Hot and cold

There are an abundance of cultures with deeply rooted ideologies about the temperature of the human body and the thermal properties of what we put into it. Traditional Chinese Medicine routinely involves an assessment of "heat" and recommendations include the hot and cold properties of treatments (e.g. cinnamon, ginger, garlic and green onion are warming; peppermint tea and citrus fruits, on the other hand, are cooling). Aryurvedic medicine names ushna (hot) and sheeta (cold) as essential attributes in one's understanding of health and disease. Heck, even Western medicine has been debating for decades whether an ice pack or heating pad is better for a sore back.

So, we should not be surprised that Ecuadorians, too, have strongly held beliefs around hot and cold.

Just this week, on a warm sunny day, we hiked twenty minutes up to our favorite swimming hole on the river -- Paul, Dillon, myself, and two of our favorite tweens, Vale (11) and Sandy (12). We were all undeniably sweaty by the time we reached the river, and Paul immediately pulled off his shirt and jumped into the crisp sweet water. Vale, on the other hand, remarked quietly, as she sat down on a nearby rock, "I am so hot. The river is cold. I have to cool down a bit before I get in." 

In the same vein, on our weekend adventuring with my friend Lucia, she almost always declines a sip of the ice cold water Paul has thoughtfully prepared and packed in our thermal water bottle. We find the cool water immensely refreshing; Lucia finds it downright disturbing. She also says it gives her a cough, sore throat, and heartburn.

It can get quite warm where we live -- even when not hot, it is always humid -- and yet, there is a cultural disdain for chilled beverages. Fruit juice, soda, and even beer are always served at room temperature. (Though, as Dillon points out, our Ecuadorian friends do readily consume ice cream, popsicles, and frozen choco-bananas.) Hot soup is consumed daily at lunch, despite the mid-day equatorial sun.

These hot/cold cultural precepts are never more evident than in the quantity of ice extracted from our  freezer by the children and tweeners of La Josefina. 

We have two ice cube trays, which we keep filled in our freezer. We also have a freezer full of -- and I mean jam packed with --  freezer frost. I have mentioned previously that our fridge is past its prime with a door that barely seals, and so the freezer is almost always chock full with frost. 

Without fail, on a warm day, the local children enter our house, ask permission for our ice, and then huddle around our fridge and freezer, emptying the ice trays, and scraping the ice off the sides, the roof and the back of the ice-laden freezer. Then they sit on our porch, joyfully chomping ice. Sometimes they flavor it with a freshly squeezed lemon or orange. Sometimes they even add salt. Rinse and repeat.

Do not worry; t he children here do not all have pica (for you non-medical folk, pica is a condition where a person compulsively swallows non-food items, including ice. It can be a sign of anemia). They do all have their own refrigerators and freezers in their homes. In fact, unlike 20 years ago, every home here does. However, their parents do not allow them unfettered access to ice. They simply believe it is not good for them, even harmful for them, especially when it is warm outside. And so it is, that the children and tweeners come here to consume our ice with glee, away from the watchful eyes of their parents and grandparents. 

Am I being too permissive? Am I messing with their cultural credo? I sure hope not; I am merely allowing them unrestricted access to frozen water, which seems less harmful than sugar, alcohol, tobacco, or basically any other substance I can think of.