Author: Luke Van de Walle

Hi! I'm a rising senior studying political science.
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Coming Full Circle

After finishing my SLA grant, I quickly flew from Cuenca to Ecuador’s capital Quito to begin an independent research project through the Kellogg Institute. This would be my greatest test of Spanish thus far, as my project proposal necessitated conversations about immigration policy – I would have to trust that I was ready to navigate the complex themes and emotions that would arise because of these conversations. Although nervous, I was ready to take the training wheels off of my immersive experience: I would be alone in Quito, without the support of Notre Dame, my Cuenca Spanish school, or my host family.

My routine for gathering responses was simple: Go to local businesses, check to make sure they are not busy, and ask the staff if they would like to participate in my project. I would explain the logistics of the project, answer any questions, and ask if they were interested. While they completed the survey, I would read my most recent purchase from my favorite bookstore in Quito and stick around to field any additional questions. As I worked towards my goal of 60 responses, I became more confident and assertive in this setting. I had never recruited participants for a study in the US, let alone in a different country in my target language, but I became increasingly comfortable as I ticked closer to the magic number of 60. As I collected more and more responses, I would occasionally have casual conversations with the respondents once they were finished – talking about American visa and immigration policies, and their personal experiences with immigrants or trying to immigrate, among other things. These conversations frequently concluded with compliments on my Spanish, followed by a compliment I still don’t think I deserved: I spoke Spanish with the accent and cadence of Ecuadorians in the Sierra. Much to my surprise, many I spoke with were not shocked that I had learned the bulk of my Spanish in Cuenca as I attempted to mirror their sing-song style of speaking.

As I allowed these interactions to marinate in my brain while walking between survey collections, I realized that my SLA experience gave me something that I didn’t know I was looking for: I got a second chance at the things I struggled with during my gap year and first experience in Ecuador. I entered my first stay in Paute with no Spanish background. A Latin student in high school, I figured that when immersed, learning a language can’t be that difficult, right?

Wrong. I never progressed passed the speaking and interpretation skills of a small child, and only felt completely comfortable speaking with my host family, as they had spent so much time with me that they knew how to communicate most effectively. While proud of my progress during my gap year, I was always frustrated that my peers seemed to progress with their Spanish much faster than me, and I struggled with having so many thoughts and feelings but being unable to express anything more complicated than “happy” or “tired”.

While collecting data for my project, I realized that I had accomplished what I set out to do in 2019. After an arduous and formative gap year experience, many semesters of Spanish classes at Notre Dame, and a 6-week stay in El Salvador working as a non-profit consultant, I had finally done it. “Fluency” is an elusive and difficult-to-define concept, but this was the closest I had ever felt to fluent. No longer anxious about striking up conversations with strangers for fear of encountering unknown vocab, my thoughts no longer outpaced my language skills and I began to truly express myself in Spanish, and I even began to develop somewhat of an Ecuadorian accent.

I felt like I could finally be me in a different language. Interestingly enough, I also learned that “me” in Spanish was different than in English. I was much more extroverted, my body language became more animated and expressive, and I began to feel at home in this once strange and foreign place.

I had begun this journey of Spanish proficiency and Ecuadorian immersion before I enrolled at Notre Dame, unsure as to whether or not I could continue once I began College. Grateful for the experience provided by the SLA grant, I was able to reconnect with my family authentically, and I know that the door is always open for me in Paute, a second home to me. I don’t know when I will be able to return next, but I know that Ecuador, Paute, and my family will forever be a part of my life.

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Exploring the Dimensions of Culture

One of the first cultural differences I noticed in Ecuador was how children are raised, perhaps most obvious while I spent an afternoon and evening at a local park with my host family watching soccer matches. After my 3 year absence in Paute, my host nephew, born days after my last departure, had grown so much bigger than I anticipated. While shy and hesitant to talk at first, we spent the evening sharing some salchipapas and kicking a soccer ball around. As the day progressed and the sun went down, I couldn’t help but notice that my host nephew was not the only child running around the park, even as the night stretched on – we were out until close to 11 pm watching and playing soccer, and kids seemed to run around us with reckless abandon, presumably with parents nearby.

However, parents didn’t seem to be stressed about their children in these public settings, as there seemed to be a deep trust in the park and greater Paute community that they would look after their neighbors. The cliche of “It takes a village” seemed to be internalized by everyone around. I couldn’t help but reflect on my own childhood, growing up walking to school, but watching parental decisions like this slowly fall out of favor with the general public. The highly individualized community that I had grown accustomed to in the US did not translate to my new setting, as individualism consistently surrendered to the needs of the community.

Upon further reflection of my day of soccer, it also illuminated the cultural differences in their view of scheduling, time, and the future. The day began and ended with no plan or timetable, we would find dinner when we felt like it, and everything was flexible. While this initially was extremely frustrating as I lacked the language skills to understand this attitude, I soon learned to embrace and enjoy it, knowing that once classes started, I would not have the opportunity to spend days like this.

And after being equipped with the language to describe cultural differences through the SLA program, I can now begin to verbalize what my draw was to Latin America. In a strange way, Paute feels like the neighborhood that my parents grew up in or the American community of the past that is celebrated and coveted in pop culture through media like Stranger Things. While grateful for the immense freedom, choice, and individuality that is afforded by American culture, I discovered new cultural norms that nourished parts of me that I did not know existed.

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New Bus Norms

Fortunately, Ecuador has a history of strong public transportation, enabling me to travel wherever I wanted, throughout Cuenca or the country, without the need of a car. However, after learning to navigate the bus system, I was not prepared to learn how to navigate the cultural norms on the bus.

While I am not extremely experienced in using public transportation in the US, when I am on a bus or a train, I put on my headphones, keep to myself, and do school work if I am able. While I expected that I should be careful with my belongings and typically avoided music on the bus, I was not prepared for the marketplace that the bus would turn in to.

After a few minutes of happily enjoying the mountain views as I bussed an hour away to the town of Paute to visit my old host family, the bus stopped as someone got on wearing a microphone headset and carrying a speaker, along with a giant bag, overflowing with some sort of candy wrapped in plastic (I later was told that these were melcochas, a traditional taffy candy that I learned how to make with my host aunt). The man began passing out samples of the candy as he began a long-winded speech by blessing us, explaining his where he was from, and how the proceeds of the melcochas would help those struggling with alcoholism. He walked up and down the aisle talking, asking questions, and touting the freshness of his taffy.

This became a regular occurrence, as people hopped on the bus to sell fruit, candy, locally produced lotions, school supplies, headphones, and phone chargers, with multiple salesmen trying to find customers at the same time. While this experience was still new, I struggled to even describe what was going on. I struggled to hear their Spanish over the loud bus and was confused as to why the sales pitch included handing out samples of the product being sold.

While I learned to adapt, the first occurence of this was not without hiccups. As I was handed the sweet melcocha through sentences painting pictures of down-on-their-luck people struggling with addiction, I immediately unwrapped it and tried it without thinking, as I assumed that the sample was free. However, this interpretation could not have been more incorrect. As I looked around at the other Ecuadorians on the bus, the stared blankly out the window and did not give the salesman a second thought, patiently waiting with their sample. This confused me, until the salesman wrapped up his speech and began taking the melcochas back from those that didn’t eat it. Immediately realizing my mistake, I dug through my backpack to find some spare change to pay for the candy – I had fallen into the salesman’s trap (but the melcocha was worth it!). I luckily found a few spare coins at the bottom of my bag, and felt stupid for falling prey to such a simple sales tactic.

Evaluating the incident for what happened, however, should dissuade myself from these negative feelings as I was still adapting to a new place and practicing the language. It is also very difficult to refuse a new and foreign sweet treat. While my immediate reaction was negative, thinking about the incident yielded laughter as a recounted it to my host family over a fresh meal of seco de pollo that night.

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The Conflicting Feelings of an American Abroad

As an American returning to Ecuador to study Spanish, see my host family, and become more globally engaged, I have been much more aware of the consequences of people like me traveling to developing countries. I have been no stranger to being the only white person in a restaurant or cafe, with some workers even being surprised to see an American wander in. However, as I explored more of Cuenca, I noticed an interesting dichotomy between places that were surprised to see me and places that spoke to me in English without missing a beat. As Cuenca becomes an increasingly alluring destination for ex-pats and remote workers, parallel economies seem to be developing between businesses catering to Ecuadorians and those catering to Americans – and the customer bases between the two rarely mix. In certain places of the city, such large numbers of white migrants have arrived that neighborhoods have been dubbed “Gringolandia”: Gringo Land.

This was also a common experience while I was in El Salvador throughout the summer of 2022: the beach filled with Gringos and the mountains with Salvadorans. While I have been aware of this phenomenon, I lacked the language skills to intensely engage with its history and the perception of Ecuadorians until now.

And unfortunately, the more I learned, the more I became embarrassed. As a white person, it was common for Ecuadorians to be surprised that I not only knew the basics of Spanish, but deeply cared to engage with the intricacies of the language and culture. Through these interactions, I noticed the generalization held by Ecuadorians of American migrants that I admittedly began to internalize. Americans were viewed throughout the city as entitled, arriving in Cuenca because of the cheap cost of living that would enable them to live a life of luxury for the price tag that could be easily afforded by meager retirement savings, or even better, the salary of a remote, American job. Communities of Americans gave no motivation to learn Spanish and engage with Ecuadorian culture.

I was proud to be proof that this stereotype was not always true, but disheartened to see how common it was. While there was a certain camaraderie that is shared when seeing an American abroad, there always seemed to be a disconnect between us as we were both living in Cuenca for very different reasons.