El Partido Loco

Soccer. 


My brother and sister both play, and have for years. I have sat through my share of sunburn, wind, and soccer moms, and I have gone to very few of their games, in reality. Soccer is just inefficient, from my perspective. Sure feet are great for kicking a ball down a field, but let’s be honest, maybe the reason they NEVER score is because they just need to pick the ball up already and use a part of the body designed for greater accuracy.

All misunderstanding of soccer aside, when I heard we were getting tickets to watch a game here, I was PUMPED, which is arguably my natural state of being. The Barcelona v. Emelec game started at 8:00, so naturally we left the hotel at 5:00.

In the 2.5 hours before the game started, I learned a lot about it takes to be a futbol fan. Here are some friendly tips from my experience tonight:

1.     Inflatable noise makers are your friend.

2.     Newspaper confetti is invaluable, and is for everyone.

3.     Out of all 20,000+ people, don’t sit behind the guys with the banner.

4.     Don’t buy the water or expect toilet paper.

5.     There is a hymn book full of songs about Emelec. Have them all memorized and ready to go.

6.     Loud is good.

Lastly, if there is a chance of not winning, celebrate as if victory was achieved BEFORE the game starts. This is crucial. Confetti, balloons, receipt tape, yelling: bring it all. Hey, if the players slip on the confetti all over the field, it’s just added entertainment, right? From this little fiesta, we watched the beginning of the game through a net of balloons, newspaper, and people standing where they easily could have sat.

I watched half of the first half of the game. “The first or second?” you may ask. “No,” I say unto you. “The left half.” Those people just WOULD NOT sit down. The second half, I stood until we left ten minutes before the game ended.

Barcelona won, 1-0, but the way I see it is that it’s OK, because we already partied like it was the end of the world. And, for your own good, if you know an Emelec fan, don’t tell them it’s not.

Much love and weariness,

Jenna B.

El Museo de Eternidad

It is day one here in Guayaquil.

We slept in a little bit, ate breakfast (not without much confusion), and set off to explore the city. Our first stop was Iguana Park. There were scores of those little guys running around. To be honest, none of them were actually running. Most of them were perched in trees, chilling on the ground, and just weren't moving at all. The rest of them were eating lettuce rudely, mouths open and everything.

After we snapped an obscene amount of photographs of iguanas eating,  iguanas sitting, and us with the iguanas, we walked to a museum.

AWESOME! I thought, I LOVE MUSEUMS! We got a tour guide and entered the first room. AWESOME! I thought, I LOVE TOUR GUIDES! Many people speak of their "inner nerds" coming out. I do not relate. All of my nerd is outer.

It rapidly became evident that this tour guide knew not only English, but also everything there was to know about everything in the museum. You know how museums have plaques and explanations on all the exhibits and you never even dream of reading all of them? I think reading all of them could have saved us time.

I made it my personal goal to make this nice lady smile, and thus began smiling at her the whole time in the least creepy way possible. However, as our time in the museum passed (and passed and passed and passed), I began to think that maybe she had good reason to look so serious all of the time. Human sacrifice, invasions, live burials, and city wide fires are not pleasant topics to dwell on, and dwell on them she did, and did well. So I let her be.

Eventually, Chris, on of our team leaders, gently told our guide that we only had about ten more minutes. Thank goodness for that, because if he didn't, we would still be there.

Moral of the story: I now know EVERYTHING that has EVER happened in Guayaquil. So ask me. I'll Google it and get back to you.

Bucket List Item #47

Here I am. In Ecuador. It is simply unreal.

Today's travels went swimmingly (figuratively, not literally). God was so good in working out each and every detail. We only lost one team member (and it's no biggie, as this was the least favorite team member of the rest of us)! Fine you caught me; I jest. We are all here and all of our luggage is, too!

I would like to give you all a little snapshot of what today in my life looked like.

On both plane rides, I sat between CJ and Jeremy, two of the 3 guy students on the trip, because I am a straight up player like that. You can all just stop your hatin before you start; this is just the way it is. Or, possibly, because seats were random. You get to choose what you believe. It's a free country.

On the second plane ride, my sweet new friend Ann said, "Hey, look at that guy behind you! He is dancing!"
With zero to negative quantities of subtlety, all three of us turned around to look at a little kid a few rows back, listening to music, and possibly slightly intimidated by the suddenness of three giant white kids smiling at him.

We decided to join the dance party, as did the lad's mother. All participated exuberantly, flailing our arms in passionate accord with the Adele that was playing over the plane radio that MAYBE two of us were listening to. Honestly, when seated on an airplane, the passionate flailing of arms is about the only way to go.

Things began to get a little loud after a few songs, and we decided to make an exit, all ducking under the shelter of our seats and fist pumping for the child and his mother, a quiet goodbye to a memory that probably annoyed everyone except us.

Happy, clean, and blessed,

Jenna B.

from "Chicago"

Well, after months of anticipation, dozens of letters, countless prayers, and my typical persistent excitement, we leave for Ecuador tomorrow. TOMORROW, PEOPLE.

As my dear Lauren pointed out after I blogged about our visit to her hometown, I "didn't even blog about the zoo. And that's all you talked about the WHOLE TIME." I pointed out that I also spent three days in NYC and blogged about taxis. For those of you who are big picture people, I will try to describe main events, though overseen minutia are my favorite things to write about.

For a balanced approach at project stalking, check out my teammate Jeremy's blog at http://jeremyinecuador.blogspot.com/. Sorry to throw all that pressure on you without warning, bro. Also, check out Megan's pictures for the trip at http://megwalters21.tumblr.com/ and Helen's brand new blog at http://foreversongbird21.posterous.com/.

Anyways, here we are, our whole massive team of 14 (11 students, 3 leaders). They tell us we're in Chicago. I'm not sure I believe them. My parents drove me here, and I was cramming the required reading for the trip towards the end of the ride. They have not let us out of the hotel since my arrival. So, I really am technically unsure of my whereabouts.

Our team is FANfreakingTASTIC (brought to you by today's rhetorical device, tmesis). I have laughed more in the last 24 hours than probably the last year. If a game of charades takes "koala bear" to "velociraptor," you know you are in for the trip of your life (I say with fingers crossed).

Tomorrow, we are done with briefing, leave "Chicago," and are Ecuador bound! Please keep us in your thoughts and prayers. We desire unity, safety, fluidity of travel, but all to the end of glorifying our beautiful Savior, Jesus Christ.

"That every student in Guayaquil may know someone who truly follows Jesus." And you know, a couple people on the plane would be nice, too.

14 people.
5 weeks.
1 GIANT God.

Endless possibilities.

With excitement and praises,
Jenna B.

Wells County

We all have that friend with two middle names.

At first, you think, wow, this individual has some great characteristics. I will look into friendship with him or her.  Only after you are sucked within the depths of friendship, you find out that she has two middle names (one of them being Couch). Then, all of a sudden, undoubtedly due to how many names she has, she feels entitled to a blog post entirely dedicated to your visit to her home county.

So here it is.

Several weeks ago, I visited Wells County. This is significant. I would even say monumental. When I learned to drive, I was TERRIFIED. My father would beg me to go the speed limit. Generally, I preferred to stay under, at, say, 10 mph. Yes, 10 was nice. I also would not drive on highways for probably 2 solid years unless there was a life or death situation.

I have since overcome my irrational fear of driving. Mostly. However, this drive was my longest. Until this hour and a half drive, the longest I had driven was an hour, and that was only because I got lost, to be brutally honest. Shout out to Becca for being a passenger. I know that an hour and a half of a situation in tight, closed quarters with me, and especially with me having any kind of control, is probably a situation meriting a few jewels in your heavenly crown.

With shouts of glee, we passed a small sign subtly welcoming us to Well County. Then we passed not much for quite a while.  Eventually, we made it past all of the not much and all the way to the muchness who is Lauren Klansek. We walked and sang along the Wabash, and I have never felt more a Hoosier. We went to Walmart and ate ice cream and played ping-pong. You know, the crazy summers that college kids dream about.

At night, things got crazier as we embarked on the adventure known as "the campfire cone." After Becca and I literally pranced around the backyard pond of deceiving magnitude, it drew close to bonfire time. It was difficult to tell just how close, exactly, as Lauren had advertised the beginning time as "when the sun goes down." As Mike so keenly observed, "What is this? The Wild West?" And for that night, for that moment, yes. Yes it was.

So this campfire cone. Lauren doesn't like s'mores. I've also heard rumors that she isn't a real American. Oh wait, no. That was just me, responding to Lauren's distaste for s'mores. Therefore, when the campfire cone idea came up on good old Pinterest, Lauren decided that this was to be the snack.

Allow me to explain the general concept:

1. Take you a nice waffle type cone.
2. Fill you that cone nice and full with berries, marshmallers, chocolate and peanut butter chips, and candy.
3. Wrap that cone nice and snug in aluminum foil.
4. CAUTION, ALERT, ATTENTION, WATCH YOSELF: THIS IS THE TRICKY PART. Place your wad of foil, cone, and sugar somewhere between next to and inside of the fire and leave it in there until everything melts and nothing burns.
5. Eat you that cone. 

Step four was that killer step. That step that is out of place and steeper than all of the other, more reasonable steps on the Staircase of Snacktime. I do not think any of us mastered step four.

But that's ok, because 6 showers later, my hair still smelled like bonfire.

And it's also ok, because it can go down in the books as yet another of our food related failures, since the zucchini chips, honey roasted chickpeas, and recipe-less "cookies" were getting lonely in that category. 

In other news, I've decided to close my blog posts like letters, because that is how I think.

Finally finishing this, for Lauren, for Becca, for friendship, and for Narnia,

Jenna B.

New York City and the People who Drive There

New York City. Two related lists:

                Things we experienced:

·         American Natural Museum of History

·         Central Park

·         The Metropolitan Museum of Art

·         Grand Central Station

·         Wicked on Broadway

·         The Top of the Rock

·         Wall Street

·         The Statue of Liberty

·         The 9/11 Memorial

·         A four story Forever 21

·         Greenwich Village

·         Coney Island

·         The Empire State Building

·         The best cheesecake of my life at Carnegie Deli

Things I have chosen to write about right now:

·         Taxis

I have been blessed to do a good bit of traveling. In these travels, I have concluded that my home town of Fishers, Indiana has to be among the safest places to drive in the world. This is very, very good. Were it not, I likely never would have learned to drive at all. New York City is definitely up there right along with some the more terrifying countries by way of driving.

Our first night of NYC, we saw Wicked on Broadway. With how much I absolutely loved it, I am thinking I am probably safe to highlight “Do something undeniably MAINSTREAM” off my bucket list. Afterwards, we hailed a taxi to get back to the RV park. Yes, friends, if you haven’t heard, it does appear that we RVed to New York City. The irony is beautiful.

Anyways, you are getting me sidetracked. I had the second most terrifying taxi experience of my life.

The MOST terrifying taxi experience occurred the summer of 2007, when I was 14 years of age. I don’t remember everything about that, but allow me to recount what I do: address of people we don’t know, Indonesia, back roads, Asian driving, dark, language barrier. Luckily, I felt totally safe with my Dad who speaks Indonesian and would protect me with his life.

Taxis in New York are almost on that level. On the way back from Wicked, we took a taxi. Here were our options: spend over an hour taking the subway back or risk our lives. Obviously we chose to risk our lives. I have put it on my Bucket List (my actual life-long bucket list) to never, ever drive in New York City. Ever. Not even once. Not even for a moment. Not even in a dream. Never. People don’t even use turn signals and I believe in turn signals like I believe in good grammar.

Important detail: I have been in dire need of a restroom since half time of the show. (Sorry, “half time” makes it sound more dramatic to me, like it could go either way, which was the situation.) Now, this driver is swerving to hit every single bump, trying with all of his might to jiggle the urine out of me. These actions went unappreciated by me.

Between the absence of signaling turns, the jiggling of the bladder, and the lack of apparent lane barriers/changing etiquette, the ride was just ridiculous to me.

Fast forward to the next day. Caitlin and I checked out the giant H&M. We bought nothing. You know how men get their figurative “man cards” get figuratively taken away when they do things in direct contradiction to manliness? Well, not buying anything at that H&M was almost worthy of revoking our figurative woman cards.

We walk across the street and sit down at a park. As we try to determine what to do next, a great commotion erupted about 15 feet from us. We looked up and saw a taxi BACKING UP across the street PERPENDICULAR to the flow of traffic with a man dragging his legs out of the passenger side. This was more than a case of crazy New York City driving.

The taxi continues into reverse, hitting a trash can and backing into the stairs right in front of us. The man stands up and starts walking. Police arrive promptly on the scene. The man, who was apparently not a passenger at all, but rather the DRIVER sitting deceivingly on the opposite side of the car, got in the car and drove away. When we left, we saw him pulled over about a block away.

Morals of that story:

1.       God spared us from seeing a potentially scarring event.

2.       Don’t be a drunk driver-turned-passenger.

3.       I am surprised, pleasantly, that not everyone in New York City is dead due to the people who drive there.

Willn't

I like grammar as much as the next future educator. However, on occasion, I choose to reject the rules of the English language. For example, I think that "funnest" is a perfectly acceptable way to express the superlative form of fun. By all rules of phonics, it makes sense. I will not go deeper into that particular arguement, except by personal request.
Sometimes, I even pronounce silent letters that I feel are undervalued.
One word I simply do not understand is the contraction "won't." Contractions are already hard enough to understand (as made evident by the Great Your v. You're Confusion). There is simply no logical way to put will and not together and to get won't on the flipside of the equation. But English speakers, we don't care. We just put an apostrophe where the o of not is missing and go on with life, as if that was the most perplexing part of the word.
It is not.
Will to wo is perplexing. I would even say unsettling.
Henceforth I resolve to use the word willn't (except when I forget, which will probably be the majority of the time). And fret not, my pretties, in the future, I will try to keep the grammar posts to a minimum.