Under the Weather

Nicholas had a question about the weather after my last posting. Quite honestly it has totally sucked for the last week+--no sun, chilly, and often raining. With no heat or air in the apartment we're walking around inside with coats on! Not exactly the "Eternal Spring" promised on the enticing Cuenca websites. Oh, well, nothing's perfect.

We were supposed to go to the beach over the weekend, but that trip got postponed until this Friday. So we jumped at an invitation to visit the nearby Yunguilla valley instead. Although only about 45 minutes from here, it's at a lower elevation and therefore has much different weather. As in warm and sunny. Yes!!

It was odd to see folks in shorts and flip flops, especially at a seafood place where we had a phenomenally fresh shrimp and sea bass lunch. Wasn't the beach trip next weekend??

In addition to getting to wear sunglasses again we were treated to some unbelievably gorgeous scenery all the way. Here are some of the best pics from our outing:























Normally I'm blabbing about this and that, but sometimes pictures truly are worth a thousand words, aren't they? Or when I get wound up, several thousand--------. Ecuador is one crazy beautiful country. Oh, by the way, this trip to the coast coming up is during prime humpback whale-watching season. More photos may be forthcoming!

Out of Gas

After being here for three months Cynthia and I have still developed no routine or schedule whatsoever, with the exception of our standing appointments for massage every other Thursday. We go to bed and get up whenever we feel like it, go to the grocery store when we run out of food, and say "yes" to pretty much every invitation that comes our way.

This plan (or lack of) has worked out exceptionally well and provided many opportunities thus far, although over time we know some sort of schedule will most likely evolve organically. Yesterday, however, our carpe diem lifestyle hit a speed bump which almost caused a crash today.

Our stove and hot water tank are connected to a gas tank located in the basement of our building. We keep a spare handy to avoid the obvious "running out of hot water in the middle of your shower" problem. Whenever replacements are needed you call and delivery often happens in less than an hour (h-m-m-m---these folks could sure teach the "Manana Brothers" working--a relative term in this case--on our apartment a few lessons).

Well, night before last Cynthia noticed the water was sure taking a long time to get hot in the kitchen sink. Uh, oh. Did we forget to call? Down to the basement I went. Lifted the spare--light, which means empty. Lifted the one hooked up--maybe a little heavier at best. Yep, we forgot.

Usually no sweat; we would just call first thing the next morning. But yesterday mucho sweat because: 1) this is the three day Ecuador Independence Day weekend, and they hook their extra day on Friday instead of Monday like in the States and 2) we were going out of town early yesterday anyway.

So Cynthia and I both crammed into a small shower stall built for one at the same time and rushed to get clean with the little hot water left. Those of you who know me won't be surprised that I actually enjoyed the experience; those of you who know Cynthia---um, not so much.

We successfully assumed enough Kama Sutra poses to complete the mission and went off on a delightful day trip. Now it's Saturday morning on a holiday weekend and we still have no gas. What to do?

First I boldly call the phone number to the gas company. A torrent of Spanish voicemail spews out with no recognizable mention of "for English press 1, for Spanish press 2." Damn it. I know what I said in an earlier post, but that was all theoretical and philosophical. This is real world stuff--we can't cook or take a shower here, people!

OK, so forget about that. The company's not that far away, so I decide to ride my bike up there and personally scope out the situation. As I approach I see no vehicles, no lights, nobody. Double damn it. Wait--the driveway to the back lot is unlocked. Yes!!

No. Zero activity back there either, but I see one truck sitting in front of the office. God, whoever's in there, please speak English, please speak English. He does, at least enough for me to understand that there are no deliveries until Monday, and the lot is open until 1 o'clock for drive-up exchanges.

"So you're sayin' there's a chance" (Dumb & Dumber reference--sorry). Except I have no car, my bike's out of the question, and it's too far to walk carrying an empty tank (these are much larger than the ones for your gas grill, guys), and carrying a full one back would be impossible.

Hold on. What am I thinking? I've got thousands of cars! They're all yellow and, like a wizard, with a wave of my hand I can instantly summon one. No magic wand needed.

A cab!!

I zip home, haul both tanks to the street, raise my arm and sure enough--POOF!--my chariot appears. We load up the trunk and drive away. Ten minutes and a couple of dollars fare later two full tanks are in the basement, one is hooked up, and we're back in business.

There's no great moral to this story (Where there's a chill, there's a way---nah). It's just a quick anecdote to demonstrate the resourcefulness required to survive--and thrive--in new surroundings. Predictable? Never. Challenging? Sometimes. Fun? Always.

Happy Ecuador Independence Day, everybody!! Gotta go throw some guinea pigs on the grill.

I Feel the Earth Move Under My Feet

Instantly I was awake. And, puzzlingly, frightened. Like I can imagine one would feel hearing an intruder in the house. All senses on alert.

What was that??

I looked over at Cynthia. Her eyes were wide open too. It seemed like the windows had rattled or something. We listened. Was it wind? We've had a couple of windy days before, but nothing like that.

Odd--it seemed perfectly still outside. What time is it? A little before 7.

Then it happened again. Out of nowhere, for just a second, maybe two, the windows rattled fiercely. The whole building---moved.

Silence and stillness. Except for our bedroom door. Was it eerily swaying back and forth? In an instant we realized--earthquake!

What do you do? We didn't know what to do; we'd never experienced an earthquake before. So we just laid there and waited. And waited.

Nothing. That was it. Over.

I threw on my bathrobe, fired up the computer, and Googled "Ecuador earthquake August 12, 2010." Sure enough, a 6.9 quake had just happened a couple of hundred miles NE of us. Thankfully, in what appeared on the map to be an uninhabited jungle area.

I've been in some super heavy surf. I've ridden out a hurricane. Neither compared to the sheer, brutal force the planet unleashed in those couple of seconds. Wow.

Miracle Cure for Dementia Discovered!!

I'll admit it. I went through a period where it seemed like mentally I was starting to slip. Forgetting more than usual--loss of concentration--slow reaction in new situations. Cynthia was openly concerned and while downplaying it all, privately I was too. During our last weeks in the States, the stress of preparing to move certainly didn't help.

But once we got here all those symptoms vanished. I was so caught up in the newness of our daily life that I didn't notice at first. As we settled in a bit, though, it became obvious to us both that an almost astonishing improvement had occurred.

So now that I could think clearly again I began to ponder how this happened. After all, since people generally don't embrace change, most would consider moving abroad and starting a new life exciting, for sure, but pretty darned stressful in its own way--new surroundings, new language, new friends------new everything.

Yet here I am, the guy who just a few months ago was experiencing brain freeze trying to find the exit in parking lots, now almost every day dispensing advice to others on global relocation! What's going on? Is it the mountain air? The food? The increased exercise?

Maybe all those factors play a role, but here's what I've discovered is the main ingredient for mental clarity, razor-sharp concentration, and improved memory:

DON'T HAVE MUCH TO THINK ABOUT

Who knew it could be so simple? When you're not always caught up juggling what seems like a million commitments you get to totally focus on "right now." You can enjoy slowing down and listening to what others are saying instead of formulating your snappy response. And your memory is phenomenal when there's nothing much to remember.

I can't take all the credit for this revelation, however. The culture here virtually forces you to downgrade your expectations to the point where when locals are involved you must take it one thing at a time. Schedule something at 2:00 and at 4:00, for example, and you are instantly doomed. The appointment at 2 is maybe happening and the 4 o'clock---fuggidaboudit.

So there you have it. Dr. Eddsaid's Miracle Cure for Dementia. It's absolutely free, but there's still a steep price to pay--having the willingness to, in metaphysical terms. "let go and let God."

Step right up. Any takers?


PS. 8/12/2010 Amazingly a "real" article about this subject appears in USA Today the very next morning after the post: http://www.usatoday.com/news/health/2010-08-12-apamemory12_CV_N.htm

I'm not imagining this!!

---It's Only a Day Away

You probably didn't know that tiny Ecuador is the world's leading exporter of bananas.

The same is not true of "mananas", however. Most if not all of them are needed right here at home to be freely handed out each time the simple question "When?" is asked. I've explained previously how this word can mean any time, including never.

Whenever "es posible" precedes manana, a whole different level of obscurity is in play. "It's possible" is so filled with hope, isn't it? Well, the local person uttering this phrase is full of something, all right, but I wouldn't put hope at the top of the list.

The Eddsaid translation of "es posible," gleaned from numerous conversations and the observation of their aftermath, is "I have absolutely no idea." So when someone tells you "es posible manana," basically you're screwed.

But here's the interesting thing. It's not intended that way at all.

For example, after almost a month and a half we're STILL not in our permanent residence that was "promised" to us July 1. Almost without fail whenever we chat with our friends and relatives in the States the first topic of conversation is, "So when are you moving into your new apartment?." This is a normal and natural question coming from a culture where there is a premium on timeliness and where there are penalties for nonperformance.

After being away from the US only a few months we've come to realize how much Americans live in the future. Everyone is stressed out and hurrying through the day with too much to do; TGIF; "If I can just accumulate this much money/get that promotion/go away for a few days and relax-----." Wayne Dyer calls this mindset "striving but never arriving."

Here the focus is on enjoying today. Many businesses literally close from 1-3 and employees go home to have lunch with their families. People are not complacent or lazy; they're simply not willing to sacrifice enjoyment of daily life to the relentless pursuit of material gain.

So "es posible" and "manana" are examples of polite and accepted acknowledgment that in truth nobody has an exact idea of when things will happen--or cares too much.

You, as the recipient of such a message, truly have zero power. What are you going to do? Threaten to take your business elsewhere? Good luck with that strategy. Toto, we're not in Kansas any more. That's just not the way it works here.

Some of the tiny old neighborhood grocery stores have a sign posted that says, "We cannot extend credit today, but we can tomorrow so please come back then." Think about the metaphysical brilliance of this message.

Cynthia and I find ourselves caught in a sort of purgatory between a lifetime of conditioning to expect a certain level of service and a growing understanding that here the attitude is "it's not business--it's personal." Away from the (often self-imposed) pressure created by over-scheduling and under-enjoying, we're quickly embracing our new slogan of "por que no"---why not??

Exactly when are we moving into that apartment? Es posible manana.

Crazy Train

Long ago, in a galaxy far, far, away, I was driving home to Atlanta on a Friday afternoon from The University of Georgia to visit my then-girlfriend Cynthia. I was anxious to get there so I chose to take a more direct short cut route rather than go out of the way to get to the freeway. Snow had fallen the previous day but the roads seemed fine. Nevertheless I was driving cautiously "just in case."

As I rounded a curve "just in case" happened. The car kept going straight and went down an embankment, doing a slow 360 degree roll before stopping back on its wheels. Shaken but unharmed, I squeezed myself out (the roof was of course crushed down), climbed the hill, hitched a ride with a kind stranger who had seen the incident and stopped, and finished my journey on a Greyhound bus from the next town.

I was reminded of that incident because of several occurrences this week. When you're living in a foreign country and you've settled in a bit as we have, most of the time you cruise through your days with little or no problems. But if you unexpectedly hit a patch of "black ice," you're "goin' off the rails on a crazy train" (from that great 20th century philosopher Ozzy Osbourne), and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.

It's easy to believe that life isn't all that different from back home, and in fact the basic framework of daily existence seems and feels quite familiar. Roads, buildings, cars, people, roosters--well, pretty darn familiar anyway. Inevitably though, "stuff" happens (cleaning up the language of a popular bumper sticker from awhile back). And when it does the illusion disappears, you're totally out of your element and you realize you've got no game.

There's always the "language thing." I was vividly reminded of this recently when we went to some Cuencano friends' home for dinner. Eight people were in attendance--7 adults and 1 baby. The kid ended up in my lap and we were getting along famously. While the adults conversed junior and I happily stuck our fingers in each other's mouths and made silly faces. It suddenly occurred to me that our bonding was based on the ease of our non-verbal communication compared to the struggle I would have endured attempting my fractured Spanglish (a little Span and mucho Glish) with the others. Wow, instead of Spanish classes I need to enroll in Mother's Morning Out??

The added wild card is the cultural difference. The people here not only inconveniently speak the wrong language, they also have the nerve to do things differently. Why in the world can't they understand how, how wrong they are??? (written with tongue firmly pressed against cheek).

So first our brand new microwave quit working after about a month. In the States, no problemo. You take it back to Best Buy or WalMart with your receipt, get a replacement, and take it home. I was actually naive enough to think that's what would happen here. Silly me.

We had our local lawyer friend go with us to interpret because in spite of my blind optimism I wasn't stupid enough to think I could navigate those treacherous verbal waters solo. Even with her doing the talking it was obvious from the body language that we wouldn't be leaving with a new appliance that night.

Or even the one we came with. No, first a technician had to evaluate the problem and they would call first thing "manana." Have I mentioned the frequent use of this word before? At the risk of repeating myself, let me digress for a moment. Cynthia and I are diligently working on our Spanish, and we thought it was clear from our studies that "manana" means "tomorrow." Not so. What it really means is "not today." Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week, maybe never---but definitely not today.

So two mananas later I asked my friend to follow up. She was told the diagnosis may take several more days. Upon hearing this my skin started turning green and my shirt began to split across my back. Seeing that I was about to "Hulk" right there in front of her she got back on the phone and suddenly we were all on our way to the store for a "meeting with the manager."

After lengthy and sincere discourse the real truth emerged--they didn't have another microwave like the one we had purchased and locals hate to disappoint. They resort to what Americans would label as outright lying, but here it's just a polite way of buying time. The manager said he would get one from their store in Guayaquil (4 hours away) and we would definitely have it by Friday. It's Saturday and-----well, you know. (Sigh)

Instance #2. We're still not in our permanent residence upstairs--don't get me started; too many mananas about that to even go there. So we're having to use a local dry cleaner/laundry facility to wash all our clothes. Well, in the last load one of our pillow cases came back with a grease stain on it. We've all had a dry cleaners screw something up, and you know it can sometimes get a bit tense if the store doesn't want to take responsibility.

We weren't at all worried about that. The girl that works there is so sweet but she doesn't speak a word of English, and with our toddler-level Spanish we weren't totally prepared to say, "Apparently your machine caused this grease stain on our pillow case, so we would like for you to please clean it again at no charge." Let's see, in that sentence we could have said "Your this on our so we like for you to please it again no."

It didn't seem like that was going to get the point across, so it was time to play----- "Championship Charades!!" And here's your host----E-d-d-d-d----Sta-a-a-a-a-ton!! If, God forbid, there was a video of my behavior during those next few minutes any judge viewing it would pronounce me a maniac and call for the straight jacket. I was jumping around, wildly gesticulating, making exaggerated faces, drawing pictures, even resorting to the old tried and true tactic of talking louder.

Bless her heart After my virtuoso performance she smiled and indicated she understood. What a relief--it worked!! Then she proceeded to write me up a new ticket to have the pillow case dry cleaned for $3. (Double Sigh)

Finally comes the cell phone shenanigans. I haven't had much need for phone communication thus far, so I buy pre-paid minutes. Wednesday a week ago I apparently ran out so I stopped by a pharmacy (these minutes are sold everywhere) and bought $5 more. A week and one phone call later I was out of minutes again. H-m-m-m-m. I think the company maybe sent some text messages warning me but I of course couldn't read them so they went unheeded. Still five bucks for one call seemed a bit steep in a country where a filet mignon dinner costs $8, so I stopped by a company store for an explanation.

First let me tell you about this phone. I got the cheapest one because all I want to do is make and receive calls. Young people want to be "connected" all the time; I prefer to be "disconnected" as much as possible. Cheapness can manifest itself in mysterious ways. It didn't appear my phone had voicemail, but I've discovered it has a rocking little flashlight on the end.

I can envision the product development guys sitting around a conference table. "OK, listen up, guys. This is an inexpensive phone so we've got to make some decisions. What do you think---voicemail or flashlight? Flashlight? Good choice--let's do it!"

We walked in this store and an attractive young woman smiled politely, took a breath and unleashed a barrage of auctioneer-speed Spanish so stunning that Cynthia and I just stood there with our mouths open staring like Beavis and Butthead. The only thing she said that I understood was the name of the company--if there was even a "buenas tardes" in there I completely missed it.

Thank goodness one guy there spoke English. He explained that when you buy $5.99 or less unused minutes expire after one week. One week?? Well, he said, they don't really expire-expire. When you buy additional minutes the old ones are added to the total. Until they expire again a week later. And so on and so on---------.

But if you buy $6 or more you get your minutes for 30 days plus triple bonus minutes. I wanted to say, "So why didn't someone explain this to me when I bought this phone?." I wanted to say, "If I pay for the damn minutes why does it seem like I'm just renting them for a week or a month?."

I said, "I'll take $6 worth." He showed me that I really do have voicemail after all.

Day Trippers

Some good friends of ours recently emailed us asking if we'd like to accompany them on a day trip to Giron. I replied, "Never heard of it. Sure!" Such is life here.

When I learned we were going on a bus, visions of the #16 flashed before my eyes, one of which started twitching uncontrollably. I decided to "get back on the horse" anyway--at least we knew where this one was going.

Our traveling companions said the bus terminal was next to a place called El Feria Libre, so we were to meet them there. When we stepped out of our cab we found ourselves in what can only be described as a "chaotic zoo." This area has a huge market that was swarming with people. The road in front of it is under construction and torn all to hell. There were buses, cars, and taxis galore, blowing horns and seemingly all trying to occupy the same space at the same time. Thrown into the mix were folks right out there with all the vehicles pushing juice carts, carrying huge baskets of god-knows-what on their backs, hawking merchandise---and we were casually supposed to "meet them out front??"

That turned out to be surprisingly easy because in the midst of all this madness the four of us were the only gringos in sight. So now united we boarded a very roomy and comfortable bus (never did see the "terminal"), forked over a buck apiece, and were off to Giron, a 40 minute ride from Cuenca.

Giron is the gateway to the gorgeous Yunguilla valley and home to some outstanding waterfalls, all of which we were there to enjoy. We got off the bus in what seemed like the middle of nowhere and started trudging up a steep road with no waterfalls in sight--in fact, with no people, vehicles, or end in sight! Oh, boy------.

Happily a small pickup soon approached and the driver offered to take us to the top for $5. Done. There wasn't room for us all in the passenger area so our friends gamely climbed in the back and away we went Beverly Hillbillies style. W-e-e----doggies!

Our destination was indeed the entrance to El Chorro de Giron, a highly creative name which translates as "The Waterfalls of Giron." We were fortunate that the girl working there spoke excellent English and, since curiously no printed maps were available, drew us one on a paper napkin.

Over the next several hours of sometimes arduous hiking we learned that her excellent English had failed to convey that we were actually journeying to the top of the falls. And that the bottom of said falls was a mere 10 minutes from where we started.

Nevertheless we all were so happy we soldiered on. In exchange for temporary exhaustion our bountiful rewards were gorgeous weather,incredible scenery, and great companionship.

After another pickup truck ride back to town we climbed aboard what looked like an episode of "Pimp My Bus." Check out this bad boy. Since the driver appeared to be around 12 years old, "Jesus, Take the Wheel" was in my head the whole way back.

So for a total of about $8 apiece (including a gigantic beer after the hike) we had a phenomenal day and created a wonderful memory. I'm happy to share it with you.