A Day in the Life: Muisne

Muisne, Ecuador

I wake up, untangle myself from my mosquito net and take a shower, thanking the powers that be I have one. Other interns in FUNDECOL, an organization to save the mangroves along the coast of Northwestern Ecuador, don't have running water. They have to take bucket showers with dubious water. The house is nice for Muisne, the island I'm working on. My only complaint is that the ceiling doesn't reach the ceiling. This coupled with the fact that bathroom is neatly sandwiched between my host parents room and the room that my teenaged sister and brother share is disconcerting in a region where dengue fever, malaria and typhoid are only a few of the plethora of explosive diseases, parasites or amoebas that are not only possible to catch, but are probable. I slather myself in DEET, though I can't help but think that by putting poison on my skin I'm sacrificing the long term health of my skin for the short term health of my sanity. Though there are those explosive diseases to think about after all.

I walk off to FUNDECOL where I am working to develop, organize and promote there ecotourism program. By lunchtime it's sweltering. Sweating is a way of life in Muisne, so during my two and a half hour lunch break I grab a quick bite and head off to the beach five minutes away. I walk down the middle of the road without fear. There are no cars here. A garbage truck, an ambulance and the occasional banana truck are the only air polluters in Muisne. However, what they lack in air pollution, the locals enthusiastically make up for in land pollution. There is garbage everywhere. It kills me. I'm thinking about organizing some sort of contest with the high school to clean the island up, but unfortunately I doubt that I'll have the time. Organizing anything in Ecuador can be an exhausting task. The beach is clean. The few hotels on the island keep it that way, and it's beautiful. Miles of unbroken white sand slide under the cool blue rolling waves. It more than makes up for the humidity. I can stand almost any kind of heat as long as I can float in a soothing sea once in a while. I watch the little kids boogie boarding, their ridiculously good. Younger ones skim on pieces of discarded plywood on the farthest fingers of the reaching ocean. These kids don't ever seem to go to school. I try to feel sorry for them, but as I watch them catching their waves, their boards tied to their brown ankles, their faces frozen in eternal ecstasy it's kind of hard. Finally it's time to go back to work. I walk back down the road. One of the little tricycles that are kind of like rickshaws and transport people back and forth on the island for fifty cents rides by and asks me if I need a ride. For the millionth time I say no, I can walk.

After work I take a nap in my pale cocoon. I eat dinner and walk into town. Though it's a Wednesday night, there are lots of people about. As I walk everyone smiles and says hello. That is why I picked Muisne as the place where I wanted to do my internship. Everyone is really open and friendly. People are friendly all over Ecuador, but in most places they are much more reserved. I find a group of my friends in the plaza. They are hanging out and are, as always, playing a guitar, singing, and drinking a cocktail made out of sugar cane liquor and coconut juice. Since the coconut juice comes from coconuts that they cut themselves and the liquor is like a 75 cents a bottle, it's a cheap way to get drunk. As this is pretty much all they do, they are really good at it. There is one sweaty crowded disco, but it's only open on Saturday nights. After the evening of cantar, cocktails and conversation, I head on home and carefully situate my soft, suspended net of discomfort. Of course as soon as I get it situated, all tucked in with the fan on the inside, nature calls or at least the coconut juice. But I'm bound and determined to learn how to sleep in one of these things. I've got a month left to figure it out. All right kids, that about does it for now. I'll be home July 1st. Enjoy yourselves. Moe