Last week when Carlos and I were at the supermarket, I went looking for cocoa powder. Until then we hadn't found any that didn't have added sugar. Most cocoa here is made for drinking. Anyway, of the half dozen brands, only one was 100% cocoa. But it didn't look very good. It was almost a yellowish brown, close to the color of peanut butter, rather than a deep, well, chocolate color. So I didn't buy it.
Which leads to the question of where to get cocoa to bake with. I will be back in Chicago in a few weeks. And there I will buy some cocoa. My favorite brand is Droste, a Dutch brand. So, I will be buying cocoa, which was probably grown in Ecuador, processed in Holland, sold in United States, and flown back to Ecuador. Now what is wrong with this picture?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Grounded
This afternoon Carlos and I were cooking lunch. As I was drying my hands on the towel that was hung over the oven door, I accidentally touched the door and got a shock. So, of course, I touched it again, and, yes, I got electrocuted again. How odd. Of course, the next step was to have Carlos touch the oven. He did, no problems. I touched it again, got shocked again, and he was beginning to think that I was crazy.
So the next idea was for him to touch the oven and then for me to touch him at the same time. When we did that he felt the shock and told me I wasn't crazy. But we were really confused why I was conductive and he was not. We finally looked down and realized that I was in my socks while he was wearing tennis shoes. So I stood on his feet and touched the oven again, abut this time no shock! I never realized that one needed to be grounded while using the oven. So instead of putting shoes on, he just unplugged the oven (which hasn't been working for the past month anyway).
So the next idea was for him to touch the oven and then for me to touch him at the same time. When we did that he felt the shock and told me I wasn't crazy. But we were really confused why I was conductive and he was not. We finally looked down and realized that I was in my socks while he was wearing tennis shoes. So I stood on his feet and touched the oven again, abut this time no shock! I never realized that one needed to be grounded while using the oven. So instead of putting shoes on, he just unplugged the oven (which hasn't been working for the past month anyway).
Monday, March 16, 2009
The Castle
No, there are not any palaces in Quito. Last week I finally got my visa and the whole situation can only be described as Kafkaesque.
It took about two and a half months for me to receive the work visa. When we first talked with our lawyer she assured us that we only need a few documents and a little money and we wouldn't have any problems. However, that was not the case. After submitting all the required paperwork, the lawyer would call us up two or three times a week saying that we were missing one document or another. Of course, she had never asked for these documents in the first place.
When we met with the lawyers on one trip to Quito, one actually had the balls to say to me, "Things are not done here like they are in the States. You have to know people." To which I replied, "That's why I'm paying you, to know people." By the way, the company which claims to be a non-profit, is 1700 Migrante. I do not recommend that anyone ever use them.
I couldn't get my the visa last week when Carlos and I went to Quito for the sole purpose of receiving the visa. That was because the guy who had to sign my visa was not in and would not be in for two more days. Apparently, there is one single guy in the whole entire country who could sign my visa. And he doesn't have an underling who can do it for him when he's sick. So we had to return to Quito the following week. Fortunately, Carlos was already going there for a conference and I just tagged along. And we finally got the visa.
At the end of the procedure, the lawyer asked us for more money than we had agreed to pay, saying things like, "Well, for your case we had to do extra work." When I asked for specifics, as in, "How is my case different from the other cases? What exactly did you need to do for me that was atypical?" he would reply by saying, "Well, I was not the one doing the work, but the lawyer assured me that your case was special and he needed to do more than was normally necessary." Again I would say, "Can you give me an example?" to which he would respond, "Well, I don't know exactly, but your case was different." Arrrrgh.
Of course, the system in Ecuador is made so that you need a lawyer or an expediter or someone who knows people in the system to get things done. And everybody takes a few dollars here and there to help you out. There were only two people who were actually helpful. After I got my visa I needed to get a copy of it notarized. The notary was a very kind lady. Even nicer was was the gentleman at the Ministry of Work. I did not need to go to Quito for the whole visa process. However, after receiving the visa it was necessary to get a work ID, thus go to Quito for the sole purpose of having a (digital) photo taken. And this is only possible on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday. The gentleman there was so nice and helpful, Carlos and I had met him the previous week and Carlos explained that my Spanish was not the best and that I would be returning on my own and the guy explained the whole procedure very patiently and when I returned it took less than 10 minutes.
If anyone would like me to explain the process for getting a work visa, I cannot, I have no idea how I actually got the visa.
But I learned my lesson. Just get married. It's cheaper and easier.
It took about two and a half months for me to receive the work visa. When we first talked with our lawyer she assured us that we only need a few documents and a little money and we wouldn't have any problems. However, that was not the case. After submitting all the required paperwork, the lawyer would call us up two or three times a week saying that we were missing one document or another. Of course, she had never asked for these documents in the first place.
When we met with the lawyers on one trip to Quito, one actually had the balls to say to me, "Things are not done here like they are in the States. You have to know people." To which I replied, "That's why I'm paying you, to know people." By the way, the company which claims to be a non-profit, is 1700 Migrante. I do not recommend that anyone ever use them.
I couldn't get my the visa last week when Carlos and I went to Quito for the sole purpose of receiving the visa. That was because the guy who had to sign my visa was not in and would not be in for two more days. Apparently, there is one single guy in the whole entire country who could sign my visa. And he doesn't have an underling who can do it for him when he's sick. So we had to return to Quito the following week. Fortunately, Carlos was already going there for a conference and I just tagged along. And we finally got the visa.
At the end of the procedure, the lawyer asked us for more money than we had agreed to pay, saying things like, "Well, for your case we had to do extra work." When I asked for specifics, as in, "How is my case different from the other cases? What exactly did you need to do for me that was atypical?" he would reply by saying, "Well, I was not the one doing the work, but the lawyer assured me that your case was special and he needed to do more than was normally necessary." Again I would say, "Can you give me an example?" to which he would respond, "Well, I don't know exactly, but your case was different." Arrrrgh.
Of course, the system in Ecuador is made so that you need a lawyer or an expediter or someone who knows people in the system to get things done. And everybody takes a few dollars here and there to help you out. There were only two people who were actually helpful. After I got my visa I needed to get a copy of it notarized. The notary was a very kind lady. Even nicer was was the gentleman at the Ministry of Work. I did not need to go to Quito for the whole visa process. However, after receiving the visa it was necessary to get a work ID, thus go to Quito for the sole purpose of having a (digital) photo taken. And this is only possible on Monday, Wednesday, or Friday. The gentleman there was so nice and helpful, Carlos and I had met him the previous week and Carlos explained that my Spanish was not the best and that I would be returning on my own and the guy explained the whole procedure very patiently and when I returned it took less than 10 minutes.
If anyone would like me to explain the process for getting a work visa, I cannot, I have no idea how I actually got the visa.
But I learned my lesson. Just get married. It's cheaper and easier.
Friday, March 06, 2009
Witness
On Tuesday evening Carlos and I went out for drinks in Quito with one of our classmates from IHE. She graduates in a few months and was here doing research, we hadn't seen her since last June. We were in Quito to get my passport, which I didn't get yet, but that's another story (to summarize, the one guy whose signature I needed for the visa to be valid wasn't in that day, maybe sick or something, so sorry, come back next week). So, our friend and her sister dropped us off at our apartment (Carlos's parents have an apartment in Quito, they use it a few times a year but he and his brothers and sisters stay there when they have work). They turned the car around and we waited on the steps to wave goodbye. When they had turned around they rolled down their window and told us that it looked like some guys were stealing a car. We looked over, and yeah, they were right, so we went into our building to tell the guard as our friends drove away.
The guard came outside, stared at the thieves for a minute or so, then told us, no, it doesn't look like a robbery, they probably just lost the keys to their car. So we were chatting on the steps when the car pulled up and stopped in front of us, pulled out a gun, cocked it, aimed it at us, and said the Spanish equivalent of, "You motherfuckers better run before I putta cap in yo ass!" Or something like that. So we ran into the building. We thought we were safe there but one guy followed us so we ran up the stairs and made it safely into the apartment. And they sped off.
No, we didn't call the police. I kept asking to, but Carlos and his brother (who had gotten to the apartment about five minutes before us) said it was useless. The police won't do anything, we didn't see the guys or even the color of the car (it was night, like 8PM, it happened fast). I understand this, but kept on saying that we still should file a report anyway so that the poor guy whose car was stolen would have some idea in the morning why his car was gone and some proof for his insurance. But no, we didn't call. About 5 minutes after the incident Carlos went outside to chat with the guard again and two other guards on the street, who are only armed with sticks and whistles, both of whom saw nothing.
I was scared when it happened, but a few moments later I was sad, I just felt so helpless. I witnessed a crime and did nothing. I couldn't do my moral duty, no one could, the system doesn't allow it. The criminals win (by the way I'm in the middle of reading Atlas Shrugged).
So that's the story. Not quite as bad as the attempted kidnapping in India, but close.
The guard came outside, stared at the thieves for a minute or so, then told us, no, it doesn't look like a robbery, they probably just lost the keys to their car. So we were chatting on the steps when the car pulled up and stopped in front of us, pulled out a gun, cocked it, aimed it at us, and said the Spanish equivalent of, "You motherfuckers better run before I putta cap in yo ass!" Or something like that. So we ran into the building. We thought we were safe there but one guy followed us so we ran up the stairs and made it safely into the apartment. And they sped off.
No, we didn't call the police. I kept asking to, but Carlos and his brother (who had gotten to the apartment about five minutes before us) said it was useless. The police won't do anything, we didn't see the guys or even the color of the car (it was night, like 8PM, it happened fast). I understand this, but kept on saying that we still should file a report anyway so that the poor guy whose car was stolen would have some idea in the morning why his car was gone and some proof for his insurance. But no, we didn't call. About 5 minutes after the incident Carlos went outside to chat with the guard again and two other guards on the street, who are only armed with sticks and whistles, both of whom saw nothing.
I was scared when it happened, but a few moments later I was sad, I just felt so helpless. I witnessed a crime and did nothing. I couldn't do my moral duty, no one could, the system doesn't allow it. The criminals win (by the way I'm in the middle of reading Atlas Shrugged).
So that's the story. Not quite as bad as the attempted kidnapping in India, but close.
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