children). Unless you’re going to be their novia, they want nothing to do with you.
Be their girlfriend, or they won’t talk to you.

So I tried the boyfriend thing.
I wasn’t really that into him.
So I ended the boyfriend thing.

Then I tried spending time with foreigners. It took all 20 minutes for me to grow tired of their heir of self-righteousness. “Why don’t we try that pizza place?” I asked a couple of Australians yesterday evening. “No, there are too many locals there,” they replied.
Seriously? Oh. My. God.
And so I crossed option #2 off my list.

So here I am. Alone. I can’t go looking for Manuel; after I broke up with him, he said he was going to pretend he didn’t know me. Fantastic, no? 25 going on 8.
I can’t go looking for Augustín, or anyone else for that matter, because they know I don’t want to be their fling of the month, so I’m dead to them.
Guy-friends don’t exist in Canoa, and girls are just nowhere to be found.

I am forced to resort to the following personal ad:

SE BUSCA AMIGO/A
chica estadounidense busca amigos en CANOA

edad: 20
ocupación: mesera/bartender
aficiones: español, amigos (sin derechos)

para más información, mande mensaje a dondeestabee@gmail.com

Well, if you find yourself in Ecuador, drop me a line. I’ll be the one sinking the surfboard at low tide.

Paz.

Conquistadors of Love

2009-08-06T15:56:00.014-04:00

White Meat and the Thrill of the Chase

This morning, my friend’s Canoan boyfriend looked at her and said, “Es linda tener una mujer blanca.” (“It’s nice to have a white woman”)
Well, isn’t that precious. NOT.

Machísmo is alive and well in Canoa, a tiny, sandy town that boasts the best surfing beach in Ecuador. Surfing is a popular activity here, second only to one sport: gringa hunting.

In part due to my own frustration with the endless pursuit, I will start with an analogy that is very true to life here in Canoa: feral dogs. There are tons of them here. They roam the streets and the beach, mating and playing and peeing on things and each other.
In a town full of so many dogs, it is absolutely necessary to mark one’s territory. If you sniff a bench and find that it is unmarked, it is yours to claim.

Two gringas arrive in Canoa. These gringas are unclaimed territory.
My traveling companion, a good-looking (and fair-skinned), young American woman, had already been to Canoa (once, for about five days) over a year ago. Within 48 hours, her former fling from the year before had spotted her, approached her, and reclaimed his territory.

And that’s how Jacklyn got peed on.

(in a manner of speaking)

Carlos is a really nice guy. I don’t believe he has any dishonorable intentions, and I know he genuinely likes Jackie. There comes a point where a fling becomes a relationship, and Jackie and Carlos reached that point some time ago.

She leaves in three days. For her, Carlos and Canoa will be a fond memory, but life goes on in the U.S. of A.

The Sharks and the Bees

2009-07-24T11:35:00.033-04:00

Romantic Entanglement and Name-calling

"No" Means "Yes" in español

One of the most important topics of conversation when it comes to being a gringa in Latin America is the phenomenon of the Tiburones.
A Tiburon (the Spanish word for “shark”), according to one Cuencana, is a Latino man who seeks out gringas (American women) for one-night stands, free drinks or meals, or, in cases of extreme dedication, a visa to the U.S..
Tiburones are said to take advantage of gringas because gringas are easy: easy with sex, and easy with money (i.e., spend money freely and willing to buy Latino guys drinks).
People from the Andean regions stereotype Coastal men as being mostly sharks because they are considered to be more open-minded than the Cierra men (because they are indigenous as opposed to mixed and/or white). Plus, Coastal towns are usually poorer, thus the assumption arises that men will want to take advantage of women more.
It is generally thought that Tiburones take advantage of white women tourists. But what makes a Latino who wants casual sex with a white girl any different than an American guy who wants casual sex with a white girl?

Do these guys get a bad wrap for nothing? My friend Anna, a fellow TEFL gringa, made an interesting point:
“If the girl wants nothing more than what she gets out of it, too (be it making out on a dance floor or a one-night stand), then is the guy really preying on her?”

Plus, there ARE some guys who genuinely like and want relationships with these women. Unfortunately for them, simply liking or preferring white women is enough for some to give them the title of Tiburon. However, another term has also been coined:

Gringuiero: A Latino man who prefers relationships with white, foreign women.

Why doesn't the term gringuiera exist for the Latinas who prefer the company of American men? There's a different term for them, apparently: whores.

(That's a whole other blog entry)

Wait a second, if they get labeled for liking me, why don't I get a label for liking them?
Although I have avoided sexual encounters with Ecuadorians, I have had a few romantic encounters. Half of them have been with black men. Believe me when I say there is a fair amount of racism in Ecuador.
According to one Cuencana, "Black guys have less of a bad reputation with gringas then Latino guys do," and, I'd like to add, a better reputation with gringas than with Latinas.
But if a black guy wants to date me because he's gringuiero, what does that make me for liking black guys?
Though there isn't a label for me specifically, there is a term that Cuencanos use for a "beautiful woman" (to them, a white women) who spends time with "ugly men" (a very dark, indigenous man): bagrera.

Why are indigenous men considered ugly, and white women the epitome of beauty? Blame it on the conquistadors.

Obviously racism has a lot to do with these labels, but they are also fine examples of Latin American machismo (sexism). Women are powerless, that's why they don't generally get labeled; they are not in control.

To sum up:
White women in Ecuador will warn you about the Tiburones, and the Latin women will warn you about the black guys who are up to no good.
They're all going to victimize you, everyone warns.

Well, I got news for you.

No one's victimizing me, so chillax.

There are good guys and bad guys, dumb chicks and smart, independent women, wherever you go, whoever YOU are, all colors, all cultures, all preferences.

So stop name-calling and start loving thy [gringo-loving] neighbor.

Identity Politics and Enlightenment

2009-07-17T12:47:00.008-04:00

TEFL 2009

At the end of our six-week intensive program, we find ourselves asking "Why?"
Playing the blame game with tourists, indigenous, conquistadors, and teachers.

On our last day of class, we reflected on the intent, romanticization, and consequences of our short trip to Saraguro last weekend. As teachers, we often ask ourselves what our roles are as educators in terms of social injustice and inequality.

As I mentioned in my post earlier this week, we participated in an indigenous cleansing ritual while in Saraguro. The ceremony was put on for us, while a group of tourists (who had just participated in the last round) looked on.

I don't consider a bunch of tourists looking at me while I try to thank the sun god for all the nourishment a very spiritual experience.

I think that the meaning goes out of it, spiritually, if such a ceremony is being conducted several times a day. It loses some of its authenticity.

"But otherwise," says Dan, "we wouldn't ever see it."

He's right. But why do we have to see it? If I could choose between witnessing such a cultural gem and knowing that it goes on more purely when I don't see it, I prefer the latter.
But if everyone preferred that, the economy of Saraguro would crumble.

Do the Saraguros have a choice in the matter? Could they make money and survive any other way? Are they trying to share their culture, or are they exploiting it against their will?

What is choice? Who's choice is it to put on a show for tourists? Do they really have no other option?

Are tourists helping the economy, or sodomizing the way of life of native populations?
What's our role? Who's to blame for the globalization that's killing indigenous cultures all over the world?

"Who's to say that culture preservation is even normal?" says my Spanish education major friend Carolyn.

Is it society's fault? I'm part of society. How responsible am I for the deteriorating cultures of the world?

Who am I to find a solution?
Who are we to tell these people what to do? What position are we in to help?

If the world is constantly changing, how sorry should we be that some things get lost along the way?

Through generations, is it even possible to preserve a culture?

Cultures are not homogeneous. Are we the dominant culture? How many of us were raped into being part of the dominant culture? Who made these decisions? What choices have I made?

Whether or not we make any choices that lead to exploiting indigenous cultures, teachers abroad have a responsibility to address the validity of these cultures, and emphasize the importance of maintaining these cultures.

...right?

Saraguro

2009-07-13T10:26:00.010-04:00

Into the Blue
This past weekend we spent two days in Saraguro, a small village in the south highlands of Ecuador.

We ventured there to teach an immersion lesson to about 30 indigenous children, including Merci (below), the daughter of our native guide.

Saraguro's residents are mostly indigenous, so Quichua (Kichwa) and Spanish are both spoken.

Saraguro is really it's own part of Ecuador. I see this more and more, that Ecuador is a haven not just to biodiversity, but cultural diversity, too. Though the indigenous peoples of Ecuador all have a language in common, there are several recognized ethnic groups.

Merci and Carolyn bonded immediately. Never have I met such a clever little girl.

If you could zoom in on this photo, you'd see Merci taking a picture with Carolyn's digital camera.

My friends marching off into the distance...

...on the way to see the most spectacular view of our lives.

Life and customs here are well preserved. We took part in ceremonial drinkin (seriously) and were cleansed by a shaman as part of a half-our ritual that thanked the Andean sun god.
Living on the edge [of the cliff].
While the rest of the gang hiked along the mountains, I stayed willingly stayed behind with my friend who had gotten sick. We spent two and a half hours taking in this view.

The View from the Top

The van that took us from the village to the outskirts had a guardrail on top, and we decided that the view from up there would be oh so much better.
We did have to keep ducking out to the way of trees, though. And a couple powerlines.

It was nice to make this new friend.

Saraguro was filled with the treasures that only a well-kept Andean secret could hold.

El Cajas

2009-07-06T11:08:00.039-04:00

No Other Place on Earth

El Cajas National Park. Have you ever camped at 11,000 feet on the 4th of July?

First: Las tres cruzes (the three crosses) mark Cajas’ highest point, 13,123 feet. We stopped to acclimatize.

Cajas is unlike anywhere else on Earth. At times it felt like we were exploring another planet…
There are four completely different layers of vegetation, 230 lakes, and 152 different species of birds (including the ever elusive condor).

#1 rule of Cajas: dress in layers. (baseball tee + cotton sweater + chompa de alpaca)

A daunting task: hiking through the slippery forest.
These trees are called paper trees- the layers of bark come off like phyllo dough.

It was like the swampfire in the Princess Bride! I kept a lookout for ROUSs.

My favorite part?

The big rubber boots that allowed me to acruzar streams, splash in poddles, and tromp through mud.
It’s the little things.

We thought this was a good place to spend the night… ⇧
The site of our singing, toasting, reflection, mooning, and stick-and-rock baseball.

Un paso por la laguna
After packing up camp, we went for another hike around one of the lakes, and explored this abandoned brewery.

Some Germans started this brewery in the 1800’s, when alcohol was illegal in the entire country of Ecuador. It is such a secluded location that they were never discovered.

Can can can you see the toucan?

Our guide said we are unbelievable fortunate to have seen this bird; including this one, he’s only seen three in his entire life.

This flower is called el Flor de Cristo- the Christ flower, because of its resemblance to
a crucifix.

We made up our own name for this flower…

I’m pretty sure this poor alpaca went under the sheers to make my big wooly sweater.

Oh yaaaayssss!

The best part of el viaje is always who’s there with you. ¡Salud!

Cuenca

2009-06-29T09:24:00.003-04:00

Take a 17th century Spanish city and intertwine it with the noise, colors, and fresh, tantalizing smells of Latin America. Throw in some pineapple on a stick for good measure.
Mmmm.
Mexican, Italian, Indian restaurants. Almuerzos, fresh flowers, catcalls, empanadas, taxis, mojitos, church bells… Ecuador.

This is Cuenca.
This is where I live.
...And I think I like it.

Ecuatorianamente Refrescante

2009-06-19T20:11:00.018-04:00

Bee in the middle of the world.

And so began the adventure. First: Otavalo.
What appeals to my nerdy side is that in Otavalo, they speak Kichwa, one of the main indigenous languages of Ecuador. It seemed like the majority of Otavaleños were Kichwa, which is one of 13 native cultures in Ecuador.

...Yet they're all ruled by white guys.

There were so many beautiful murals and works of art all over the town.

Our hostel! Lots of getting-to-know-eachother girl talk went on in these walls.

Otavalo is mainly known for its market.

This is Rafael. He sells these great woven rugs at the Otavalan market. We got to talking, and I found out that his son is a musician in the United States. Once when he was visiting his son, he had a two-hour bus layover in Cleveland! He said he liked what little he saw of my hometown.

Los instrumentos- We visted a family-run musical instrument "store" in Otavalo, and the man made a pipe-flute right in front of our eyes!
He spoke Spanish to us, and Kichwa to his family members. One of our teachers taught me how to say 'thank you' in Kichwa: pagi (pahg-ee). Now that's how you impress an Otavaleño.
We got demonstraciones de los instrumentos, too. They were fanominal. So far, Indigenous music is jam-session worthy, hands down.
I tried uploading a video of their demonstration, but had no luck. Maybe I'll get it eventually.

I bought one of their handmade flutes!

Today I went to the middle of the world... my body divided between the North and South Hemispheres.

The examples of indigenous astrology really challenge the preconceived notions of advanced civilizations...

There's your evidence: GPS's read 0˚ on the equator!

With the summer solstice just a few days away, Equador is soon to be filled with indigenous celebrations. Maybe I can make it back to the equator for the equinox in September.

Guyasamín

Went to the Oswaldo Guyasamín museum- Guyasamín is (was) one of Latin America's most famous artists, from Quito, Ecuador. He tried to portray human suffering, and the misery of the human condition.
He sure had a nice mansion though, for a guy who painted poverty and anguish.
This painting, Guyasamín's favorite, represents Ecuador (the condor) prevailing over Spain (the bull). There is some hope in some of his paintings.

Tour of Quito

Quito, Ecuador's capital, is the second highest capital in the world, at 9,000 feet above sea level (THE highest is La Paz, Bolivia, at 10,000 feet).

And SO... we went up to 10,000 feet to get a better view! (And visit the 200-meter Virgin Mary pictured above.) See that mountain in the background? THAT'S A VOLCANO! Ecuador is known as the "Avenue of the Volcanos"- It has 30 volcanos, 15 of which are active!
We were lucky to get a clear view today.

La Basilica- The tallest church in Ecuador... it still remains unfinished. Ecuadorians say that finishing the Basilica would bring about the end of the world.

As for the program... we're continuing to have some orientation as we make our way down to Cuenca. We'll arrive and meet our host families on Sunday. Tomorrow we have another full day, and I'm greatly looking forward to it.

Buenas Noches mis quieridos.

Leaving on a Jetplane...

2009-06-17T01:55:00.002-04:00

...and this is my destination.

Mille grazie a tutti quelli responsabili per questa primavera bellissima. Ora inizia l'estate, e quando torno so che sara' l'inverno... ma tornare a voi vuol dire che la primavera tornera' nel mio cuore. Grazie per tutto! Seguite mi sul blog e fatevi sentiti per email!

Buon'estate a tutti. Auguroni a voi che vi siete laureati!

Updates soon to follow on Think Bee

Ode to my Nose Ring

2009-06-10T00:17:00.000-04:00

How I will miss thee....

Today I will be changing my nose ring to a stud because I don't want it upsetting anyone in my quiet little mountain town. My quiet little devout catholic mountain town, I should add.

I'm not happy about it.

My nose ring and I have had some good times. Particularly in the past few weeks!

Povero barista Casey.
Due parole: Nome falso.

Oh, wait, that's my dog...

Io e la mia migliore amica!

2009-05-03T20:27:00.000-04:00