The Kirwan Twins Adventures We've finally graduated, so we're setting off for three months to backpack around India, Cambodia, Vietnam and Thailand before entering the "real world."

Today, Fulbright grantees were ordered to appear at the US Embassy for a security briefing.  Our global, academic group was intermingled with four new embassy employees, and various embassy veterans administered the entire group.  First we were obliged to watch a forty-five minute power point presentation on the economic, political, and social stability of Ecuador, and how this would affect our safety.  There was a brief segment on the valiant efforts of American organizations to ameliorate Ecuador's "problems" and to set an example by which the Ecuadorian government should, and indeed must, move towards the same measures of change.  Overall, the first half of the presentation attempted to scare the living daylights out of us, while the second part was completely useless and only related to new employee mandates for settling into a residence.  I'd been privileged to a similar presentation in Kenya with the FAO, though this time we weren't expected to ace a follow-up quiz.  

Following this piece of education, a six-foot strapping marine entered the room, and in a thick southern drawl encouraged further questions.  He began with a confirmation that Quito was the highest rated for crime.  Vikki's hand shot into the air.  "I'll be living in Cuenca.  What is the crime rate there?"

"Weyell, yu know, the fartherr ya git out o' the city, the worse the crime.  The police system jest iddn't as goood.  So ye-ah, generally the crime is higher."

Polite smiles.  Pensive stares.  Didn't he just say that Quito is rated the highest for crime?  Does he know that Cuenca is a small city, if not town, about six hours from Quito?  If I'm in a jam in Cuenca, how will you find me?

"Alraight, no more questions?  Ok, nice to meet ya'll.  Good luck and stay safe."

Strapping marine leaves the room.  As we're waiting for the next guest of honor, one of the new employees (a bald-headed, jean clad gentleman) asked about our projects.  "Are you taking classes or something?"

Sarah: "Well some of us are.  We are each doing a different research project. Some of us are working with organizations, others with universities, and others independently."

"Cool.  So you're learning Spanish.  You Spanish is pretty weak or what?"

Sarah, polite as can be: "Well, um, no.  We all had to pass an oral interview in Spanish to be awarded this grant."

Deep bellow of laughter: "Oh man, wow.  I lived in Columbia for four years before I got here, and I don't know hardly any Spanish!  You know, if I'm in a restaurant I just say 'yo quiero'…" (massive, repeated hand motion to a pretend menu item).  

Cringe.  How long were you in Columbia?  Right.

The next guest was an amiable man who, lo and behold, is a Fulbright alum.  He wished us a warm welcome and encouraged us to attend the embassy sponsored cultural events.  Very nice chap.

The last presenter was a smartly dressed man who strongly resembled an actor, though I couldn't conjure a name.  He encouraged us to delve forth in our endeavors and assured us that our presence in the country was a benefit to Ecuadorian-American relations.  We weren't just scholars, but ambassadors of good will!  He concluded with "So if you need any assistance or want to discuss your projects with us, please don't hesitate.  We may even be able to throw you some money, or um, you know support you in other ways."

Polite smiles.  Pensive stares.  Come again?  I had you at "money." Did he say money? Oh yes, me please.  Me, me, me.

With a packet of precautions and important phone numbers, we were finally permitted to leave.  Our little group sauntered away from the protection of the embassy and into a family-owned Lebanese restaurant serving homemade delicacies from the Middle East.  As I savored various morsels of hummus and tabouli, I wondered if our bald friend or guardian marine would be able to pronounce babaganoush…