Los Jordan Polings Vamos al Ecuador

It has struck me countless times this past week that many of the sensory experiences of life that have become mundane will be sweet memories in just a few day's time: the early morning crow of the roosters, the catchy jingle of the gas truck, the wind in the back of a  camioneta , the aroma of roasting plantains, the stickiness of life in the tropics.  It has also struck me that my children's Spanish may never be as voluble as it is in this moment -- they wake, live and dream in Spanish. They play card games and basketball in Spanish; they harvest oranges and yuca in Spanish; they observe the world around them almost entirely in Spanish. In fact, it is not uncommon for us to be alone on a walk and have Brynna speak to me only in Spanish. I am a bit tender about lots of things this week, but at this very moment, I am sad to imagine that, as we transition back to an English-centric world, they will lose some of their skill and fluency. It is perhaps even sadder to think that the...

This morning, we woke up and began the painful packing process. Yes, packing up even a 450 square foot house without a single closet is unpleasant.  Which drawings do we keep? Which do we toss? What do we do with half-done lanyards? Old tennis shoes? What about broken erasers? And the English-language books? Puzzles that are missing pieces? And so begins what feels like an annual mindfulness project. . . *** It is not all bad. The most enjoyable part of packing is making individual gift bags for many of the kids here: one for Leyver and Emerson, one for Luis and Neymar, one for Jeryko and Ariel, one for Aitana. . .and so on.  Who would want the flag memory game?  The true answer is "Everyone"-- it is hands down the hit game of the year. There is something notably compelling about those flags!  "But who could we give the memory game to that would share it with others?" asks Jonah.  What about the good markers?  Sandy . The shape shifting cube?  Leyver ....

This kid is six and a half. He is Brynna's best friend and the happiest child I have ever met. His silliness is infectious. His smile lights up a room, despite his terrible cavities. His buoyancy rivals Brynna's -- perhaps one of the reasons they make such good playmates. Or perhaps it is his robust imagination. He loves playing house. And dress-up. And hide and seek. And walkie talkies (He calls them " doki d okis" ).  Or perhaps it is because he lives a stone's throw away and lies in wait each morning for our front door to open. And stays until the darkness scares him home (or otherwise drags Brynna to his house). They have a blast together: giggling, bathing, running in circles, being silly silly silly. He is a very picky eater. He hates anything I feed him, except for treats: freshly baked cookies, bagels, and chocolate are a-okay. He doesn't even like peanut butter or guacamole! I believe he doesn't really like real food because he munches on an unend...

The great  Rio Quindigua  toned down her winter roar the last couple of weeks, allowing us back on her banks and into her waters for the first time in months. We are taking advantage of the calm and beauty while we have a chance! There were weeks during February, March,  April, even May that the river seemed so angry that she would never welcome us again. Amidst a season of torrential tropical rains, she would repeatedly get herself all worked up, raise her voice, and churn unabashedly and violently, not unlike an upset toddler. She refused to leave her neighbors out of it, pulling chunks of mountains along, creating new tributaries, and tearing down any number of natural and man made structures. Huge boulders were no match for her ire. Nor were old growth trees, roads or bridges. Such is life in the tropics. The rainy season: when the rivers throw temper tantrums, quite literally, and locals are inured to electricity outages, roads being washed out, bridges being ripped ...

Plus parakeets, tanagers, falcons, hawks, ornate flycatchers (so-called for their fancy plumage). And more. Dillon and Paul have been taking full advantage of our last few days in Ecuador to rise before the sun and birdwatch around the outskirts of La Josefina. They have been duly rewarded for their early waking.  They are also getting better and better at using the binoculars carefully positioned with Paul's phone to snap pretty awesome pictures (this is how all the photos below were taken). This little slice of heaven --  a town that cannot boast a place marker on Google maps -- does not cease to amaze and astound us. How beautiful and diverse the bird world is when one stops to look up! How strange it is that I have lived 45 years on this planet barely doing so, despite having lived in the tropics within arm's reach of an ornithologist and in Berkeley for a few years with another one. How wonderful it is to be on a perpetual treasure hunt with my sweet tween, who is healthi...

For the last 12 months, we have been rationing our resources. You name it, we have conserved it, apportioned it, and allotted it: from Skippy peanut butter, to Earl Gray tea, to cheddar cheese, to dark chocolate. From Crayola markers to Ticonderoga pencils to embroidery thread to temporary tattoos. From shrinky-dinks to jigsaw puzzles to body wash.  From maple syrup to soy sauce to Scotch tape. I am the chief control freak on this project, and I am afraid I have passed some of my neuroticism onto my kiddos. The thing is every little thing feels more precious when it is not readily replaceable, when Amazon Prime is a pipe dream, when the nearest Target is 5000 miles away. The truth is, everything IS more precious. And yet, now we find ourselves, at the tail end of this journey, and it is time to let go.  It is an admittedly sharp turnabout to go from rationing to releasing.  It is time to bake another big batch of chocolate chip cookies and use up that chocolate. Time to s...

This kid is 13. He is not the friendliest kid in town, not the best mannered, or the most agreeable.  But he became part of our family this year, my fourth hijo . He chose us, and we are all grateful. We will miss him deeply. This kid is one of seven. He is a thing-finder, an adventurous eater, a hard worker. He loves fried eggs, roasted cauliflower and anything topped with lemon and salt.  He is a boy of the campo, waking Saturdays well before dawn with his brother to slaughter a pig, then heading to the family  finca to milk the cows and harvest oranges. In my first encounter with him, now over 11 months ago, I found him loitering outside our fence, peering up at the house. I invited him in, and he accepted with cautious curiosity. It is not the first time in my life that a chance encounter led to a lifelong connection. Like Dillon, he loves birds.  I cannot count the number of times he has run into the house to describe in vivid detail a bird he has spotted and t...

When I was a child, Father’s Day always brought a touch of pain, an annual reminder of who was not in my life, who did not offer me support, who did not love me. I remember one particular Father’s Day, walking home on what must have been the last day of school, carrying a paperweight rock I had painted. I was eight or nine years old at the time. I was walking with a friend, down an alley behind the school, and she turned to me and asked, unkindly, “Who is that even for? You don’t even have a dad!” I stood there, gripping that rock, which I had carefully turned into a fish, feeling immediately defensive and very sad. I had been planning to gift it to my godfather, a man I loved deeply, a gruff but kind man who drove buses for a living and brought me the best chunk of salmon when he returned from fishing expeditions, a special piece just for me. A man who lifted me into his lap and read to me on his protuberant belly,  even when I was too big to comfortably fit there. One of the only...

Paul and I were blown away a few years back when, during church service one Sunday, our UU minister stood in front of the congregation and openly shared his personal finances. He shared how much money he made, the breakdown of how he spent his money each month, and how much he was giving to the church. He was sharing this personal information in order to encourage us to donate to the church, but even so, his disclosure was quite vulnerable and refreshingly transparent. The way I see it, there are three major topics that are basically off-limits for public conversation: intimate relationship stuff, sex, and money. (I guess I am leaving off the classic politics and religion, both topics I personally find less sensitive). As a family doctor, I do get to talk with patients some about their relationships and their sexual issues, but as a regular human, I have definitely internalized a silence around these topics. I specifically hate talking about money, even with my husband. But I am going ...

Today, Friday June 16th, was our last day of homeschool, and YES, we are all psyched! Brynna finished her one and only kindergarten year; Jonah rocked second grade, and Dillon has definitely rounded out a rigorous sixth grade academic year.  Summer has officially arrived to our casita, just in time for us to enjoy our two final weeks in sweet La Josefina. I am grateful to the best math curriculum ever -- Beast Academy by the Art of Problem Solving-- which both Brynna and Jonah loved. I can honestly say we will all miss the cute math beasts -- Grogg, Alex, Lizzie, and Winnie-- and the creative math skills and critical thinking they taught us. (Thanks, Alana, for introducing us!) I am grateful to Paul for being my co-teacher this year, and, in particular, for doing an excellent job guiding Dillon through his language arts and science/social studies curriculum -- I would definitely recommend Moving Beyond the Page, which is a literature based curriculum (Thanks, Katie, for sharing!)....

photo credit: Kristen Garvin I recently came across a framework for how the indigenous people of the Andes view the world, and it has been bouncing around in my head ever since. While we are not living in an indigenous community, the mestizo Ecuadorians with whom we abide have been shaped by their deep indigenous roots, and there is much about this schema that resonates. I wanted to jot down the words and take a moment to reflect briefly on our experiences of these values. This feels particularly poignant as we are about to transition back to the US, back to cultural norms that will likely feel more "normal" to us and maybe even more comfortable, but may not always be how we wish to frame our thinking and/or actions. Collectivity is the understanding that things must be done for the good of the people, not the person. That is, the group is more important than the individual. It is not a secret that American culture centers, elevates, protects, and celebrates the individual o...

                                  This weekend, Brynna and I met the boys -- returning from their Amazon trip --  up in Ambato for our final trip away from La Josefina. We were in Ambato to visit our friends, Jessica, Luis and their three children, who live there. Below are a few photos from our adventures. We toned down our normal schedule to accommodate Dillon's recovery, but by Sunday, he was able to successfully complete a moderate hike to a beautiful waterfall. He is definitely on the mend -- with a good story and decent set of scars top prove it! While our carsick-prone crew is happy to be done with mountainous bus rides for the near future, it is not without sadness that we took our last bus ride down the mountain and back "home" for the next three weeks. A funny spot by Yambo Lake where the fish clean up your feet by nibbling on them. Jonah pictured with his buddy, Ariel (two middle childre...