Ecuadorian professors are not big fans of syllabi, giving advance notice about canceled classes, or collecting the essays they assign. Coming from a university where every class' syllabus carefully spells out assigned reading, graded work due dates, and anomalies in the schedule, this is a little strange, and ocassionally frustrating.
In the mornings, I walk a block to the nearest bus station and take a 5-minute bus ride to the Universidad Salesiana. Yesterday morning as I walked out of the building, the landlady was having a heated discussion with a tenant on the bottom floor. I never know whether to say "hi" in those situations, so I gave a little "buenos días" and hurried out the door. Before I got to the bus, Polly called to tell me that our class, Comunicación intercultural, had been canceled. Great! I'll organize my lesson plans for English class at Yachay Wasi and catch up on reading. I walk back home, timidly say buenos días once again as I pass the arguing landlady and tenant, unlock the apartment, and set up my work at the dining room table. As soon as my books are open, Elise calls. Class is on, just in a different room. Come to the auditorium. I pack up, head out the door again, make a gesture to the landlady that I hope says "it is a little joke between us that I, the crazy North American girl, keep running in and out of the building this morning!" and catch a bus to the university.
When I get there, it turns out that there are many, many Salesiana students packed into a forum at which our professor is speaking. It's about New Orleans in July temperature in the auditorio, there are no seats left, and I have no idea what is going on, so I leave with Polly and Elise. Getting empanadas and jugo at Fanesca is more productive than standing in the back of a sweltering foro. I get a spicy meat empanada and a maracuyá (passionfruit) juice. Sooooo good. Why don't we eat passionfruit in the US?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment