It take time (part 2)

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As I write this, I’m just starting my second week at my Independent Study Project (ISP) location. I’ve moved from the capital city of Quito to a small town in the Choco Cloud Forest called VillaFlora. Suffice it to say, it’s very different here! As I go through another new start, I’m keeping in mind what I’ve just learned and wrote about in my last post: forming connections takes time. 

A small, rectangular building, constructed from gray cinder blocks, stands in the center of a grassy landscape. The building features two small, rectangular windows on either side of a central, arched wooden front door. The windows are covered with dark curtains that are closed, obscuring the view inside. Alongside the main building, there's an extension that appears to be supported by a simple, corrugated metal roof and wooden supports. The extension offers an open-air space, with stacked wooden planks and other miscellaneous items like a white refrigerator stored underneath the roof. The construction suggests a practical, DIY approach to expanding the available space. The grassy area, which might be a lawn or pasture, is well-maintained and stretches out in front of the building. The landscape surrounding the building is lush with vegetation, including banana trees and various green plants, indicating a tropical or semi-tropical environment. The greenery is somewhat dense, giving the area a sense of seclusion and privacy. The sky above is partially cloudy, with patches of blue visible between the white, fluffy clouds. The clouds are scattered, giving the sky a dynamic, textured appearance that complements the tranquil green landscape below.
My little house in VillaFlora. My host family lives across the river, so I have it all to myself!

I remind myself that it will take time to find my habits here and build relationships with my neighbors. This is especially true in a culture that is more reserved than that of the city, and with a community where everyone has known each other their whole lives, and is basically one giant extended family. I’ve felt welcomed here, but I’m nowhere close to being a local. 

Here, for me, everyone is “usted” (the formal version of “you”). That is, save Lia,*my friend’s adorable 3-year-old host sister. I use “usted” with the reserve guides that I work with, even though some of them are only a few years older than me. My host mom even calls me “usted”! I’m still getting used to that. 

It’s also helpful to remember that it’s not common to talk at meals, so I shouldn’t feel bad if few words are exchanged with my host parents over dinner. Eating in complete silence is a new experience for me, but not unpleasant as long as I keep in mind that it’s not awkward for my host family. 

Captured in a medium shot, the image portrays an indoor setting reminiscent of a rustic outdoor kitchen. The room is defined by a wooden structure, primarily featuring a roof adorned with terracotta-colored tiles, supported by timber beams and posts. To the left, a stainless-steel refrigerator stands tall, with a weathered wooden kitchen workspace adjacent. This workspace contains a double sink, positioned next to a wooden cabinet. Above, a self-installed wooden shelf is laden with various kitchen items. On the right side of the image, a round wooden table with matching benches dominates the scene. The table's surface is overlaid with assorted items, including packaged goods, jars, and utensils, suggesting ongoing use. The backdrop of the scene is teeming with lush green vegetation, visible through the open-air gaps in the structure. This greenery includes trees and various plant species, contributing to the space's open and airy atmosphere. The floor is constructed from roughly hewn wooden planks, adding to the rustic aesthetic. The lighting is soft and natural, casting shadows that enhance the depth and texture of the wooden elements.
The outdoor kitchen where I sometimes eat meals with my host family. Other days, my host mom will bring me food on her way to/from work in the vanilla greenhouses.

I use the time for observation. Before coming, I learned that communication in the campo (country) is very indirect, so I might have to figure out how things work around here through noticing patterns, rather than being told. So far, I’ve learned that when my host mom says “ya regreso,” she could be back in half an hour or three, you drink your beverage mostly after eating your meal, and sports are the main way the community connects. So, I think there’ll be lots watching volleyball and fútbol games down at the cancha in my time here :). 

The photograph captures a soccer field within a rural landscape. The field is sheltered by a tall, open-sided structure with a metal roof, characteristic of an outdoor sports facility. One side of the soccer field is enclosed with bamboo planks, while the goals are distinguished with a white net hung inside a metal frame. Beside the soccer field, a simple shelter stands with a noticeably rusty red roof, made of wooden logs, giving it a rustic appearance. Two blue barrels are positioned nearby, potentially for collecting rainwater, adding to the practical nature of the setup. The surrounding environment consists of lush green vegetation. The grassy terrain and the presence of trees nearby contribute to the natural charm of the surroundings. Above, the gray skies suggest overcast weather. The image encapsulates a rural soccer field, blending nature with sports in a simple, utilitarian design.
The cancha. The covered structure is both a volleyball court and an indoor soccer field, and is the community center for VillaFlora.

I often worry about forming the right habits. When a new rhythm starts, I think that I need to have everything figured out in the first week, because it will set the course for the entire season: what I do, where I spend time, who I spend time with. But really, that’s not true. Habits can change, and they do change as time goes on, connections deepen, and new possibilities are discovered. 

For example, talking with my guide. The first couple times, we talked mostly about the work I was doing, such as where I needed to go for data collection or what time we would be leaving. I wondered if maybe this was just how it would be: mostly silence, save the necessary communication. But today, I asked him for some vocab help (“slippery”- the hill we were trudging up definitely was!) and that started a longer conversation. Who knows, maybe we’ll talk more tomorrow, and a new habit will form.

Maybe it’s more like seeds being scattered on bare earth. Each seed is a new thing I try. Some of them will take root and become key species in the field that is my life rhythm. Some of them won’t. It will take a while for the right seeds to land, germinate, and sprout, filling the field with a thriving plant community. It takes especially a long time after the field has been cleared: a new start in a new place. By the time the plants have started to flower, it just might be time to go back home again.

An eye-level landscape shot depicts a dense, lush landscape with a rushing river, a simple wooden bridge, and two figures crossing it, all under a partly cloudy sky. In the foreground, a riot of greenery thrives, with various plants flourishing from the ground. Their leaves flutter and sway in the unseen breeze, adding depth to the scene. The river rushes through the middle ground, its white foamy water highlighting the movement and energy of the scene. A humble wooden bridge spans the river, barely discernible amidst the landscape. Two figures are cautiously making their way across, wearing light-colored garments. One is just entering the bridge, while the other is almost at the end of it. The bridge anchors the whole scene, representing human interaction with nature. In the background, a hillside rises with a neat array of vegetation, suggesting human cultivation. Trees and plants form a dense, green wall that climbs upwards to meet the sky. The landscape culminates in a tall hill, its peak shrouded in grey clouds, which adds an element of mystery. The sky is partly cloudy, with grey clouds looming over the landscape, casting soft shadows. The lighting is gentle and even, bringing out the varying shades of green and brown in the vegetation. The overall mood is tranquil and serene, a depiction of untouched nature where life thrives in every corner.
Crossing a bridge over the beautiful Rio Manduriacu that runs through VillaFlora

I’ve been talking about how long it takes to build connections, longer than I expected. But really, this is still all happening in a very quick time frame. I’m in Ecuador for four months, which to my 21-year-old self seems long, but, as an older friend reminded me before I left, is actually pretty short. As I’ve been pondering this, I’ve been thinking about how much time God used/is using to develop His narrative. Like how many generations there were before the people even got the Law, or the hundreds of years between the last prophets and Jesus, even the fact that Mary still had to wait the full nine months (I assume) between when she heard from Gabriel and Jesus was born. Patience has got to be a biblical theme. Honestly, it’s surprising to me that the world only had to wait less than 48 hours after Jesus was crucified before he rose. Thank goodness, though, because that Saturday must have been awful. 

When I’m feeling anxious with impatience, it’s helpful for me to remember the larger context. One line from a song I like (“The Whole Earth is Full of Your Glory”) goes “If you took your time when you made the blue mountains, I know you’ll be patient with me.” May I be patient with my own life!

Ecuador lesson #8: It takes time to build connections in a new place. You don’t need to feel anxious about getting it all set right at the beginning. Finding good relationships and rhythms is a continual process.  

¡Hasta Luego!

-Megan

The photograph captures a smiling woman within the weathered confines of a simple, somewhat rustic dwelling, cradling a medium-sized chicken. The woman, positioned in the center of the frame, wears a casual olive-green long-sleeved shirt, dark-colored pants, a camo hat, and what appears to be a pair of light-colored rubber boots, partially visible. Her expression is cheerful, as she gazes off to the side. The chicken, brown with red accents on its comb, is held gently in the man's arms. Its legs dangle freely, and its head is turned slightly towards the camera, giving it an engaging presence in the shot. The setting is a room with walls painted in a faded lavender hue, which shows signs of wear and exposure to the elements. The doorway behind the woman reveals a glimpse of the outdoors – lush green foliage and a hint of clear sky. To the left, a dark-framed chair sits, with a small collection of colorful items placed atop its seat. A rustic wooden ceiling, featuring white-painted planks with visible beams and indications of age and staining, hangs overhead. A boarded-up window is partially visible on the right.

*name changed for privacy

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