TWO CONDOS FOR SALE IN EL CENTRO

THESE CONDOS ARE NO LONGER AVAILABLE


Two attractive, unfurnished, two-level, one bedroom, one bath condos are for sale in El Centro for living accommodations, or as apartment or office rental investments.

Both condos are completely refurbished from top to bottom.  They include a new roof, all new plumbing and electrical, new ceramic flooring and new cabinets throughout, with freshly plastered walls, gorgeous wood and beam ceilings, and two-pane windows for noise reduction and for warmer space during Cuenca's cooler months.  Both condos are bathed in light and have nice views of Turi and the New Cathedral.

 St. Agustin I Condo  73 Meters  $76,500

St. Agustin Condo II  62 Meters  $69,500 

DOING CRAZY IN ECUADOR

Well just another convoluted day in my life in Ecuador. I leave for Brazil in two weeks for a month and then on to Buenos Aries for one week before returning to Ecuador. I am in another one of those stages were little is going right, or filled with hurdles to get anything accomplished. I'll skip the myriad of small things that have occupied untold aimless hours, and just mention the two major things.

My insurance agent stood me up four times. She is notorious in the Gringo community for not keeping appointments.  I accessed Miami to deal with Bupa Health Insurance directly, and renew my policy. I followed the rep's instructions, and when I called later they claimed they never got my scan,  which provided them with my credit card number to pay my premium.  My policy expired, and they said I would have to deal with my local agent to renew the policy. Great, that response is called going into the deepest depths of hell, and replay karma one more time.  I hope the same won't also be true with the credit card number floating around out there somewhere.  I've just been through that scenario the last three months and all the fall-out that goes with it.

Then I was told through a Spanish-speaking interpreter who talked to the Brazilian embassy on the telephone, that I had to go to Quito to get my visa at the Brazilian Embassy. I then discovered a few days later that there were listed two consulates at totally different addresses on Google for a Brazilian consulate in Cuenca. The phone numbers did not work at either one of them. I assumed, therefore, that is why I was told I had to go to Quito, because they must have closed the consulate in Cuneca. After all, the economy in Brazil isn't exactly humming right now, and the closure may have been part of an economic austerity program.  I arrived in Quito yesterday. Thirty-five minutes to fly from Cuenca to Quito and then ninety minutes to take a bus from the new airport to downtown Quito.

Today I went to the embassy, had to run around to a bank a few blocks from the embassy to pay my fee for the visa. Sounded easy enough, but the bank consisted of two windows in a small enclosure stuck between two tiendas (stores).  After asking about six people and walking in circles, the last person I asked was able to point it out to me. I'm looking for a bank among all these skyscrapers--something large with its name emblazoned on it.  The check-loaning places back home were larger.   I returned to the embassy with my receipt, only to be told I would have to come back on Monday to pickup my visa for Brazil and have my passport returned to me. What!  I said I'm from Cuenca.  The Internet page says if I show up in person with all the documentation, I could receive my visa within three days. The two ladies exclaimed, "Cuenca"! Why didn't you get your visa at the consulate in Cuenca? Grrr... Of course, neither knew who told my translator that I would have to procure my visa in Quito.  Much discussion pursued among the three of us, attempting understanding between our mixed Spanish and English as to how my Passport would be sent to me. Finally, we determined that I would have to pickup the passport and my visa at the consulate in Cuenca on Monday or Tuesday of next week. My main concern was that my passport and visa was not going through the Ecuadorian mail delivery system, or I would never see my passport again. I would be stranded in Ecuador for the rest of my life, which wouldn't be a bad thing, but I do want to do some traveling. Yea, I'm also concerned when I go to the address for the consulate that the ladies gave me, that the consulate will in fact be there.

So I am actually in a very good mood, even after getting up yesterday at 6:00 a.m. to get my yellow fever shot before traveling to Quito, and 7:30 a.m. today to arrive at the Brazilian embassy by 9:00 a.m. I've had only ten hours of sleep over the last two nights.  My blood, however, has been replaced with gallons of coffee. Of course, the Internet address for the embassy was wrong, and I was going in the opposite direction. The security guard at the building gave me the new address. I could ask some stupid question like why don't embassy officials update their Google web sites, and remove the old ones that no longer apply? In Ecuador, I'm just suppose to know those things by osmosis. It was a long ride to the other end of Avenida Amazonas, but the cab fare was half of what the first cabbie charged me and three times further.  Taxis in Quito are suppose to have meters, but half of the taxis I rode did not have meters.  The cabbies without meters were very fair except for this one and before I had an idea of what was a reasonable rate in Quito.

So here I am at the airport waiting for five hours--three more to go--to catch my flight back to Cuenca. What lesson was I suppose to learn from the last two days experience? Is there any lesson involved? Is it just one of those things that happens? Whatever, I am sitting here with only nine minutes left before my battery runs out, and there are no plug-ins for my laptop. Lots of money spent needlessly that could have gone toward my trip to Brazil, but at least the Ecuadorian economy prospers. I'm in good humor, actually kind of enjoying it all. Can't say once my computer shuts down, and I have nothing to do but study Spanish, if I'll feel the same way. Needless to say, the plane will be at least an half an hour late from take off. They always are. Just though they don't cancel the flight, which can easily happen. I managed to bounce emails back-and-forth with my daughter-in-law, Maria, and razz her a little about the weather and more snow back in South Bend. Now let me sign off and send this before the computer power shuts down. Come to think of it, some of you just got a preview to my next blog post. Chao for now.

Postscript

The new Quito Airport is nice.  I was not in the International wing.  The food court is very nice.  However, the prices are outrageous like all airports.  The waiting areas to catch intra-country flights could have been made larger.  When my power dissipated, I thought I found Nirvana on a sweeping terrace aligning the food court where one could sit and eat and enjoy the mountains lying pass the parking areas.  There were plug-ins!  The problem was none of them were connected.  No juice, if you know what I mean. 

The most surreal part of the day was ahead of me--exquisitely Ecuatoriano.  The departure flight, of course, was fifty minutes late.  One does not go down an enclosed flank that leads into the air plane.  Instead we walk out to a bus shuttle, which then takes us to where the airplane is located.   It was packed for the short ride.  As we escaped from the packed shuttle, made our way up the stairs, and boarded the plane; suddenly one of the first passengers to board shouted, "No Cuenca--Guayaquil".  We were boarding the wrong plane.  We had to turn around and inform everyone down the line to reverse themselves and get back on the shuttle-bus.

Once aboard the bus again, I didn't know if the driver was going to take us to another plane, or return us to the departure concourse.  Surprisingly, and this is one of the many things I genuinely love about the Ecuatoriano people.  No one got upset, no one shouted, no one appeared angry, no one immediately got on their cell phones to contact their attorney to see how they could sue the airlines.  Instead the passengers were in a humorous mood.  People were laughing at various comments and jokes passengers were making in Spanish.  I only understood two of the comments.  One fellow said, "Do they know were our plane is?"  Another said, "I hope they take us to Miami instead of Guayaquil", which got a big laugh.  Ecuadorians love shopping in Miami.  Finally, the bus driver located the correct plane.  We boarded, were all seated, and sat on the tarmac for fifteen minutes more before clearance and eventual take-off.

From the point of departure, nothing out of the ordinary happened.  I arrived home at 8:30 p.m.  Unpacked.  Read my Facebook site and discovered to my horror that I had written and posted the above before the postscript on a friend's site I happened to be reading at the time I was in the airport instead of on my site.  When I saw what I had done, I posted the following comment:

"Good God, Lori, I've been home an hour, unpacked, and then looked for my post, and couldn't find it anywhere until I saw your comment.  I had no idea I posted it while I was on your Facebook site.  Is there any hope for me?!?  Don't answer that, PLEASE!"

Tomorrow, Bupa with which to deal.  I have no idea of an alternative health insurance that offers me what this policy does.  I also need to find someone that can fix my Canon printer, which conveniently broke down two days before I left for Quito.  Whatever the problem; it requires, according to the manual, due to the alternating green and orange lights flashing, outside intervention.  There is no way the printer will get shipped back to the manufacturer.  I may be doing crazy, but I'm not completely over the edge yet.

MANCORA BOUND

I returned Monday evening from Mancora, Peru. a seven hour trip from Cuenca, and about two of those hours are travel time in Peru.  This was my first foray into Peru.  Over forty of us left from Cuenca riding a tourist bus on Thursday and returned early Monday evening.  Mancora, on the Pacific Ocean, is a beach town.  There was much sun and humidity, but in one respect, Mancora reminded me more of Hawaii with breezes off the ocean, and the humidity was not stifling like in Miami.   

The terrain was steep, green, lush and astoundingly beautiful on the way down as we made our way pass the outskirts of Cuenca to open spaces where the valleys and hill sides were no longer  covered in homes.  It was a very clear day that offered the sight of magnificent views, which I soaked in with my eyes wide open.  After a point the mountains became more rounded, some surfaces looked like honeycombs, then the vegetation became dry, and the mountains rugged and cliff-like, reminiscent of parts of the western United States.  As we descended from the higher elevations (Cuenca is 8,500 feet above sea level), the land became flatter and various fruit plantations were observed.  I was quite impressed with the size of the mango trees.  I learned as we rode pass banana plantations, that as the trees bear fruit, the bananas at the two month start of their appearance are wrapped in blue plastic bags to protect them from insects, squirrels, and birds, and to speed up the ripening process due to the ethylene oxide emitted by the plastic bags.  The bags in effect serve as miniature green houses.

On the other hand, what little we saw of Peru, it sure did look   poorer than the worse I've seen thus far in Ecuador.  We saw many simple homes on both sides of the border made out of bamboo in the drier areas, which looked a lot nicer than homes constructed from cement.  We also saw more goat herds along the countryside than I've seen anywhere I've traveled in Ecuador before.

The Peruvians, at least in this part of the country, in general, have a different appearance from Ecuatorianos.  Peru along with Bolivia are heavily populated by indigenous people, while the majority of Ecuatorianos are mestizos of mixed indigenous and Spaniard blood.
I found generally the Peuvians to be more round faced, darker, and somewhat heavier than their neighbors to the north.  The people in Mancora were just as open, friendly, and helpful, as we find among the Ecuatorianos.

It was fascinating to ride through the various towns in Peru including Mancora, where there were no taxis whatsoever.  The chutneys, or motorized bikes with the driver up front, and room for two or three people in the back of the buggy that was wrapped in colored plastic scampered all over the towns.  I had, to date, only experienced these vehicles in Ecuador when I was in Puerto Lopez in 2012, a beach front coastal town in Ecuador.

The resort was beautifully landscaped and enclosed.  The owner obviously knew a great deal about India or about Eastern religions, as there were Buddhas and statues of Ganesh (the Hindu god of good fortune) throughout the garden areas.  The rooms were spread out in huts of bamboo, with nothing fancy on the inside.  The bathrooms very interestingly opened up to the outside with no ceilings on them, and had live gardens in them due to the fact that it rarely ever rains in this desert-like area.  The pool was nice and  a dip into it was refreshing in the summer heat, although I would have preferred a larger pool.  Actually, the resort would make a perfect ashram for Eastern meditation, which was not about to happen with our group by any stretch of the imagination.  

We enjoyed the Pisco Sour, the Peruvian national drink.  There are many ways to make the famous Pisco Sour, so it's best to know the fundamentals. The basic formula is 3 parts pisco to 1 part simple syrup and 1 part lime juice. With that goes egg white, and a sprinkle of Angostura bitters.  Needless to say, the drink is going to be served over ice in a drink that is shaken before poured.  A white foam of about an inch forms at the top of the glass. What is Pisco you ask?  Pisco is a colorless or yellowish-to-amber colored grape brandy which is produced in the winemaking regions of Peru and Chile. My first Pisco was the best, as it was more on the sweet side.  It complemented beautifully the ceviche some of us had for lunch.  Ecuadorian ceviche is served more like a cold soup, while Peruvian ceviche is served without anything appearing to be a broth.  Personally, I enjoy both methods of ceviche preparation.  I found the Piscos served to me in other establishments to be more tart, which reminded me more of a whiskey sour, and I did not like them as well.

Many of us dined one evening on some absolutely excellent tuna that was cooked to perfection, and some great lomo fino.  I had the almond encrusted tuna, which was served medium rare.  The experience was like eating some of the best sushi imaginable.  Peru imports its beef from Argentina.  Unlike Ecuador, which butchers milk cows when they stop producing.  At least that's what I've been told.  Others propose also that cows in Ecuador are more likely to pasture on the sides of hills, and therefore, build up more sinew. Ecuadorian beef even in most of the best restaurants has a tendency toward toughness.  Peruvians also know how to cook for natural flavor, and do not as in Ecuador cook meat until all natural juices are dissipated.  I plan with friends to make a trip to Lima later in the year to experience the utterly famous gourmet delights of some of the world's best chefs.  Mancora proved to be an enticement. 

Our last evening, a group of us rode a lengthy patch of unpaved road in the chutneys to a shake, rattle, and row ride that jarred my kidneys as they have not been jarred since I rode buses with no shock-absorbers in the 70's on similar roads in India. 

The ride was well worth it.  We arrived at a hotel on the Pacific with a beautifully, luxuriously, contemporary designed restaurant, bar, and open space of leisurely seating as we watched the sun set over the Pacific.  Some in our group thought the bar and restaurant design was something one would expect to find in Malibu, California.  It very much reminded me of the many times I would sit on the beaches of Warren Dunes in Michigan and watch the sunset as well.  For dinner I had lomo fino over a type of cake mixture of ingredients of which I no longer recall.  I found both the medallions of steak to be very tender and succulent and the cake-type mound to be delicious. The evening was a perfect complement to an overall enjoyable five days. 

As I think back.  I remember the very pretty, sweet young lady who waited on our table at the Tex-Mex restaurant and always gave me a smile. I remember the young man from Columbia who served my friend and me at "Green Eggs and Ham" as we wiled away the afternoon overlooking the beach, the people, and all the activities.  Our waiter spoke very good English and would intersperse between customers opportunities to speak with us, and ultimately took his break time to sit with us and tell us all about his home town of Medellin, Columbia.  A city that not all that long ago was a hotspot of Cocaine trafficking and violence, and now is being championed as a place for retirement--a city that is looking to the future rather than attempting to preserve its past.  The young waiter who was so eager about life and had such a wanderlust to travel certainly convinced me to move a visit to Medellin up on my list of priorities for travel in South America.  Then there was the young man at the restaurant where we had such wonderful tuna or in some cases osso buco, and the young man at the hotel restaurant on our last evening; both of whom were so efficient, knew how to handle gringos with finesse and charm, and were a pleasure to have them provide us with such personal service.

We were not given a great deal of detail about the full itinerary of the trip.  Therefore, I decided not to bring my camera or my laptop with me.  I did not know what the security factors would be like.  I also transferred telephone companies the day before we traveled, and my phone would not be working until tomorrow again (Manana, we shall see.). I have no photos to share.  Neither do I recall, nor did I make an effort to write down the name of the hotel or the restaurants, or the resort.  It was just nice to enjoy old and new friends and acquaintances.  Due to circumstances beyond my control, I could not get Internet access as well at the public Internet tiendas, which proved to be another luxury.  For a few days life was somewhat slower-paced, leisurely, and more simple.  This once again is one of the reasons why living in Cuenca is so nice.  It makes a strategic way station in the visit to other parts of South America and the Caribbeans.