The Final Entry. Thank you.
It’s officially the end of an era. What started out perspectively as an adventure turned out to be just real life. An adventurous life, but life nonetheless. Five years of life. You might be thinking, “was it really five years?” I’ve had those thoughts, too. I’ve shocked my compañeros at Colegio Americano, whom I worked with for the duration, with that realization.
So, on my last night before my next big move [scroll to the bottom if you want to just get to that part], I wish to write one final entry before retiring this particular blog.
I cried nearly the whole way down on my first time to Ecuador. Don’t feel bad for me— I was following a journey I made for myself for an improved chance at succeeding at my profession and expanding my worldview. I think it’s perfectly normal for someone to shed tears when taking a risk and chance at something outside their comfort-zone and away from family and friends. The unknown is scary, but I did not doubt my decision a single time.
When I walked out of migration at Sucre Mariscal Airport in Tababela, I looked around at the growing crowd of others who would be in my group and wondered, “will I like any of these people? Will they like me?” A handful of people stood-out to me right away… Barry, wearing his Hawaiian shirt; Jeanine, with her flatscreen TV packed away in her excess luggage; Carmela, who asked me to watch her bags; Luke and Cait, the only married couple in our group; Brenda, chatting it up with everyone; and Kara, the coolest-looking person I could spot. A few hours later, we arrived at our hotel and Jeanine exclaimed, “Wow!, that was fast!” when Kara began necking with her now-husband, Jaime.
Throughout that first week, we started forming our tribe(s) as we rushed from the visa office to apartment viewings to shopping to meals. And we continued it on trips and going out and on the bus and at work. And slowly but surely, it all started feeling less like a pure-adventure and more like routine life. Ecuador became home, Wisconsin a place I was born and used to live. Many of the people in my original group stayed three and four years, with even six of us (I think?) staying longer. And life changed a lot over that time.
For me—my Nana died three weeks after leaving for Ecuador. I learned how to communicate in Spanish and how to scuba dive. I earned my Masters in Education in addition to my chemistry license. I traveled alone for the first time in my life and learned how resilient I could be and how trustworthy strangers really are; and I traveled to nine separate countries. I ate things that I never imagined I’d ever and I really like them (GUATITA!!!). I mastered cooking and baking a plethora of recipes from scratch and by memory. I no longer was known as the partier by the people around me; it gave me the opportunity to be still and actually discover things I am interested in like gardening, cooking, fish-keeping and breeding, and reading. I confronted uncomfortable things I don’t like about myself and worked on myself. I found myself.
As you can imagine, this made it difficult to leave Ecuador for the next chapter. As I cleared my apartment, said goodbye to my amazing friends and wonderful students, left for the airport and flew back to Milwaukee… I cried harder than five years ago. The tears were of pride for what I accomplished and achieved. Joy for the love that welcomed into and felt in my life. Sadness for leaving behind my new comfort-zone and normal, and a country that welcomed this wacky gringo into it. I am forever grateful for all the good and bad I experienced during this rich and vibrant life.
So, with that said, I am signing off of this blog. I’ve had the chance to share many of my experiences with you through here, and so many more were left out. I will be starting a new blog soon as I embark on the next new experience to share those, too.
So, on my last night before my next big move [scroll to the bottom if you want to just get to that part], I wish to write one final entry before retiring this particular blog.
I cried nearly the whole way down on my first time to Ecuador. Don’t feel bad for me— I was following a journey I made for myself for an improved chance at succeeding at my profession and expanding my worldview. I think it’s perfectly normal for someone to shed tears when taking a risk and chance at something outside their comfort-zone and away from family and friends. The unknown is scary, but I did not doubt my decision a single time.
When I walked out of migration at Sucre Mariscal Airport in Tababela, I looked around at the growing crowd of others who would be in my group and wondered, “will I like any of these people? Will they like me?” A handful of people stood-out to me right away… Barry, wearing his Hawaiian shirt; Jeanine, with her flatscreen TV packed away in her excess luggage; Carmela, who asked me to watch her bags; Luke and Cait, the only married couple in our group; Brenda, chatting it up with everyone; and Kara, the coolest-looking person I could spot. A few hours later, we arrived at our hotel and Jeanine exclaimed, “Wow!, that was fast!” when Kara began necking with her now-husband, Jaime.
Throughout that first week, we started forming our tribe(s) as we rushed from the visa office to apartment viewings to shopping to meals. And we continued it on trips and going out and on the bus and at work. And slowly but surely, it all started feeling less like a pure-adventure and more like routine life. Ecuador became home, Wisconsin a place I was born and used to live. Many of the people in my original group stayed three and four years, with even six of us (I think?) staying longer. And life changed a lot over that time.
For me—my Nana died three weeks after leaving for Ecuador. I learned how to communicate in Spanish and how to scuba dive. I earned my Masters in Education in addition to my chemistry license. I traveled alone for the first time in my life and learned how resilient I could be and how trustworthy strangers really are; and I traveled to nine separate countries. I ate things that I never imagined I’d ever and I really like them (GUATITA!!!). I mastered cooking and baking a plethora of recipes from scratch and by memory. I no longer was known as the partier by the people around me; it gave me the opportunity to be still and actually discover things I am interested in like gardening, cooking, fish-keeping and breeding, and reading. I confronted uncomfortable things I don’t like about myself and worked on myself. I found myself.
As you can imagine, this made it difficult to leave Ecuador for the next chapter. As I cleared my apartment, said goodbye to my amazing friends and wonderful students, left for the airport and flew back to Milwaukee… I cried harder than five years ago. The tears were of pride for what I accomplished and achieved. Joy for the love that welcomed into and felt in my life. Sadness for leaving behind my new comfort-zone and normal, and a country that welcomed this wacky gringo into it. I am forever grateful for all the good and bad I experienced during this rich and vibrant life.
So, with that said, I am signing off of this blog. I’ve had the chance to share many of my experiences with you through here, and so many more were left out. I will be starting a new blog soon as I embark on the next new experience to share those, too.
Goodbye, Quito and Ecuador. You were and will always be a home to me, and I cannot wait to visit later this year.
Hello, Bogotá and Colombia. I look forward to getting to know you and for the moment it feels like home.
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