People and Time, Oh How Sublime!

One of the many great things about Cuenca is that I never know how my day is going to go. Of course in the states when I was a teacher and an administrator, I never knew how my day was going to go either. However, this is retirement, a more insouciance time, when I am more in control of my time. Yet, getting together with friends, having someone call, meeting someone new, running into people I know while walking or eating in a restaurant, there is always an abundance of people in my life that can send each day on a trajectory I did not anticipate. It’s nice not to have a daily routine of the same old grind. It’s also nice to see my daily plans altered on a frequent basis by circumstances and by the people I meet throughout the day, by friends and new acquaintances who generally promise an interesting or exciting or adventurous time of conversation or activity.

Friday was one of those days that brought me into El Centro to have a late lunch/early dinner with a friend in a restaurant that was new to me “Indigo”, which has good food, nice atmosphere, and very reasonable prices. The evening was upon us and it was time to head to Gringo Night at Zoe’s. The crowd was relatively sparse. I hadn’t been in attendance in over a month. Some of the usual mainstays were there, as were newer couples I have met before who only recently moved to Cuenca.

As I made my rounds talking with people, I had the opportunity to reacquaint myself with one gentleman I had met in Parke Cauderon one afternoon where we spent hours talking. Meeting him again at Zoe’s led me to some new acquaintances, a young Argentinean from Buenos Aires who hopes to remain in Cuenca, a Californian from San Francisco who will be returning in September for good. We had great time of conversing, joking, and bantering. Eventually we invited a Patti from Washington with us, who is often a mainstay at Carolina Bookstore, as we made our way to La Vina’s for an evening dinner and wine over some very fine traditional Italian fare.

The evening of conversation went from political to philosophical interspersed with occasional jokes and more friendly banter. In typical American fashion, our intellectual discussions jumped from one topic to another, without remaining on any one topic long enough for any depth. The evening was fun, the company enjoyable, the work experiences, the life experiences, and the sense of humor of such a diverse group only added to the enjoyment of the evening. Next time we only need to add some song to the wine and food.

The fun of Friday evening was followed with a day in the country with Ecuadorian friends who invited me to a pig grill. Mercifully, I was spared the slaughter of the pig, an eighteen month old, who met his demise about three hours before I arrived. Much of the day was watching Patricio, our host, butcher his first pig solo, as he hacked away at the various parts with a large knife that would cut right through the bone. Patricio seems like one of the nicest guys in the world you could ever meet, and yet when I saw him go to work with that blade in his hand, I wouldn’t want to meet his alter-ego. The legs and hooves sat in a nearby bucket. The pig’s head sat on the table, with his snout aimed upward, and his lips all puckered like he desired a kiss. (Sorry, folks, that I don’t have any photos for you. I still haven’t taken my camera out of its box, so you’ll just have to use your imaginations.)

Different parts of the pig were cooked at different times. The skin was among the first served with corn and potatoes. Ecuadorians have a habit of heavily salting everything. The skin was also prepared in minute junks similar to pork rinds back home. Other parts were grilled. Some parts were boiled. Whenever a pig is slaughtered and prepared, all the women of the family gather together to do the preparations and cooking. I watched as the intestines were washed with water and lemon juice, and then stuffed with rice. One set was packed with a more salted variety of rice, while another set of intestines was packed with raisins and sugar for a sweeter variety, and then both sets were boiled. Then there was whatever part of the pig that was cut up into chunks and fried in a very large pan, which required that the chunks of meat be frequently stirred to balance the cooking of all the pieces and to be sure that the meat would not stick to the bottom of the pan. This dish was served, of course, with rice and potatoes. Meanwhile, other women were charcoal grilling long thin slices of pork on a grill. The family offered me a plate to take home with me, which I enjoyed the next day as well.

Short of the bones, just about every part of the pig would eventually be utilized. The pig’s head eventually met the chopping block as well. I didn’t watch to see what part or parts of the various dish preparations that part of the pig was mixed in with. I figured what I didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt me, or at least not adversely affect my appetite.

Throughout the whole experience, we were sitting in a half unfinished home which was being built as money allowed for further construction. Some of the relatives were in the states, and as money came home another step of construction could take place. There were children everywhere running around, playing, and enjoying themselves. I was mesmerized by a two year old, a nephew of Patricio’s. He had such a sense of curiosity, was into everything, and wanted to do whatever he saw the adults doing. He attempted to move a full-size wheel barrow that was loaded, and what energy, he never stayed in one place longer than a minute. It was enjoyable watching how the little fella was constantly exploring, and figuring out how things worked. Toward the end of the afternoon, his mother changed his diaper, and bundled him up and placed him on her back. I couldn’t even see his head. Either she suffocated him, or that bundle of energy was finally out cold, against the warmth of the garments and his mother’s body.

The beauty of it all is when on occasion any of the parents corrected the children, the children immediately fell into line. No shouting on the part of the parents, no unheeded warnings, no spankings, no time-outs. The children just immediately corrected their behavior and went about their play. The parental corrections usually came more of a nature to be careful and less risky. The children all played well together. The Ecuadorian children are truly a blessing to behold. Ecuadorian parents are doing something right that sure is missing in most homes in the states.

It was a wonderful day despite the cold and rain, and I have already been invited to Patricio’s fourteen year old nephew, Gabriel's confirmation next month. I’ve got to get that camera ready. Patricio’s mother-in-law was the only woman wearing the traditional indigenous dress. She was a warm and inviting lady. My only regret is that I speak so little Spanish.

The last three days have been rainy, cold, cloudy, and damp. I miss the Equatorial sun; but even on a cloudy, rainy day, I look from the expanse of my condo windows and enjoy the beauty of Cuenca and the mountains. Tomorrow will be a people day, come rain or come shine.

What Retirement Can Be Like

What a busy, and fun-filled Thursday and Friday it has been for me. I had the opportunity to meet with fellow bloggers, Brian and Shelley, of "Planet Irony." We met for lunch at Raymipampa Restaurant, which is a favorite with Ecuadorians and expats alike. I had the chance to meet Freddi, who is the most adorable Shitsu, and lives just to be contentedly petted. Brian explained that Shitsu dogs over the centuries had been bred to have the aggressiveness taken out of them. A shitsu then served as a lap dog, who obediently sat on the Chinese empress' lap without causing a disturbance. A shitsu has hair instead of fur, and so does not shed. Freddi felt just like a ball of soft, fluffy fur; even though it was hair. It was so nice to be around a small dog that always wasn't yapping.

Later in the afternoon, Brian and Shelley invited me to their beautiful apartment. The wood throughout the home was done in laurel wood, which has a luxurious look to it, and appears to be the same color and hew of the wood I mentioned in a previous post seeing at an upscale pizza restaurante by the SuperMaxi. I had never heard of laurel trees before, so I learn something new everyday. Shelley assisted me with my blog. She gave me a lot of good pointers, and I very much appreciated her help. Shelley promised that when I return to Cuenca, I should be ready for her "graduate course" of statistical disaggregation analysis of blog viewers from around the world to my site, etc. With a course title like that I may have to pay university prices.

Brian, Shelley, and I discussed the advantages and disadvantages of buying, or of renting a furnished or an unfurnished apartment. This a major point of discussion that comes up frequently with expats and visitors like myself, with whom I meet and socialize in Cuenca. I will focus on this point specifically in a later post. We ended the early evening hours with a Ecuadorian beer, and what for me was an interesting afternoon of conversation.

Friday I had dinner with Lourdes, who had recently returned from Pennsylvania. Lourdes was born in Ecuador, but left at an early age with her family and grew up in the United States. She is at least for a period of time returning to her roots, although she does have a love affair with the "Big Apple" as well. We ate at the El Cantaro, which was the first visit for both of us. Lourdes had a pasta dish. There are quite a few pastas in Ecuador, but Lourdes told me that in the preparation of the sauces they generally are quite different from Italian pasta dishes. I had a steamed-trout dish prepared with a mustard-based sauce that I had found to be very good. Ecuador is also known for its fresh seafood dishes, both fish and shell fish. I intend to return to El Cantaro to try their sea bass. I understand that if I do not want to deal with the bones to be sure I order fish fillet. It seems fish that has not been filleted is more oftentimes served in Ecuador than in the states. Both dinners including our drinks and the two coffees following dinner came to about $16. Not a buy price for one of Cuenca's more upscale restaurants.

Lourdes is very busy refurbishing an apartment that she has just moved into since she returned from the states. She chose to rent an unfurnished apartment. Apartments in Ecuador do not come with light fixtures. The electrical is in place, but the fixtures around the bulbs must be purchased by the renter, and are taken by the renter when vacating the apartment. I met Lourdes through a blog link of expats in Cuenca long before I came to Cuenca. The blogs are a great way of not only learning about Cuenca, but also making contacts with people once you arrive. You will be able to link to Lourdes blog, "Looloo in Ecuador" as well as many others, right from my blog as soon as I get my blog links inserted. (Thank you, Shelley.)

Lourdes speaks Spanish very fluently, which I greatly envy. The advantage to being with someone who speaks fluent Spanish is that I can get so much more from a conversation with a Spanish-only speaking person, as Lourdes can quickly translate for me. On the other hand, having a translator is the type of "easy" which I do not want to take advantage of too often. It is only through my struggle with the language that I will improve in my use of it. I use the word "struggle", only because I wish I could communicate more with Ecuadorians using their language, since to date I have not met many who speak more than a modicum of English. Otherwise, the urgency of being in Cuenca pushes me forward to learn, and to make a game out of it. When I'm not listening and practicing "Spanish for Dummies", or practicing the elementary basics to procure a taxi ride or make a purchase; I can always practice or try a new sentence or two of Spanish on Jose', one of the security men here at the condo. Jose' makes me write down every new sentence I want to say to him, so he can see exactly what I am trying to say. Then he can correct my grammatical mistakes, pronunciation, or sentence structure order. I usually have to spend time first looking up the words in the dictionary, and stringing them together in sentences trying to apply as best I can what I remember about conjugations and so on. Jose does a good job with me, particularly considering that he hardly speaks a word of English.

Friday, it must be an evening at Zoe's for expats. What a great place to meet other expats and visitors like myself. There are so many fascinating people, who have done interesting things with their lives. These evenings at Zoe's are not only good for making social contacts, but also sharing information and being helpful to one another. These Friday evenings give expats who are interested the opportunity to meet and make an endless number of contacts and friends; which are always being replenished as new visitors come to vacation, study, or settle in Cuenca. It is generally impossible to meet with everybody in attendance over the course of a two hour social period. While many conversations are cursory, there are both old acquaintances and new to offer anyone in attendance some time for in-depth conversations. This evening alone I met with Larry, an investor from Los Angeles; talked with Doug, an entrepreneur from Atlanta; and conversed with George and Lillian of Houston, Texas, who have just settled in Cuenca, and who were the first couple I met my first day in Cuenca. I had time to touch bases with Ali and with Regina, who I met the previous week at Zoe's, and with whom I have spent some time since. Besides a quick hello to some people I met from the previous week at Zoe's, I also met Gil and Deborah from San Francisco; and I met Martin, who is about to take a college position teaching English in Kuwait, and has taught in a multiplicity of countries. People who meet at Zoe's will often break into smaller groups and head out for some evening activity. This Friday, Martin, Gil, Deborah, and I had dinner at a Columbian restaurant that Martin frequents. The meal was good, and the conversation was scintillating when talking with people who have such wide experiences of travel and study to bring to the table. All and all--a very good day!

Amigos y Amigos

Friday was people day. I was scheduled to have an Ecuadorian breakfast at Kookaburra Cafe with Rich and Nancy, who are two expats here in Cuenca from the states, who I met and interacted with through their blog. I was pleasantly surprised to meet Rich's brother, Bob and his wife, Roxanne as well. They are the folks from whom I am renting the condo. They also have a home on the Pacific coast of Ecuador, and rent out their condo when they are living on the coast. They were in town for a few days on business and staying with Rich and Nancy. Bob and Roxanne also have a blog. Both couples' blogs are linked on "Cuenca High Life", a web site for expats and travelers to Cuenca. I strongly recommend "Cuenca High Life' to people who plan on visiting here.

I can not begin to tell you how beautiful Bob and Roxanne's condo is, and how nicely furnished. There are so many amenities in terms of fully ceramic bathrooms from ceiling to floor and encompassing the bath tubs as well, to beautifully ceramic floors throughout the kitchen, living room, and hallway which adjoins the three bedrooms and two baths. Hardwood floors in all three bedrooms. Quality wood doors with a simple carved trim etched into the doors to set them off from just being plain looking doors. Wood framing around all the doors. Numerous inset and spotlighting throughout every room of the house. I'm no expert on home designs, so forgive me if I'm not using the proper carpentry descriptives. The walls and ceilings are set off from one another by wood cornices, and every ceiling in the house is then further enhanced by a higher inset that is also set off by wood cornices. It's an elegant home perfect for my tastes, and my understanding is that such a condo in our area would cost twice as much as the cost in Cuenca. I am not talking about the city of Chicago or North Shore market, then you could triple or quadruple the market value.

Roxanne, and I assume Bob, have some great tastes in art. There is a haunting painting of this young couple's faces above my desk where I type out these posts that I find absolutely mesmerizing. There is a sketch in the hallway of the faces of a young couple that is also very expressive. Lucky for Bob and Roxanne, I am such a good, decent, and honest guy. I don't recall them including all their paintings on an inventory of the furnishings that I have to account for when I vacate the premises.

At any rate, the five of us had an Ecuadorian breakfast with another couple, Mike and Patty, who were heading back to the states while their home was being built in Cuenca. Also present for breakfast was Steve, who also has his own blog. Steve was very helpful in the advice he gave me concerning the procurement of permanent residency in Ecuador. Please refer to his blog for further details. I could not have asked to start my visit with a nicer set of folks than Steve and these three couples. We had a very good breakfast, and good conversation. Ecuadorian seasoning is flavorful without generally being red-chilly-hot spicy, as commonly associated with Mexican cooking. The garlic-roasted potatoes were perfecto. I had the chance immediately after breakfast to meet with Steve's wife, Linda, as well, who had not been able to join the group for breakfast.

Friday evening many of the expats and newcomers gather at Zoe's a popular restaurant and lounge in El Centro or the Colonial Quarters. Imagine walking into a room filled with people you have never met before, and you look around and there are people you immediately recognize from their photos in their blogs. None of these people know a thing about me, because I've just started blogging, and I'm still working my way through the machinations of the site and my use of my first laptop. Some of the bloggers feel psychologically naked, "Oh you know so much about us, and we know nothing about you." was a comment I heard more than once.

Well, it didn't take anytime at all to break the ice, as the room filled and people congregated about sharing their stories and why they came to or are thinking of moving to Cuenca. It was a fascinating evening. I'll long remember standing out on the balcony and talking with various couples, while engaging in the feast for the eyes of the colonial facades and the cobble stone streets running down the block, and the way the evening sky seem to set off the facades of the buildings. In my first post, I stated that I had fallen in love with Cuenca from our first acquaintance, and I wanted to discover if our contact was simply a long-distance romance that could not withstand the test of reality. Unlike some cyberspace romances that went so well while we emailed, but not so well once we met, Cuenca has romanced me beyond belief. The question now is will our romance stand the test of time? We will see.

My only disappointment to date has been with myself. Karma has a way of catching up with us. I regret that I had not applied myself better in learning Spanish when I was in high school. Although over time, people will forget what they learn when they don't use it, that knowledge is still filed away in the old noggin somewhere waiting to be resurrected. Education truly is wasted on the young.

I left Zoe's with a lady from Santa Barbara, who like me was exploring Cuenca as a possible relocation. She had been visiting the square each evening of the week as the Catholic Church was celebrating some kind of religious feast day. Abi spoke more Spanish than I, but I soon learned she could get off a plethora of questions in Spanish, but understanding the responses--not so well. We did the best we could.

I first walked into the church. A mass was taking place. There were no pews. Everyone was standing. The interior of the church was ornate, and in the traditional Spanish style. There were streamers of pastel-colored drapery that ran down from the statue of Mary outwards, which had the effect of further emphasizing the already front-centerd focus of Mary in the church. Although the music was more lively than what I associate with Anglo Catholic services, the reverence of the people in the church reminded me of the Catholicism of old when I was a child.

On the square outside the church, Abi and I mingled with the people, and communicated as best we could. The people are so open and friendly. Abi said the program was advertised to begin at 8:00, which meant in Ecuadorian "whenever it happens". "The happening" did not begin until 9:30. We spoke with one couple who may have been about our age. The husband spoke some English, so between his English and Abi's Spanish we were able to patch together a conversation. The couple have three sons and a daughter--all living in Minneapolis. I asked the father how his children like Minneapolis. He diplomatically said, "They like Minneapolis, because they all have jobs." There are 14 million Ecuadorians, something like 3 0r 4 million are living in the United States--primarily in New York, Chicago, and Minneapolis.

It was the neatest thing in the world to watch the people--their close proximity to one another, the indulgence of the youngsters, not in a spoiled way, but just in terms of time and affection showered upon the kids. The children I see everywhere are always smiling and of good cheer. No one is in a rush. It doesn't matter when the program starts. It will start when it starts. Just being here with family and friends and relaxing is reason enough. It is the end in itself. The program was incidental.

Poor Abi--she had been bragging all evening about the wonderful dancers, singers, flute players, etc that had performed the previous evenings. Unfortunately, once the program began, it began with a very slow-moving, surreal, possibly political statement that reminded me of a mime out of Cirque Du Soleil--minus the rest of the cast and acts to hold ones attention. Not knowing if this solo dance dramatization may go on for an hour, the fact that I was tired, and the fact that my left eye was really irritated possibly from incense that may have been used during the mass, or from the vendors cooking various meats for the people in the square; I begged off and decided to head home.

I took the first taxi I saw. My faced lit up when the driver spoke English. I had an amigo with whom to converse on the way back to the condo. Better yet, he had just returned from Chicago on April 30th, where he had worked in a restaurant kitchen for thirteen years. With English and the Chicago connection, we began immediately to commiserate. He has a thirteen year old and a twelve year old son, and his home was about ten minutes beyond my condo. He invited me to his home to meet his wife, Marianna, and his two sons. As we arrived at our destination, he warned me that I should not get into a taxi without first asking the driver to show his identification. He proceeded to show me his I.D., and the two I'D's that he had from Madison, Wisconsin. I asked him if he had lived in Madison. He said no, that his cousin lived in Madison and was able to get him the Wisconsin licenses, which he said were good enough for Illinois. We may get together yet. I would like to meet with an Ecuadorian family in their home. Of all the taxis in Cuenca, that we should meet up. How's that for fate, and for six degrees of separation. Hasta luego!