When you chop off the end of the Baby Bok Choy, you get a lovely rose!
Tuesday, September 9
Comfort Curry Soup
This soup/stew was invented on a rainy day with treats from the farmers' market and Dottie's Discount Goods.
4 medium white russet potatoes (cubed)
water
2 TBS olive oil
1 small white onion (chopped)
1.5 - 2 TBS curry powder
1/2 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp coriander
1 squirt Bragg's Liquid Aminos
1/2 tsp or more cayenne powder
3 bay leaves
3 carrots (chopped)
3 large plain white mushrooms (chopped)
1 can of peas
1/3 or 1/2 can coconut milk
1. Bring 4 cups of water to a boil in a sauce pan. Cook potatoes until you can stick a fork in them. Drain and set aside.
2. Over medium heat in large sauce pan, sauté onion in olive oil until softened.
3. Add 3/4 cup of water to onion/olive oil & mix well.
4. Add curry, cumin, coriander, Bragg's Liquid Aminos, cayenne powder, bay leaves and mix well.
5. Add carrots onion/spice mix and cook until softened.
6. Add mushrooms and potatoes (from step 1) to sauce pan. Mix well.
7. Fold in can of peas.
8. Add coconut milk, mix well and simmer for a few more minutes.
Enjoy!
Notes:
*Periodically sample a bit to see if the seasoning is pleasant. Adjust spices to your taste if necessary.
*The soup is versatile; experiment different veggies as they become more available (such as autumn squash). Mix in a cup or two of beans or tofu if desired to provide more protein.
Bonus points if you use locally produced and or organic ingredents (carrots, onion, potatoes come to mind). Good luck finding locally produced coconut milk.
4 medium white russet potatoes (cubed)
water
2 TBS olive oil
1 small white onion (chopped)
1.5 - 2 TBS curry powder
1/2 tsp cumin
1/2 tsp coriander
1 squirt Bragg's Liquid Aminos
1/2 tsp or more cayenne powder
3 bay leaves
3 carrots (chopped)
3 large plain white mushrooms (chopped)
1 can of peas
1/3 or 1/2 can coconut milk
1. Bring 4 cups of water to a boil in a sauce pan. Cook potatoes until you can stick a fork in them. Drain and set aside.
2. Over medium heat in large sauce pan, sauté onion in olive oil until softened.
3. Add 3/4 cup of water to onion/olive oil & mix well.
4. Add curry, cumin, coriander, Bragg's Liquid Aminos, cayenne powder, bay leaves and mix well.
5. Add carrots onion/spice mix and cook until softened.
6. Add mushrooms and potatoes (from step 1) to sauce pan. Mix well.
7. Fold in can of peas.
8. Add coconut milk, mix well and simmer for a few more minutes.
Enjoy!
Notes:
*Periodically sample a bit to see if the seasoning is pleasant. Adjust spices to your taste if necessary.
*The soup is versatile; experiment different veggies as they become more available (such as autumn squash). Mix in a cup or two of beans or tofu if desired to provide more protein.
Bonus points if you use locally produced and or organic ingredents (carrots, onion, potatoes come to mind). Good luck finding locally produced coconut milk.
Re-assessing the blog
So for the past 8 months my blogging activities have been sub-par. I think that I can fault facebook's convenient photo-sharing options for that, since I started this blog to avoid having to send photos via email and clogging inboxes.
Does anyone actually read this, anyway?
Should I:
a. continue posting boring daily updates,
b. start a vegan recipe blog,
c. jump off the blog-wagon, or
d. both a & c?
Does anyone actually read this, anyway?
Should I:
a. continue posting boring daily updates,
b. start a vegan recipe blog,
c. jump off the blog-wagon, or
d. both a & c?
Friday, January 18
In Retrospect: A Shoe Box's Guide to Culture Shock
Before leaving for Ecuador, I was throughly excited to develop my noveau-latina persona. Living in Vermont changed my wardrobe: I bought my first hiking boots, fleece and hemp pants that year, stopped shaving my legs and started wearing "all-natural" deodorant. I was so excited to move to a place where high heels and pantyhose were the norm; I even "google-image-searched" photos of Quito to see which of my clothes I should pack to fit in. You can imagine how thrilled I was to stumble upon a pair of Vera Wang brown leather high heels at the second-hand store in Brattleboro. I snatched them up for $20, and that night was so excited to wear them out to dinner at the Common Ground restaurant. During the 10 minute walk to dinner, I obtained 25 (yes, I counted!) blisters on my poor "rather-be-in-wool-socks-and-boots" feet.
Despite that painful event, I didn't get discouraged. I was still psyched for high heels in Ecuador. When I packed way back in July, I brought 7 pairs of shoes with me, some high-heeled, some a more modest flat. During my first few days here, I somehow survived by dodging rabid dogs and manholes in high heels. I went through a whole package of mole skin and band aids. I didn't care; I wanted to hear the tick-tock and feel like I was standing up straighter. I was certainly in the first phase of culture shock, characterized by blind acceptance, excitement and fascination with the new culture.
This soon changed when something clicked inside of me, or maybe I just tripped and fell on my face too many times. I wanted to reject that which I had previously accepted accepted so enthusiastically. I am not a high-heel wearer. The blisters, the sore ankles, the inability to walk fast... it was time for me to adapt more sensible shoes. I pulled my hiking boots from the depths of my closet, and donned them with big, clunky LL Bean pride. Oh, the looks I got: dressed up in ironed slacks and a blouse...and hiking boots. I was in the second stage of culture shock.
Finally, when I went home for Thanksgiving in November, I decided that I should dig my Canadian dressy-yet warm-yet comfortable-boots out of the attic, and exchanged them for a few pairs of uncomfortable high heels. Since returning to Ecuador in November, I have worn these black suede waterproof boots in the rain and in the sun. I've even gotten a complement on them from an Ecuadorian woman. Both functional and stylish, perhaps I have entered into the third stage of culture shock: adjustment. I am more comfortable in dealing with cross-cultural challenges. And my feet are not covered in blisters. :)
Despite that painful event, I didn't get discouraged. I was still psyched for high heels in Ecuador. When I packed way back in July, I brought 7 pairs of shoes with me, some high-heeled, some a more modest flat. During my first few days here, I somehow survived by dodging rabid dogs and manholes in high heels. I went through a whole package of mole skin and band aids. I didn't care; I wanted to hear the tick-tock and feel like I was standing up straighter. I was certainly in the first phase of culture shock, characterized by blind acceptance, excitement and fascination with the new culture.
This soon changed when something clicked inside of me, or maybe I just tripped and fell on my face too many times. I wanted to reject that which I had previously accepted accepted so enthusiastically. I am not a high-heel wearer. The blisters, the sore ankles, the inability to walk fast... it was time for me to adapt more sensible shoes. I pulled my hiking boots from the depths of my closet, and donned them with big, clunky LL Bean pride. Oh, the looks I got: dressed up in ironed slacks and a blouse...and hiking boots. I was in the second stage of culture shock.
Finally, when I went home for Thanksgiving in November, I decided that I should dig my Canadian dressy-yet warm-yet comfortable-boots out of the attic, and exchanged them for a few pairs of uncomfortable high heels. Since returning to Ecuador in November, I have worn these black suede waterproof boots in the rain and in the sun. I've even gotten a complement on them from an Ecuadorian woman. Both functional and stylish, perhaps I have entered into the third stage of culture shock: adjustment. I am more comfortable in dealing with cross-cultural challenges. And my feet are not covered in blisters. :)
Friday, December 14
Pesadilla
So I remember having a dream/nightmare last night, in which I was sharing a cab with some friends on a Sunday to get to the airport. I was trying to catch a flight to get home for Christmas, and it was snowing in Quito and the cab driver was actually driving slowly (this never happens) and I realized that I didn't apply for my "Permission to Leave" document so I would forever loose my flight and I'd be stuck in Quito... forever...
This was my own personal nightmare.
Luckily it was just a dream and Quito isn't that bad, anyway, right?
This was my own personal nightmare.
Luckily it was just a dream and Quito isn't that bad, anyway, right?
Sunday, December 2
Migration woes
Greetings from Quito! I write after a hiatus of a few weeks so that I could visit the states and relax before beginning part 2 of the practicum. The vacation itself was great, but traveling was a bit hairy. This was mostly due to my own stupidity.
I have a volunteer visa so that I would be able to stay legally in Ecuador for more than 6 months, with out having to worry about if a visitor/tourist visa extension would be approved. I assumed that because I was a gringa, that I would have to follow the norms and rules that most other gringos follow: enter the country and leave whenever you desire, withing a given amount of time. Unfortunately, since I had a proper visa, I had to follow a more complicated set of rules and norms that residents and citizens have to abide by: asking for permission to leave before leaving the country.
So when I applied for my visa in DC, I was given a paper (that of course I did not read) that said "Visit the migration office for foreigners within 30 days of entering Ecuador". Of course I didn't do that, because I thought that it wasn't obligatory/necessary/something that I could be fined 200 dollars if I didn't complete it. Anyway, a few weeks before my trip, I realized that I needed to get an identity document, called a "Censo". So in trying to cut through the red tape and get my Censo, I had to register my visa with another office, because I got it outside of Ecuador. This entailed 3 whole days of running around to different government offices, crying in said offices, paying fines various banks, and making sculptures out of red tape.
I finally got my Censo (214 dollars, 4 passport pictures, 10 taxi rides, 1 manila envelope, 2 letters from landlord & boss, and 3 copies of my passport later), the day before my flight. I packed my bag chock full of South American goodies for family and friends, and went to the airport early Saturday morning. I checked in with the airline, paid my departure tax, and approached Migration. The woman in the UPS-like uniform asked me for my boarding pass, passport and "Permission to Leave" document. I started crying when she told me that I was not allowed to leave Ecuador without having permission to leave. She advised that I go back downstairs to the check-in counter, switch my flight to later that day, and go BACK to the migration office so that I could get this "Permission to Leave" document.
I took yet another taxi to yet another migration office at 6:30 in the morning (since being at the airport at 4:00 AM). I waited with a couple from Colombia for the office to open, and finally got my "Permission to leave" document. Took it back to the airport, and hoped on my flight to Miami and finally Newark to see Steve's smiling face. I was never so happy to be in New Jersey.
Although I've learned academically that you can not apply my ethno-centric norms and expectations to every other cultural context, this was an eye-opening experience that re-confirmed this point. I assumed that all people had the ability to leave their own country without permission from the government, and that since I was a foreigner I would not need to heed the same set of rules. But, since I have the privilege of staying in Ecuador for more than 6 months as a volunteer, I have to adapt my expectations and behaviors to fit the context.
The other ironic point in all of this is that I got caught up in immigration problems, despite the fact that I spent two years working with immigrants and refugees in the US. One would think that I would have learned something about following the rules with respect to immigration when abroad. Some lessons are learned the hard way, I suppose.
I have a volunteer visa so that I would be able to stay legally in Ecuador for more than 6 months, with out having to worry about if a visitor/tourist visa extension would be approved. I assumed that because I was a gringa, that I would have to follow the norms and rules that most other gringos follow: enter the country and leave whenever you desire, withing a given amount of time. Unfortunately, since I had a proper visa, I had to follow a more complicated set of rules and norms that residents and citizens have to abide by: asking for permission to leave before leaving the country.
So when I applied for my visa in DC, I was given a paper (that of course I did not read) that said "Visit the migration office for foreigners within 30 days of entering Ecuador". Of course I didn't do that, because I thought that it wasn't obligatory/necessary/something that I could be fined 200 dollars if I didn't complete it. Anyway, a few weeks before my trip, I realized that I needed to get an identity document, called a "Censo". So in trying to cut through the red tape and get my Censo, I had to register my visa with another office, because I got it outside of Ecuador. This entailed 3 whole days of running around to different government offices, crying in said offices, paying fines various banks, and making sculptures out of red tape.
I finally got my Censo (214 dollars, 4 passport pictures, 10 taxi rides, 1 manila envelope, 2 letters from landlord & boss, and 3 copies of my passport later), the day before my flight. I packed my bag chock full of South American goodies for family and friends, and went to the airport early Saturday morning. I checked in with the airline, paid my departure tax, and approached Migration. The woman in the UPS-like uniform asked me for my boarding pass, passport and "Permission to Leave" document. I started crying when she told me that I was not allowed to leave Ecuador without having permission to leave. She advised that I go back downstairs to the check-in counter, switch my flight to later that day, and go BACK to the migration office so that I could get this "Permission to Leave" document.
I took yet another taxi to yet another migration office at 6:30 in the morning (since being at the airport at 4:00 AM). I waited with a couple from Colombia for the office to open, and finally got my "Permission to leave" document. Took it back to the airport, and hoped on my flight to Miami and finally Newark to see Steve's smiling face. I was never so happy to be in New Jersey.
Although I've learned academically that you can not apply my ethno-centric norms and expectations to every other cultural context, this was an eye-opening experience that re-confirmed this point. I assumed that all people had the ability to leave their own country without permission from the government, and that since I was a foreigner I would not need to heed the same set of rules. But, since I have the privilege of staying in Ecuador for more than 6 months as a volunteer, I have to adapt my expectations and behaviors to fit the context.
The other ironic point in all of this is that I got caught up in immigration problems, despite the fact that I spent two years working with immigrants and refugees in the US. One would think that I would have learned something about following the rules with respect to immigration when abroad. Some lessons are learned the hard way, I suppose.
Tuesday, November 6
Eek! Its November!
Greetings..
I hope that you enjoy the following blogs that I posted today from the past few weeks. As you can see, its been pretty busy. The first two weeks of November are packed with work-related activities, and I'll be in the states for 10 days for Thanksgiving.
Looking forward to it!
I hope that you enjoy the following blogs that I posted today from the past few weeks. As you can see, its been pretty busy. The first two weeks of November are packed with work-related activities, and I'll be in the states for 10 days for Thanksgiving.
Looking forward to it!
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