Sunday, June 14, 2015
JIM'S MONTH-LONG TRAVEL TO ITALY; ROME, VENICE, FLORENCE AND TUSCANY COUNTRY-SIDE
For a month from mid-April through mid-May I traveled in Italy beginning with five nights in Rome, four nights in Venice, seven nights in Florence and the Tuscan countryside, and then my final ten nights in Rome again. I was blessed with absolutely the best weather with which anyone could imagine. The temperatures were always in the 70's and 80's with only my last day in Rome hitting ninety degrees. During the entire month, I had exactly one-half hour of rain when I first arrived in Venice, and that was it. I love history, art and architecture, walking cities for hours, exploring residential neighborhoods, visiting museums, sitting for hours in sidewalk cafes and people watching, visiting with everybody with whom I conversed, and eating some of the finest cuisine in the world. Italy was everything I had dreamt it would be and more.
Below you will find one album link and seven story links of my travels. Many stories offer a narration as well, especially the album. I had more narrations on some of the others, but Google Plus messed me up. I hope in time to do one more album of the art in the Guggenheim Museum in Venice. I loved the works in the museum, so I only showed a sample in the Venice story below. I may also edit all the emails I sent to friends during my time in Italy, and link them as well. Time will tell.
I hope you enjoy whatever you choose to view, that it brings back memories for those of you who may have visited the same sights at one time, and that the album and stories may whet your appetites to visit Italia if you have not already done so. Hopefully, in the process you may also learn something more about another culture and some of its contributions to Western Civilization. (Sorry, you are not going to get the teacher and the curriculum and instructional administrator out of me.)
The album is entitled, "The Trastevere Area of Rome". Click on the link and it will take you to the album. You will be able to view all of the photos on display. If you wish to see each photo close-up, you click on the photo, and you will also be able to read the narration when applicable to the particular photo. If you click on for the full photo and wish to continue in the mode with the narration, just click the arrow under each of the photos to forward to the next photo:
https://plus.google.com/u/0/photos/111741036841400152108/albums/6156599381480496913?authkey=CKfXu9PXwMfkRQ
The following links are stories organized by Google Plus as I uploaded my photos from my camera to the computer, and Google Plus further organized all the photos in chronological order during my travels, I deleted or added photos not originally used by Google Plus for the story, and I wrote my own comments or narration: (If the comments are not fully visible, you need to click your down key when you are at the end of the comment to continue reading.) Also, a broader narration is provided for many photos when you click on the actual photo:
Friday in Rome: A Story by James Mola
https://plus.google.com/u/0/111741036841400152108/stories/9f3ce333-7ae5-3b84-83c8-33e6dc691cf214d79e0fe4c
Venice: Jim on the Heels of Marco Polo: A Story by James Mola
https://plus.google.com/u/0/111741036841400152108/stories/eecea690-422a-39e2-b87e-134ef2f9a56614d77a2e72c
Thursday in Venice: A Story by James Mola
https://plus.google.com/u/0/111741036841400152108/stories/360c56d2-451c-38e9-af8c-04dfd6583d9514d77a2e72b
Trip to Florence and Siena: A Story by James Mola
https://plus.google.com/u/0/111741036841400152108/stories/3bf5c574-8929-36cb-a547-5a7b5e69723d14d77a2e72a
Trip to Rome: A Story by James Mola
https://plus.google.com/u/0/111741036841400152108/stories/483d920f-4bed-3327-8072-235635ac9ca714d77a2e727
Wednesday in Tivoli: A Story by James Mola
https://plus.google.com/u/0/111741036841400152108/stories/3d310407-c572-3460-ba42-ba2726b3e21014d77ada90a
Final Weekend in Rome: A Story by James Mola
https://plus.google.com/u/0/111741036841400152108/stories/6fc60dfa-7f63-3f9e-b0e7-3f824d7f503a14d77ada90a
Monday, April 6, 2015
A TRIP TO THE HOSPITAL IN CUENCA
I learned early in life that I am not in control. Most of us who have lived about seventy years, if we reflect back upon how we thought our lives would unfold over the next fifty years, we would never imagine the ways our lives have played out. Daily events in our lives generally follow the pretense of a routine; and even here, the unpredictability of life from one day to another is often something to behold, especially when events are within the context of a brief moment of time in our overall lives. Here is a vignette of just two weeks in the life of Jim Mola here in Cuenca, Ecuador:
It was two weeks ago this past Friday. I became aware of a medical problem the day after an amiga and I had visited a friend in Giron. Giron is at a little lower elevation than Cuenca. Therefore, it is warmer and produces more insects. It was raining hard when we went up to the waterfalls for which Giron is famous. My friend was from Rochester, New York, and was only here for one more month before she would return home. Therefore, we either see the falls then or not at all. Actually, it was a magnificent time to be at the precipice of the lower fall as the heavy rains truly had the falls gushing water with a crescendo of thundering sounds. The whole scene of the falls, and the immediate area across from the falls and behind us with its wisp of fog was like out of a scene from the movie Camelot, when King Arthur would visit Merlin in the primeval forest. It was pretty thrilling to be in the midst of it all.
It was the day after our venture to Giron that I noticed I had a red spot on the back of my left leg with a large puncture hole in the center of the spot. At first I thought it might be jiggers. I had a couple of bouts dealing with jiggers back in 2012 and 2013. Unlike Jiggers, the spot did not itch, and I figured it would disappear in a few days. I had no idea, however, if I was bitten/stung while on my friend's property, while up at the falls, or if it even happened in Giron. I can't remember ever seeing spiders in my apartment. The doctors eventually verified that whatever infected me was airborne.
A few days passed and the original infected area did not disappear and had become bluish/purple in color, and now was joined by a much larger semi-circular red ring that was hard as a rubber ball. I should have thought, "Maybe it's time to go see a doctor." I thought instead, "Oh that's interesting, maybe, it will go away in a couple of days." The next couple of days it became very inflamed with pain. Now, I am not a lover of pain, so I decide that it is time to go see a doctor. My doctor gives me a couple of antibiotics and he says, "James, come see me one week from today, by then your infection will have subsided, or I will have to lance it and clean out the pus. One evening a couple of days later, my leg is in excruciatingly pain. I almost decided to go to the emergency room of the hospital, but it was 10:00 p.m. I didn't want to shower, dress, and go out in the Cuencano rain. Over 5,000 taxis in the city, but most are not operating in the late evening, and all our occupied when it's raining. I think this line of reasoning is called misplaced priorities, and thinking with my feelings instead of my brain.
About 12:30 a.m., I am ready to go to bed. Just as I am about to climb into bed, I felt something dribbling down the back of my leg. I checked it out, and I thought, "Oh great, my infection is beginning to drain itself, and the excruciating pain began to subside as well. The next day, I explained to the doctor what was happening, and how the purple spotted area has enlarged, the outer skin has broken, and while I said to the doctor that the infected area wasn't looking good; I did not tell him that it looked like rotten meat covered in maggots.
The doctor meets me in the emergency room at Monte Sinai Hospital the next day to lance the infection. He takes one look, and is astonished at how quickly it has grown and changed from just four days ago. Actually the change from when he first saw it had happened only in the last two days. He says, "James (Every Ecuatorinano in Cuenca always call me James.) we will need to clean it tomorrow, and take a specimen for a biopsy to better focus the most effective antibiotics for your very progressive form of bacteria. Also we will need to schedule the anesthesiologist, since the procedure will be too painful for you otherwise. In the meantime we need to check you into a room.
The following day, I am wheeled to the surgical unit. I am relieved that I will be put under during the procedure. The anesthesiologist informs me I am going to have, what for me will be a first, a spinal tap. "What! You are not going to knock me out?" The doc says, "Would you like to be put completely under?" I reacted without a second of hesitation, "Oh yea!" In what must have been a moment of Ecuatoriano humor, the doctor, replied, "No you will have a spinal tap." Well, I am sitting on the side of the surgical table. Needles do not bother me, but when whatever the doc was injecting higher in the spine would hit the left kidney, that was not fun. No empathy here. Just with each dollop from the injection, "Do not move."
Ten minutes later, the doc asks me if I can move my legs. That's the first time, I realized I didn't have any legs, It was like there was just me from the waist up and everything else just wasn't there. I was actually trying to decide what was better, being totally free of my body or having to deal with one. At one point during the cleansing, the surgeon dangles this elongated strip of what looked like pork in front of my face, and says, "This is the piece we will use for the biopsy. Look at all the green pus on it." I provide him with a stoic nod, and I am just relieved I am not feeling pain. The doctors informed me that the infection had gone deeper than they suspected. A few more days, I may have been at risk of losing a leg. I asked one of the doctors, if I had to lose a leg would I be able to choose which one? I didn't receive a response, just a puzzled look. Maybe he just doesn't get American humor. I spent another three nights in the hospital, while the doctors waited for the biopsy reports, and then determined how to adjust my antibiotics based upon what they learned.
Now during my life since I was a kid, God has put me in many humiliating situations whether of my own doing, someone else's, or just what appears to be random misfortune. I long ago reached the point in my life that I can no longer be humiliated, and at my age generally care little about being self-consciously in need of fitting other people's mold of expectations. So I will continue with my tale, you are about to read about the rest of that day that even my closest friends and family have not been told, including those who visited me at the hospital, and who until they read this post have no idea how the rest of my day transpired.
A few hours after I am returned to my room, I am getting back substantial feeling in my legs. I decide it's time to give my legs a try. I get out of bed. I am standing in what feels like a very solid stance, and I am relieved--only to suddenly without anticipation collapse. Now it's bad enough that I didn't call for assistance; even worse, that I knocked over everything on my tray table which cascaded to whatever else was in the immediate vicinity; and much worse, that my I.V. was ripped from my arm. Suddenly, there is blood squirting everywhere. It takes me about thirty seconds to get to the gizmo I press to contact the nurses. The first nurse enters the room, immediately does a 180; and returns with a bevy of nurses, aides, whoever was available. The first priority was to stop my bleeding. Then get me out of my blood-stained gown, which means I am standing there in the room for the next what seemed like ten minutes in the nude, while eight to ten women are scurrying around trying to put everything back in order and clean and mop up all the blood. Notice, I'm standing through this entire duration. The scene was chaotically surreal, and I looked around just thinking of the movie title, "There Will be Blood." All these women eventually got everything in order without ever missing a beat, as if they handled situations like this everyday. Maybe they do. Nobody treated me like I had done something terrible. Eventually, I was given a fresh garment, and I was no longer conspicuously exposed. None of the women went into heat over my nudity, probably because none of them had a microscope on them. (That's meant to be a joke.)
I literally can't recall if this next incident happened in sequence or later the same day. I needed to use the bathroom. "Yo necessito usar los banos." Generally, those magic words would get me sprung from my I.V. and I could move about, and get away with lying continuously on my back. For some reason beyond my understanding, the nurse did not understand what I wanted to do. Granted, a container was beside my bed for urination. The problem is I don't know the Spanish word for urination or for bowel movement, or defecation--a word I hate, it always sounds much worse to me than using the other "f" word. I can't recall how my room became filled with women again. I guess nobody wanted to miss what I might do for an encore. Also, everyone was trying to figure out what I wanted.
Oh my God, how during my time in the hospital, I wished I had learned a great deal more Spanish, and practiced, practiced, and practiced. Life is full of regrets. Now, I am living one of them.
I am desperate to get these women to understand, because I really needed to get some serious business done, and I did not want to have an accident on the floor, which just would be the frosting on the cake to a day people just don't choose for themselves. Finally, I hoped that maybe "I have to do number one and number two" works in Ecuador like it does in the U.S. No such luck, the women just give one another quizzical looks. I figured my only hope is to act this out. So I begin to act as if I am peeing, and making a vocal pissing sound the entire time, in what was definitely a teaching moment and comedic besides. Suddenly, in unison, the light went on for all the women. They got it, they all began to laugh, and I am granted release and relief. There was actually something endearing about the episode, one I'm glad I had, and will long remember.
I was always delighted when any of the women could figure out what I wanted or was trying to say. They were anxious over wanting to understand me, and their faces would light up whenever communication was successfully made. The young women in particular, all of whom are diminutive in size; whenever two or more were present, were like groups of giddy girls in that twelve to sixteen age bracket in the states. What brought tears to my eyes was whenever more than once some of the women would apologize to me because they did not know more English. Here I am in their country, and they are apologizing to me.
Well, I wasn't home free yet. My last evening in the hospital witnessed my blood pressure rising. I don't have blood pressure problems, what's going on? Within twenty minutes I had my answer, I looked down at my right arm and it doubled in size and had that hard rubber feeling to it. Oh God, no, don't tell me I have another infection with which to deal. The nurses were having a very difficult time finding a vein large enough for an I.V., so I'm already like a pin cushion. It turned out the catheter for the I.V. was faulty, and the saline and antibiotics were not passing through my vein. Problem resolved. My blood pressure eventually subsided, and by morning the swelling in my arm has gone down. I've spent much time in hospitals, if not for myself, then for family members in particular. Things will go wrong. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing is perfect.
I was really happy with the overall care by all staff involved. No real complaints there. The doctors and nurses all did a fine job. The better hospitals in the big cities in Ecuador can hold their own with the better hospitals in the states. Ecuador, however, can not provide some of the latest and most sophisticated medical attention that may be found in some of the specialized and research hospitals in the states.
Hospital food is universally hospital food,and you better love rice as much an Ecuatorianos do, because you're going to eat plenty of it in Ecuadorian hospitals. Toward the end of my hospital stay, I was given real soup not primarily broth, which had big, rounded white beans that made the soup substantial, tender, and tasty. The chef could do no wrong when it came to preparing fish, always savory, and cooked to perfection. My final evening meal, which ironically was on the night of Holy Thursday, the night of the Last Supper, had what appeared to be a pastry cup filled with fish. Upon further investigation, the chef must have taken two or three fillets and somehow encircled them in a rather artistic mold that did not require an external pastry to contain it. I must admit, the medical cost although inexpensive by American standards was higher than I anticipated for my four day adventure. A buddy said, "They must have charged you for that gourmet chef you had." Possibly, possibly.
Now I report to the emergency room every other day, so the doctor can examine the area, dress it, and put a new bandage on it. He warned me that there would be a big hole there, and not to panic when I see it, it would eventually fill out. Today, he took a photo and showed it to me. Well, at least now the once infected site looks like dried meatloaf. Yes, it also looks like a lunar crater, or the effusive end of a volcanic crater. Doc says it is progressing nicely. I hope so. I have two weeks to make a final determination as to whether or not I will be able to follow-through with my month of travel later this April to Italy. I have had so many medical and financial hurdles arise to challenge me from getting this trip off the ground. I am determined to make it, and hope no more impediments emerge. In the end, it will work out as it is intended. There is only so much I can do to pretend I am in control.
I thank my friends who were bearers of flowers and gifts, visits (not visitations), prayers, dinners, and concern. A friend who also brought me elegant chocolates, and hard salami from our very own Italian, Italian cheese and sausage maker; in a country where local cheeses leave a great deal to be desired, and imports are almost an impossibility due to government restrictions. Needless to say, hospital personnel had no intention of letting me eat any of these things. A very special shout-out to my Ecuatoriano friends who late at night and over the wee hours of the next day were busy--and--about running back and forth getting items I needed from my apartment, and just willing to do anything for me.
In the end I thought I would just share my story with whomever may be interested in the read. In the bigger scheme of things, it doesn't mean much, and in years to come no one will remember. For the moment, it is significant to me; even if in the grander scheme of things, like most of us, all our shared experiences will be lost floating on some inaccessible computer cloud somewhere in eternity. Maybe, life is meant primarily to be experienced. Well, this was one of my experiences.
It was two weeks ago this past Friday. I became aware of a medical problem the day after an amiga and I had visited a friend in Giron. Giron is at a little lower elevation than Cuenca. Therefore, it is warmer and produces more insects. It was raining hard when we went up to the waterfalls for which Giron is famous. My friend was from Rochester, New York, and was only here for one more month before she would return home. Therefore, we either see the falls then or not at all. Actually, it was a magnificent time to be at the precipice of the lower fall as the heavy rains truly had the falls gushing water with a crescendo of thundering sounds. The whole scene of the falls, and the immediate area across from the falls and behind us with its wisp of fog was like out of a scene from the movie Camelot, when King Arthur would visit Merlin in the primeval forest. It was pretty thrilling to be in the midst of it all.
It was the day after our venture to Giron that I noticed I had a red spot on the back of my left leg with a large puncture hole in the center of the spot. At first I thought it might be jiggers. I had a couple of bouts dealing with jiggers back in 2012 and 2013. Unlike Jiggers, the spot did not itch, and I figured it would disappear in a few days. I had no idea, however, if I was bitten/stung while on my friend's property, while up at the falls, or if it even happened in Giron. I can't remember ever seeing spiders in my apartment. The doctors eventually verified that whatever infected me was airborne.
A few days passed and the original infected area did not disappear and had become bluish/purple in color, and now was joined by a much larger semi-circular red ring that was hard as a rubber ball. I should have thought, "Maybe it's time to go see a doctor." I thought instead, "Oh that's interesting, maybe, it will go away in a couple of days." The next couple of days it became very inflamed with pain. Now, I am not a lover of pain, so I decide that it is time to go see a doctor. My doctor gives me a couple of antibiotics and he says, "James, come see me one week from today, by then your infection will have subsided, or I will have to lance it and clean out the pus. One evening a couple of days later, my leg is in excruciatingly pain. I almost decided to go to the emergency room of the hospital, but it was 10:00 p.m. I didn't want to shower, dress, and go out in the Cuencano rain. Over 5,000 taxis in the city, but most are not operating in the late evening, and all our occupied when it's raining. I think this line of reasoning is called misplaced priorities, and thinking with my feelings instead of my brain.
About 12:30 a.m., I am ready to go to bed. Just as I am about to climb into bed, I felt something dribbling down the back of my leg. I checked it out, and I thought, "Oh great, my infection is beginning to drain itself, and the excruciating pain began to subside as well. The next day, I explained to the doctor what was happening, and how the purple spotted area has enlarged, the outer skin has broken, and while I said to the doctor that the infected area wasn't looking good; I did not tell him that it looked like rotten meat covered in maggots.
The doctor meets me in the emergency room at Monte Sinai Hospital the next day to lance the infection. He takes one look, and is astonished at how quickly it has grown and changed from just four days ago. Actually the change from when he first saw it had happened only in the last two days. He says, "James (Every Ecuatorinano in Cuenca always call me James.) we will need to clean it tomorrow, and take a specimen for a biopsy to better focus the most effective antibiotics for your very progressive form of bacteria. Also we will need to schedule the anesthesiologist, since the procedure will be too painful for you otherwise. In the meantime we need to check you into a room.
The following day, I am wheeled to the surgical unit. I am relieved that I will be put under during the procedure. The anesthesiologist informs me I am going to have, what for me will be a first, a spinal tap. "What! You are not going to knock me out?" The doc says, "Would you like to be put completely under?" I reacted without a second of hesitation, "Oh yea!" In what must have been a moment of Ecuatoriano humor, the doctor, replied, "No you will have a spinal tap." Well, I am sitting on the side of the surgical table. Needles do not bother me, but when whatever the doc was injecting higher in the spine would hit the left kidney, that was not fun. No empathy here. Just with each dollop from the injection, "Do not move."
Ten minutes later, the doc asks me if I can move my legs. That's the first time, I realized I didn't have any legs, It was like there was just me from the waist up and everything else just wasn't there. I was actually trying to decide what was better, being totally free of my body or having to deal with one. At one point during the cleansing, the surgeon dangles this elongated strip of what looked like pork in front of my face, and says, "This is the piece we will use for the biopsy. Look at all the green pus on it." I provide him with a stoic nod, and I am just relieved I am not feeling pain. The doctors informed me that the infection had gone deeper than they suspected. A few more days, I may have been at risk of losing a leg. I asked one of the doctors, if I had to lose a leg would I be able to choose which one? I didn't receive a response, just a puzzled look. Maybe he just doesn't get American humor. I spent another three nights in the hospital, while the doctors waited for the biopsy reports, and then determined how to adjust my antibiotics based upon what they learned.
Now during my life since I was a kid, God has put me in many humiliating situations whether of my own doing, someone else's, or just what appears to be random misfortune. I long ago reached the point in my life that I can no longer be humiliated, and at my age generally care little about being self-consciously in need of fitting other people's mold of expectations. So I will continue with my tale, you are about to read about the rest of that day that even my closest friends and family have not been told, including those who visited me at the hospital, and who until they read this post have no idea how the rest of my day transpired.
A few hours after I am returned to my room, I am getting back substantial feeling in my legs. I decide it's time to give my legs a try. I get out of bed. I am standing in what feels like a very solid stance, and I am relieved--only to suddenly without anticipation collapse. Now it's bad enough that I didn't call for assistance; even worse, that I knocked over everything on my tray table which cascaded to whatever else was in the immediate vicinity; and much worse, that my I.V. was ripped from my arm. Suddenly, there is blood squirting everywhere. It takes me about thirty seconds to get to the gizmo I press to contact the nurses. The first nurse enters the room, immediately does a 180; and returns with a bevy of nurses, aides, whoever was available. The first priority was to stop my bleeding. Then get me out of my blood-stained gown, which means I am standing there in the room for the next what seemed like ten minutes in the nude, while eight to ten women are scurrying around trying to put everything back in order and clean and mop up all the blood. Notice, I'm standing through this entire duration. The scene was chaotically surreal, and I looked around just thinking of the movie title, "There Will be Blood." All these women eventually got everything in order without ever missing a beat, as if they handled situations like this everyday. Maybe they do. Nobody treated me like I had done something terrible. Eventually, I was given a fresh garment, and I was no longer conspicuously exposed. None of the women went into heat over my nudity, probably because none of them had a microscope on them. (That's meant to be a joke.)
I literally can't recall if this next incident happened in sequence or later the same day. I needed to use the bathroom. "Yo necessito usar los banos." Generally, those magic words would get me sprung from my I.V. and I could move about, and get away with lying continuously on my back. For some reason beyond my understanding, the nurse did not understand what I wanted to do. Granted, a container was beside my bed for urination. The problem is I don't know the Spanish word for urination or for bowel movement, or defecation--a word I hate, it always sounds much worse to me than using the other "f" word. I can't recall how my room became filled with women again. I guess nobody wanted to miss what I might do for an encore. Also, everyone was trying to figure out what I wanted.
Oh my God, how during my time in the hospital, I wished I had learned a great deal more Spanish, and practiced, practiced, and practiced. Life is full of regrets. Now, I am living one of them.
I am desperate to get these women to understand, because I really needed to get some serious business done, and I did not want to have an accident on the floor, which just would be the frosting on the cake to a day people just don't choose for themselves. Finally, I hoped that maybe "I have to do number one and number two" works in Ecuador like it does in the U.S. No such luck, the women just give one another quizzical looks. I figured my only hope is to act this out. So I begin to act as if I am peeing, and making a vocal pissing sound the entire time, in what was definitely a teaching moment and comedic besides. Suddenly, in unison, the light went on for all the women. They got it, they all began to laugh, and I am granted release and relief. There was actually something endearing about the episode, one I'm glad I had, and will long remember.
I was always delighted when any of the women could figure out what I wanted or was trying to say. They were anxious over wanting to understand me, and their faces would light up whenever communication was successfully made. The young women in particular, all of whom are diminutive in size; whenever two or more were present, were like groups of giddy girls in that twelve to sixteen age bracket in the states. What brought tears to my eyes was whenever more than once some of the women would apologize to me because they did not know more English. Here I am in their country, and they are apologizing to me.
Well, I wasn't home free yet. My last evening in the hospital witnessed my blood pressure rising. I don't have blood pressure problems, what's going on? Within twenty minutes I had my answer, I looked down at my right arm and it doubled in size and had that hard rubber feeling to it. Oh God, no, don't tell me I have another infection with which to deal. The nurses were having a very difficult time finding a vein large enough for an I.V., so I'm already like a pin cushion. It turned out the catheter for the I.V. was faulty, and the saline and antibiotics were not passing through my vein. Problem resolved. My blood pressure eventually subsided, and by morning the swelling in my arm has gone down. I've spent much time in hospitals, if not for myself, then for family members in particular. Things will go wrong. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing is perfect.
I was really happy with the overall care by all staff involved. No real complaints there. The doctors and nurses all did a fine job. The better hospitals in the big cities in Ecuador can hold their own with the better hospitals in the states. Ecuador, however, can not provide some of the latest and most sophisticated medical attention that may be found in some of the specialized and research hospitals in the states.
Hospital food is universally hospital food,and you better love rice as much an Ecuatorianos do, because you're going to eat plenty of it in Ecuadorian hospitals. Toward the end of my hospital stay, I was given real soup not primarily broth, which had big, rounded white beans that made the soup substantial, tender, and tasty. The chef could do no wrong when it came to preparing fish, always savory, and cooked to perfection. My final evening meal, which ironically was on the night of Holy Thursday, the night of the Last Supper, had what appeared to be a pastry cup filled with fish. Upon further investigation, the chef must have taken two or three fillets and somehow encircled them in a rather artistic mold that did not require an external pastry to contain it. I must admit, the medical cost although inexpensive by American standards was higher than I anticipated for my four day adventure. A buddy said, "They must have charged you for that gourmet chef you had." Possibly, possibly.
Now I report to the emergency room every other day, so the doctor can examine the area, dress it, and put a new bandage on it. He warned me that there would be a big hole there, and not to panic when I see it, it would eventually fill out. Today, he took a photo and showed it to me. Well, at least now the once infected site looks like dried meatloaf. Yes, it also looks like a lunar crater, or the effusive end of a volcanic crater. Doc says it is progressing nicely. I hope so. I have two weeks to make a final determination as to whether or not I will be able to follow-through with my month of travel later this April to Italy. I have had so many medical and financial hurdles arise to challenge me from getting this trip off the ground. I am determined to make it, and hope no more impediments emerge. In the end, it will work out as it is intended. There is only so much I can do to pretend I am in control.
I thank my friends who were bearers of flowers and gifts, visits (not visitations), prayers, dinners, and concern. A friend who also brought me elegant chocolates, and hard salami from our very own Italian, Italian cheese and sausage maker; in a country where local cheeses leave a great deal to be desired, and imports are almost an impossibility due to government restrictions. Needless to say, hospital personnel had no intention of letting me eat any of these things. A very special shout-out to my Ecuatoriano friends who late at night and over the wee hours of the next day were busy--and--about running back and forth getting items I needed from my apartment, and just willing to do anything for me.
In the end I thought I would just share my story with whomever may be interested in the read. In the bigger scheme of things, it doesn't mean much, and in years to come no one will remember. For the moment, it is significant to me; even if in the grander scheme of things, like most of us, all our shared experiences will be lost floating on some inaccessible computer cloud somewhere in eternity. Maybe, life is meant primarily to be experienced. Well, this was one of my experiences.
Friday, March 20, 2015
NIGHTMARE IN CUENCA: DON'T LET THIS HAPPEN TO YOU!
When
I first arrived in Cuenca in 2011 there was barely a pulse of a real-estate
market in the city. Generally, somebody new to Cuenca who sought a rental,
or a house or condo to purchase would hire a translator for about $7.50 per
hour; who would take the prospective buyer or renter to see possible properties
and serve as an intermediary between the seller and the buyer, or the renter and the landlord. This method is still frequently used in Cuenca.
Since 2011, however, the
real-estate market has also developed. More real-estate firms
have been created, legally formalized, and generally will now charge a three
percent commission. Rules and training, if any, for real-estate personnel, to the best of my knowledge, is left up to the individual agencies. There are
no particular requirements and qualifications that require potential
real-estate agents to earn a license of any sort.
One
of the problems in using a real-estate person or a facilitator is that particularly
where a property deed is needed, attorneys must be used to protect the buyer's
interest. Attorneys will conduct the search needed to determine the
number of deed owners, that all owners are indeed selling the property and sign-off on the property, and
that the dimensions of the property being purchased are in fact stated in the
deed and are accurate. The use of an attorney while not required by law
is a must when buying property in Ecuador, if one wishes to protect one's
rights when transacting real-estate.
Similarly,
even a short-term rental should never be transacted without a lease
involvement. Short-term lease rentals become more difficult to transact when
the renter is in a foreign country, and attempts to transact a future rental
long-distance. Oftentimes, a lease may not be signed until after the renter arrives in Ecuador. At a minimum before the renter forwards any money, any rental should involve paper-work which
spells out the parties involve, the date of transaction, the duration of the
lease and specific time parameters, the rental amount, and specific utilities
involved, and whether or not pets are allowed, as well as the names and other information of the individual or lease firm involved. All of this can be transacted by Internet. More importantly, if
you are using an individual or some type of rental management service be sure that you have
access to the name, address, and phone number of the landlord. If the
management service or individual will not provide such information do not use
them.
The landlord information is very important. It often
happens that an intermediary will charge an exorbitant security deposit or will
hike up the price of rent whether short or long-term, if they are renting you
the property. This is more likely to happen if you are to make your
monthly payments to a manager instead of directly to the landlord. Such
attempts are more likely when the landlord is living in the United States and
will often not know that the person or agency representing the landlord is
bilking the renters,
This
week's post is primarily about one couple who had the misfortune of utilizing
the services of one highly unscrupulous agent. The Nelsons are a couple
who are avid followers of my blog post for years, and accredit my blog
for a significant part of their allure to investigate Cuenca as a potential
retirement site. No one traveling or moving to
Cuenca should have to endure their experience. If anybody can inform us
with the name and possible contact information of the American landlord who most likely has
no idea what legal transactions have transpired, it would be much
appreciated. Here is the story in Nelson and Rebecca Ellison's own words. (The only change I made was to bold face the name of Beth Nielsen Gavilanes throughout the text.):
Nelson Allison and Family
__________________________________
Hi fellow Gringos, my name
is Nelson Allison. My wife Rebecca, my two adult sons Ben and Brian and I came
to Ecuador for one month in February 2015 for a family vacation and to research
it as a possible retirement location.
After arriving to our
rental in Cuenca, I could not believe my luck to have rented the one condo in
Cuenca where I would fall victim to a woman posing as a professional real
estate rental agent who ruined our vacation with threats and attempts at
extortion. Her name is Beth Nielsen Gavilanes. She somehow convinced the owner
of apartment 13I in the Palermo building to let her list their condo at on
HomeAway.com and take the position of managing agent.
Our story is below but is
incomplete purposely because of ongoing litigation with Beth Nielsen Gavilanes.
If you have had a bad rental
or real estate experience with Beth Nielsen Gavilanes — please post here or
email me
We must stop people like
her giving Cuenca a bad reputation. Please help! Our thanks in advance to you!
Nelson Allison and Family
__________________________________
Rebecca
and I run a small resort of seven log cabins called Asheville River Cabins in
North Carolina that we are looking to retire from soon.
One may
ask by what qualifications can I make such a statement that this woman was not the professional she claims
to be. Well, for one because I have been a professional real estate
broker since as far back as the 70’s. Prior to that, I was a college
professor. I also taught real estate courses as required by the licensing
board. I was the owner of The Allison Company, a commercial real estate company
in Raleigh, NC and the first to market multi-million dollar office condominium
complexes in North Carolina.
I’m
also a graduate of the Realtors Institute with a GRI designation. Rebecca was
also a licensed broker as well as an appraiser. She worked with state
government and rose to a position as head of the appraiser section in
Asheville, NC. So yes, we are qualified to make a judgment call on the
professionalism of someone who is engaged in real estate rental activities.
Our
opinion is that lack of professionalism is too much of an understatement.
Individuals with her lack of moral ethics should not be allowed to participate
in this type of industry. In the U.S., if she were ever smart enough to
pass the tests and get a license she would have lost it for the kind of
activities she now engages in. In fact, that would just be the beginning of her
problems in the U.S. Where what she is doing is considered a crime.
Extortion
occurs when someone attempts to obtain money or property by threatening to
commit a harmful action against the victim. In addition to fines, if a
person is convicted of extortion she must often pay restitution to the victim
Extortion
is also a crime in Ecuador like the U.S. but only after the act. But attempted
extortion is called 'contravención' is a misdemeanor violation of law.
People
like Beth Nielsen Gavilanes, must get excited as Ecuador is like the Wild West,
and anything goes. For example, her threats and actions made on vacationing
families like ours.
Since
we did not give into her threats of eviction for more money, she preceded to
turn off the cable TV and Wi-Fi service to the condo after the first week.
She
sent threats saying that if we did not pay extra that she would show up with the
Police and evict us. Our vacation was ruined by her actions!
My
Ecuadorian attorney presented our case to the Court of Tenancy and won.
Special
Judgment No. 0140120150062 following [NELSON BURGEN ALLISON] against [BETH ANN
NIELSEN GAVILANES ] from the Court of Tenancy. Below is the Judgment:
62-2015
Cuenca, 26 February 2015. 15h12. SEEN:
BETH
ANN NIELSEN GAVILANES in a totally abusive act without legal reason attempted
to charge an additional payment after the reservation was made, the verbal
contract closed and the payment made. The refusal of Mr. Allison to
accept the illegality of the demand and make the extortion payment, inspired
BETH ANN NIELSEN GAVILANES to implement a campaign of harassing emails. These
emails threatened; to cancel the prepaid reservation and to bring the
police to evict his family from the unit. BETH ANN NIELSEN GAVILANES then
proceeded to turn-off Internet and cable TV service to the unit. This
harassment made for an atmosphere of insecurity and a situation that undermines
the peace and emotional stability of the visiting family.
Beth
Nielsen Gavilanes was ordered by the court to proceed immediately to restore
Internet and cable TV service to the property and to refrain from impeding or
interfering with Mr. Allison’s lawful occupation of the property.
What
was her response to this Special Judgment?
She did
not turn the cable TV or the Wi-Fi back on, and she did not stop with her email
threats of showing up at the door with the police to evict us at any moment.
Again,
if you have had a bad experience with her; please post here or email me at: nelson@parkwaylane.com.
We must
stop people like her giving Cuenca a bad reputation. Please help!
Thanks,
Nelson Allison & Family
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)