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| Living with a Family in Quito |
he family I lived with in Quito during my study at the Spanish school was a relatively "rich" family by the local standards. They lived in a nice house in a relatively nice neighborhood with a wall, iron gate, and security system. Yet, the $15 per day that they received for hosting a guest helped their cash flow. From that $15 per day, they had to pay for the extra food, food preparation, and utility bills incurred by the guest, and have enough left over to make a profit. Apparently cash flow was so tight that the few dollars a day that they earned was worth all that effort. They had been hosting students for the school for over a decade.
My host family consisted of the señor and señora of the family, and two unmarried adult kids.
There was also one son who had a family of his own and his own house across town, but he and his family often dropped in at random times to share a meal or hang out.
Another family member or two came and went at odd times and I never fully understood all the family relationships.
What I did understand was that although this rich family had a tight cash flow, it wasn't lacking in love.
In typical Latin American style, family was the most important thing to them.
A son would greet his father with a hug; daughter would sleepily wander to the breakfast table and give a kiss to mama.
Everyone loved the grandchild. And even though I was only a guest for a short while, everyone warmly welcomed me into the house.
Of all the extended family, only the 20-something daughter knew any significant amount of English. She always tried to prevent me from using English as a crutch, but when necessary, she was a helpful interpreter.
In the household, food preparation for such a large extended family was a never-ending job. The family bought fresh food basics every day, such as vegetables, fruit, bread, rice, butter, and milk. I don't think they served the same soup or same dish twice when I was there. There were few leftovers after any meal, but no one left the table hungry. And no recipes. Everyone just seemed to be natural cooks, knowing how to whip up a tasty soup by inventing a new recipe on the spot. They had a zillion ways to prepare potatoes, fish, chicken, and the many varieties of bananas and other tropical fruit.
| Note to fellow travelers: Fruit A daily intake of fresh tropical fruit can be addictive. It may be hard to break the habit after you return home. NOTES INDEX |
In order to help with all that food preparation, they hired a young man, Juan, to come in on most weekdays for several hours a day to help in the kitchen. Juan was 19, married, and had a child. This was a second job for him. I don't know how much a kitchen helper got paid in Quito, but it couldn't have been much. Before Juan, the family had hired his older brother to help in the kitchen. It was interesting to see how Juan was part of the family, yet not part of it, and to observe his relationship with the señora of the house. When the señora was at home, Juan would never speak a word unless spoken to. The señora would only say a single word and Juan would jump to follow the order. Juan never ate with other family members. He only ate alone after all the family had finished and left the table. When the señora was out of the house and only one or two of the kids were at home, they and Juan would act familiar, joke around, laugh, and have fun. But at the dinner table Juan was the silent servant, all business.
Coffee was often served at meals, and was always instant coffee. When asked about my preferences for coffee, I said that I tried to avoid caffeine. Not long afterwards, some of the family members returned from a shopping trip, and they had bought a jar of instant decaffeinated coffee for me.
On my first morning in Quito after I finished my first breakfast with the family, the señor of the house, who knew only a handful of English words, instructed me to come with him. I followed. With few words and gestures, he walked with me a few blocks to show me the way to the Spanish school. Then a few more blocks to a major cross-street. With a slight wave of his hand, he stopped a taxi and we hopped in. He had the taxi driver take us around the major streets in Quito so that I could see the major streets and the major buildings, and pointed out the south part of town that I should avoid at night. He had the taxi stop at a shopping mall. The señor took me around the shopping mall and looked in a couple of bookstores to inquire about city maps. After inspecting what they had to offer, he chose one, paid a few dollars of his own money, and handed me a map of the city. That was the best thing he could have done. With his brief orientation, the city map, and the compass in my pocket, I felt confident to explore the city by foot, taxi, and bus.
Back at the house, the señor gave me keys to their gate, their front door, and one that would lock the door to my private room if I felt like I needed the privacy. That was my home for two weeks.
| Note to fellow travelers: Toilet paper Don't flush any toilet paper down the toilet. Used toilet paper goes into the trash bin next to the toilet. The plumbing can't handle the paper. NOTES INDEX |
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