Camping Gear

As part of our mission trip, we basically have to bring all the gear we need for sleeping/bathing/primping for the week. And while camping outside is not my thing, outdoor camping is actually MUCH MORE accommodating than camping on the concrete-a-thon that is San Eduardo.  After going to Ecuador last time, I decided I needed to upgrade my air mattress.  See….I thought we were supposed to be all economical with what we packed….and my compact little air mattress reflected my good citizenship.  Then on the last trip, I arrived in San Eduardo to 25 missionaries pulling out the air mattress they use when their brother-in-law comes to town.  My REI “starter kit” had me prepared to sleep on the side of a mountaintop that has been untouched by civilization.  Meanwhile, my roommate was prepping her Westin-worthy Heavenly mattress.  I decided this year I should upgrade my mattress in the hopes of actually sleeping during the trip. 

Unfortunately, I am not exactly a well-informed shopper when it comes to camping gear.  I really should do more than ask the REI salesperson – which one of these do you recommend?  Because the REI salesperson is thinking millennial minimalist while I am thinking middle-class American spare bedroom.  So instead of a mattress upgrade from the last trip, I inexplicably managed to spend $150 while ending up with a worse air mattress. (I am well on my way to an entire garage sale’s worth of useless, but expensive, camping gear.) 

Just to provide context… my roommate’s air mattress looked like this>>

While my air mattress looked like this>>

Have I mentioned the Ecuadorians’ love of concrete?   I don’t know about you, but my joints need more than 3” of separation from the hardest surface known to man.  My mattress should have come with a coupon for a hip replacement.  

The mattress ALSO should have come with a better description of its operation.  Or maybe I should have just read the label.  Here are words you do not want to see upon arrival at your 1,000 degrees celsius new home:  “built-in hand pump”. Ummmmm....I beg your pardon?  I don’t know how well you know your camping gear – but while this mattress is the perfect post-apocalypse accessory, there is NO good reason to forego an electrical pump when my tent literally sits next to an electrical outlet!!

   

So let me tell you how this works….the “built-in” pump is actually this weird air-trapping mechanism built into the “pillow”.  And as the name suggests, you inflate this bastard by closing the sealant cap; pumping down on the pillow; unsealing the sealant cap; releasing the pump (thereby sucking air into the pillow-pump); then sealing it again and pumping.  I know I didn’t describe it properly because it is actually a non-sensical series of actions that is supposed to eventually end up as an air mattress.  All I know is that pumping up my little sliver of an air mattress required repeating that ridiculously complicated action about 600 times.   I looked like I had arrived in Ecuador and decided to suddenly get my CPR certification.  I am sure the entire pillow was completely soaked with the last vestiges of hydration I would see for a week.   

The good news is once fully inflated, if you laid on it exactly right with your weight evenly distributed, your body was, in fact, suspended in a mattress-like balance.  The bad news is whenever I would roll over (which, by the way, happens WAY more often than you would expect when sleeping in a jungle), the equilibrium is disturbed, and a surprising number of body parts are all battling Ecuadorian cement.  

Honestly, everything about that particular purchase was like stupid in a bag.  Screw economical packing.  Next year I am bringing our queen-sized air mattress and 1500 thread count Egyptian sheets. 

7 Spa Day

Now let's tell the story of how I came to massage women's feet in an Ecuadorian village. (Spoiler alert: this is not a metaphor.) 

This group of amazing church people conduct a spa day for the women who have spent the week cooking for us. They set up four chairs in one of the tiny classrooms, pulled out a bunch of donated candles, oils and lotions and invited in the lovely mujeras>

In each of the four side-by-side stations, one churcher rubs shoulders, head and face, while another rubs hands......and feet. Let's be clear, foot rubbing?  This is traditionally where I write the HELL out of a donation check. Like....seriously.  

But you just don't tell the reverend Becca Stevens "no".  I think I agreed to write a check AND take the first shift for shoulder/face/head rub.  Nothing like a 5'12" gringo trying to rub the shoulders of a 4'12" seated mujera. Imagine any of the cranes looming over downtown Nashville and you get a visual. The finishing "treatment" was the application of specially purchased chapstick on each client. I'm pretty sure my client doesn't have to worry about her chin cracking any time soon. 

For the second session of our treatments, another churcher showed up and with the extra person, we decided we should have an attendant to pass around the oil and lotion and crap to the other women doing the work.  

And I. Was. All. Over. That. Shit. 

Well unfortunately.....one churcher who had previously been stationed at a foot post did NOT understand the new, brilliant assignments because she jumped into a chair to take advantage of the spa treatment she was being offered, thereby vacating her post.

So this is where we pause to imagine McC's face when she realizes she's in a perverse game of musical chairs, the Enya music has started and there's an EMPTY chair (or kneeling pad, as it were) at the feet of one of our clients. No, really...imagine my face.  

To say I was unprepared (and I mean unprepared all the way down to my bones) for this new assignment seems a titch obvious. I believe there is an appropriate amount of oil to use for a foot rub and "all you can hold in your hands" is apparently not that amount.  My poor client looked like she was headed to the deep fryer.

All I kept thinking was - surely these women haven't had many spa treatments and won't know how terrible my service is.  However, let me just say.....if you ever find yourself feeling a little long on confidence, might I suggest you try kneeling in an Ecuadorian village to give a total stranger a foot rub, only to get CORRECTED for your technique by a fellow churcher.  Seriously?  Although realistically, it's probably only the complete encasement of her feet in oil that kept my client from running away. 

Five minutes per foot and then the same per hand. Sounds pretty quick doesn't it?  Well there is slow-workday-time, there is prison-time and then there is maeve's-giving-a-foot-rub time. Do you know how many times you can play "this little piggy" in five minutes?  82 times. 80 if you go slow.

The main life lesson from this experience is that I do not tip enough for my pedicures. 

Well....I took this trip to get out of my comfort zone.  So check, check, check and CHECK.  All done being out of my comfort zone now - time to go find the wifi password. 

6 Missionary Couture

I didn't know my travelmates before I took this trip. So the first time many of them saw me for any length of time was in a village on the equator.  I can't decide if a tropical jungle look is the best baseline/frame of reference. On one hand - these people will ALWAYS be pleasantly surprised in future meetings when I don't smell like BO (I mean that's the plan, anyway).  On the other hand, I not sure these folks appreciate that in civilian life, I’m not actually a janitor. 

One issue with my San Eduardo wardrobe was that it was a little.....repetitive.  See....when I hear 92 degrees with 100% humidity.....I think shorts - NOT how can I make my knees sweat even more by wearing pants.  But it turns out women don't really wear shorts in the village. Considered inappropriate. G-reat. I am horribly mispacked with shorts and not pants.  Right outta the gate on this mission trip and I already need a loves-and-britches miracle. Which makes me really, really, really wish I hadn't removed those extra pair of Kuhl pants that Rita had packed so I could make room for my spandex shorts. 

So that left me with 1 pair of jeans, 1 pair of legit camping pants and one pair of pants that you could unzip the legs off to make.....shorts. They were seriously unattractive. The only reason I brought them was 1) because Rita told me to and 2) in case I needed another pair of shorts.  Turned out all the guys had the same pants. Nice. (Missionary Barbie, I was not.)

The second issue emerged on Day 1 when I went to clean the bathrooms.  That's right, you heard me, clean the bathrooms. Apparently, the motto of my church group is "from each according to her abilities...." and I know how to clean toilets in Spanish. ANYWAY, day 1 cleaning activities included my co-worker splashing the entire left leg of the only legit camping pants I had with bleach.  So now I can't even pretend I'm wearing similar but new pants on days 3, 5 and 7 because they are now distinctively bespectacled with the evidence that I don't know how to clean a bathroom.  

Whoever said "the less you pack, the happier you'll be" was a boy.  I wished I had a judgment-inducing massive suitcase and pants that didn't walk on their own. 

By the time we got back to Quito and I showered and put on the new jeans I had bought, I looked like extreme missionary makeover. And again, for most of my travel-mates, this is the first they have seen me in civilian clothes (clearly, I need to improve my church attendance).  One person exclaimed "you're so clean!"  There is no hiding the fact that the unspoken end to that last phrase is "compared to usual".  Someone else incredulously asked "are you wearing makeup??"  Me: I often wear makeup after my janitorial shift is over. 

Finally, when someone said "Your hair is soooo blonde after being in the sun for four days", I wasn't about to own up to the fact it's always that color when its clean. 

All that to say, laundry day in Nashville is going to be quite an event.  I hope Rita can help me get that bleach stain out.