Hikes, Classes & Floor Shows

SHE WALKED THE LINE
THAT RAN ROUND THE BLUE WORLD,
THEN GREW WINGS TO FLY.

90% of the time; travel in this country, like most others in Latin America, involves buses.

There are several different kinds from those wherein you ride with people hauling live chickens in plastic, burlap-like bags and which stop frequently for anyone who flags them down to, by comparison, luxurious ones that rarely stop and whose seats totally recline when you're ready to sleep. There are many, many things to be said about buses; but that will have to wait until later.

So, in order to take a hike at an exceptional location you must first ride a bus, usually at least an hour and a half, just to get in the neighborhood. I often find myself saying both aloud and to myself, "Wow! I haven't driven a car in a long time." I don't miss it.

Our friend Steve "not the Rock Star" Miller came for a visit and, so one Sunday, we rode a bus to Azogaes. Which is the home of my Spanish teacher, Maria Elena, who wanted us to taste whole pig cooked with a flamethrower and the local, rich ice cream. Then, we hiked to the top of a tall hill, or small mountain (you choose), to visit a large church that had been built into it's solid rock flank. Steve had the camera, so you'll have to bug him for pictures of that impossible structure.

A few blog visitors have asked for more information on my (and now our) teaching experiences, so I'll briefly try to oblige them. However, I very much still feel like a rookie. My handwriting is pretty bad, but the spelling is usually correct and at least it's large enough to be read from a distance by my students.

Classroom sizes are manageable with less than 10 students most of the time. The mix is interesting because adults, teeenagers and 10 year olds can all be at the same level of English proficiency. My style, if you want to call it that, is to have fun in class which engages them and elicits responses rather than my spending the 2 hours just lecturing at them like some kind of talking head. I know how to speak English, they're the ones who need practice and my class is a safe place for them to try because laughing at the attempts of others is strictly forbidden. However, they are allowed to laugh at my Spanish pronunciation whenever they like.

Patio courtyards are one of the best things ever thought of by humans and, whether you realize it or not, they have been around since the early Romans, if not longer. Our school has a wonderful one where I like to go and plan my lessons before the classes begin. There are flowers in there that are older than I am, and that's saying something, and Hummingbirds the size of Robins. (I'm in the distant background, if you want to enlarge the picture, but why would you?)

People learn in different ways and some prefer to express themselves with colorful drawings. Who the heck am I to say, "No, you must only write sentences." If they like what they have drawn, then I tape it up on the wall for everyone to enjoy. Some may say I let them get away with whatever they want, but I've been getting excellent teacher evaluations from the students I have taught. So, to those critics I say, "Who asked you?"

THE LITTLE ONES SMILE
BEFORE THEY BEGIN TO SPEAK,
MICE ABOUT TO SQUEAK.

I've also been called Mr. Mean Teacher by some of the younger students because of the amount of homework I give out, but they're usually the same ones who need to improve the most and at the end of the term when they're leaving they invariably thank me for teaching them so much because now they can "one up" their friends who only have limited "MTV" English.

Whenever we can we get out of town to hike in the mountains and more times than not we are the only ones on the tops of them. The scenery is breath-taking (in more ways than one) and maybe, someday, Joella will send me some of her photographs, so I can share them with you. Maybe all of you should send her emails telling her that you want to see what she's been shooting. I'm tired of asking for them. This is a valley called Vilcabamba, a place where people never grow old. Don't believe me? Google it! Too many gringos and other ex-pats for me though.

GRINGOS TOGETHER
SAFELY HIDING IN A HERD
WHERE ENGLISH’S THE WORD.

We didn't spend as much time in Vilcabamba as we did over it and I really must say it is one beautiful lugar. Want to see what it looks like? Write Joella :)

CAJAS PARAMO,
A SPONGE CARPET ON THE MOON
WITH LOCKED-UP-SAFE LAKES.

As I mentioned a few postings ago, one night after work I went down the street for a walk and put up a pictures of the 3 amigas I met. Here's the rest of the dance troupe...

Another day, another fiesta and girls every boy here is another Antonio Banderas in fancy pants.

And you old pervert guys who are reading this don't need to act uninterested because most of the women folk in my neighborhood have a penchant for revealing attire.

It's easy to get a dance with the ladies. All you have to do is beg.

However, I've never noticed crowds gathering like this before when I was on the dance floor.

Funny, how even though the show is hot enough on its own there are those still feel the need to shoot off GIANT sparklers.

I think this one was called the "It's time to make the bed" dance.

I offered to teach it to Joella because she wasn't there, but she acted as if she had no interest.

SONGBIRDS SING AND COCKS
CROW TO THEIR HENS WHEN BLACK TURNS
BLUE-PINK, MORNING COMES.

Later, gators...