On the Road Again

During the 2 ½ years I’ve lived in Cuenca I’ve traveled back and forth to Guayaquil through the Cajas mountains numerous times. Early trips terrified me. It seemed that the drivers were much too reckless and going way too fast. Now I’ve come to realize that these guys drive this road every day and know every inch of the 3 hour journey.

I’m on my way to meet my new granddaughter in New Jersey, and this time I allow myself to truly relax and enjoy the magnificent topography. At every time of day the mountains show a different personality as the sunlight reveals unnoticed nuances of shade and texture.

Today it is early morning and the sky is bright blue with a smattering of clouds. The depth—the contrast—the vividness—are impossible to describe. Every direction I look there is a stunning canvas begging to be painted.

Weaving through the peaks are irregular stands of trees that are obviously there on purpose. Part of an unusual ecological agreement, the Finnish government actually pays Ecuadorian landowners to plant these trees to increase oxygen on the planet. Their orderly unnaturalness somehow adds visual interest to the landscape.

In what seems like the middle of nowhere I periodically see indigenous folks walking along the side of the highway. Where are they going? How long will it take to get there? What can life be like so high up among these mountains and so far apart from each other?

It is the end of the dry season and we have gotten much-needed rain in the past few weeks. The closest mountains are once again impossibly green, while distant peaks are a deep blue. Ahead is the Sea of Clouds, a blue valley seemingly always covered by a thick, fluffy white blanket.

Thankfully we stop halfway through for a bathroom break (it was an early start with a lot of coffee). Once on the way again I immediately fall asleep.

I briefly awake to see that we are descending the western part of the Cajas. Although I’ve never been to either place the flora here reminds me of Viet Nam or Cambodia. The lush foliage, banana trees, and misty fog are always a welcome sight because they signal the end of the back and forth, up and down part of the trip. The rest of the way the road instantly becomes flat and straight.

I doze off again, my slumber interrupted only by the speed bumps we traverse in several towns along the way. All of these places look identical to me—chickens and pigs being grilled on spits—fruit stands and little stores—open-air joints serving food to customers sitting on white plastic chairs.

Coast people look different. Of course because it’s hotter they often dress in T shirts, shorts, and flip flops, but it’s easy to see these folks have descended from different bloodlines than those in the highlands. They are on the whole fatter and to me generally not as attractive.

Highlanders call coast people “monos,” or monkeys. This is because speech is much faster here, like chattering to the ears of mountain inhabitants. Also they consider people who live on the coast to be lazy and “clever” (translation: not to be trusted).

Past the string of small towns the final leg to Guayaquil is an excellent 4-lane divided highway than spreads to 10 lanes on the outskirts of the city. During Rafael Correa’s years as President all of the major roads in Ecuador have been greatly improved and many new ones built.

Here as throughout Ecuador stand empty homes in various stages of construction. Invariably this means a relative is in the US or Spain working. When money is sent home more work is done until it runs out, then everything stops until more funds arrive.

Coming over the first bridge Guayaquil’s skyline appears on the left. For a city of 3 million+ it is quite uninspiring except for one twisted high rise tower on the water's edge. To the right McDonald’s golden arches declare we have arrived in a metropolis much larger than little Cuenca.

For some reason Guayaquil is much better landscaped than Cuenca. Our parks and common areas, while well-maintained, are haphazardly planted with no design. Another obvious difference is the presence of old school window AC units (Cuenca has no heating or air conditioning because of the temperate climate).

Almost exactly three hours from the time of departure our van arrives at the Guayaquil airport. Time to go meet Miss Eloise!

Lights Out!

I tried to watch the Presidential debate last night, but wouldn't you know it, 15 minutes after it started the power went off in our neighborhood. This was followed by a brown-out where the lights dimmed and the television turned on/off/on/off/on/off. And then no electricity again.

If I had asked Mitt what happened he would have immediately blamed the problem on the failed energy policies of the Obama administration. But since I'm in Ecuador, I didn't bother.

By the time power was restored the event was over and I was stuck watching the "talking heads" giving their views on the proceedings. Fortunately this turned out to be like the halftime show of a football game on TV where they show only highlights, so perhaps I didn't really miss much after all.

At this point in the campaign season I'm certain of two things. Obama seems to have "inherited the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression." God, he's been saying that for 4 years! Come on, man, conjure up some new material.

And if elected, Romney will inherit the second worst financial crisis since the Great Depression, but he's got a 5 Point Plan that will fix everything. This number is important because it allows him to hold up only one hand and at the same time use all of his fingers every time he says it.

How awkward would a 6 Point Plan be? So many decisions--hold up 5 & 1? 4 & 2? Or demonstrate bipartisanship and go 3 & 3?

From the little I saw Obama definitely amped up the energy level from the first debate and seemed constantly on the attack. But feisty and effective are not synonyms. I, like probably most Americans, would prefer that he stay positive and tout his first term record. But when your two notable achievements are 1) passing a health care plan the majority of people don't want and 2) running up the biggest deficits of any President in history, maybe going after his opponent is lesser negative choice.

I found two post-debate statistics from polls of undecided voters to be extremely interesting. On the one hand, by a narrow margin Obama was declared the winner. But on the other, these same voters said they trusted Romney more on "pocketbook issues"--the economy, jobs, the deficit, and health care.

So this election may come down to a choice between a superb orator and your wallet. One might think that's an easy decision but, guess what, in the last election the orator won. In three weeks we'll see if he can do it again.

Evil Spirits

Awhile back a reader asked me to do a post on the wine situation here in Ecuador. Since I am currently working on International Living's 2013 Retirement Index (a quality-of-life survey of 22 locations around the globe) which includes a monthly budget, this seems like the perfect time to comment on a category that is certainly one of our expense items.

Let's cover the gamut of alcoholic beverages while we're at it, because liquor, wine, and beer all have their own stories to tell.

All imported goods are of course more expensive. I can't remember what a can of tomatoes costs in the States, but the Heinz variety here is over $3. So unless you "eat like a local" you've gotta be prepared to pay the price.

And with recent tax increases on hard spirits you have to drink like one too. A fifth of Bacardi is now over $30. Oh, you're a vodka drinker? Absolut runs around $50. As does Johnny Walker Red. Brutal, right? Fortunately there are drinkable alternatives. Rum made right here in Cuenca is only $8 a fifth, and Sky vodka rings in at a reasonable $20.

Wine prices are no bargain either. Ecuador has no viticulture industry to speak of, so these products are also imported. Bottom shelf domestic stuff in US grocery stores that you can pick up for $4.99 is priced in the teens. Most of our selection not surprisingly comes from Chile and Argentina, and with these countries being so close it's frustrating to see prices perhaps 50% higher than back home.

The go-to wine for many gringos is in a box, not a bottle. Concha y Toro,a mega-winery with high to low end production, has a boxed variety, Clos, currently available for $5.51 in merlot, cabernet, and "white." It's comparable to Trader Joe's 2 Buck Chuck (Charles Shaw) but, again, at over twice the price for its US counterpart.

And what the heck is going on with the price increases of locally made beer? There's no import tax on that! When we moved here 2 1/2 years ago a 6 pack of Pilsener was about $3.50. Now it's $4.93. By the bottle Pilsener is 80 cents (which I just realized means buying singles is slightly cheaper) and Budweiser is $1.00--not much of a price difference. But the beer bargain is always the big 20 ouncer's from local convenience stores. They're only $1.00 when you return the bottle.

I often joke that a vegetarian teetotaler can get by in Ecuador on a tiny food budget. We're neither, so be aware that if you eat meat and drink alcohol a disproportionate share of your grocery dollars will go to those two categories.

What about the Grandchildren?

I'm totally proud to present to my blog friends the newest member of TeamStaton, Eloise Grace Walker.

Our second granddaughter and the first child of our daughter Adrian, Eloise today is the ripe old age of two weeks. This little bundle of joy has remarkably long arms and legs and amazingly large hands and feet, so I'm going out on a limb with the early prediction that she will end up as the tallest member of the family.

And I'm 6'3".

With two here and #3 on the way (our first grandson makes his debut in late January) I'm often asked, "So are you thinking about moving back to the States now?" In fact the subject came up just yesterday when I was chatting online with an old friend.

I wrote an article for International Living a couple of months ago that I'd like to share with you here. Hopefully it sheds some light on this emotional topic.

What about the Grandchildren?

One of the major concerns for retirees considering relocation abroad is being separated from their grandchildren.

My wife and I weren’t grandparents when we arrived in Cuenca over two years ago. Now we have a one year old granddaughter and two more grandbabies on the way.

Since we've reached this milestone many friends still living in the States have said to me, “Gosh, it must break your heart living so far from your grandchildren.”

Really?? We visited family for two weeks in March and the whole month of June. And we’re going back in the fall to welcome our newest granddaughter into the world.

It is a completely erroneous impression that because we live abroad we'll be missing out on our grandchildren growing up. The truth is we’ll see them more because we've lowered our monthly expenses and we're no longer tied to jobs.

If we were still working in the US we'd have 3 or 4 weeks vacation a year and hope we had enough money to visit. Plus we want to see the world and selfishly perhaps do not want every day of our available travel time devoted to family visits.

Now to be fair, our two children live in different states, so there’s no way we could live near both of them simultaneously. Therefore some form of travel would always be necessary even if we still lived in the US.

Your feelings towards your grandchildren should be an important part of your thoughts regarding expatriation. And brutal honesty about those emotions must drive your decision.

I know a grandmother who moved to Cuenca and found herself absolutely miserable being separated from her grandchildren. Although they loved the city and made many friends, she and her husband were back in the US in less than six months.

Do you already have grandkids? Do you live close by and see them often? Are they the light of your life? Then listen to your heart. Moving abroad is probably not going to work out well for you.

But if you are comfortable with visiting maybe not as often as you’d like but for longer periods of time, by all means continue to make your plans.

Most locations in the US and Canada can be reached from Ecuador in hours. With Skype video you can stay in touch for free as long as you like and as often as you desire. You don’t have to physically be there every moment to feel like you’re an important part of your family’s life.

Reality check. When we left our little granddaughter after the last visit I bawled my eyes out in the airport. Would I love to hug her every day? You bet. Being apart isn’t easy, but for now it’s doable.

Don’t let the notion of being “so far away” stop you from considering a move abroad. You’re retired now! You can enjoy an exciting new life and still visit those grandchildren as often as your budget allows.

Hit Me with Your Best Shot

“There is nothing to fear but fear itself. There is nothing to fear---.” I kept repeating this mantra as I walked to meet Cynthia.

You see, we were going to a clinic together where I was about to get my first shot in over 50 years. There’s a reason for the long time gap. I’m petrified of getting shots, and have sometimes gone to considerable lengths to avoid them.

It all goes back to when I was a wee lad so skinny that my nickname was Eddy Spaghetti—cruel in the way only children can be but nonetheless descriptive of my puny muscularity. I was deathly afraid that if the doctor stabbed me with too much force the needle would go completely through my arm and come out the other side, the medicine squirting into the air.

Thus I tensed up so much that when the hypodermic was removed the tiny hole expanded to the size of a gunshot wound (at least in my imagination). I have painful memories of walking around with my arm in a sling because it was so sore I couldn’t move it.

Once when I was home running a high fever the doctor made a house call (are you old enough to remember those?). He determined I needed a shot and instructed me to roll over. I grabbed the spindles of the headboard on my bed with such strength that both he and my mother could not turn me over. Only when Mom threatened me with a belt did I relinquish my death grip.

The subject of shots reared its ugly head once more when I was a teenager. While on the job I suffered three severe cuts to my hand on a dirty warehouse fan (don’t ask) and had to be rushed to the hospital for treatment.

I was clearly in shock, but mustered sufficient presence of mind to solemnly answer “yes” when asked, “Have you had a tetanus shot recently?” I knew I didn’t want to add insult to injury by having one arm in a sling while the other one was also incapacitated. Scary old memories die hard. Crazy in retrospect, but such was my fear of needles.

Sometimes life requires you to do things for others that you wouldn’t do for yourself. I’m about to become a grandfather again, and my daughter who is carrying her first child read that there is an unprecedented number of whooping cough cases this year in the US. Infants are particularly susceptible to this illness, so I reluctantly agreed to being vaccinated to put her mind at rest.

I had already decided the shot would be administered in my thigh. Even now no one would mistake my physique for Arnold’s, but my scrawny thighs are at least as big as most people’s arms.

We met at a military hospital where our doctor assured us we would be taken care of without any problems.

Well---------

We found the office and sat in the waiting room for our turn. I noticed that all of our fellow patients were little kids with their moms, which didn’t seem quite right. An old lady soon escorted us back and we showed her the papers the doctor had given us. She read them and frowned.

Here’s an insider tip we’ve learned in our 2+ years in Ecuador. When someone just says “No,” it can sometimes mean “Maybe.” But when the “No” is accompanied by a vigorous backhand thrust of the forefinger it means “Absolutely not.”

She gave us the finger along with an avalanche of Spanish that could only be interpreted as, “Get the hell out of here.”

What could we do but sheepishly retreat? We didn’t understand why we were shown the door, but our Spanish wasn’t proficient enough to effectively argue. I must admit I had mixed emotions about this rejection. I was all psyched up to “face my fears,” but not altogether unhappy that I had been spared.

But Cynthia was bound and determined, as we say in the South, to see this through, so she made an appointment yesterday with our doctor to explain the dilemma. He promptly called a pharmaceutical rep who said she would order the vaccine. Then he told us to go downstairs to the pharmacy to finalize the delivery.

The lady there also made a call and said the vaccine would be delivered tomorrow in the morning (in Spanish this is “manana en la manana”—often two lies in one phrase). We dutifully and skeptically returned at lunchtime today and to our surprise, the order was actually there.

We paid and took the medication downstairs to the emergency room for the shots to be immediately administered. I was sticking with my “in the leg” strategy and had even gone to the trouble to look up “leg” (Hey, how often does that word come up in normal conversation?) so I would properly instruct the nurse.

She said it had to be given in the arm. I said I wanted it in my leg. Perplexed, she scampered out to consult with her colleagues. Meanwhile Cynthia was quietly getting her shot without incident behind the adjacent curtain. I heard conversation, then a guy came in and informed me this shot could only be given in the arm. Not even the butt.

I wasn’t backing down. I said, “A muscle is a muscle. What difference does it make?” Gotta give the guy credit. In classic Ecuadorian fashion, he looked me in the eye and replied, “This is special medicine.” A rebuttal that makes no sense and yet to which there is no response. Perfect.

At the same time Cynthia, who had been listening to all this through the curtain, sternly said, “It doesn’t hurt, Edd. Take the damn shot.”

Well, there it is. I removed my shirt and took the damn shot. And-------

And nothing. I hardly felt the injection and my shoulder is barely sore. Like meals I’ve so looked forward to when returning to the US that weren’t nearly as wonderful as I had imagined, similarly this dreaded incident was basically a non-event. Thus I am now safe from infections, whooping cough, and diphtheria (whatever that is), and my arm is not in a sling.

Is there a moral to this silly story? Perhaps that anticipation often trumps reality, and fear is False Evidence Appearing Real. My little episode does make me question how many truly important opportunities and enriching experiences I might have passed up over the years because of similar unfounded trepidations.

How about you?

What Do You Do All Day?

I’ve made frequent references in this blog to living in the moment. While yesterday wasn’t exactly “typical,” it does demonstrate what can happen when you just put yourself out there.

The day started with only one thing on the calendar—meeting friends for lunch at 1 o’clock. Good—a quiet day heading into the weekend (yes, we casually note when those roll around).

My friend and partner Juan called to say he could come by at noon and take me to get a replacement phone for the one that was stolen. Kind of tight time-wise with our commitment, but OK—let’s do it.

We went to the phone place and got all the paperwork done, but the phone wouldn’t be ready until 5:30. Could I come back then? Those of you who have followed our adventures and misadventures are aware that coming back is usually part of showing up in Ecuador when any kind of paperwork is involved. Sure, I’ll return then.

Our lunch rendezvous happened right on time and we had a lovely meal during two hours of chitchat. Since we were in El Centro we decided afterwards to drop by TerraDiversa to pick up our monthly shipment from the wine club we joined.

While there we learned that it was one of our employee’s birthday. We also found out that in the evening Mansion Alcazar, perhaps Cuenca’s finest hotel, was hosting a trade-only event to showcase their new spa facilities. That sounded like fun, so we decided to attend. After all, we had no plans, right?

Now we were caught in that in-between time—it was too early to pick up the phone and too much trouble to go home then turn around and leave almost as soon as we got there. When Cynthia learned where the business was located she realized it was close to a clinic where she needed to make a doctor’s appointment for a friend.

So we strolled over there with the thought if the phone wasn’t ready we’d sit and relax until it was. While we were waiting for the receptionist to return we were more than a little surprised to see the female half of the couple we had just eaten lunch with walking around the corner.

She was there for an appointment with another doctor who apparently wasn’t showing up. Our appointment was made and her husband, who was waiting in their car, did a double take upon seeing us all walking out together!

After telling them goodbye—again—we walked to the phone business. It was an hour early, but time is very fluid here, and what do you know, the phone was ready. Outstanding! I remembered seeing what appeared to be a chocolate store on the way, so we doubled back to hopefully pick up a birthday gift for our employee since we would be seeing her later at the hotel.

Except we got our directions mixed up and went the long way around the clinic. Cynthia had just said we’d probably see someone else we knew when we walked around the corner. Guess what---we walked around the corner and immediately saw another couple we knew. Things like this actually happen all the time here.

After chatting with them for a bit we found the store but it didn’t have what we needed. Then Cynthia remembered a kiosk in the shopping center below the Supermaxi that sells chocolates and would be on our way home, so off we trekked. En route we bought a bag of cherries (they’re in season now) from one of those wheelbarrow produce merchants. We also saw Juan again as he was walking from a dental appointment.

All of these places we had walked to are not close to each other and we were getting really pooped, but an obstacle course loomed ahead. Our path took us around the stadium, and we discovered it was game night.

We weaved through ticket hawkers, food vendors, shirt vendors, noise-making vendors, plus lots and lots of excited fans. I think soccer is all that really matters in Latin America.

After emerging from that madhouse and purchasing the chocolates we decided to splurge and take a taxi home (that normally happens only when we’ve got too many groceries to carry). But it was late Friday afternoon, the soccer game was right up the street and roads were blocked, there were about four people waiting and no taxis in sight, so screw it, we kept walking.

Finally back home with an hour to rest up before heading out again, off came the shoes and out came the vino. Sufficiently fortified with a couple of glasses we taxied to the hotel (no more walking, we agreed!) and, as expected, enjoyed a lovely presentation of the new facilities complete with tasty hors d'oeuvres and more wine.

Then the TerraDiversa group plus the folks from another tour operator decided to take the birthday celebration elsewhere, so we piled into vehicles and went to a nearby bar. Thirteen people crammed into table space for at most ten. Here came the food. Here came the beers and more vino. In other words, here came the party!

We didn’t understand much of what was being said, but so what? Everyone was talking, laughing, and having a great time.

A ride home was offered but Calle Larga, the street where the bar is located, is party central and jammed with cars and people on the weekends. It was therefore much quicker to walk (so much for our agreement). Around 11 we arrived at the casa exhausted and inebriated. I barely remember going to bed.

So let’s recap: lunch at 1 was our one thing to do.

Instead it was: phone place+lunch+walking toTerraDiversa+walking to clinic+walking to phone place+visiting friends along the way+dodging the soccer crowd+walking to chocolate kiosk+walking home+home with wine+Mansion Alcazar+bar+walking home.

And sometimes that’s what we do all day in Ecuador.

Hummingbird Exhibit

It seems everyone in Cuenca except Cynthia and a survivalist wacko without a computer (just kidding) is writing a blog these days. So perhaps you've already seen photos of the hummingbird exhibit that has been in town this month.

On an absolutely glorious day we finally got around to visiting yesterday and were pretty much the only people there. Sent down to us from Quito, at least 50 sculptures have been painted and decorated in unique ways.

It's a pretty amazing display of creativity. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend heading over to Otorongo Plaza before the end of the month.