-Excerpt Contributed by Molly McGuire, Volunteer Ecuador Participant

My experiences in Ecuador were incredible. I made tons of friends, and had a host family that I could never forget. I had like, two downer experiences that wound up being for the better (and that's life). My host family was incredible because they were so different from my family in Texas. The mom was the head of the house, and we had lots of fun together. There were two daughters- one my age, the other 12- who were also incredible and very accommodating. They were on the poorer side, but I really liked that. Patricia did a great job with that placement. Most of the exchange students I met would have compromised wealth for personality if they could have been in my family.

As far as traveling goes, I didn't do a whole lot, but it was worth it for the fun I was having in my small town outside Ibarra. When I arrived, I spent the first weekend in Banos with some girls. That was awesome! I went to Otavalo, of course, and Quito when I had to. My host family took me up to Colombia for a day on a bus tour, which was beautiful! The last week, I spent in the Amazon. I did a jungle stay, which was probably my best idea, ever. I took a night bus there, then flew back in time for my flight back home. That was really something unique, and I loved every minute of it! I had been debating to go to Atacames or the jungle, and I feel like I made the best choice.

The hospital was also a really neat experience. I went in the mornings only, then took the afternoon to read, meet people, teach myself Spanish, write, hang out with my friends, go to the library, whatever. I wrote down everything I saw in a little notebook. There were some really neat cases, and I got to know some really neat people as I worked there. I decided to stay in the ER the whole time, and I don't regret it.

Here's a story for you:

It was a particularly busy morning in the ER, and they keep about 3 patients in one room at a time. I was working with a young doctor on a scrawny 30 year old man from the prison. His short, buff guard was there with him. As the doctor was listening to the prisoner's heart, the guard noticed that I didn't quite fit into the scene (tall, white . . .) and struck up a conversation with me. He was flirting, and told me bashfully that he was trying to learn English (that was a popular line). I lent him my dictionary from my pocket, which he read while the doctor and I were examining the patient. I got to know both patient and guard pretty well by the end. They were in there for about an hour waiting on lab work. When returned, the news was the prisoner had Tuberculosis (a highly contagious, sort of, chronic pneumonia that causes death unless it's treated). I was stunned. When the doctor explained it to the guard, the guard's smile turned into a frown, and his eyes flicked down. He mouthed to the prisoner to examine his financial status. It turns out the prisoner couldn't afford the long list of medications to treat the TB. I knew that that long list, here in Ecuador, could only cost up to 15 dollars. 15 dollars!! I asked my friend, the guard if I could see that list. Then I took off with it. It was about time for me to go, so I grabbed all my stuff and slipped the money into his hand, inside of the list when I returned it. I wanted to kind of keep it on the down-low. There is no reason he shouldn't be treated for this, I thought. Especially considering his living conditions, being surrounded by other soon-to-be victims. Then I left. However, before I could get to the street, the guard had chased me down. He had looked up "Let's get coffee" in my dictionary, and called my name from across the hospital wing to ask me out to coffee. At this point, I was sick of being asked out by strangers in Ecuador. I had been there a month and a half already, so I knew what they were up to. However, I told him that it wasn't so much the coffee I was interested in, as his job. I told him (boldly) to take me to the prison and give me a tour. He agreed, but with the funniest confused look on his face.

A week later, we met up at the prison. Lindsay, it was incredible. I wish I could have taken pictures. The prison is at double capacity. There are sleeping places on floors, as well as stacked 40 feet up. They are all in there together. Cell's don't exist. However, it was a surprisingly happy environment. There was a soccer game going on, everyone was cheering, laughing. I met a Nigerian who took over the guide because he spoke English. At the end he pleaded with me to get him out of there, that he didn't deserve his punishment. That was interesting. I also met the director of the prison and got to ask him some questions. The most important part for me, though, was when I went to the "clinic" of the prison. I use quotations because it wasn't really a clinic. There is a doctor there at all times during the day, but there is nothing else. No medication, no utensils, nothing. The law in Ecuador says that unless it's an emergency, the doctor isn't allowed to send them to the hospital. So, he's in a predicament. I spent about 5 hours in an Ecuadorian prison. That was one of the more interesting dates I've ever been on!

Again, thanks for everything. I hope that my input will contribute to your efforts. I've been telling everyone about your program. I don't mean to be sappy, but I cried really hard on the bus the day I left my host family and friends in San Antonio de Ibarra because they meant so much to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you. 

Zoe with her Mongolian hosts

-Contributed by Zoe Pastorfield-Li
  Cultural Embrace's Teach in China participant 2008-2010

Participant Background: Zoe recently finished her summer program teaching English in Yantai, China, a beautiful seaport city located in northeastern province, Shandong. Before her fall term begins, Zoe was invited by one of her students, June, to visit her family and home town in Inner Mongolia. Below is a contribution from Zoe about some of her China adventures, focusing on a trip taken to Inner Mongolia during her vacation break.

Tomorrow I leave for Inner Mongolia with June. Yesterday she met a couple of other friends and me at Yangma Dao (coastal island in Shandong, China). The three of us biked there while June and two others took a taxi. June had never swam before and when we met up with them Rain (another student) and June were carrying their sun umbrellas and trying to keep their balance in impractical shoes, over big stones and sharp rocks against a pretty rough incoming tide. June was shrieking for the first 15 minutes and I had a moment where I was a little worried about how things would go in the Mongolian grasslands. (Women in China tend to be very “girly-girlish” because that's how they've been raised.) But, once she got used to the water she wouldn't quit trying to learn new things – she wanted to learn how to kick, paddle and blow bubbles all at once. It was really cool. There was this transformation right before my eyes of girly girl gone very determined woman.

I am really looking forward to our trip. I hope to study and practice Chinese a lot, watch a lot of Olympics on TV with various people around Baotou and of course, see the grasslands and visit her family's farm.

In Mongolia, I stayed in my student, June's, family's house. The two room, bathroom-less home full of natural light that poured in through the courtyard windows, facing the full and sagging apple trees, had been more than adequate space to house and feed as many as ten people at any given time – assorted cousins, grandmas, sister-in-law's... each with their own relation and Chinese name denoting the unique connection. My name was simply Laoshi ("Teacher") which they called me reverently, even when unable to suppress their laughter at my funny, often unintelligible accent:

"Laoshi, hao chi ma?"
"Hao chi!"

"Does it taste good?"
"Yes, delicious!"

This single call and response we were able to exchange was fitting as the trip was certainly a culinary experiment and a successful one at that.This was more or less the extent of our verbal communication, which presented an ideal situation for me, as I usually prefer to be quiet but always feel compelled to rush to any conversational lull.

My first day there I was informed we'd go to June's grandfather's house on the communal farmlands and kill one of his sheep. Admittedly, during the actual event, I turned to watch the other sheep that was spared while June's father tore his knife through the sheep's throat. Seeing the other sheep turn from first curious to then horrified as it watched on, was enough to reflect the reality of the situation.

The tethered sheep kicked and convulsed briefly and then it was over – time to prepare the body, remove the fur and butcher the meat.

Having just gotten over an 11 year bout of vegetarianism, this was definitely a new experience. Sitting next to the bagged carcass that would be my sustenance for the remainder of the trip…it was still warm and constantly bumping into me along the pot-holed dirt roads. It was absurdly hilarious, I felt like a gangster with evidence that needed to be tossed over a bridge.

Three hours after returning home the sheep was prepared and I immediately wanted to know, anatomically, what I was consuming. The family thought it was very funny when I would ask them, very seriously while pointing into my bowl of soup, "Is this the same sheep?" It took about six days to kick this habit of imagining exactly what part of the sheep I was eating (lower rib? stomach? leg?).

Sometimes my food game was more challenging, especially when the meat was brown, cubed and of regular texture. Other times it was painfully obvious as when June and I were each handed a leg shin and hoof, still bent at the joint as if it had hopped up onto the table itself. June's mother encouraged me to chew on the tendons and seek out the cartilage. The whole experience was bewildering, but I wasn't going to be rude and say no to one of the most coveted parts of the seasonal feast. (...when in Rome?...)

Ultimately, each meal was delicious, nutritious and, most importantly, cooked with love.

In the small kitchen (4x12 ft) we washed our hair in plastic basins, squatted on rainy days with the washboard to clean our clothes, and three times a day June's mother carried in coal to light the stove that heated one large wok-like pot.After lunch the whole family would divide up among the two beds for a nap. I shared the bed then and also at night with grandparents, nephews, aunts and cousins. One night I woke up after rolling on June's mother –  my hand on her leg! She just rolled me back and covered my bare arm with the blanket and soon we were snoozing again.

At the end of a beautiful two weeks in Inner Mongolia I felt sad to leave…. But was reminded of something one of my students said to me in farewell was "be happy everyday." I realized that a lot of people here actually achieve this. Happiness is the default mode, not the resultative. It has a lot to do with thinking less, staying in the moment, and taking joy out of serving others. I am not there yet, but I am certainly inspired to make every effort.