San Agustín Hates the Gays!

Today was interesting, tiring, disappointing, beautiful, crazy and oh-so-different. I woke up this morning a little late (around 9:00 am, which for me is super EARLY) and Magda had prepared pancakes for me. She also poured me a cup of Colombian coffee before I had a chance to say I dislike coffee, so I gulped it down quickly, chocking the experience up to having tried actual Colombian coffee. Needless to say, it still tastes just as bad. It's just from a different country.

After breakfast, we were planning to go to immigration to process my visa. Before leaving, my host mother and I began to sift through all the papers and make sure they were in the proper order. When we couldn't find a slip of paper to vouch for "entrada al país" (or the stamp that they put in the passport when you arrive, for those of you that don't speak Spanish), I couldn't find it in the passport. This is a major problem because it basically is proof that I actually entered the country legally through the airlines. After pretty much freaking out (I felt horrible because my host mother had to accompany me to the airport to find out why my book wasn't stamped), we were directed to three different offices. Keep in mind this is the third time I've been to the airport in three days. HECTIC. The immigration officer sifted through my passport and found the stamp, a collection of light (very light) words that, upon first glance, simply appeared to be the shadow of George Washington's head of a background picture of Mount Rushmore. The trip to the airport proved to be needless, as the stamp had been there all along.

Still feeling like the day was a slow-ticking time bomb, we headed to the middle of town to register my visa. We had to wait for two and a half hours. It was like the DMV from hell. Finally, everything was worked out, and we began to head home. I had mentioned to Magda that the cool weather up here (due to the high elevation) made me think I should probably buy some more pants. She concluded that we would venture out after lunch to see some churches and monuments, and also visit the Centro Comercial.

After a lunch or rice, beans, avocado, ice cream, pork, and a cheesy soup with popcorn inside, we ventured to the Centro. The roads are all at a steep incline and the majority of them are one-way, which made me think of how French villas are often pictured, with dirty laundry hanging high above the heads of pedestrians. Except in place of dirty laundry, there are large signs advertising everything, tight-cornered shops selling everything from individual cigarettes to jewel-encrusted lizards to Diesel jeans. After parking the car in this teeny tiny stall (I swear, my host mother has super-powers when it comes to parking a car in a 10" x 6" area), we shopped around a bit and I got 2 pair of jeans and a pair of Bermudas for $50. That may seem like a lot, but the jeans were both Diesel (which range from $140-$180 in the US) and Speedo. Increíble!

After this we walked around and visited a lot of churches, including el Convento de San Agustín. More like a museum, we pay "sueltos" (tips) to enter and the tour guide talking rapidly about the history of this intricately-adorned nunnery. From the ceiling hung golden mini-pineapples, gargantuan 30" paintings adorned the walls, and we even got to visit the catacombs. We saw multiple churches, whose inside were encrusted with pure gold and statues of saints and wooden sepulchers. I wasn't able to take pictures, but I got some of the outside of the building and I'll post them tomorrow.

Anyhow, this is kind of where the day took a digger. My host mother mentioned to me multiple times that I'm "gordito" (a seemingly friendly way to call me fat) and on the right home, she kept telling me about how the Ecuadorian public was staring at me (which I knew) not only because I was white (which I believed was the reason) but because I was so flamboyant and obviously gay. Last night she expressed her beliefs that she respects who I am, but believes it to be wrong, a genetic defect. I understand that this is the culture, and the "machismo" view kind of hinders self-expression when it comes to gays, but she went so far as to "counsel me", as she put it, that I should act less gay in public. Not only that, but it was "obvious" to her and her children that I was gay when I sent my photos over the internet before arriving, and that they all "sat around laughing". I don't know how I'm supposed to respond to the fact that my host family thinks I'm a big fat (literally) homo. Not only that, but this experience is supposed to broaden my horizons, and if I have to close off who I am and change how I act, aren't I actually limiting my horizons? I know Magda doesn't mean to be offensive, just blunt, and I respect her and her discriminating culture because it's all the family knows, but I almost began crying in the car when she told me she was laughing at me before I arrived, but immediately stopped, because that would be feminine and atypical of a male. 

So now I'm trying to not really talk at all. I think I'm going to stop wearing vests, because as I've said before, you can spot a gay a mile away if he's wearing a vest. I've always been open, but it's difficult to respect the culture here while maintaining my own actual persona. I've always been behind U.S. bashing because the majority of the idiosynchrosies that are observed by foreigners are usually true, but how am I supposed to respond when the woman who claims to completely respect me regardless of my sexual orientation explicitly speaks of her ill-thoughts about gay adoption? I'm sorry, but if I'm the one who is culturally limited, why is it that I can speak your language and am living in your country whilst you cannot even correctly pronounce Ellen DeGeneres? (Seriously, it sounded like Helen Deechenerts, it took like 2 minutes to figure out what she was saying). The lady is seriously blunt, and friendly when it comes to amicable conversation, but no more talk about gay. Ever. I think I'll politely refuse to comment if it comes up again. I've been able to adapt to a lot of things, but usually people maintain some sort of open-mindedness or they wouldn't host international students, am I right? Apparently not.

Anyhow, I know that was a rant, but it sucks not feeling comfortable in your own skin. The only English contact I've had in the last 2 days was journaling on here and reading my David Sedaris books, which, while hilarious, don't do much for making me less homesick. Tomorrow I get to see Terra and Margaret, which will hopefully calm me down a little, but I think until then I'll keep to myself. I feel as if I've been entirely adequate as a house-guest-- politely asking to use the internet for no more than 30 minutes at a time, thanking my host-mother graciously for every meal, I even gave her $30 today for gas (which, by the way, is only $1.48 a gallon here). After that, she opened up a little, but in return from being polite (which is more than I can say for most Americans), I get ridiculed about my sexuality. This is AWESOME.

I can't wait to start school. Maybe the students at USFQ will be more tolerant as a younger generation should be. That way, I can build a routine and not have to worry about how my host-mother views her host-son. And seeing Marg and Terra will help immensely.

Don't worry, Mom. I can handle my own. It's nothing I haven't dealt with. It's just usually I don't have to LIVE with ignoramuses. More on this tomorrow.