In Ecuador you do not say “Adios”

“In every language, there seem to be certain ‘unmentionables’—words of such strong affective connotations that they cannot be used in polite discourse.” Language in Thought and Action, S.I Hayakawa and Alan R. Hayakawa

What are these so-called unmentionables? Perhaps your mind goes first to bad words, like the f- word or racial slurs like the n-word, or other derogatory words like the r- word for people who are developmentally disabled. Or perhaps suppressed words, like those pertaining to menstruation or sex. Or perhaps you are thinking of words that are thought to wield magical powers like saying the word “quiet” on a labor and delivery floor when not much is happening (Don’t do it, the nurses will kill you). In all cultures there are simply words you do not say. 

One, surprisingly important unmentionable in Ecuador is the word Adios. Whereas Adios is commonly used to mean “goodbye” or “see you later” in Mexico, Spain, and much of the rest of the Spanish-speaking world, in Ecuador, Adios is completely taboo. Off-limits. You simply do not say it. Ever. Not even if you are leaving the foreseeable future. Not even if someone has died.

The reason is simple: Adios is considered too final; in Ecuador, Adios means “goodbye forever”. It means we will never ever see each other again. It portends an irrevocability, an unavoidability. Even in the afterlife. And such a finality is too painful to name.

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And so, we did NOT say Adios to Ecuador these last few days as we packed up our house, filled our suitcases and found our way to the Guayaquil Airport. Instead we said Chao to our house and our town, Hasta luego (see you later) and Hasta la próxima (see you next time) to our dear friends and family. We said volveremos (we will return).  We say these words because we are quite certain we will be back again. Be it one, two, or five years. La Josefina, querida Ecuador, you cannot be rid of us! 

And in addition to Chao, we also say Gracias. 

Gracias for the innumerable kindnesses, gracias for the rivers and the waterfalls, gracias for the oranges and the bananas and the achotillos and the yuca, gracias for the long bus rides and the barf bags too, gracias for cocolon, the salty crunchy rice at the bottom of the pot, gracias for the pure air of the Andes Mountains, gracias for the maduro con queso, gracias for the hammocks and the plastic chairs.

Gracias for the music and the dancing, gracias for the sugar cane and panela, gracias for the fruit juices and the soups, gracias for the silly party games and the creencias, gracias for the tropical rain on our tin roof, gracias for the bounty of birds, the fish in the rivers, and other natural wonders, gracias even for the countless bug bites and the new scars. Gracias for the warm Pacific and the dense rainforest. Gracias to Crema, our bunny, and Sherman, our chicken, who brought us all so much joy. Gracias for all of this and so much more.

Most of all, gracias for the year of unfettered love from our Ecuadorian family and friends. Siempre están bien metidos en nuestros corazones (You are all deeply enmeshed in our hearts).

Paul managed to squeeze one last waterfall hike adventure with Lucia.

Lucia, with her sisters' and daughters' help, made us a real Ecuadorian feast: fried yuca, carrot cake, tilapia, chifles, yuca cocinado, rice, platano maduro, grilled chicken, carrots and cucumbers, and more.

Lucia, the best friend/mother/grandmother a girl could wish for. 

The farewell cena was served on giant plantain leaves; even the donuts were made from scratch.

Boys playing during our despedida.

Adults (including Pablo) also dancing at our despedida. It is not a party in Ecuador if there is not dancing.

Brynna dancing with her BFF, Joan.

A final round of Slapzee, such a great party game!

Final morning baby bunny (plus Leandry) snuggles.

Our ride to the bus terminal. Last back of camioneta ride for my kids for awhile.

Brynna bids farewell to Alice and Domenica at the Quevedo bus station.

More goodbyes at the Quevedo Bus Terminal. A clump of cousins.

Chao, Crema, we LOVE you!

Leaving from the Guayaquil Airport, international departures.

    PS. There was an awful lot of crying the last few days as we bid farewell (no pictures of this part), and while I will not name the criers outright, I will admit that they included several members of my own family as well as plenty of our friends -- adults and children -- in La Josefina. I repeated over and over to the children, as I held them in my arms, "The reason we feel so sad is because we have loved deeply." And this is one more thing to feel grateful for.