Ecuador Adventures with Jim and Rachel

Return to Tumbabiro

2012-01-19T17:12:00.004-05:00

The last time Rachel and I went to Tumbabiro it was to a wonderful birthday fiesta at Phil and Sandy's house back in October. At that fiesta we met their friends, Bob and Beatriz Flick and their son, Eric. This trip to Tumbabiro we were privileged to be invited to the Flick's party.

The Flicks have an amazing story. Bob and Beatriz met in Ecuador back in 1962 when Bob was a Peace Corps volunteer in the first group to arrive in Ecuador. Beatriz was from landed Ecuadorian country gentry. She was educated, quadra-lingual, cultured, and with deep family roots in the Imbabura Province. Bob was probably a little idealistic, educated, with enormous energy and in love with Beatriz. Bob had to get permission to marry Beatriz from Beatriz's father and the Director of the Peace Corps, then Sargent Shriver. He was on loan to Ecuador from Uncle Sam....go figure. He never did tell me which permission was more difficult to gather.

Anyway, it was the biggest wedding ever seen in the provincial capital of Ibarra. There had never been a local girl marrying a gringo before 1964, so this was a spectacular event. I'm pretty sure Beatriz's family was very well known, so everyone came. It was and still is a storybook romance.

Bob ended his stint with the Peace Corps in 1964 but continued his passion for helping others through CARE, ACDI, Chemonics International, Winrock Foundation, and other non-profit and for-profit international non-governmental agencies for another 40 years. His background in agriculture, economics, international relations, and rural development eventually landed him in several private positions in the states. Beatriz' multilingual skills and hard work placed her ultimately in bank management positions during their life in the US. Although they have lived in exotic places like Sri Lanka, Moldova and Montenegro, Bob and Beatriz eventually settled in northern Virginia. They still maintain a home in Alexandria, Virginia. Beatriz's father has passed away but her 92 year old mother is still open to a glass of wine and a spin around the dance floor with anyone who can keep up. With a generational passage, the family hacienda in the Imbabura beckoned to Flick's able hands and hearts. It was certainly a natural progression that the Flicks would return to their beloved Ecuador where they first fell in love.

As we rode down the driveway into the Flick's hacienda, it was obvious that it was going to be special. The lane was girded on both sides with Bob's own plantings of evergreen trees. This was a bare piece of land just five years ago! To see it now, you would think it impossible. Every tree planted was little more than a stick. The land which was once covered in sugarcane fields was devoid of wildlife when they came. Cane is regularly burned before harvest driving out birds and other fauna. Now the land is covered in patchwork of elegant avocado trees. Outrageously colorful songbirds and hummingbirds are everywhere. I'm told that the coyotes, rabbits, opossums, and other species including skunks have returned as well. It was a homecoming for Bob, Beatriz, and God's creatures.

Eric showed us the orchards and told us of the agronomic science that goes into raising avocados. The Haas species that Bob helped to introduce and popularize into Ecuador was at first met with suspicion by the larger grocery chains. Three years later they clamor for his fruit.

Rachel's favorite fruit is avocado, so it was nearly impossible to remove her from the premises.

As we walked down the rows Eric showed us fruit in various stages of development. Some fruits had minor blight due to the injuries caused by a bug (thrip). The recent fog events created a medium to advance the effects of the thrip injuries. The fog was just closing in again as we were walking down the rows. Eric showed us various stages of chlorosis, another enemy of the fruit. Only intensive soil and tissue testing tells what kind of chlorosis it is and what steps are required to bring it back to complete health. This fruit requires regular watering to keep it producing but with irrigation water at a very basic pH of 8.2 it takes considerable amendment to make it fully useable by the plants.

At age 71, Bob shows little sign of slowing down or 'retirement mode'. Beatriz however has claimed her passion that she has for too long put off, reading. Her luxurious hammock was evidence that she was serious about enjoying every minute of her mind expanding hobby.

If you are imagining this to be the Ponderosa and the Cartwrights, you're not too far off. The Flick's designed and built their home three years ago. It reflects their casual but elegant style of living.

The yard reflects the care and passion of Beatriz and Bob with a little help from God's gift of the Ecuador climate.

Did I mention that Beatriz is an excellent cook?

Talk to Us About Living in Ecuador

2011-12-19T18:09:00.000-05:00

If you are a regular Ecuador blog reader and you keep one foot in the US and the foot that belongs to your heart in Ecuador, we need to talk. I mean literally, we need to talk.

It seems the expat bloggers of Ecuador (yes I'm one of them) are filling the internet with pictures and information about what it is like to live in this beautiful country.

Now you have another way to convince that foot that is anchored in the US to step outside for a minute and start living in a place where the weather allows you to walk outside comfortably daily, where quality health care costs fractional to the US, where homes can be bought or built reasonably, and where the locals still like North Americans.

If you'd like to consider moving that stubborn foot click on the link below

http://learnecuador.intuitwebsites.com/

I'll be waiting for your email appointment.

Otavalo Livestock Market

2011-11-05T11:11:00.001-05:00

I'm pretty sure if you come to the livestock market in Otavalo on Saturday morning you'll have a good feel for some of the Ecuador farm traditions. Suffice it to say, the hogs aren't going to make it to the Iowa State Fair. Then again, nobody ever said hogs have to be pretty to taste good. In Iowa we move our pigs about prodding them with a cane. In Ecuador, they're on a leash. Do you suppose Arnold Ziffel was from Ecuador?

Likewise, the cattle won't make it to Aksarben or Des Moines either, but if you like livestock auctions this will be like none you've ever seen in America's heartland.

The Children of Cotacachi

2011-10-28T15:51:00.000-05:00

They say a picture is worth a thousand words. Look at their faces! Such innocence, joy, hope, and love comes from the little ones in Cotacachi. It was their faces that first made me fall in love with Cotacachi. I was in Parque San Francisco that day and the sun was typically strong keeping me toasty warm despite the cool early morning Andean air. I saw a little indigenous girl like the one in the picture lower left dressed in her immaculately clean white embroidered blouse with her younger brother in tow. I'll never forget the sweetness and genuine familial affection shared between them. It warmed my heart and I knew this would be my home. I heard someone on the street the other day talk about how the children behave here. There's no tantrums, no shouting or screaming, no bullying. I wish I had grown up here. I'd at least know how to speak Spanish by now.

Iluman

2011-10-28T15:20:00.000-05:00

Iluman is a village that lies at the base of Imbabura along the Pan Am highway between Otavalo and Quiroga. We have some new friends there, Alfonso and Maria Rosa, an absolutely delightful couple. Don't let the Ralph Lauren t shirt fool you. Alfonso still knows how to weave an alpaca blanket the old fashioned way.

He's not afraid to demonstrate his ancient trade with a blonde haired gringo boy either!

Rachel will be taking some hand-made merchandise back to the US with her and some of it will be from Alfonso and Rosa. Alfonso and Rosa weave and market alpaca blend blankets, ponchos and scarves. All you need to do is spend one night under one of their blankets and you will be sold! Rachel and I keep them on our love seat for those chilly Andean nights watching movies. We get so cozy we often miss the closing credits. I hope the customs agents don't get too picky about her suitcase full of alpaca blankets.

Alfonso met a few of us in Cotacachi with his pickup and played taxi driver to take us up the mountain to Iluman. It was well worth it for us as buyers and Alfonso had a banner day. It makes you feel good when you see this young couple succeed at making and selling a quality product at a value price. Whatever they do, they must have the formula. They are building a new house!

While hundreds of artisans compete with each other at the huge market in Otavalo, Alfonso and Rosa open up their house to a focus group of buyers on appointment. Oh yes, they sell at the market too, but clearly they have discovered a marketing venue that can't be beat. They treat you like royalty in their home and even try a little English while you fumble around with Spanish. Then when you are done shopping, they take you to your front door with your bag full of goods. At the end of the day everyone was delighted.

Bus Drivers in the Imbabura

2011-10-23T15:52:00.000-05:00

Meet hermanos (brothers) Fausto and Jorge. They are a bus driver team that have been pretty special to us as we travel back and forth between Otavalo and Cotacachi. When Fausto is driving, Jorge is collecting the fares from the passengers. Likewise the roles are reversed when Jorge is the conductor (driver). They are warm, friendly, and forgiving of our malo (bad) Spanish. They are cordial and courteous to passengers and drive with great care. After writing some less than complimentary reviews of the bus drivers in Cuenca I really felt a need to express our great relief and happiness that the drivers here in the Imbabura are almost the opposite of their city counterparts in Cuenca. There are typically two passenger seats up front by the driver and Rachel and I are quick to grab them when possible. You get to see everything along the route and learn a little Spanish from Fausto and Jorge.

Our First Anniversary

2011-10-12T19:19:00.000-05:00

We met when we were 12. Forty seven years later we got married. A lot happened in between for both of us but our life is together now, perhaps the way it was supposed to be. This past year in matrimony with my lovely Rachel has given me more personal growth than the previous 59. I think growth happens when you love someone that much. There are challenges to be sure, but what doesn't kill us makes us stronger right?

A year ago today we were roaring about in Rachel's Miata through Mark Twain National Forest on our honeymoon. We had been married earlier that day in a civil ceremony in Tennessee by a minister who was 'on duty' at the courthouse. After our simple ceremony we lunched at a Kentucky Fried Chicken and laughed to tears by our approach to our new life together. It was good preparation for Ecuador.

We were going to go to Lago Cuicocha today for a romantic four hour walk around the serene and mystical lake. As fate would have it the sun just didn't want to come out today so we spent a little more time being cozy this morning. Then it occurred to us that we should best celebrate our first year together the way we started it, at Kentucky Fried Chicken. So we hopped on the bus to Ibarra.

I love you Rachel.

Tumbabiro

2011-10-12T12:45:00.001-05:00

Sometimes a unique and wonderful lifestyle is waiting for you in a place no one has even talked about. Phil and Sandy have taken that path less travelled. It takes some real courage and faith to create your own heaven on earth where few gringos have even trod. Tumbabiro is such a place.

Rachel and I were honored to be among the invitees to Phil and Sandy's fiesta. We're pretty sure the auspices for the fiesta were some birthdays among the guests, somewhere in the past six months or perhaps the next 6 months range. You see fiestas in Ecuador don't have to be real specific in intent. They are just fiestas. Actually Fernando's daughter was turning 13 and was festively attired for the occassion. Fernando is Phil and Sandy's personal botanist extraordinaire. Some people might be too quick to call Fernando the gardener until they see his work, or should I say his art.

Fernando has personally travelled all over Ecuador in search of unique and sometimes endangered plant life. Sometimes that rare species is on a mountain top and sometimes it's along a snake infested stream in the jungle. But no matter where it might come from it will be happy and healthy under Fernando's tender care and Tumbabiro's idyllic climate.

I'm pretty sure Adam and Eve didn't have this kind of comfort in Eden, but Phil and Sandy manage pretty well in their German engineered home. With internet access and Direct TV on the big screen, the quiet solitude of the tropical paradise can be broken when you've had your fill of nature's splendor. The man who lived here before had to return to his native Germany but left a legacy for Phil and Sandy to enjoy the rest of their life. Thanks for inviting us to your Ecuadorian Eden!

Ecuador Residency

2011-09-10T14:31:00.000-05:00

There would be a danger in taking our blog as the final word on achieving Ecuadorian residency. With that said, I will attempt to tell our story.

A residency visa allows you to live in Ecuador permanently based on your type of application. If you just come for a visit you get 90 days in one year. Most norteamericanos seek either an investment visa or a retirement visa. Because the requirements seem to change monthly it is important to discuss in detail with your Ecuadorian attorney about which process is better for you. Since Rachel and I are not yet eligible for Social Security our only option was an investment visa. You currently can attain this qualification with the purchase of either a financial instrument or a real property in Ecuador. Our investment in the condo qualified us. When we get the deed to our new property in Cotacachi, we will have to go through another process to exchange our qualifying investment, but hopefully it will less stressful and time consuming than the first go around. The process for retirees is much easier from what we've heard and observed, but there are little traps waiting for you if you are not fully prepared. Unfortunately the abogados (attorneys) tend to get blamed for the slow process and errors. In most cases, the attorneys are not to be blamed. The government agencies that do the processing are less than efficient. Patience is always a virtue, Hopefully you are much more virtuous than this type A blogger. We began our process over ten months ago!

You might wonder why this could be such an enormous undertaking. We only hear rumors, but it is pretty well documented that the minister that heads up this operation has been replaced 3 times since our application. Each time the minister has been replaced, his entire staff has been fired as well. I'm not sure how deep this corruption goes, but apparently pretty deep. In the USA our corruption is usually in the millions and includes lavish vacations, private jets, jewelry, and enormous cash trails. It is usually perpetrated by people in powerful positions. In Ecuador the corruption is a few dollars here and there and spread widely, but it's corruption none the less. Anyway, imagine starting completely over with an entire administrative staff.....3 times in a year! Actually, it is amazing we are getting our residency at all.

We were notified in early August that our passports had been 'stamped' in Quito with the investment residency visa. Of course it took them two weeks to notify us. The window of opportunity for completing the process was already closing. You have 60 days to complete your censo and cedula processes once your visa is stamped. We had already been waiting 9 months so we decided to wait till our move to Otavalo at the end of August to claim our residency. Quito is only a two hour bus ride from Otavalo.

We arrived in Quito Monday so that we could get in line early Tuesday at the Officinas del Registro Civil. Our Cuenca attorney arranged for his Quito participating attorney to meet us there at 8:30 when they were opening up. At first things seemed to be going extremely well. Our abogado, Cynthia, got right to the front of the line as we observed while seated thirty feet behind her. After a short discussion I saw his finger motion the death wave which literally means in Espanol 'you're screwed'. Cynthia's face was at first stunned, then sunk. They didn't have the paperwork!!!

Cynthia is fresh out of law school. They get assigned these nasty tasks when they join the law firms here. Credit her tenacity however. She double and triple questioned the bureaucrat. Ten months of waiting, a special trip to Quito and in an instant....'We don't have your paperwork'.

As she broke the news to us we were likewise crestfallen. There is a standard phrase from Latinos to impatient gringos when the impatient gringo has lost his luggage or some other monumental setback. "Don't worry" is the phrase. Literally translated it means 'I don't have a clue how we will resolve this issue'. Credit Cynthia. She didn't say "Don't worry". I give her much credit. She told us she would have to go to the extranajero (or something like that) and have a trace put on the document that was critical for us to go forward. She wasn't specific about a timetable on this matter. Her unspoken words meant hours, days, weeks, or..... She said we could wait there and gather moss or go down to McDonalds for WiFi and lattes and wait there. Guess which one we chose. I finished two blogs while we were there.

We left the Registro Civil about 10:00 and immediately started to imbibe volumes of caffeine at Macs to maintain a certain level of attention and agitation. Honestly we really enjoyed ourselves. We sat in cushy leather couches with our lattes. We caught up with emails, the current state of world chaos, and really enjoyed the passersby in this obviously westernized and affluent area of Quito. The Big Macs tasted just like in the states too.

About 2:30 we got a call from Alexis, Cynthia's boss. Cynthia had located the document! It turns out that it was just where it was supposed to be but the bureaucrats are notorious for never finding things the first time around unless you leap over the counter and pull it out for them. It's frustrating to have what you want in the hands of such incompetence. I digress. Remember, I'm type A.

So again we head over to the Registry Civil. By now the place is crowded and noisy like the Chicago Board of Trade and even the usually patient Ecuadorians are showing some signs hypertension. This time we have to battle and jockey for a place to sit and wait. We get a waiting turno card which gives us the magic permission to go before the bureaucrat once again. The flat screen above shows the evolving turnos. I look for Cynthia and she's no where to be seen! She has the document and without it we go nowhere. After calling several times I finally reach her. She's upstairs having the document stamped. She's in line too. Now I'm thinking our turn will come up and she's not here. Another two hour wait for nothing!

My angst (as usual) was for naught. Cynthia shows up before our turno with a stamped document. Another short sigh of relief. Cynthia somehow has some pull and gets to the front of the line without a turno card. Go Cynthia! She motions Rachel forward and with her stamped passport and censo in hand Rachel dutifully advanced with the reverence of communion. I followed with slighly less reverence. Another process complete. On to stage 27. The next level of bureaucracy was to be even more formidable.

I'm not sure what you call this phase of the cedula but it is where they reverify your documentation and get your information logged into the registry. They pour over your passport, censo, and your application for cedula. Our attorney had tried to 'anticipate' an issue we were surely going to encounter. He knew that my birthplace, an obscure town in South Dakota (Canton) would not be on the system in Quito. He suggested that we enter a nearby well known city, so I chose Sioux Falls as my birthplace. Big mistake. After much questioning I finally caved and said this was just on the application because my attorney knew that Canton wasn't on their system which was true. They went back on the system to see if Canton was there. Indeed it was! (I'm pretty sure my birthplace is now Canton Ohio). Rachel wasn't so lucky. Her birthplace, Lawton, Oklahoma was also not on the sytem so it was going to be another day while they loaded another city onto their system. We left the registro with our tails between our legs and our dappers down.

We were exhausted from a day of waiting in line and questions about our names, birthplaces, lost applications, and one too many Big Macs. We had no place to stay overnight. We were hungry and crabby and disappointed that our process was still in limbo. We were still unsure whether another day of bureaucracy and waiting would bring results. We found a hostel and it was ok.

The next day we arrived early again with fresh hope. This day they just didn't like Rachel's name. Her legal name is Rachel Treeman Roland. Treeman was her maiden name you see. What they just couldn't understand is that her middle name was the same as her parent's name. Apparently they don't like parent's last name in the middle. They were talking to us about Jaqueline Kennedy Onassis. We weren't sure of the relevancy. They could understand if Rachel was a widow and kept her deceased husband's last name, but this thing about having a maiden name in there...well, it's just unacceptable. After some rather lengthy discussion they capitulated and accepted her legal name.

Next week we go back to Quito to pick up our actual cedulas. Wish us luck.

Moving Day

2011-09-06T12:40:00.000-05:00

Rachel and I have been anticipating our move to the Imbabura for some time. Like every other special 'event' in Ecuador living, it is an adventure. You see there is no Mayflower, North American Van Lines, or other such corporate 'cookie cutter' household mover here. It's all about doing the best you can with what you've got. We hired Transportantes Espinoza who specializes in moves between Guayaquil, Cuenca, and Quito. I don't think they have much competition. It's not like the yellow pages are full of movers. When people move here it's usually across town. They call their uncle Pedro who has a pickup and start loading. That kind of a move from Cuenca to Otavalo just isn't practical!

Our friend Noshy got us in touch with Juan who owns and manages Transportantes Espinoza. He's a friendly, warm man who exudes confidence in what he's doing. We reserved our judgement on whether to recommend them until our move was complete. To be honest, there were some huge misunderstandings. For example, we were assured that we would have a 20' truck. When the 15' truck showed up my heart sank. I knew it would not be big enough! It wasn't.

We did however have a contract. The contract said they would pack our things and move us from Edificio Palermo in Cuenca to Calle Pedro Perez in Otavalo for $1583. They did. Nothing was broken. There were plenty of things that could have broken. They packed things like the professionals they are. I've never seen furniture packed so meticulously. First they wrapped each individual piece in a styrofoam material and then again with heavy cardboard and then tightly shrink wrapped. Our only concerns were that boxes and items that were clearly marked with up arrows would remain in that position. Apparently that was just a suggestion. In the end that 15' truck did not have breathing space for an Ecuadorian mouse when they were done loading. The really bad news was that the refrigerator, the bicycles, and a few odd ball boxes didn't get on board!

With the refrigerator and bicycles on the sidewalk and the truck packed to the gills like a Thanksgiving diner's stomach, I was concerned that the overflow would be strapped to the top of the truck. I had visions of the Beverly Hillbillies racing through my mind. Much to my relief another van showed up and whisked away our precious LG side by side and our Mongoose bicicletas. A deal was a deal. We paid no extra for the second truck. That was Juan's mistake, not ours.

Rachel and I claim thrift as a virtue and necessity in an early retirement without social security. We could have taken the one hour flight from Cuenca to Quito and might have been waiting for our household in Otavalo many hours before the arrival. That's not the way we do things. Instead we rode in the truck with Fernando. It was wonderful. We've ridden on the bus from Cuenca to Quito before (see earlier post) and it can be tiring and a real stress on a 60 year old male bladder. (Rachel claims a nurses's bladder that can go 24 hours without relief). Tires blow and the bus is typically crushed to overcapacity in certain stretches of the trip. This was different. We knew there would be no additional passengers. We could actually stop for nature's banos. We could look out the expansive windshield and see stretches of the Pan Am Highway in a way that we'd never seen it before. It was beautiful!

Our 12 hour odyssey through the Andes in the moving van was wonderful but we were pretty spent by the time we arrived in Otavalo.   When I say spent, I mean we were a bit frayed. We just left beautiful Cuenca and the safe and convenient confines of Palermo some five hundred mountainous kilometers behind and we had no idea about our new digs. We had never seen it before. We only knew we would be in a house in a compound with two other houses in Otavalo. We figured we could live most anywhere for 8 months while our house was completed. Let's just say we were a bit disappointed.

There are certain adjustments that have to be made when you are in a purgatory move. A purgatory move is when you have all your stuff with you while you're waiting for what you think will be heaven.  We're hoping that our heaven will be in Yanapamba. Purgatory may strengthen our character and help us appreciate what we've had in Cuenca and what we hope to have in our next move to Cotacachi.   We're used to being able to use our own washer and dryer. We are used to having robust internet in our house. We are used to hot showers as long as we want. Privacy was never an issue in Palermo. Having a Super Maxi minutes away from home was wonderful. Anything you wanted was a hop, skip and a bicicleta ride away. Welcome to the other Ecuador. Thank you God for this growth opportunity.

Friends

2011-09-06T10:50:00.000-05:00

Just a word about friends. True friends are a treasure, God's gift. Rachel and I each had friends before we got married but the friends we've shared here in Ecuador transcend our prior experiences because of need. I truly believe it is about sharing a unique life experience that you couldn't describe to anyone who hasn't lived here. There are just certain knowings that become part of your everyday venacular that could not be understood unless you have struggled to communicate in another language (let alone another culture) walked the streets, eaten at the local cafes, shopped for corvina at Feria Libre, looked for a three prong electrical adapter at a ferreteria, or jumped on the wrong bus. It's not like we've been to war together, but we became a brother/sisterhood. Together, we've learned to deal with things and adapt. We remind each other why we came here when the homesick bug hits or when we've had one too many mananas. For those we left behind in Cuenca, just know we cherished the time we had with you and look forward to your visit to the Imbabura. Mi casa su casa.

For our special Ecuadorian friends that helped out when you didn't need to, we thank you. You are surely angels sent from God. Thank you Xavier, Galo, Francisco, Jose, Juan, Noshy, Eduardo, Paul, Wilson, Nellie and all the rest of you that reached out with humanity to us gringos. We love you.

Uhzupud, Paute, Biblian

2011-09-06T10:01:00.000-05:00

Our friends Jim and Angie Barnes are always ready to go on another adventure. We're really going to miss having them take us on their mini-odysseys around Azuay. Our adventure on Saturday was the Iglesia de Biblian, a hike up a mini-mountain, and a wonderful meal at the Uhzupud resort in Paute.

The pictures above and below really doesn't give justice to the visceral response we had when looking over the sheer edge of the cliff we were on. Two thousand free fall feet below were the villages of Biblian and Paute. One difference between Ecuador and North America is the lack of safety measures along hiking trails. There are no guard rails or warnings. You're just supposed to have a little common sense. One little sllip and you are an instant goner, common sense or not. Anyway, the view was spectacular even with a little drizzle.

Next stop was Iglesia de Biblian, a unique church built into the face of a cliff. It was a day of climbing trails along sheer cliffs and hundreds of steps up to to an ancient sanctuary. The picture below shows the church and the mini-mountain we were climbing right and center.

Actually it wasn't that ancient, circa 1895. I will say however that it was a bit of an engineering marvel to construct this place of worship in such a precarious foundation.

In the picture above you can see the wall of the iglesia merging with the vertical wall of the cliff.

Inside the sanctuary you are reminded that you are in a building clinging to the face of a cliff. The raw face of rock forms the backdrop to the alter.

I'm not sure this church would pass the standards of access for the disabled in the United States. None the less we saw 85 year old women holding vigil in the sanctuary. The human spirit is an amazing thing, especially when guided by The Spirit.

Ecuador is a developing country, so when you find a little oasis of opulence you are at first taken aback by the stark contrast to everyday living here. The resort of Uhzupud is such an oasis. http://www.uzhupud.com/espanol.html As a rule hostels, hosterias, and hotels typically don't have such things as a heated swimming pool, tennis courts, volley ball courts, outdoor table tennis, stables, and waiters in white jackets. Uhzupud has it all and their food was delicious. People more or less have to know how to find it however. Your regular tourist passing through Cuenca would never hear about it or find it. You have to be here for a while and then you hear rumors of Shangri La in Paute. Even then you might find a bridge out and have to get creative about how you get there. Then again, Jim Barnes is a creative driver and missing bridges are merely an invitation to another adventure. I'm sorry I didn't get pictures, but use your imagination.

I even got to go for a little ride on one of their mounts. To be honest, any day I'm on a horse is a very good day indeed. Thank you Jim and Angie Barnes for a delightful day together. We will miss you so much and are looking forward to your coming to see us in Cotacachi. I'm pretty sure we'll have plenty of fodder for new adventures when you get there!

Saying Goodbye to Cuenca and Hello to Cotacachi

2011-08-24T12:23:00.000-05:00

For those of you who wonder why this blog has been on hiatus, I’ll try to explain. Rachel and I are leaving Cuenca and some very dear friends behind. I think I’ll devote another blog to the friends.

Along with the stresses of waiting for our resident’s visas that we applied for last November, selling our condo, wondering about the construction of our new home in Cotacachi in our absence, packing and preparing for our move, we’ve simply just had a lot on our plates. We’ve almost forgotten how and why we became Gringcanos (gringo Cuencanos) in the first place.

It seems like every day we meet new Norte Americanos and hear their stories about how and why they came to Cuenca. If you’ve been reading about life in the Andes of Ecuador you already know the reasons. I often refer to ‘the C’s’ of Attraction: Climate, Cost of Living, Culture. For those who may need an explanation, you can ‘dial in’ your perfect climate here. Pick your favorite daily high temperature then find the elevation where it exists. We found our perfect climate between 7 and 8 thousand feet. Cuenca and Cotacachi both fit that range; eternal spring, no furnace or AC needed. Maybe you’ll find your Nirvana temperature at sea level on the coast.

The cost of living attraction is obvious. A couple can live on a thousand per month here.

The culture thing is a bit more ‘out there’. Just think about living in a Latin Norman Rockwell moment. Maybe that’s why Ecuador appeals to us 60 somethings. We remember and long for those days of simple living.

That isn’t to say that life is perfect here! It’s just better for us than any place we’ve ever been. There are things about the culture here that will at first be annoying if not maddening. Shed your type-A personality and you’ve got a good shot. Life in general just moves a little less purposefully here. Lose your watch and your calendar and live a day at a time. There’s not much planning in Ecuador. There isn’t as much stress either unless of course you are trying to change that.

So why leave Cuenca for Cotacachi you ask?

We gave this question a lot of thought and soul searching before we made our decision to sell our condo and build a house in the Imbabura. It is truly a matter of personal preferences like choosing your favorite weather. Some like the hustle and bustle of a vibrant and cosmopolitan city. They want world class medical services, modern grocery stores and malls, free and abundant cultural events. Cuenca is for you!

Rachel and I grew up close to the soil. If there’s dirt under our fingers and sweat on our brow, we’re happy. A calf sucking its mother in the middle of the road warms our heart. We prefer pan pipes to salsa and Latino hip hop. Buying vegetables and fruits at the open market is the Rockwellian moment that we savor. Bicycling through the countryside without the diesel belching Blue Angels of Death (BAD buses) trying to smash you is like eating your lunch in a no smoking restaurant. It’s just plain healthier.

Many people come to Cotacachi and leave after a week claiming, “There’s nothing to do!” I appreciate that, but then again both Rachel and I remember some of the pre-TV era when you read, visited your neighbors, worked in the garden, had Bible study, played cards, rode your bicycle or your horse and made a lot of popcorn every night. Will I tire of riding my bike a mile and a half to the market? No way. It will just get a little slower. Will we miss the nights out for the free concerts? Maybe, but Cotacachi IS the music capital of Ecuador. World class medical services are an hour and a half away in Quito. To live your life around a possible heart attack seems a bit backwards to me. Rachel and I have decided to take our chances and live for today. We ride bicycles around traffic circles in Cuenca for crying out loud. Besides, there’s a new independent/assisted living/skilled nursing facility going up in Cotacachi. Even Cuenca doesn’t have that!

That leaves only one discussion point for us. We will surely miss our good friends here in Cuenca. We have shared much laughter, some tears, and wonderful adventures with them. They know our hearts and we theirs. God willing we will find new friends in the Imbabura, but our old ones from Cuenca will always have a special place in our hearts and a spare bedroom in Yanapamba.

Riding Bicycle in Cuenca Ecuador

2011-08-08T09:55:00.000-05:00

Rachel and I have survived nearly a year of riding our bicycles in heavy traffic in Cuenca, Ecuador and every day we love it a little more. It is a convenient, healthy exercise that gets you where you are going nearly as fast and in some cases faster than any other means of public transportation. We have written numerous times of our adventures on bicycle here but I've never given my readers a 'how to' guide. Please click the link below and if you have time, please comment on the Suite 101 site so that I can have some feedback. Thanks!!!

http://www.suite101.com/content/bicycling-in-cuenca-ecuador-a383105

Sig Sig

2011-08-08T07:49:00.001-05:00

If you're in to World's Record this or that, try this Panama Hat on for style. It's in Sig Sig Ecuador. That's right, Panama hats are made in Ecuador!

We had a great day with Jim and Angie Barnes exploring the countryside around Sig Sig. We stepped back in time about 100 years. Rachel and Angie scored some nice hats. I wrote about it in Suite 101. Please click the link below.

http://www.suite101.com/content/worlds-largest-panama-hat-in-ecuador-a383246

Young People in Ecuador

2011-06-19T07:02:00.002-05:00

I was picking up a few things in Super Maxi the other day. You always run into gringos in Super Maxi. It's like flies and honey. We're the flies. We also enjoy exchanging pleasantries in our familiar tongue. We talk about our latest adventures, challenges, and joys. Mostly we run into young-old people our own age (50-75) and the connection is immediate, the brotherhood of norteamericanos in Ecuador. When we run into young-young gringos we get especially excited. We already know this is a wonderful place to come to spend your mature years, but what about your young-young years? So here is this happy couple carefully and frugally selecting some items not found in the open markets. The young man is wearing an OU (Oklahoma Sooners) cap. Anyone wearing a cap from the Big 12 Conference is already my friend, so I quickly anticipated a conversation about how many touchdowns the Sooners would kill my Cyclones with this year. Also, Rachel is a home-bred Oklahoman from Sapulpa, a small town outside Tulsa, so I thought it might be interesting to see if there were some common threads somewhere. It turns out Ryan was from Omaha but his wife Molly is from Oklahoma. I ask her "What city?", and she reveals that she is from Tulsa. I said "Wow, my wife is from Tulsa....well Sapulpa actually". Then there's this deer-in-the-headlight look from Molly. "I'm from Sapulpa!!!!" Pretty soon we find out she was born in the hospital (St. Johns) where Rachel was for many years a neo natal nurse. Molly's father is a good friend of an OBGYN doctor there that Rachel knows really well. It's old home week for Rachel and Molly and Rachel isn't even there! We chat for a while in disbelief and I promise that Rachel will connect with them in an email and we'll go from there. The picture above is from the encounter of Molly and Ryan's visit to our home. Rachel fixed a great meal of camerones (shrimp) and pasta and we enjoyed each other's fellowship, friendship, and the spirit of living in Ecuador.

What struck us about Molly and Ryan was that they weren't here for the economical living, the wonderful climate, or the beautiful countryside. They were here to immerse in Spanish and absorb the latin culture, to live in their hearts. They teach English to the locals and make ends meet on the wages. Their young increasingly wealthy friends and peers in the US are living the American dream.....well at least those with a job. For those it may be the American nightmare. They are gaining material wealth and are in the rat race of expensive cars, expensive homes, designer jeans, lattes, high taxes, and big debt. Not Molly and Ryan. They live within their means and their means isn't big. They are growing in experience of other world cultures and language. They are getting incredibly rich even if Paine Webber doesn't think so. They are helping others, stepping on no toes, living a responsible and Christian life. God Bless you Molly and Ryan. Welcome to Ecuador.

Too Good to be True?

2011-05-31T08:35:00.001-05:00

Those of you who have been to Cotacachi and know that Rachel and I fell in love with it some time ago will immediately recognize the photo above to be the main church in Cotacachi with Mt. Cotacachi in the background. Rachel took this photo on the terrace on top of La Cuadra Hostel where we are spending our short stay here. To be honest with you, our readers, I have been so overwhelmed by the events that have happened in the last couple weeks that I can hardly contain myself, let alone put it into print. I'm almost afraid that if I put it in print, the dream that Rachel and I have been dreaming for some months is just a dream and will go away with the ink! In short, our condominium in Cuenca has sold, and we are building a house in Cotacachi!!! For us, the first thing had to happen before the second was possible. We let Miguel Mora (our developer/contractor) know back in January that we wanted to build in his development, Yana Pamba. Miguel is a businessman and a good one at that, but he gave us a lot of lattitude to realize our dream. He could have easily said "Go sell your house and then we'll talk", but instead he immediately went to his architect, Patricio Galarza and started working on plans to adapt our dream to a drawing. This is called faith without a downpayment. I met Miguel Mora a year and a half ago and knew he was special then, but didn't know at that time that he would one day build our house for us! Heck, I didn't even know I'd be married to Rachel back then! Things seem to move fast when you're 60. One minute I'm an unhappy banker in Iowa and the next I'm married to the woman of my dreams and we're building a house together in Cotacachi Ecuador! I knew God was good, but he's laid out the carpet for us to be here. Now I guess we'll find out why.

Three days ago we became friends with Steve and Rebecca who were staying with us in La Cuadra. We asked them if they'd like to see where we're building at Yana Pamba. Steve and Rebecca had come to Ecuador to do a 'sniff test', not to look for a place to build. Today they leave for the US, are putting their home on the market, and God willing will be building on one of the last lots available in Yana Pamba! In the picture above they are looking out the front porch of the first completed home with Patricio Galarza, the architect looking on. Patricio just happened to be inspecting the house builds while we arrived on the scene and took some time to point out his attention to detail in the builds. It doesn't take a salesman, it takes quality work to sell homes. We hope that our new friends Steve and Rebecca will also be our new neighbors in Cotacachi.

We were in Otavalo on Saturday, market day. If you've ever been to Otavalo on Saturday you know there are thousands of people in the market and finding anyone on purpose there is like the proverbial needle in the haystack hunt. Just how we ran into Rick and Eve Casto, our special friends from Vilcabamba is as Rick would state was purely a Godcidence. For those uncomfortable with a spiritual explanation, think serendipity. We know which it was. Rick and Eve were on their way to the US for a three month vacation and family visit. They manage the beautiful Terra Madre resort in Vilcabamba where we met them 10 months ago before we were even married. You'll remember our infamous horseback ride in the mountains there! Since that time in Vilcabamba Rick and Eve have visited us several times in Cuenca where we play cards, triominos, and tell lots of tall (but truthful) tales. To hear their voices in the Otavalo market behind a stack of alpaca scarves was just amazing. We were both a long way from home! They have always blessed our life and our love and this time was no different. After some really great hugs Rick and Eve immediately changed their plans to stay in Otavalo and instead joined us back at La Cuadra in Cotacachi where we spent a couple lovely days with them. This morning they left for Quito and on to Washington state where they will have a reunion with their Harley Davidson. We will miss them but know that they will be visitors of ours in Cotacachi when our house is complete.

I find it interesting that some people come to Cotacachi and are bored in one week. The rest of us think we have died and gone to heaven. We continue to find things to do and places to go. Many of the places to go can be done over and over without any loss of wonderment. Two days ago we went to Chachimbiro, a little village about an hour from here where they have wonderful natural hot springs.

I happened to have had a really sore back from a sprain. I couldn't straighten up. No Rachel didn't beat me up. I'm not sure what I did, but life isn't the greatest when you walk like a 90 year old man. One day in the hot springs and I'm pleased to report that I'm feeling just a shade over 40 again. The weather in Chachimbiro is just a shade warmer than Cotacachi and we all got a little toasted under the Andean sun, but it was worth it. The pools are arranged in such a way that as you go higher (closer to the hot water source) the hotter the water temperature is. There is also a cold water pool next to the hottest pool where you can shock your system like the Polar Bear club. I think it's supposed to be healthful to do that, though I'm not reading any studies on that matter. I will report however that my back is feeling great and if I had a cardiac arrest, it was very short lived.

On the way back we stopped for some sugar cane juice, a local favorite. It was very delicious. They had this really loveable donkey yoked to a mill and they threw a stalk of cane into the mill and squeezed out a glassful of juice. The donkey got to eat the remaining squeezed cane. Note that he is rather plump. Now that's entertainment! For all of you who report about being bored in the Imbabura, eat your heart out.

Then a little farther down the road we found the quintessential Ecuadorian approach to motherhood in play. We have found that mothers here put their baby first in those formative years. When the babies want love and milk, they get love and milk. It pays great dividends when the babies turn into 4 year olds. The 4 year olds here don't whine and complain like most of their US counterparts. The same theory holds for bovines here as well. When it's time for some milk it doesn't matter what part of the road you're standing on. It's time for milk.

Easter in Cuenca

2011-05-05T10:21:00.001-05:00

Rachel and I went to church on Easter with our good friends Mark and Connie. The service was in a huge new church building with all the bells and whistles of a modern protestant service. There were overhead projectors for sing along Spanish music and we even had a short video clip from CS Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. It was a lovely service with a very engaged and active congregation. Although this was our first time at this church, we had a strong sense that every service was of the same celebratory nature, not just Easter. We still struggle with our Spanish understanding, but sometimes messages come through irrespective of language barriers. Mark and Connie lived for years in Italy so their fluency in that romance language is a huge leg up in understanding Spanish. I envy (and admire) multi-linquistic people. There is such a dedication and special intelligence that goes with conquerors of languages not of their own. Rachel and I are committed to one day joining that fluency club.

We had a very traditional almuerzo (lunch) on Parque Calderon.

We soaked up the sun that has been missing for the most part during this past rainy season April.

As if that monster lunch wasn't enough, we indulged in some home made ice cream at a fabulous heladeria over in San Blas. After great fellowship, great food, and generous volumes of sunshine, we waddled over to bus #3 and with our 25 centavos were transferred to our condo gate, went upstairs and took a nap. It's great to be a Hobbit.

Macas

2011-04-20T18:05:00.000-05:00

Our life in Ecuador is pretty spontaneous. I know that some retired people say that 'they've never been busier in their whole life', yadda yadda. I'm not sure that we can say that exactly because some days we just have a leisurely coffee in bed followed by a similarly leisurely breakfast, followed by a leisurely bicycle ride....well you get the picture. We woke up Tuesday morning and decided that we needed to 'get out of here'. I'm not just sure what that meant exactly, but I think we just had it up to our eyeballs in leisurely. I said to Rachel "Let's just go down to the terminal terreste (bus station) and jump on a bus". "We can pack our toothbrush and a change of clothes in case we end up over night somewhere." We took about 10 minutes to pack, were ready to go out the door and I said "Maybe we'll go to the coast or to the jungle and we'll need some shorts." So we came back in to deposit a pair of shorts in my bag....Rachel didn't have any. "I'll throw in these lightweight cropped pants" she said, and we were off. You have to love her minimalist bent. I think I could say 'lets go climb Mt. Chimborazo' and she'd pull out her light jacket, a rope, and we'd be off. So we get down to terminal terreste without a destination but with our toothbrushes and a change of underwear. We go to the window where Macas is displayed and the bus is leaving in 20 minutes. I'm pretty sure Macas is on the edge of the jungle so I'm thinking we can maybe be wrestling with an anaconda by late afternoon. I'm a romantic, give me a break. A half hour before this moment we were finishing breakfast and not knowing for sure what we were going to do with our day. Now we're boarding a bus that will go down a road we've never been on with a bunch of people whose languages challenge us. We're going to a place none of our friends have been to and have no idea whether this is a good idea or not. We're just on an adventure you know.

The first part of our trip was some familiar territory with Paute, Gaulaceo, and a couple other pueblos whose names weren't on the map or on a 'bienvenindos' sign somewhere. We weren't far out of Gualaceo and we became abundantly conscious that this was not going to be a leisurely ride down a paved road to another charming little village at the end of the line. In fact, the road we were on turned out to be quite primitive. When I was in Alaska we called this a 'cat trail' which of course meant it was only for caterpillers. Maybe I got that wrong. Maybe it meant that the road would only sensibly be traversed by animals of feline agility. In Ecuador buses qualify for these 'cat trails'. We had been told this was to be a 7 hour bus ride so we came fully equipped with our Kindle, raisons, almonds, and Gatorade so we were ready for anything. We were after all seasoned veterans of an extended 12 hour bus ride to Quito, so this would be a piece of cake.

I was pretty sure that this very coarse, rocky, road without guard rails was just a little detour that we would take before we got back on a nice hard surfaced road with all the safety amentities that we gringos think are so important. Five hours later we discovered that this was in fact the main road.

The pictures I took out the window are no exaggeration. The reason you don't see any shoulders or guard rails was because there were none. In fact sometimes you could see the wheel ruts on the road edge that indicated a previous close call to the 2500 foot drop to the side. Rachel was on the other side of the bus admiring the wonderful waterfalls as they cascaded next to the road on her side. I thought it might be best if she stayed over there for the moment.

This went on for hours. It was gorgeous and magnificent. I truly felt like we were flying over a gorge because you could see no land beneath us whatsoever outside the window. We were merely suspended in this magic bus to nowhere.

The road was obviously under construction (sort of) but there was no sign of the old road, so I guess this was it. There was no turning back. In fact if you met someone, you had to back up and on these roads that was a bit touchy because if you got too close to the edge it would end badly.

Peligroso means dangerous. Funny.

But there's no way to describe the unspoiled virginal beauty that we experienced on the way. There was no hint of civilization anywhere. We were on our way to the jungle. I was amazed that five of the seven hours of our trip was high in the Andes at altitudes probably at times in close to 14,000 feet. We had to get over the Andes before we could experience the life in the lowlands of the jungle. Macas would not come to us before the sun set.

When we arrived in Macas we were hungry and tired. Of course we had no reservations and this did not appear to be a real upscale kind of town. The abundance of nice hostels and restaurants in Cuenca kind of spoils you in that way. Macas is the provincial capital of Moronas Santiago and has a population of about 20,000 souls. It is mostly indigenous and you hear the language of the Shuar and the Quichwa spoken nearly as frequently as Spanish. We went hostal shopping and apparently started on the lower end at $15 per night for pretty seedy accomodations and ended up going a bit more 'upscale' for $25 per night at Hostel Casa Blanca where the showers were hot, breakfast of eggs, pan, and hugo were included, and for those who brought their laptops, WIFI was available. I use the word upscale somewhat loosely, but I think for this city, it was pretty good. We had supper at a Chifa (Chinese food) restaurante and we were well satisfied. We slept pretty well on that hard bed until we heard the rumble of the dough machine in the bakery next door about 3:30AM. The smell was to die for however so we put up with the rumble.

After breakfast we began our search for a tour guide who could take us one day into the jungle. We weren't too fussy, but I guess in retrospect, fussy would have been good. We went to a bonafide tour agency where the fee was $50 each round trip and included some river time, hiking time, and return to Macas by 5:30. We decided to take a pass on this and set about looking for other possibilities. We ended up talking to a short young guide who introduced himself in broken English as a Shuar http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shuar (think head hunter). His name was Tsunki and he seemed really authentic. Since there were no shrunken heads dangling from his belt we felt safe and that he would give us the tour of a lifetime. Cost was the same as the tour agency and was all inclusive so we thought this was it. To his credit Tsunki showed up on time at 7 AM, but from there, things went downhill according to his promises. Tsunki couldn't predict that we would have a downpour of rain the first 2 hours. Luckily there were some people he knew that could share a roof while we waited out the storm. Rachel made herself comfortable on some planks. I never said anything about first class accomodations did I?

As the rain became progressively heavier and one hour stretched into two, she became a little more comfortable.

When the rain finally subsided, we set off on a very muddy walk. Sometimes the mud sucked our boots off.

There were some pretty flowers

And we sampled some fruits along the way

After a while I knew why Tsunki recruited some help for the river leg of the trip.

Yes, this was our luxury river cruiser. It was 3/4 full of solid mud and water and it's maritime worthiness was definitely in question. We spent over a half hour bailing water and scooping mud, mostly with our hands and one small plastic vessel. Each time we got a few hundred pounds of mud and water out we pulled the canoe uphill a little further out of the water until finally we had what resembled a canoe. Then one of the helpers disappeared into the bush and appeared once again with two blocks of wood, our seats. They were wet and muddy too. We had long ago given up any idea of staying mudless.

We had to clean it up a bit. It took an hour and I shared in the fun. Did I mention this was a discount tour?

Rachel and I thought this beautiful and authentic dug out would make a much better craft, but noooooo......

We bailed the mud and water out of the canoe and set off to meet with the Shuar shaman who was upstream from our launching site. The river current was very swift in places and we made our way upstream with poles rather than oars.

This went on for about 45 minutes until we came to the place of the shaman where we thought we would have a little ritual and be on our way. I know that Tsunki said something about Ayahuaska http://es.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ayahuasca and I knew what that meant. I was also sure that neither Rachel or I would partake in this hallucinagenic exercise, especially with this unknown Shuar and his yet to be found shaman. When we got to the huge thatched hut it was evident that no shaman was there to meet or greet us. So far, things were taking on a rather predictable route here, and it was to expect nothing of promises. There was a middle aged woman and a younger pregnant woman there and they spoke in Shuar to Tsunki and we were told by Tsunki that the shaman had gone (waving his arm towards the unknown) and would return at .........maybe o'clock. So now we had gone upstream in a canoe for 45 minutes, landed at the shaman's hut. The canoe and it's owner had already left, and we were there until the shaman returned from heaven knows where and when. We were promised a meal and already that was a bit scary too. I knew that whatever we were offered we should eat so as to not offend the Shuar. After all, you don't offend the Shuar unless you want your cap size decreased substantially. Rachel already determined that she was not going to eat what came out of that kitchen, so I was already concerned that her pretty face would appear in some gift shop. As for me, I was determined to eat what was put before me, thanks to my midwestern-German-Iowa-farmboy heritage to do just that. What came out of that cooking place was truly nasty looking. We were told that it was tuna. Yum. By then we were joined by some little friends that were there to save the day. Thankfully by this time Tsunki and the host ladies left us alone in the hut with our meals and the camp dogs, birds, and monkey came to investigate the luncheon. I have a feeling this has all played out in this camp before. Silly gringos come up the river to meet the shaman, the shaman isn't there, the silly gringos are fed some nasty looking gruel, the hosts leave the room, and the animals of various sizes and shapes swoop in for the spoils.

The parrot was a real crowd pleaser and had more personality than a game show host

and he slicked up my tuna really well....

but not before señor Mono (squirrel monkey) had his fill!

Rachel and I had Tsunki take our picture by the hut since we didn't get a chance to have our picture with the shaman. We waited another hour for him and then instructed Tsunki we did not want to wait till dark.

We convinced Tsunki that waiting forever for the shaman wasn't going to be a good bet for us. Tsunki did not have his own transportation back to Macas and we were pretty sure our return trip was going to be as predictably unreliable as our walk and river ride. Our hunch was extremely accurate. We waited over two hours at a cross road of two seldom used paths navigable by only the highest clearance vehicles. After the second hour passed while we waited for driver #1, Tsunki called for driver #2. Oh, I forgot to tell you that Tsunki's cell phone didn't work because of a dead battery. I'm pretty sure he had lost his charger years ago. Fortunately, my battery worked and we were able to make a call. We were all pretty exhausted and the afternoon sun was starting to sap what little energy we had left. We made our way to a nearby village.

The village was clean and tidy and the people were very friendly. Tsunki had a shuar friend there who offered us chicha which is made from manioc and fermented with human spit.

As we waited for driver #2 some of the distant high level clouds started to lift

and out came Vulcan Sangay. What a gorgeous volcano!

Our trip back to Macas was relatively uneventful. We were taken back to town by a pickup taxi that was filled to the brim in the back by the time we made our way back. The scenery was magnificent all the way.

The next day we prepared ourselves for the seven hour adventure ride back home. This time however, the driver took an entirely different route. It was a hard surfaced road almost the entire trip, but it took almost nine hours. Some of the trip was in the cloud forest and fog and we simply couldn't take good pictures. We were amazed at how much hydroelectric power had been harnessed from these mountain waters. The resultant lakes and dammed rivers were breathtaking from the road we travelled.

As in our trip to Macas, the return was at a high elevation, contantly looking down at the gorge below. This time it was of a lovely man made lake that we fantasized about building on some day.

When we got back to Cuenca we had the feeling of just awakening from a dream. We were back home and we had to ask each other if what had happened over the previous three days was real. It was. Our hot showers were a delight.

Rachel Joins Me in the Cajas

2011-04-11T12:33:00.004-05:00

We've been back from Cotacachi for nearly a month. We left a part of us back there in the Imbabura. It's not like life is standing still while we're in Cuenca, quite the opposite. There is so much to do here it is sometimes overwhelming. We have more freedom to do the things we've always wanted to do, including waking up each morning, looking out our bedroom window on the oft-shrouded Andes and watch this precious city come to life. I had to use the word precious because it was a word used by a local who met us one day in Parque Calderon as she referred to her native city. Precious has now forever been imbedded in our psyche as the appropriate adjective for our city. So we wake each day savoring our coffee in bed while gazing at the Andean city waking before us. Often we have a Kindle in hand and stretch our minds with a game of Scrabble or begin our day with readings from the Bible. Inevitably we digress from the Scripture looking for applications in our life today and become a lot richer for it. It's about placing priorities I guess. We are getting stronger, wiser, and more fulfilled each day together. We are ever so slowly learning a little more Spanish. We are broadening our friendships and acquaintances. Our Scrabble vocabulary now includes the word 'Qi' which is ever so helpful when you don't have a 'u' to go along with the 'q'. We know how to ask the whereabouts and howabouts to the locals in Spanish and name most any object in our home in the tongue of the Latins. We ride our bikes with confidence and delight in the traffic circles (remember Circles of Death?) and find our way easily from the far points of the city to and from our condo. Rachel and I love each other and our life together in Ecuador. We are passionate for the whole package. So why have neither of us posted a single thing to our blog???? Where is our passion? Where is our INSPIRATION?

You don't have to look far in this blog to see that our bicycles are a big part of our life here. Those Mongeese (two Mongoose bicycles must be known as Mongeese right?) have become our recreation, our transportation, our exercise equipment, and yes, vehicles of Inspiration. If we only open our eyes, ears, minds, and especially our hearts as we travel around the city or the countryside, surely we will be inspired. Bicycles allow you to turn your ambition to muscle, wonderment to vision, and on occasions, stretch your sensibilities to extraordinary senses. They allow you to smell every smell, hear every sound, feel every bump, every drop of rain, and know intimately the path you travel. For some weeks now I've been baiting Rachel with the idea that she should join me in a biking adventure in Parque Nacional Cajas, a somewhat oxygen deprived environment with challenging inclines and opportunities for unforgiving results should you make a wrong decision. As with most risks, there are considerable rewards, usually commensurate with the degree of the former. I've found Rachel not to be one who is shy about living her life to the fullest and knew that with patience she would eventually acquiesce to my invitation. Our day was complete and we are safely home, a little richer, a little stronger, a little wiser, and yes, a little more inspired.

Our ride began where it always does, in front of our condo, Palermo, on Avenida Ordonez Laso. The day promised great uncertainty in the weather department. Recent abundant rains have swollen Rio Tomebamba, the geographic feature we would embrace in awe and proximity for the duration of our trek. With clouds threatening even at our departure we opted for the shortened version of the Cajas sojourn. There's no shortcut path to the Cajas, but for the cyclist there's a way to manage your strength, oxygen, and time. It means (for us) selling our soul to the enemy, the Blue Angels of Death. Certainly you remember the BAD! Those big bad blue buses of belligerent belching and bicycle bullying behavior are certainly serpents of satanic intent, but this day we'll hold our nose and sleep with the enemy. Our strategy was to ride bus #3 to the end of the line with our 'geese' in tow. Bus #3 takes you out of Cuenca, past Sayuasi gaining in altitude to the west and gives you an enormous leg up on the already daunting thin air of the Cajas. Usually I ask the bus driver if my bicycleta could be carried tambien (also) and usually I'm answered with an accommodating nod. Generally the driver discovers that the bags of cobs in the on-board baggage area don't mind sharing space with the two wheeled 'goose' that I hoist aboard. Even the startled looks on the indigenous passengers turn to amusement as I try to stay upright while holding my bike, straddling the bags of cobs and they often lend a hand as the bus driver tries feverishly to extract my feet from the floor with the jolting, braking, swerving bad behavior typical of the bad boys of the blue. This time however Rachel and I doubled the trouble with not one but TWO geese of the wheeled persuasion. Once on board we could sense the reluctance the driver had for allowing our intrusion and I knew that a solid $1 tip per bicycle was the only salve that could assuage the angst of a sworn enemy of all pedestrians, bicycles, and other drivers on earth. Don't get me wrong. There are probably some really nice bus drivers out there that don't purposely try to deck every elderly passenger unfortunate enough to be standing in their overcrowded bus. I'm just afraid that if such a bus driver exists they will eventually certainly fail the annual Mean Bus Driver Fluency Test and be summarily fired. When we arrived at the end point of the #3 route the driver took special effort to park the bus against a burm where we could extract our bikes only with heroic effort. Ecuadorian bus drivers are such an anomaly. Their non-bus driver countrymen are the sweetest, kindest, most accommodating people on the planet. Surely the bus drivers must be from another country, perhaps planet. Maybe just being a bus driver here in Ecuador turns your heart to stone. Shaking off the efforts of this bus driver to spoil our day only took a moment and we were immediately enveloped by the enchantment that shines in the Andean Cajas.

I have ridden my bike many times towards and into the Cajas and the trip always seem to reveal something new and exciting. This time Rachel was with me and it was like seeing it all for the first time. What was ordinary before was extraordinary today.

It was wonderful to talk about what we saw together. The tidy pastures showed how much care the dairy farmers put into their operations. They picked up every rock out of their pastures and put them into enormous piles for later use in fences or other uses. We marvelled at how the cows on some 80 degree slopes were able to keep their footing while grazing. Knowing that most of the farmers milk their cows in the pastures where the cows stand, it challenged our minds to picture such a thing occurring at such slopes.

I'm pretty sure we were flirting with an altitude of about 12,000 feet before we decided to turn around and enjoy the EASY part of our tirip. You see it was all uphill to this point. Some of it was 'get off your bike and walk' steep so the progress was slow, laborious, and a little taxing on the lungs. We stopped often to gather ourselves and enjoy the views and load ourselves with the carbs we brought along. Rain was setting in and it was time to head back. We didn't go far and the rain came in earnest. We had mentally catalogued possible shelters on our ascent so if the weather turned on us we would have protection from the rain on our return. We found a house under construction that served our purposes well. In fact, we shared it with a couple young men who found themselves in the same dilemma. We were grateful for the protection. After a while we got so comfortable we decided to lay our blanket on the wood floor upstairs and take a little nap. We simply laughed at our situation and marvelled at how our lives have changed since we were living in the states.

After a while, the rain let up a bit and we decided to make a break for home. The residual rain made our rapid descent a little less fun than it would have otherwise been and the drop in temperature made it a little more than chilly. Cruising on these slopes you can easily reach 40 mph or faster but with the rain pelting you and the chill amplified by the wind, you naturally slow it down a bit. We had agreed that we would stop for some pork at one of the one-table cafes near Sayausi. We thought a little traditional choco and puerco would warm us a bit and add a memory or two to an already memorable trip.

It was memorable.

The remainder of our trip back was uneventful and fast because we were dreaming of hot showers, dry clothes, and a real nap in our nice warm bed. I'm pretty sure Rachel will join me again in another Cajas adventure but I think we'll opt for some fresh trucha (trout) on our next trip.

Return From Cotacachi

2011-03-12T11:52:00.001-05:00

Rachel's ready smile belied what I know to be a deep sadness as we departed our beloved Cotacachi. Our relatively luxurious condo awaited in Cuenca and with it the creature comforts we've been accustomed to: American TV, all the hot water we wanted, high speed internet, our CD music, DVD's, Play Station 3, our super comfortable bed, our own cooking, and maybe most important of all, our bicycles. These living elements are available everywhere in Cotacachi but limited in the hostels where we stayed. With all of those comforts and familiarities awaiting us in Cuenca, it was still difficult to say good bye to our friends, Mt. Cotacachi (behind Rachel in the picture above), and Mt Imbabura, the 'mother' and 'father' of the city of Cotacachi. Our trip home was smooth and without a hitch. No we didn't take the bus home! Quito to Cuenca is less than an hour by air (vs 10 hours by bus), worthy of the extra dollars. We did however hook up with the Quito bus on the Pan Am highway just outside of Cotacachi where Rachel had a fun time with the toddler in front of us.

Those of you who have travelled in Ecuador know how well behaved the youngsters are here. They simply don't carry on and make a nuisance of themselves. They are sweet, a little shy, but inevitably engaging and interested in the gringos that come into their world. Rachel has learned to keep a package of cookies at the ready in her leather bag so that every little smile that comes to us gets a sweet return. In some countries such an exchange might not be permitted. The people of Ecuador still trust us. I hope we never do anything to lose that trust.

We met new friends in Cotacachi and reunited with Cuenca friends who for one reason or another were there at the same time we were there.

In fact, at one point we shared a table with four of our very best friends from Cuenca who 'coincidentally?' were in the Imbabura province exploring. We didn't arrange for the meeting. It just happened. Six friends from 300 miles away meet by chance. Would you believe me if I told you that it was in the Serendipity Cafe in Cotacachi? The serendipity that we experience in Ecuador is so profound and frequent that we have become accustomed to and even expect it. Only with careful reflection do we then realize that indeed there is something special and magnificent going on in this place called Ecuador. I'm pretty sure that the epicenter of this mystical and cosmic place is indeed Cotacachi. If you've never been to Cotacachi, give your heart, your spirit, and your mind what they long for and visit. Rachel even had an important birthday (it's impolite to ask) while we were in Cotacachi. Our good friend Bo from Cuenca (a new transplant to Cotacachi) and Reggie (our new Canadian/American/Cotacachi friend) and I shared Rachel's delightful meal cooked in our hostel's self help kitchen.

Bo even bought a birthday cake for Rachel. The serendipity part was that he didn't KNOW it was her birthday!!!!

Our trip to northern Ecuador had a two fold purpose. We hoped to receive those elusive residency cedulas while in Quito and we hoped to find our new home in Cotacachi. I'm pretty sure we were at least 50% successful! Our cedulas can wait.

We revisted a home in the country between Otavalo and Cotacachi.

The home showed promise, had great privacy, plenty of room, and was in many ways a great 'fixer upper' with unique character. In the end however, it was the concern over our desire to bike from our home to town that created an insurmountable negative. The road that passed by was simply to treacherous for our two wheeled passion.

We spent a lot of time with our friend and favorite developer in Cotacachi. I met Miguel Mora a year ago when I first came to Cotacachi. Rachel and I hooked up with him again a couple months ago in our last visit to Cotacachi. What struck us most profoundly about Miguel in that visit is his respect and passion for Ecuador and the Imbabura province. His building projects around Otavalo and Cotacachi are done with sensitive care and respect for the indigenous people and the interwoven Spanish colonial culture. Miguel believes that a development that in any way takes away from the integrity of the countryside or causes concerns among the indigenous should never be built. Not all developers have this commitment. His family of highly educated historians, artists, engineers, architects, physicians and statesmen permeate his personality and his vibrant enthusiasm. Miguel's family reads like the Who's Who of Ecuador. To Miguel, his good name is more important than revenue. Quality build, magnificent views, and customer satisfaction are the hallmarks of Miguel's nationally prominent architect, Patricio Galarza. I was introduced to Miguel's and Patricio's latest project, Yana Pamba, a year ago before they even had permission to build and months before Rachel and I shared our commitment of love for each other. I knew then there was something special in this project. Little did I know that I might some day be able to share it with Rachel, the woman I met as a girl of 12. Then again, I should expect serendipity in major proportions here.

Miguel is careful to explain how his construction methods deny water migration from the ground to the walls of his homes.

and how extra care in engineering assures earthquake resistance

two obvious enemies to homes built in Ecuador.

Foundations are built with aeration and strength in mind. They are broader and deeper than any other construction in the area. An impermeable rubber membrane between the foundation and the home walls keep water migration and necessary wall maintenance to a negligible level. Patricio does extensive soil testing before construction to insure foundation stability and construction does not disturb the soil surface except in the foundation channels.

Fire brick is used in the walls of Miguel's construction. It is more expensive but ultimately much stronger than the more commonly used adobe brick commonly found in other local construction.

Open beam ceilings are beautiful, strong, and are treated for another enemy of construction in Ecuador....termites.

Even the porch roofs are built with beauty and structural integrity in mind.

Awe inspiring views from Yana Pamba include pastoral fields speckled with dairy cows

The river gorge below

and the sometimes shy father of Cotacachi, Mt. Imbabura

We intended to be gone a week to 10 days. Three plus weeks later we returned to Cuenca. I'm amazed that our plants survived the neglect. The Imbabura experience still lingers as a dream yet slowly fades as we reacclimate to the faster pace of city life in Cuenca. Rachel, my anchor and gift from God, shares my surealistic feeling about our latest adventure. God willing, we will return to the Imbabura to build our home.

I'm Home

2011-02-15T22:53:00.015-05:00

My dear Jim has shared with you that I traveled back to the USA to see my family and take care of some personal business. It was a wonderful trip from the hugs and kisses received from my granddarlings, Cole and Brady, in Texas to seeing that my parents are continuing to fare well in their retirement home in Tulsa. The record snowfall that occurred the night before my scheduled departure back to Ecuador caused a three day delay in my return trip that allowed some extra days with my daughter, Bianca and her husband, Blake, in Broken Arrow, OK. We played in the snow. It was wonderful and took us back to days in West Chicago, IL, where Bianca and her brother, Brooks, were born.

When Jim initiated this blog he hinted that I should be a contributor. People write for a variety of reasons and sometimes that reason has nothing to do with the desire for others to read the product of our thoughts. I engage in therapeutic writing and that is what I do best, however, I promised him one entry. That is a promise fulfilled with this post. We shall see how this goes…perhaps more to come.

My experience with international travel is not virginal but is from many years ago when I worked as a flight attendant for American Airlines.

For a long time, however, I stayed put to raise my children and complete my degree in nursing. Time and the events of 9/11 have tightened security and customs everywhere since those fly days. You have to learn to go with the flow, or panic and frustration will constantly be your travel companions. The trip back to Oklahoma had that potential and I learned that being armed with a strong faith in God, my husband’s desire to have me return and tremendous patience with the process got me through what might have been a deterrent to ever crossing a border again.

Am I a shady character? What is it about me that ignites in the security folks the need to look past my non-threatening exterior to see if there is more to me than meets the eye. I have known that I carry this burden since 1973 when I drove my Karmann Ghia from Buffalo through northern Canada and was stopped at the Canadian/U.S. crossing on my way to Detroit. Customs emptied my Ghia of all my worldly possessions so it and luggage could be searched and sniffed. Since then, with the exception of the times I was able to bypass security as part of a flight crew, I have been stopped, patted and searched ad nauseum. I have learned the two hour rule of arrival at the airport doesn’t apply to me because to process me through will take at least three. I have learned to wear only slip on shoes, no belt and be absolutely sure my luggage is within established weight guidelines and even then I know it will be a long check in. Consider the gut reaction to hearing your name over the loud speaker to report to a search area in the airport of a foreign country. Yes, it did happen…my first flight out of Ecuador. The area I was taken to was under a jetbridge, dark and dank and secured by police and soldiers carrying automatic weapons and bag sniffing dogs. I was the only person in this group of hostages that didn't speak Spanish.

“Gooood doggie! Want a treat?”

It was obvious this was NOT a place to apply humor…not even the kind to ease angst. I have just entered the Twilight Zone. When bags are ripped open with knives and personal articles are sniffed by dogs and officials alike you know you'd better not blink. There was no touching of my person but somehow having my lingerie dumped and sniffed really did feel invasive. Don’t get me wrong, the times we live in require absolute vigilance in travel security, but, give me a break...

So, the foundation for my story has been set.

Knowing I was going to Oklahoma I played the game of guessing when and where the “let’s pull Rachel out of line for further investigation” card would be played. Would it be in Guayaquil on the way out? Would it be in Dallas on the way in? Would it be in Tulsa? The possibilities were staggering. Jim and I have applied for our residence visa. We were advised by our attorney that the application itself stopped the clock on my tourist visa which at the time of departure had exceeded the 90 day limit. Customs would pull up the information on the computer to confirm my pending change of visa status. Wonderful! No sweat… maybe for someone else. What we weren’t privy to? There had been a major upheaval in the Department of the Interior throwing the whole visa process into utter chaos.

I traveled to Guayaquil by myself feeling very confident that I was seasoned and I could handle anything until ... "Surely you jest!"... I was told by Customs that I wouldn’t be allowed back in the country because I had overstayed the limit of my tourist visa.

“If you would please just check the computer I’m sure you will find I am quite legal and that I am nearly through the process of becoming a resident.” I suggested, smiling innocently.

“No hablar Ingles, Senora.”

Oh, this isn’t going well. Do I get on the plane? Do I get on the van and return to Cuenca? Three weeks of visits to family and friends are on the line. I can't NOT go but my husband and my life are here in Ecuador and not being able to return for six months was unacceptable.

I went. As soon as I arrived in Dallas I contacted Jim and shared with him my/our problem. He said he would be on it as soon as the sun came up. I had a sudden feeling of calm that all would be righted and my return to him would be without trouble.

As I mentioned earlier my visit in Texas and Oklahoma was marvelous and the people who weren’t sure about my move to Ecuador were able to see that I was adjusting well and very happy. It was all good. I also knew that there were ongoing efforts to insure that all would run smoothly on my return trip. My darling Jim and our very capable attorney were looking out for me. I relaxed and just enjoyed my visit.

It wasn’t until a couple of days before my departure that I started planning the strategies of how to pack and how to dress to cause me the least grief at the airport. Slip on shoes, check, bags weighed and weighed again, check, check. All is well. This will be a piece of cake! Even the cancellation and rescheduling of my flight hadn’t tempered my positive mood.

The eve of my departure an additional six inches of snow fell so as I stepped out the door at five thirty I was faced with the possibilit the roads were going to be nasty. Glad I had an early start because I also had to return my rental car. The roads were bad but my earlier years in Chicago had taught me how to drive in winter weather. Slow and steady. When I arrived at the airport I knew I was on a roll. I grabbed my bags, made my way to the baggage check counter and was in line before the wave of passengers arrived. The curse, or so it seemed, had been broken. Just one more hurdle and I could breathe easily and that was to get through security. I was so within all the rules and regulations.

“Madam, you can step through the scanner now.”the agent instructed me.

“Just hold your hands over your head like the picture.” Time to exhale.

“Now please stand over here and place your feet in the yellow footprints.” No sweat! But why are these other people going on through and I’m still standing here.

“Madam, are you wearing a money belt?”

“Duh! Doesn’t everyone?” I thought.

“Madam.”

“Oh, PAALLEEAASSEE stop calling me that.”

“Madam we are going to have to take you to another place.”

My head started pounding, my face flushed and I wanted to scream, “YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING. AM I PURPLE OR GREEN OR BLUE? DO I HAVE LITTLE ANTENNAE STICKING OUT OF MY HEAD WHICH, BY THE WAY, IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE."

I knew it was futile to protest. I wanted more than anything to get on the plane and get back to Jim and making a scene was the easiest way to insure that wouldn’t happen. I obediently followed the woman in the official uniform to an area about the size of a large closet. The short walk gave me time to decompress. My things were inspected and again I was patted down. The women that were handling the inspection were very pleasant and even a little apologetic for the inconvenience. At least no one or no thing was sniffing my personal stuff and I didn’t see any automatic weapons. That was a major improvement. At last after deeming me a non-threat I was allowed to proceed to the flight gate. I was finally in a stretch that I could relax and enjoy the flight and move as freely as any passenger. I was through security.

The flight from Tulsa to Miami and then Miami to Guayaquil was uneventful…blissfully uneventful. About forty-five minutes from landing in Guayaquil the crew passed out declarations papers. For those readers who don’t fly internationally they are forms that tell you what you can and can’t bring in and require you to declare value of incoming goods. No biggie. However, it was at this point that I began to feel a resurgence of anxiety knowing I would be going through the dreaded Customs area shortly. Jim had sent me a document provided by the Department of the Interior declaring me legal to reenter Ecuador but what is official and what is interpreted by the Custom’s agent may very well be different. I could be in for a long night. I had my phone charged, Jim waiting outside and our attorney’s number on speed dial. I was as prepared as anyone could be.

"Okay, I am standing in line."

Heart beating. Heart pounding. Breath shallow. Breathe deeply.

"Don’t call attention to yourself."

My turn.

“Yes, here is my passport.”…thump, thump, thump…”No, I haven’t been issued my Cedula.”….thump, thump, thump…”Sir, here is a document issued by the acting Minister of the Interior regarding my visa status. My husband is outside with the original.”…THUMP, THUMP, THUMP…”I will get him on the phone. He speaks much better Spanish than I do."

"Yes, I will wait here."

He leaves. He comes back. He looks at me. He looks at my passport. He looks at me again and drums his fingers on the counter then makes the gesture of a phone to his ear.

“Call esposo.”

I dial. “Jim, I am going to have to call Galo. They aren’t going to let me through.”

Just as suddenly as he tells me to "call esposo” he looks at me then waves me away and says in Spanish what I understand to mean I can go. OMG! I have always believed in the possibility of divine intervention and I have no doubt God worked out the details in this scenario. As I exited the customs area all I could see was the face of my beloved Jim ahead of me and the “I Love You” balloon he was carrying and I knew, "This is what really matters."

You might ask, will I continue to travel? Absolutely! Life is full of adventure and surprise mixed with challenge. Will I continue to be a suspicious character…probably. Must be something mysterious about me and that's kinda' cool. My philosophy is this: We live in dangerous times and I would prefer an extra measure of caution to the possibility that dangerous people have a chance to hurt others. Is it inconvenient? Of course but when you get “pulled over” as much as I have you begin to see humor in it and realize it's great fodder for conversation. The only thing I am going to change as I move forward in this great adventure is to pack my good underwear before I cross the boarder.

2011-02-03T16:47:00.000-05:00

Yesterday I was on my way to the Coopera and I saw Mark and Connie out in front of their building and had to swing over to say hi. Mark was on my 'must contact' list while Rachel was away. We had promised each other a bike ride in the Cajas together. Scarlet has now carried two strangers while Rachel was away and Scarlet is doing just fine! Mark hadn't been on a bike for at least three years since an accident on one of those narrow two wheeled cousins spit him out in pieces. Mountain bikes are made for the rugged and biking around Cuenca is rugged. You need a mountain bike here, period. I'm not sure, but I think Mark is now a convert to the sturdy wide grip of a Mongoose. Our starting point was going to be Palermo but we decided to do a little cheating. We hailed a bus #1 that looked kind of empty heading west and asked the driver if we could take our bicicletas on his bus. No problema! This bus took us all the way to Sayausi where we said muchas gracias and knew that we had a leg up on the climb up the Cajas.

We really didn't get too far as we ran into rain that put a damper on our enthusiasm. It is still a treat for this farm boy to get out of the city though, so it's all good.

Speaking of farm boy, I just had to have a look at these ladies and their pig.

They were having such a good time and when I came over to ask if I could take their picture with their cerdo, it just got more fun. I really wonder how they can even roast their pet porkers here. You know in the states pigs don't have near the people connection that they do here. When I came over to offer to help I actually thought we were taking seniora cerdo some place where she was to become tocino. I found out they were just taking her for a walk and I really wasn't needed.

But I felt grounded again knowing that cerdos (hogs) are pretty much the same north and south of the equator. They are stubborn but kind of fun.

Waiting Patiently for My Bride

2011-02-02T14:51:00.000-05:00

I really thought that a week or two without Rachel would be fine and that we would only appreciate each other all the more when she returned from the states. It's been over two weeks now and I was to meet her as she arrives in Guayaquil tonight. Mother Nature had other ideas.

Thankfully Rachel loves snow as she probably didn't get enough of it growing up in Sapulpa Oklahoma. Well, even Sapulpa and neighboring Tulsa got the full force of one of the biggest blizzards in recent memories. All flights are cancelled and the airport is digging out. Nobody is going to work. For some, like Rachel and her daughter Bianca, it's just an excuse to extend their holiday, play a lot of scrabble, Play Station 3 and eat a lot of popcorn. Those of us from Iowa know how to handle these storms, Oklahomans not so much. Most Oklahomans don't even own a snow shovel so they look for spades, rakes, spoons, and other devices to remove that white stuff. Some just wait for spring. Like her mother, Bianca is pretty resourceful and an exception to the rule. They both look like they're totally enjoying it!

I'm pretty sure they don't have the equipment in Tulsa to clear the streets like Iowa and Minnesota. It's just a different deal.

Snow is snow and cold is cold whether you're a Hawkeye (Cyclone) or a Sooner (Cowboy). It can be beautiful, annoying, a lot of work, dangerous, or a lot of fun depending on your frame of reference. By now you know how Rachel and Bianca see it. All I know is that Rachel isn't going to be on the plane tonight, and I'm ready to have her back in Ecuador! Now you know how I see it.

Ecuador Parades

2011-01-30T16:27:00.003-05:00

Ecuador and it's people never cease to amaze me. They love their parades! A year ago on January 16 I was in Otavalo and there was a Christmas parade complete with Santa, Mary, and Baby Jesus. I was told it was just to wrap up the Christmas season and that they do this all over the country. I shouldn't have been surprised two weeks ago (also about January 16) when I was on my way to the Cajas on Mongo that my trip was pleasantly interrupted by an indigenous parade with all the same characters that I saw in Otavalo a year before. Then today (January 30) I'm riding my bike down to Parque Abdon Calderon just to take in the warm day and sunshine and color comes flooding down Calle Presidente Cordova in the form of children on horses and yes, Mary and Joseph and the whole gang. After you've seen the really big Christmas Eve parade, El Pase del Nino Viajero in Cuenca, easily the largest Christmas parade in Ecuador, the parades that follow pale in enormity, but not in spirit.

I know I don't accidently fall into every parade that goes down the street. I'm sure I miss at least 90 percent of them which means that there's a whole lot of parades going on that I simply never see. I'm pretty sure that just like in the states, people work, go to school, play soccer and have four generations of family over for dinner every Sunday. What's different however is that all the rest of the time Ecuadorians are planning or getting in costume for the next parade. You've got to love a people that celebrate life like this.

I honestly think some of the dads are just going along with it to be good dads, but the kids never seem to tire of it, even a month after Christmas and two months after the Christmas parades started. They've all been decked out and parading the streets several times already. The flowing dresses and the glowing faces seem just as fresh as they were in late November.

Merry Christmas one more time!

Bible Study

2011-01-28T11:36:00.003-05:00

It seems like when you want a little spiritual food it is there for you if you want it. You just have to make yourself open. I'm really missing Rachel while she's in the states visiting family and doing business so a little 'grounding' seemed in order last night. Our friends, Gary and Sue Gaithers are full of life and the spirit and are willing to share it with a Bible study class. The people who come to their Bible study are also full of spiritual food to share and our lives are blessed by each other's presence and words. Joanna and Bob are like Rachel and me, newly weds with diverse backgrounds and passion for each other. Joanna left her communist oppressed country of Poland in 1972 under the cover of stealth and darkness and with great risk to herself. Raised Catholic, she was unable to practice her faith in her country. Her father was a communist leader but had to keep his Catholic faith under a bushel and profess publicly his lack of any God-like faith. Joanna just couldn't reconcile the dichotomy imposed by her country's government and by faith and courage alone, left with nothing but her wits. Bob, a fun loving Texan adores his new bride. Poland's loss is Bob's gain. That's how God works. Do you think this put things in perspective for me last night?

Yesterday was Gary's (62nd) birthday and Sue wanted to give him a little surprise in the form of a cake to share with all of us. Gary's birthday was our collective gain. At 62 Gary looks about 40. I thought I was in great shape from my bicycling but our bike trip to the thin air of the Cajas revealed that this ancient being of 62 could keep up with me, the youngster of 60 just fine. Gary and Sue just closed on a really nice condo here in Cuenca so it looks like they'll be staying a while! Of course that's what I thought when I bought my condo in Cuenca! Now we're headed to the country up in the Imbabura where God first gave me a sign almost exactly a year ago! God has a sense of humor. I should have taken his sign a little more literally and a little more seriously then and we wouldn't have to be moving there now. I wrote a blog on September 14, 2010 entitled Please God, Is This Where Would You Lead Me? To fully understand the humor, coincidence or God Thing about that event, you can read it from the blog archives.

Imbabura or Bust!

2011-01-28T10:42:00.002-05:00

Why?

We have some really wonderful friends in Cuenca and in such a short period of time it has made even the thought of a move from here very difficult. Why would we leave such a lovely city and wonderful friends? If you've read my previous blog, you already know. Rachel and I are country people. We prefer to ride our bikes past pastures with cows more than historic colonial architecture and manicured parks. We don't need the fabulous restaurants. We cook at home. We don't need the free Mozart concerts. We've got a great surround sound system. The pan pipes of the Imbabura sooth our souls. Transportation? Our bikes take us where we need to go and give us the exercise that keeps us younger than our years. Taxis are available for those lazy or infirm days. Security? We'll be leaving a condo with 24-7 guards and closed circuit TV survellance for a place that simply doesn't require the same type of vigilance. Don't get me wrong. Where we live now is just plain lovely. It's modern, convenient, safe, low maintenance, quality construction, gorgeous views, and a built in community of wonderful condo neighbors, and a good long term investment. What's not to like? It's not in the country.

So......

If you are a city lover that wants convenience, safety, easy living on one floor with great views, I've got a deal for you. Welcome to Edificio Palermo 11F. We'll sell it to you with or without furnishings for less. There's a few pieces of special furniture that have a history and an attachment to my bride and they will follow us to the Imbabura. Here's what you'll get.

Edificio Palermo is the tallest building in Cuenca and will always have that distinction. There's 150 units from the 17th floor penthouse owned by John McAffee of software fame, to the more modest type that we own. City codes that protect the historic colonial nature of this city will never allow a building of this size to be built here again. Those fortunate enough to be on the higher levels enjoy a magnificent view of the city and the mountains surrounding Cuenca.

The plaza surrounding the building affords a place to enjoy the outdoors in a manicured garden setting. Fountains and flowers make life in the city feel a little more like an estate in the country.

There is an exercise room that keeps you fit, even if you don't ride bikes.

There is a steam room and a sauna to melt your sore muscles when you exercise too hard.

There's a huge reception area to greet your friends before you bring them to your condo.

There's even a theater room that is being developed for all of us to use. They are building a main floor mini mall which will have botique shops. No promises on date of completion!

Everyone has a secure parking space....

and your own secure private bodega (storage) which doubles for us as our bicicleta garage.

The view from our condo bumpout at sunrise

and our view to the south towards the Tomebamba are wonderful.

A well designed kitchen with lots of storage

and a dinette area that doubles as a sitting area or computer nook while the noodles are cooking....

.....or do your laundry conveniently just off the kitchen area.

The dining/living room looks out to the city shown in other pictures and has been wired for speakers to bring music where you sit. All the rooms have architectural ceilings for elegant aesthetics.

The man cave is designed for an electronics junkie with a built in entertainment center. This is where I have my surround sound and a place for a big screen tv (yet to be purchased!). You can darken the room for intensive video or open the shade and flood it with natural light looking towards the city and have a wonderful sitting area with music for when you're feeling social. I've wired the condo from here for centralized sound production for music lovers. If you need the room as a bedroom, it's ready for that also with built in closets.

As for sleeping....

We actually sleep in the smaller bedroom because we can look out on a beautiful mountain and city view while we have our leisurely morning coffee in bed.....

and leave the actual master bedroom as a craft room with a queen sized bed , double built in closet and it's own private bath for our guests. Everyone would do this differently depending on how you live, but the condo is very flexible for different living styles.

If you or someone you know is looking for a great investment sure to increase in value and comfortable city living in Cuenca, give me a call

098915314 in Cuenca

or 605.610.3323 as a US phone number

or just email me

caissonrider@yahoo.com

and I will give you a personal tour so that you can have your life in Cuenca and Rachel and I can move to our casita in the Imbabura!

Quito, Cotacachi, and Return to Cuenca

2011-01-14T11:25:00.012-05:00

I was determined that Rachel should experience Cotacachi, my first and most impactful exposure to Ecuador. You never know how that is going to work out. Would it be the same feeling that I had one year ago when I first visited the Imbabura? Would Rachel feel the same way as I did? Was there some elusive 'mystical presence' in that village that captured me before and would never be felt again? Would the long bus ride across the Andes dampen our spirits? I knew that Rachel was up for almost anything. Experiencing life with the 'locals' was part of our commitment to each other and to this country. Believe me, you experience Ecuador life up close and personal on the bus ride from Cuenca to Quito! It's a cultural thing to ride the bus you know. Those with 'culture' get on the jet and in less than an hour you're in the capital city. I've traveled the bus before. It's 10 hours one way and if you take the day bus there are many stops and there's no limit to the number of people they can cram into the bus. The first time I did this it wasn't too bad and the people compression was very short and not too confining. This time we weren't so lucky.

I'm sure that we gringos have a smell about us that isn't very pleasant to those who aren't gringo. Likewise, there is a prevailing aroma that permeates the air when you are mashed like potatoes in a bus full of indigenous families that have recently gutted and smoked their pigs. God bless them all. They are hard workers and have faced much adversity with a stoic and single purpose mindset. I'm sure that clean clothes and body is a luxury that is neither practical or even possible before jumping on the bus. I was an Iowa farm boy after all and anyone who has worked with pigs knows that hog smell becomes a part of you no matter how many times you shower. Add a shot of smoldering ash to that flavor and you have a smell that will overturn a sewer rat's innards.

So here we are, most reserved seats filled, chugging merrily along in our underpowered bus crawling up the insane inclines of the Andes. The views along the way are at times spectacular with the carpeted slopes of vegetables and fruits. It is best not to look at the side of the road where littering is not yet a cultural taboo. More on that later. Up ahead I see a crowd of indigenous massing at the side of the road, obviously intent on sharing the stagnant confines of our mobile vessel. The bus stops and the people crush ensues. I am reminded of a food processor and we're all in the tube with the giant's hand pushing the plunger down. The remaining unbooked seats quickly fill and like the locks in Panama, our canal is brim full and two times human capacity in moments. Red lights, traffic lanes and legal bus capacities are largely a suggestion in Ecuador. Sitting on the aisle seat, memories of high school wrestling filled my brain. Your adversary was sweaty and sticky and there was no polite 'space' provided for your personal comfort. Like wrestling, this was just a competition to survive and not be pinned. Unlike wrestling, there were no winners. Everyone gets pinned. You were already on your back, so a neck bridge seemed like the only defensive answer. After a while though, your neck just gives out and you get pinned. I kept waiting for the whistle to blow so I could breathe at last, but the whistle never blew. The pungency of the aforementioned odors was now being branded into my clothing and skin and I was one with the slayers of hog. I knew we were only two hours into our ten hour odyssey. Enter claustrophobia. Could the breasts of my matronly tormentor, perfumed au swine be suffered on my breathing orifice for eight hours? I confess a bit of panic. Thankfully Rachel was on the window seat and was still smiling from the adventure. She pulled the little camera and snapped a picture of the darling baby strapped to the back of the woman whose maternal organs were slowly suffocating me.

I shared my thoughts of panic and nausea with Rachel. "You have to have rain before you can enjoy the sunshine" she said. At last the sun broke. The bus ground to a halt, the driver kept his foot on the brakes, and the bus regurgitated it's excess human contents to the countryside. I could breathe again! The sun was shining at last! Rachel was right, again.

This adventure however was far from over. We're rolling along about 50 mph on a relatively shallow downward glide and KABOOM!!! The bus rocks and rolls and it feels like we lost the underside of the bus altogether. Fortunately the bus driver knows NOT to lay on the brakes. I'm sure the countryside has swallowed more than one or two buses with bald tire blow outs. As we rumble to a halt the remaining passengers show mixed feelings of glee and dread. There is no way the bus driver would keep passengers on board when fresh air beckons outside. The opportunity for escape is an unexpected relief from the aromatic vestiges of smoldered carcass left as a gift from our former passengers. The dread is the unknown attached to how long we’ll be delayed at the side of the road. I’ve discovered my farmer background comes back frequently now that I’m in Ecuador. I can’t explain that, but suffice it to say, I wanted to help with this countryside breakdown. When I looked at the exploded tire, the lug nuts on the wheel, the tool the driver had to remove them, the feeble jack, and the bald replacement tire sitting in the spare tire compartment, I knew we were sunk. Well, not sunk like the Titanic exactly, but the iceberg definitely did some damage. I’m pretty sure this tire was previously used by the 16th century Incans and certainly the lug nuts were smelted in their cauldrons. After about a half hour of futile struggle on rust welded lugs with a wrench salvaged from the sea floor, the bus driver gave up. We reloaded the bus and thumped away to a nearby service station. The attendant there took one look, winced, shrugged his shoulders, pointed vaguely in another direction, and we were once again thumping along. Finally we found a place with a real wrench, a real jack, and the driver once again unloaded the spare tire with the rubber thickness of a ten cent balloon. Satisfied that we once again had something resembling round under the bus, we roared off arriving in Quito only two hours behind schedule. I’m sure that bus is still out there with that thin tire. I'm guessing that exploded tire is also still in the spare tire compartment also. Next time you decide to use Oriente Turismo, check the tires before you board. I’d suggest Imbabura Lines if you can manage it.

Our arrival in Quito was a little daunting as we’re small town folk from Cuenca. You can take a taxi from one end of Cuenca to the other in a half hour. Quito is a BIG city. I had Ximena’s new address in my pocket and she gave some additional information that would hopefully be helpful to the taxi driver that would take us to her new apartment. The taxi driver was without clue as to the whereabouts of the streets that described her address and when he and four others of his colleague conferred for several minutes, each scratching appropriately and inappropriately their bodies so as to stimulate recognition, my confidence that we would see Ximena this night began to ebb. When they broke up, I asked “Claro?” in my expansive bilingual repertoire, and he of course answered Si! The compadres of accomplice quickly vanished so as not to have a remembered part in this conference of confusion. I was pretty sure this was going to be another Odyssey. Rachel in her calm and oblivious demeanor was enjoying the sounds and sites of the big city. I didn't want to spoil it for her by telling her we might be camping in a yellow taxi this night. Some day I’m going to make a million equipping taxi drivers in Ecuador with GPS mapping so that they can find their way. As long as pedestrians exist, they will resist my sale however. The driver stopped to ask at least 8 different pedestrians where Borja Lavayen and Ignacio Santa Maria streets were and later where Edificio Metropoli was. Taxi directions I've concluded is an Ecuadorian social project and would certainly be ruined with clear street signs, maps, and other gringo-like abominations. I’m really not sure why there aren’t street signs in Ecuador. There ARE a few signs posted on some buildings, but they’re usually pretty obscure. Street maps aren’t big here either, so if you have one, you must be a gringo. If you know how to read one, you're absolutely a gringo. I’ve tried to put one in front of taxi drivers in Cuenca and when they turn the map over about three times I know they'd not score high on Iowa Tests of Basic Skills Map Reading. I’ve heard the taxi drivers are going to have a strike, so I hope they’re asking for street signs, maps, and GPS too. I’ll even march with them if we can find the street corner to start marching on. I know I sound jaded a bit about the senseless-honking, merciless maniac marauders of the Yellow Hornet variety. As a bike rider in Cuenca, you'll remember that death stalks you in the form of the two great tyrants, The Blue Angels of Death (BAD buses) and the Yellow Hornets (or should we call them the Yellow Horn-Honkers) both of whom despise anything smaller than themselves. These are vehicular predators to be sure. Thank heavens the majority of Ecuadorian drivers are civil, kind and courteous to their two wheeled friends. God Bless all of you!

Seeing Ximena and Miguel was definitely old home week (yes, we found our way before dawn). I was excited for them to meet my new bride, and for Rachel to meet the people that treated me so kindly for five weeks in Quito. Ximena said it seemed kind of like a dream that I was back in her house. I know how she felt. It was sort of surreal. Our grand prize for visiting them was enjoying Miguel as our city guide for the entire New Years Eve day. Miguel is a first year medical student that I confidently predict will one day be president of Ecuador. Miguel Perez, remember that name. You heard it here first. Move over Correa, this country is ready for a unifying, healing, and God-guided hand. I hope for Ecuador that I am right. Miguel is brilliant in the sciences and writing, accomplished in music, but his passion is the history, culture, and politics of the people and country he loves. As he took us around the historic district in Quito he told us the history of each cathedral and every colonial building of import. We learned of the great battle on Pichincha where Simon Bolivar, Mariscal Sucre and Abdon Calderon helped win independence from the Spaniards. You see these heroes’ names on parks, streets, and buildings everywhere in Ecuador but when you hear about them from Miguel, they become old friends and your heart swells with pride to know them and feel their spirit in every cobblestone.

There were two main sites I wanted Rachel to see after we visited the historic district. El Panecillo, a statue of a winged Virgin Mary stands high above a hill that overlooks the historic district and you can literally see the 50 mile long city end to end from the tower.

I guess I like high places because the other ‘must see’ was the exciting ride up the cable teleferico (mountain gondola) to have an even more panoramic view of the city and also to have fabulous views of Pichincha. At around 14,000 feet, you need to limit your time up there both for the cold and the thin air, but the views are worth it.

Rio Amazonas is the street to be on during the New Year’s Eve early evening hours. It’s like Mardi Gras with children. Yes, the little ones are out too, whole families old and young alike. As you flow with the crowd you pick up the essence of the people of Quito.

Returning to Ximena’s after the walk with the masses was a bit of a relief and we knew that good food awaited in the traditional midnight feast. Turkey was the holiday bird and Ximena knows how to cook. Joining us for supper were two of Ximena’s sisters and brothers in law, 2 nieces and a nephew. Miguel and his double cousin Alejandra are both medical students. Ximena’s sister Anita is Quito International Airport manager, her daughter an attorney for the airport, and her husband chief of security. There’s no lack of ambition or brains in this family. This is the kind of family that presidents come from.

We went outside at midnight to watch the fireworks. This city likes their fireworks. It must be that every family that can afford one buys a fabulous firework and shoots it up at midnight because they were going off all over the city and it was crazy colorful and beautiful. On the streets were little fires of burning effigies. There’s a lot of traditions here around the effigy burning, but mostly I think you burn your political enemies, your most disliked teachers, the taxi driver that tried to run you over, and anyone else that you need to get out of your mind before you start the new year. You see racks and more racks of masks of all types and demeanor that are for sale before New Years. It is your duty to buy the mask that looks most like your adversary to put on a scarecrow-like figurine and soak it with a bit of blazo for holiday cheer. It truly seems like an odd custom, but they do it all over the country, perhaps most especially in Quito. Perhaps that's why Ecuadorians are by nature such kind and sweet people. They wholly expunge their angst each year. Next year I'm making a cardboard blue bus and yellow taxi and I'll have a fire that will foster a calm in me that will surely make me as my kind Ecuadorian brothers. Nah.

The next day, New Years Day, we were off to Otavalo by bus from Quito. Our intent was to make it to the major indigenous market before it closed. Saturday is the biggest day of the week by far, so everything had to go right for us to arrive in time. The enormous $6 alpaca scarves beckoned.

This time our bus was really clean and nice and no crushing excess travelers. We decided we’d better take the short taxi drive from the Otavalo bus station to Cotacachi to dump our bags at Hostel El Arbolito before we doubled back to Otavalo. We met my old friends, brothers Roman, Francisco, Edgar, and Jaime Galindo. The Galindo brothers and their wives rally at the family owned Hostal El Arbolito. Jaime and his wife Ida operate the hostal full time with the other brothers and wives contributing when then can. Edgar watches the family owned internet cafe next door when he's not at his government administrative job in Otavalo. Roman and his wife Beatrice also help on weekends when Roman isn't at his engineering job in Quito during the week. Francisco just happened to be visiting from the US for a month long holiday to Cotacachi. We were glad he was there because his English is excellent and he was able to bridge the barrier for us when needed. Francisco will some day build a house on his lot in Cotacachi and retire there.

We made it to Otavalo before the big market day closed, but barely. We simply dawdled too long in Cotacachi. We'll go back there again some day soon. The Imbabura province simply offers much of what we are looking for in our semi-retirement. Remember my earlier comment about trash on the Pan Am Highway between Cuenca and Quito? When you drive north out of Quito leaving the Pichincha Province and enter the Imbabura Province, the roadside immediately becomes pristine. Maybe there's a reverence here for Father Imbabura and Mother Cotacachi. Whatever it is, you will notice the difference and you will be amazed and proud of what the people of this province have accomplished. It kind of makes you want to just live there.

We found a yet unnamed start-up cafe next door to El Arbolito that served us well when we wanted our extended morning coffee and breakfast. Blanca was an exceptionally sweet gal who treated us like we were her only customers. We were. I'm really not sure many people know they're even there. We had huevos (eggs) con queso, tocina (bacon), jugo (juice), and multiple hot queso sanduches along with unlimited coffee for $2.

Cotacachi hasn't changed much since I was there a year ago. It is still extremely clean, quiet, friendly, safe, and the views of Mt. Cotacachi and Mt. Imbabura are just incredible. I fell in love with it a year ago and the feeling hasn't changed. It is certainly NOT for everyone. If you like night life, it's not for you. The streets temporarily roll up for siesta at 1PM, again at 6:00PM, and don't exactly get up with the roosters either. Commerce is an accidental biproduct of pedestrians walking by the right tienda at the right time. Too much commerce would cause chaos, and chaos isn't wanted here. The quiet streets are safe to bicycle on, the sidewalks safe to walk on. There's no buses belching their toxic fumes and the sky is so clear and blue you'd swear your life is in high definition. The streets are paved in brick and cobblestone, the sidewalks in a colorful and tasteful mosaic. Calle Cuero (Leather street, officially Diez de Agosto) is teaming with clean, modern, tiendas tastefully presenting articles manufactured by local artisans. I simply had forgotten how nice these shops are. There are droves of attractive cafes, some quite upscale with prices approaching the gringo level, and others that offer really good food at a very reasonable price. One night we each had a thin personal pan pizza with a drink for $1.

What really separates Cotacachi and the Imbabura Province in general from everywhere else we've been in Ecuador is the number of available properties in secure settings with gorgeous views, huge yards, infrastructure, and quality construction for nominal cost. There again, if you like the nightlife, this place isn't for you. We decided that while we were there we would allow ourselves the notion that two country people like ourselves are really meant to be living in a setting where the biggest event of the week might be Pedro's errant cow running loose in the street! I could help Pedro rope that vaca and become a local gringo legend. We've been in Cuenca for months where culture, music, fine dining, history, and colonial architecture pulse through the city like the Tomebamba and we simply don't use it. We ride our bikes, but it's with the understanding that we must be on high alert or perish. As we sat on the bench in the quiet little park in Cotacachi with the warm Imbabura sun drenching us we took pause, looked at each other, and with a knowing look submitted to each other what was already in our heads and hearts. This was home.

El Pase del Nino Viajero

2010-12-25T13:05:00.003-05:00

I know there are other places around the world that hold to the traditions of Christmas in a way that resonates the Spirit that can be felt, seen, and heard. Place Cuenca on your must-see celebratory Christmas venues. I know it's easier to impress the Iowa farm boy that I am because the parades in Iowa are always replete with the incongruous entries of combines, terragators, firetrucks, ambulances, and yes of course the local saddle club that brings up the rear. It doesn't matter what the holiday is, they're all there and the subtle differences might be that the parade marshal wears a Santa hat on Christmas and a red white and blue tie on Independence Day. But let me tell you, this is different. There wasn't one combine, one firetruck, and no one was advertising State Farm Insurance either. It was all about a little Nino in a far off place called Bethlehem. The costumes were bright and beautiful and the childrens faces were...angelic.

Suffice it to say that the children of the city and the surrounding area are not only in attendance, they are the Christ-like focus. I remember being dazzled by the colors on the street in Otavalo on market day. There is a sort of optical inebriation that occurs that makes you glad you are alive to witness it. So it was on this day. You know that you can never really describe it to someone in a way that they can picture it, so you pull out your camera and discover that even Sony can't do it justice. You just have to be there.

For more great pictures, please go to Chuck and Nancy's site where they captured some great color:
http://watsontravels.blogspot.com/

Sometimes the parade got pretty slow, but it never seemed to stop altogether. Crossing Mariscal Sucre on foot was a feat. Crossing it with a bicycle was Mission Impossible. We parked and locked our bikes on the garden railings in Parque Calderon and sprouted feet.

After watching the parade for a couple hours Rachel and I decided to join friends at California Kitchen for a pre-arranged lunch. We unlatched our bikes and walked them through the human gauntlet. After crossing Mariscal Sucre I looked back and Rachel was no where to be seen. She was swallowed in a sea of humanity. How hard could it be to find a gringa with a bright red bicicleta I asked myself? I turned around, Mongo at my side and dove back into the swarming mass, and found the going even more difficult. Still no Rachel. I knew she was ok, but where was she? Pushing around in the crowd was useless so I found the highest spot in Calderon and still no white blouse with a red bike in sight. I had told Rachel that California Kitchen was only a few blocks away on Gaspar Sangurima, so that would seem to be the logical place to find her....eventually. Mongo and I pushed back though one more time and I rode my two wheeled black steed over to Cali Kitchen and waited for a bit. After ten minutes I decided to leave my bike and to retrace steps back to where I had lost my bride. I knew that Rachel really didn't know her cartography here very well, so she could have taken any of about 4 different routes, or perhaps she was simply was 'stuck'. Eventually I found her walking her Scarlet, still beaming her smile, and engaged in conversation with someone who looked like a gringo (but wasn't). She knew that gringos would be the best hope in guidance to a place called California Kitchen! I think there was a little Christmas spirit that guided me to her in that moment because I might still be looking for her without a little 'luck'. Our lunch with friends was grand and their hugs were heartfelt and warm. We got a standing ovation for finding each other but of course I got taken to the woodshed for losing her in the first place. You might ask about why we didn't call each other on our cell phones. That would simply be too easy. Her cell phone was in her purse. Her purse was in my back pack. My backpack was where it was supposed to be.....on my back. I'll never again make light of the Ecuadorian dairymen who milk their cows in the pasture and carry their milk in buckets for miles.

By comparison, the dairyman method of milk transport is genious.

Needs

2010-12-14T07:25:00.000-05:00

Sunday several of us gringo types went to visit an orphanage here on the outskirts of Cuenca. Twenty three little souls are surviving there mostly I think on the love delivered by the two (that's right...two) women who care for them on a daily basis. Two months ago funding all but dried up when the government decided to back off on the help. The other orphanages in Cuenca are apparently run by the Catholic church and have better resources. There's a lot more to learn about this place and see where we can help. Food is the most obvious need right now. The kids are not getting 3 meals and the one they get is not going to make them reach their genetic potential. Believe it or not I think 3 or 4 dairy goats would do wonders for their long term survival. There is grass to eat and I think the older children could milk the goats. Next week there are some chickens being donated which will also help. There is a small core group of gringos that have taken up this cause and there is some clothing and food trickling in to give some hope to these abandoned children. There is enormous needs here just for the children's survival so if you have an interest in helping here, even just giving a little love, please talk to George and Carol next time you have lunch at California Kitchen.

Our Container Arrives

2010-12-08T07:41:00.000-05:00

I woke this morning at 3:00 AM, not disturbed or restless, but thoughtful. I had a dream last night and the characters included important people in my life. I guess we all have those dreams. There was something profound in it though and I feel compelled to write. I’ve been away from our blog for a while. I think most people that read our blog want to hear something about Ecuador and Cuenca and I will get to that, but for now it’s going to be something a little more ethereal. Rachel and I were at Gringos and Friends last night at DiBacco’s Restaurante and had supper with some special people. I looked around the room and realized we were surrounded with special people. Most people say I talk too much, so it’s probably true. Last night I just listened and watched. It wasn’t just a bunch of 60-somethings tipping their brewskies either. There were families there with young children. I took special care to watch the kids play. They were little white children, gringlets. Their blonde hair, fair skin, and blue eyes were an anomaly in this country, but their spirit was one with the little people of the darker condor persuasion. They were content and happy. Not one of them was fussing, whining, or demanding their parent’s attention. Then I looked at the parents and discovered the why. The parents were here to live a different life with the focus on family and all things important, not material. They were going to educate their children in a rich life that could never be afforded at even the most expensive schools in the US. Those young parents were also reaching out to all of us gray panthers, not because they wanted to know the best restaurants in town but because there was a common spirit that transcended our linear chronograph. Ok, enough of the ethereal.

Last week was a special time for Rachel and me. Our container arrived. Now if you live in the US and you are living vicariously through gringo blogs in Ecuador you might wonder what a container is. If you live here in Ecuador, you already know what a container is. A container is either a 20 or 40 foot metal box that rides on a semi truck flatbed, a rail car, or gets hoisted to an ocean vessel where it is carried over the the big water to faraway places like Ecuador. North American expats (gringos) view these containers with equal parts joy and disdain. Generally, you make a decision that those things you left at home in Iowa or Oklahoma were either expendable or not. I came to Ecuador with two suitcases, but then I’m a man. If you are a woman, your sentiments for objects of affection run a little deeper. This all flys in the face of the nonmaterialism I speak of above, but then I think of Out of Africa and the fine china and the Edison phonograph that Meryl Streep brought from Denmark to the Masai in 1914 and I guess I think it's ok in 2010 to bring your subwoofer. One of the first decisions of this newlywed couple was whether it would be worth it to bring those sentimental and creature comforts here to roost. I can tell you that after seeing the warm glow in Rachel’s eyes this past week it was worth it. Rachel’s mother’s special glass trees sit atop Rachel’s French Armoire in our living room. Her elegant wing backed chairs nestle in a corner of our kitchen and dining area. Her massive and luxurious queen sized bed coddles us to sleep at night. The little clay creatures fashioned by Brooks and Bianca in their formative years are here safe and ready to express their story to anyone who will listen. The loveseat where Rachel and I first kissed is in the man cave and welcomes Rachel and I to a repeated experience of love and comfort. Rachel is the daughter of a hardware store owner. Do you think her tools are important? Well, I’m pretty sure she can do some amazing things with them and will.

Art is important too and things crafted by Rachel’s talented and now deceased brother are a constant reminder of his abilities and passion. Let’s not forget the heavy cookware that helps those fresh Ecuadorian vegetables reach their culinary zenith. Then there’s the side by side LG refrigerator that makes ice, dispenses it, and holds enough food for the Ecuadorian army. Yes, we’re both happy with our decision to ship things here. If you want to know a good formula for getting things here we believe we can make some recommendations. Give us a call.

Rachel's Bike is 'Scarlet'

2010-11-27T17:37:00.001-05:00

We all leave things behind when we come to Ecuador. Some of those 'things' are harder to leave behind than others. Rachel's turbo charged Miata 'Mazda Speed' (remember 'Zoom Zoom') was her most difficult possession to leave behind. She dubbed her car 'Scarlet' for the red color it so appropriately wore and also for her heroine in 'Gone With the Wind'.

Rachel's new heroine 'Scarlet' rides on two wheels with disc brakes, 24 gears and has a suspension that evens the cobblestones and 'locks out' for the really rugged outings. I don't think we're ready for rock climbs on our bikes yet, but we'll be ready when our bodies and spirits say so. Juan at PaPikes made special accomodations for us to buy this bike. That's the way Juan is. He is a good friend, a very fair, honest, and generous business man. When you are ready to buy a bike, come and see Juan.

Our first ride with our bikes 'Scarlet' and 'Mongo' was to visit some friends who just moved to a lovely home just off Doce De Abril. Rachel quickly learned the technique of timing to get in the one lane tunnel under Avendidas de Americas keeping an out-of-the-shadows profile and a merging speed that allowed for safe dispatch to the other side. Rachel and Scarlet are unscathed and happy. Rachel's confidence is growing quickly and I have no doubt she will soon be going everywhere in town with or without me. She still misses her Scarlet Miata but the memory is fading.

Waiting for This Day

2010-11-23T11:26:00.001-05:00

First a note to Rachel's mother and dad:   Rachel is alive and well. In fact she rather embraced the ride down Doce De Abril!

There's no bounds to what Rachel can and will accomplish here in Ecuador. I'm so proud of her. In this city of 500,000 there are probably only 5 women cyclists riding the streets here. Actually, I think that count is very generous, but count Rachel among that elite handful. A while ago I shared on this blog site my first harrowing day on two wheels in Cuenca.  Gathering my wits after some close brushes with the Blue Angels of Death (buses) that day I was determined that I would one day ride comfortably and confidently in traffic here. I am proud to say that I am doing just that but it took a lot of fortitude and single mindedness to get where I am. Only in the wishful recesses in the back of my mind did I believe that one day Rachel would join me as well.

We had a great time!  Our friend Juan from PaBikes was kind enough to let Rachel try out another Mongoose for a couple hours.   The 'goose' that Rachel is pictured in here is not what we've chosen however. Rachel had the opportunity to ride my Mongoose as well and this one simply didn't measure up. Juan was more than happy to upgrade our choice. We ended up special ordering a smaller framed twin to my Mongo, so it is on its way from Quito. Rachel's Mongoose will be appropriately christened Monga. The fact that we will both have independent two wheeled mobility in this city will greatly expand our footprint and keep our bodies firm.  You can only begin to imagine how this expands our life here. While other people are jumping on the Blue Angel buses (they are Blue Angels of Death when they are rasping and belching their diesel fumes beside me on my bicycle) we are like free birds swooping in and out of traffic diverting only when the spirit moves us to occasionally ride the sidewalks. It is magical to surge ahead of the Blue Angels of Death and the Yellow Hornets (taxis) in traffic and laugh out loud as we eschew their fares, retain our muscle tone and feel the warmth of the breeze.   It was great to share learned strategies with Rachel about which streets, which sidewalks, which tunnels and the myriad of self imposed safety rules I’ve learned to keep yourself in one piece in this town. I love Rachel and her safety is numero uno. Her freedom is numero dos. The bicycle is freedom. Thank you Juan.

Today Rachel is with Dr. Edgar Rodas, one of the most highly esteemed doctors in all of Ecuador. He is a former Minister of Health in the Ecuadorian cabinet. He is the founder and leader of a nonprofit health organization that brings surgical procedures and wellness programs to the poorest of the poor and the remotest of the remote in all of Ecuador. He is the Dean of Surgery at the University of Azuay. He is a modest, warm, talented, unselfish and kind man.

http://cinterandes.org/

Dr. Rodas’ staff of medical volunteers shares his vision of sustained health and wellness for all of Ecuador. For Rachel to be invited to participate in this philanthropic medical adventure is nothing short of a God Thing. How she came to be connected with Dr. Rodas is another story best left for another time. Suffice it to say I am enormously proud of my Rachel for her courage, grit and determination. Keep her in your prayers.

`

Visitors from Vilcabamba

2010-11-16T16:41:00.001-05:00

You'll have to go back several months to find Rachel's and my trip to Vilcabamba on this blog site. It was an enchanting trip. We weren't married yet. We were still trying to determine whether our love for each other was enough to make us safe and viable as a couple. We were still needing to know whether our tempos and rhythms would gel. We had not yet been on 'the ride' together. On that trip Rachel and I rode horses in the mountains on a gruelling and harrowing adventure. Rachel got some kind of stomach bug on that trip also. 'The Bug' lasted for four days. We also met and became friends with Rick and Eve Casto. Rick and Eve just follow their hearts and their hearts lead them to Ecuador and into the Valley of Longevity in Vilcabamba. They are helping to manage a wonderful resort and spa in Vilcabamba known as Terra Madre. Rick and Eve are missionaries. They are the kind of missionaries that make you want to become a Christian if you're not one and if you are already a Christian, you're really proud to be one and will be inspired to be more like one.

Yesterday Rick and Eve came to Cuenca and stayed the night with us. They are the perfect guests and make hosting a total pleasure. We talked about Ecuador and why we love it here. This seems to always be a topic of conversation among gringos here. Go figure. We talked about matters of the heart. We talked about our families. We talked about food and how to prepare it here. We even broke out a deck of cards with different pictures from Ecuador on the face of every card and played a new game for Rachel and me called 'Golf'. It was really fun. Rick and Eve touched our hearts and our souls and today we're better and happier people because of it. It's kind of like that here in Ecuador. You meet people here every day that enrich your life and make you realize that you're never alone. You talk about things that you never dreamed of talking about anywhere else. Whatever you were before you came here doesn't matter. Ecuador is a new start for everyone who comes here. You can become the person you've always wanted to be. You might suggest that is possible anywhere....even in your own home town. Try it. Good luck. When you're frustrated and had enough, send me an email.

Mike and Patty's Birthday Party

2010-11-09T09:12:00.001-05:00

Last month (October) Mike and Patty Grimm had a party to celebrate their mutual Libran birthdays at California Kitchen here in Cuenca. Rachel wasn't here yet so I had to go solo, but the company was great. Mike and Patty are wonderful people to be around and their friends are likewise. If you've never had a meal at California Kitchen you need to allow yourself that pleasure.

For those with an extremely robust appetite there is an hamburguesa to end all hamburguesas.

The owner/operators of California Kitchen, Carol and George and their family are welcoming, warm and dedicated to delivering a delicious and unique dining experience to your table.

Bob LeFevre and Mike Grimm have become excellent friends. They are both Viet Nam era Air Force pilots. Suffice it to say they both have some great stories to tell. James Reed, another pilot in attendance flew 747's for United. I am merely a licensed private pilot but it struck me that four of us in attendance were pilots and love flying. I wonder if there might be a correlation of spirit between pilots and the allure of independent living in Ecuador. When half of the men in attendance are pilots and the ratio to pilots and non pilots in the general population is probably less than 1 in a hundred you have to wonder. This wasn't a purposeful pilot gathering!

Bob and Freida will return to Ecuador in January to their new home on the coast. Bob plans to build a two seat gyrocopter and will likely be able to take off right from the sandy beach in front of his house. Does it get any better than that? I'm pretty sure Mike and James and I will be over to help him build it.

Playing to the Beat of Independence

2010-11-05T08:09:00.004-05:00

Rachel's independent spirit of excitement and glee is shown early in life

There's a picture of Rachel with her brothers when she was two years of age in Lawton Oklahoma. Rachel's mouth was wide open in an expression of total glee, released from all bonds that might trouble a two year old. I love that picture. I think we all yearn for that release of entering into our surroundings, just stopping to smell the roses, picking up the symbols and playing to the beat of the band. I guess that's why I married Rachel. She smells the roses and plays the symbols.

Rachel seizes the moment and symbols the beat of independence

November 3 was Cuenca Independence Day. Bands played, Presidente Correa was in town to celebrate with us, vendors and artisans from all over the country were here to add color and nuance to an historic and significant event. For those of us who live here now it is difficult to believe that Cuenca or Ecuador for that matter was ever anything but independent. There's a spirit that goes with an independent country and an independent people. Mark my word, the Ecuadorian spirit is alive and well and the people love their independence just like the American patriot from the US.

It strikes me about the similarities between our countries, the US and Ecuador. Many people would cite the differences which are obviously apparent at every level, socio-economic, cultural, demographic, climatic, etc. But let's look at core spirit and independent thinking. When the Ecuadorian people have had enough of the direction their leadership takes, they are heard. They are heard in large numbers with an open voice. Changes are made. A couple years ago the American cousins of the North decided they didn't like their country's direction and voted in a massive change of political leadership and representation. Two years later, expectations weren't met, and again the voice of the people was heard with a resulting change to the US House of Representatives. It doesn't matter which side of the isle you sit on. Democracy and independence is alive and well in the US and Ecuador. Congratulations on your independence Ecuador!

We're Home!

2010-10-31T20:58:00.002-05:00

It seems like it's been a long dry spell without posting. So much has happened in the last few weeks but I just felt like we had to be in the 'zone' of tending to business and our prearranged assignments of tasks while in the US. It is all a little unfortunate in a way because I'm not sure we were totally ourselves and we were certainly stressed while travelling about the US, shipping household goods to Cuenca from Denton Texas, meeting with family in Missouri, Texas and Oklahoma, getting married in Tennessee, going on a honeymoon in Missouri, going to the Ecuadorian consulate in Texas, taking care of business matters in Oklahoma, clearing out Rachel's house, having two household sales, and in general burning candles at both ends. Color us exhausted. Color us unwinding. Color us relieved and happy to settle into this new home of ours in Cuenca. We're home!

I'm hoping that Rachel will add a few words at some point to describe her feelings and emotions as she takes in her new surroundings. I was in the states for almost a month so my first couple days back in Ecuador were a juxtaposition of dreamlike surrealism and giddy joy. The 'giddiness' was certainly due in no small part to having the love of my life right here with me. Its one thing to marvel at your surroundings but when there's no one to share it with it's like the proverbial falling tree in the forest with no one to hear it. There's no sound. My experience in Ecuador is at last a shared experience. If you are a US expatriate you can identify with what I'm saying. If you go back to the states and tell people about why you keep coming back here they just look at you like you are certainly a Martian. At least to Rachel, I'm no longer a Martian.

Every time you engage in a conversation with a local here it is a virtual treasure trove of Ecuador culture and the heart of the people. Today Rachel and I were blessed to meet Dr. Rodrigo Crespo Toral. If you live in Ecuador, especially in Cuenca, you know the name Crespo. There are statues and streets named for Rodrigo’s father and his great uncle Remigio in Cuenca. They are a family of physicians, healers. Rodrigo was a professor of pediatric medicine at Georgetown University. At 86, he is still handsome and regal and is obviously proud of his beautiful wife of 62 years. This day he had two granddaughters, their mother, and his lovely wife at his side. We ate ice cream together at a wonderful heladoria on Parque Calderon. It was important to Rodrigo that his granddaughters knew about the city that fostered his development. The building where we ate our helados once housed the high school where Rodrigo learned Latin and the disciplines of biology and physiology. I felt so humbled and privileged to be with him this day. Rachel talked with him about being a specialty neo natal nurse in the US. “You aren’t retiring are you?” he admonished. I had the feeling Rodrigo wasn’t long out of the practice of medicine. His passion was still in his eyes and his steady voice. We had just brushed with the heart of Ecuador and her heart is well.

We're Married!!!!

2010-10-20T22:07:00.001-05:00

There’s a part of me that would like to get back to a ‘routine’ of sorts. I think we all crave familiarity and ‘safe zone’ living. For me, safe zone living is going around the ‘circles of death’ in Cuenca in my Mongoose, but you get the picture. Instead of high wire gymnastics on Mongo, I’ve taken on my life with the love of my life, Rachel. It has been magical and magnificent, exciting and exhilarating, and yes at moments frenetic, frenzied, and even freakish. Now before you accuse me of wilting into some sort of alliterative gibberish, please understand one thing. It’s all good. The woman I fell in love with 47 years ago is real and not a dream. She is everything and more than what any man could hope for in this world or the next. I am blessed. We are blessed. Life is so good.

The first order of business (well, at least the first public order of business) in arriving at the airport in Tulsa was to assess Rachel’s progress in consolidating her life’s accumulation of things for moving to a more simple and humble life in Ecuador. The progress was good.

The second order of business was to get married. We’ve both been in white marriages before. This one was brown, well blue actually, as in jeans and sandals. We chose Tennessee as our legal entity for recognizing our intent to savor our lives together. Why Tennessee? Well, you see the Volunteers see getting married as an act of love and life changing intent rather than as a significant legal event. It fit our purposes well. We got married in a county courthouse with a licensed Baptist minister. Our legal documents were completed in 20 minutes after we answered some rather difficult questions about our histories. I don’t mean difficult because we were embarrassed or sorrowed, I mean because dates are hard to remember when you’re 60 or close to it. Well that’s my age now anyway. We had our wedding dinner at Kentucky Fried Chicken and proceeded to Mark Twain National Forest in Missouri where our nuptial nirvana awaited.

You have to picture us ripping through the winding highways and byways of Tennessee, Arkansas, and Missouri in Rachel’s red turbo Miata, rag top down, her hair flowing and billowing in a poetic and graceful dance. My own three hairs were ecstatic as well. We were in bliss. We looked at our hands where our new found hardware gave reality to our act that we had just culminated. We are married!!!!!!

The trees were just reaching a zenith of color, and yes, when you’re in love autumn leaves are just a little more beautiful, songs are just a little sweeter, and the person sitting beside you is even more radiant than what your wildest dream can conjure. You see I have history with Rachel. We were 12 when we met. I was in love with her then but she was unattainable. She still is, but God is good. The person I had always dreamed about was finally at my side and we are ready for writing a new chapter in our lives.

We spent a couple nights in a log house out in the boonies. Well, we didn’t exactly rough it. There was a private hot tub, a Jacuzzi tub, a loft with a queen sized bed, and yes we packed some wine and rib eyes too. We strolled along our own private river where we skipped stones and found lucky rocks with holes in them. We drove around the countryside looking at breathtaking color in the trees and the color of the locals. Was this wedded bliss? I’ve heard about this before. For a few moments there was an absence of bliss, but I discovered afterward that it was merely an adjustment period of recognizing the divine nature of the woman I married and the magic words ‘you’re right dear’. How easy those words can be said. Why is it that men hold on so strenuously to the notion that we could think otherwise? Does it really matter who is right? I’ve thrown away the scoreboard.

If you read my blogs on a regular basis you know how I extol the beauty and grace of Ecuador and its wonderful people. I confess that coming back to Middle America was both a wakeup call and a reminder of our roots. America is beautiful. Her people are good. I am proud to be an American. I also confess that when our time in the States is completed, I believe we will be able and ready and excited to come home. Home is where the heart is. My heart is where Rachel is. We can live anywhere, but our new home and our new life together is in Cuenca.

The Warmth of the Ecuadorian People

2010-10-08T06:27:00.001-05:00

In just a couple days I'm heading back to the States to get married. I couldn't be more excited! Rachel is the best thing that could ever happen to anyone, let alone me.

Tomorrow some long lost friends arrive here in Cuenca and I get to be with them for a couple days before I leave. I've been reflecting tonight on how things happen here in Ecuador. First, you must understand that people here truly have a warm and forgiving heart. They MUST be forgiving to be kind to us silly gringos! I was thinking back to my first days in Ecuador back in January when it first occurred to me that I knew this was where I was going to spend the last chapters of my life. I encountered the locals in Cotacachi that simply took me under their wing and showed me their heart. The owners of Hostel El Arbolito and the restaurant owner next door became my friends. They looked out for me. They helped me with my pitiful Spanish. They called taxis for me and told me exciting and beautiful places to explore. They fixed my eggs the way I liked them. It wasn't just the perfect climate. It wasn't the majestic and mystical Imbabura. It wasn't just the pan pipes that still bring tears to my eyes from a recognition of a spiritual resonance that permeates this country. It's the people.

Another thing happens when you come to this country with your senses and your spirit open. You meet other people who who have come here from far away places like the US and Canada and Switzerland and Germany and they sense what is going on here too. A comraderie is quickly established. Suddenly you have more friends than you've ever had in your life! I look at the pictures I took of the people that were on my tour in January. They were all here for a visit. More than half of them are now living here!

Some special friends, Bob and Freida (see above), stayed in touch with me over the last 8 months and have found their way back to Ecuador from New Hampshire. They came into Ecuador this time to expand their search for their new home. Like me they fell in love with the charm and the tranquil life in the countryside of the Imbabura. This time they also wanted to experience the beautiful pacific coast. While exploring the sandy beaches north of Salinas they accidentally ran into some other friends of mine from Cuenca who just happened to also be touring over there. Bob and Mike are both former military pilots and share a passion for world history, politics, and the things that make the world turn. They aren't the kind of people that just sit back and watch the tide roll in. They are engaged and passionate about life's experience. Bob had an engineering business fostered at the University of New Hampshire and MIT. Mike was a career Air Force pilot in special ops and has lived all over the world. Mike and Bob immediately became great friends and their wives, Patty and Freida also became great friends. It's like that here. Believe it. Mike and Patty are passionate about Ecuador too. You can visit them at http://grimmstraveltales.blogspot.com/

Tomorrow Bob and Freida will be here to stay with me and experience Cuenca. They will stay in Rachel's and my condo and keep watch over our home while Rachel and I make our way around the midwest visiting family, get married, and honeymoon. The day Bob and Freida arrive in Cuenca Mike and Patty are throwing a party to celebrate their birthdays down at the California Kitchen. I am invited. Bob and Freida are invited. I know I will see other familiar faces there too. If they aren't yet friends, they soon will be. Life is so good.

A Stop at Peliqueria Azuay

2010-10-05T06:39:00.001-05:00

One of the expenses that I always hated to endure in the states was a haircut. Shelling out $17 for a haircut at a Walmart just rubbed me the wrong way. They never took more than about ten minutes on me. I never got my neck shaved with hot creme and a straight razor either. Granted, I don't have a lot of hairs to cut, but the ones I have I want cut with some care. This morning I went whipping by Peliqueria Azuay on on my bicycle. Impulsive that I am, I figured I could just as well get a haircut since I am after all getting married in about a week. My Mongoose brakes grabbed a hold of the cobblestones and in a minute I was invited in (my bicycle included). The street was busy and you can see from the picture how much space there is on the street for a highly prized bicycle. With Mongo at my side, I felt comfortable inside and the man having his hair cut immediately engaged me in conversation in Ingles. Eager to exercise his dormant English, Jorge was at once friendly and inquisitive as to what brought me to Cuenca. Jorge's darling 4 year old daughter, Diana looked on with her big brown eyes. Carmen, the barber just kept cutting Jorge's hair and started giving him a fabulous shave. I knew I had hit a gold mine here. After visiting with Jorge I found that he had lived in the US for a number of years but was back living once again in his beloved Cuenca. Cuenca is his home. He didn't say so, but I think he built his nest egg in the US and now he's back where he wanted to be in the first place. We talked about the people of Cuenca and how they have this special friendliness and acceptance of foreigners and anyone who might be different from themselves. We talked about the Cuenca climate and the politics surrounding last week's noise in Quito. I think that topic is pretty over with. He showed me pictures of the rest of his handsome family. Then I found out that this was his father's peliqueria (barber shop). Pretty soon his dad comes out. Padre has been at this for 40 years in this shop. I got the impression that he now cuts hair when he gets the urge and not necessarily so much in between urges. It seems like this is how it's supposed to be when we're over 70 or so. Work when we feel like it! Most Ecuadorians love work and are hard at it well into their 70's or 80's. I guess work isn't such drudgery when you like what you're doing, take a two hour lunch and engage the people you come in contact with all day. Time flys and life is good.

When it was my turn on the throne I came to my moment of paniced but practiced translation, 'Corte por favor sólo un poco' which I think means just cut a little but I've had mixed results in that interpretation. Sometimes that seems to mean just leave two or three short hairs. I never know whether I'm telling them to cut just a little or leave just a little. In any event, today is my lucky day. Rachel will not be embarrassed after all! I'm fortunate to have Jorge at the ready to translate my desires to Carmen. Jorge seems to give a much more eloquent rendition of 'cut just a little' and Carmen is obviously taking in the apparently clear and precise instructions. Jorge could have left at this point but instead stayed to visit while Carmen worked on the detail of my ever-thinning scalp. The result was highly satisfactory and my neck feels clean and sleek. Afterwards I wanted to take their picture. I'm not sure they were wholly into the picture thing because their smiles were constant and flowing without the camera and not so much as I took their picture. I wish you could have seen Diana's smile because she could melt the Sphynx.

Next time you're needing a haircut in Cuenca, consider Peliqueria Azuay, $1.50 well spent.

Ecuador Makes Headlines

2010-10-02T08:07:00.000-05:00

Well, by now most everyone has heard about the 'difficulties' we had here in Ecuador a couple days ago. I need to write about it before I forget it. I don't mean that it was totally forgettable; I just mean that in about a week I will have no idea about when it happened or how it changed anything. This was not 9-11, folks. This wasn't the Watts riots of LA. This was not a great tsunami flood. This wasn't even an Iowa blizzard or flood. World events are things that change us and how we perceive the world in general. This was not a world event. So what was it then? Well, I'm not really sure. I think it had something to do with some people not making as much money as they wanted. Imagine that. If a group of people (policia ala Barnio Fifo) decide they don't like things a certain way and they have guns and were issued a bullet today, trouble is always a possibility. Now how these collective Barnios got the 150 collective Gomerio Pylitos in the military to side with them is beyond me. I think it must have been a mixture of: "Damn, we haven't run this president out of office yet and he's been in here for FIVE YEARS!" and "Hey, guys, if we do a demonstration maybe we can get a raise and we'll get that new Samsung!"

It is true that Correa is a bit of a theatrical peacock, but I'm actually on his side on this one. The motives behind this uprising weren't the sorts of things that stir your soul like 'Remember the Alamo' or 'Give me liberty or give me death'. The bad guys in this case were the ones that raised the trouble in the first place. They're all fired, some or most of them in jail, and who knows how many got hurt or worse. Is there some angst against Presidente Correa in this country....you bet there is. Does everyone love President Obama in the US? Not. Does Correa control the press? Well, pretty much. Television journalism in Ecuador doesn't have the same 'standards' as in the US. But there again, change your channels from CNN to Fox News and you'll find a different flavor as well. Who tells the truth? You decide.

I'll be glad when this all blows over. It already has here. For us in Cuenca it was a late morning and early afternoon of 'what’s going on?’ The banks closed for the afternoon, most shops closed, the schools let out, and I wasn't able to buy my delicious Ecuadorian bacon. That was the extent of my inconvenience and horror. The next day I got my bacon and the girls at the meat counter in the Coopera were as friendly as ever. The streets and shops were all back to normal. Life goes merrily along and yes the dogs still bark.

For those of you who have altered your thinking about whether to retire in Ecuador because of this put it all in perspective. If you read a little history, you'll see that Ecuador has a unique but total democracy. If things get bad here, the president is gone. Trust me. I finally found it in print the other day and I wish I had got a quote on it, but it goes something like this: 'The military and the police are not allegiant to the President; they are allegiant to the People'. Before you start thinking anarchy, don't. It works here. It always has. Ask the Incas, ask the Spanish. It's not about a society of people that want to impose their will on the rest of the world. We're too small for that here in Ecuador. I don't think we even have an F-16. But don't try to invade Ecuador either. We'll send the Shuar after you and you'll definitely regret it. Ask Peru.

Sunrise in Cuenca

2010-09-27T18:46:00.001-05:00

This morning Rachel called me at 6:00 AM from the states on Skype. We have coffee together on Skype. It's not the same as holding her hand, but it's all we have right now. I looked out the window and the sun was rising over Cuenca. This scene repeats itself daily and each day I almost gasp. This day I got to share it with Rachel because I took the web cam and showed her. Of course a $60 webcam doesn't do it justice, nor for that matter does a $100 camera. In fact, the only way you can appreciate it is to be here. Rachel's not here with me, so for right now, it's just a pretty sunrise. Well, that's not entirely true either.  It is a reminder that we have been blessed, not only with each other but with good health, wonderful friends and family and the God given ability to just enjoy life on earth.

In 13 days, 3 and a half hours, and a handful of long minutes Rachel and I will be together again.  In a turbo charged Miata moment we'll be be ripping down the highway, top down, hair on fire, looking for a preacher.  We're getting married.

We met when we were 12. There was something very special between us then, but neither of us knew the other felt that way so time and life in general kept us apart for 47 years. We raised families and our marriages had sad endings. Then she caught wind that I was going to Ecuador to live a different life than what I had been living. Perhaps she's just a romantic like me, but she wanted to know more. She wanted to live vicariously in my emails. I asked her why it had to be vicariously. I crossed several states to see her again, our friendship blossomed and that 'thing' that we had when we were 12 was discovered to be real. Like that sunrise with bold blues, reds, and pinks we knew that we had been missing something most of our life.  I was reawakened in Ecuador. I was reborn with Rachel.  Our time is now.

We have much to do. Rachel wants to bring some of her personal things that will surely give life to our otherwise sterile condo. I'm looking forward to the warmth and calm her things will give our abode. But of course that means shipping. It means going through the customs gauntlet in Guayaquil. Already I hear groans and gnashing of teeth. But we've got the best shipper in Ecuador looking out for us, so we'll be ok. Rachel's having to bear this burden of packaging what she wants to ship, and selling the rest. If you are in Ecuador and you came from somewhere else, you know this drill already. She's also closing down her last days as a neo natal specialized registered nurse and she's saying goodbye to those blessed little babies whose lives may be owed to her. All this to be with me? I've got a big commitment ahead. I want Rachel to be happy and fulfilled. She deserves only the best. I will do my best.

We will be traversing the middle of the USA to see her parents, our children and families, our siblings and families, some special cousins and some very special friends. Most of them think we have totally gone off the deep end. They are right.  By the standards of our former lives, we have definitely gone off the deep end.   We have traded loneliness for companionship, emptiness for love. We have traded responsible careers for passion. We have left our cars for....bicycles, walking and fitness. We have left our beautiful homes for ..... a condo that will never need heat or air conditioning, ever.   We are leaving $150 doctor visits where the doctor sees you for five minutes for a doctor that actually sees you for an hour and charges you $25.   What were we thinking?   Now if I could only do something about the barking dogs!

Mongoose and the Blue Angel of Death

2010-09-23T09:48:00.005-05:00

When it is blogging time I put down in words the very emotion that drives me at the moment. I own the moment, but I want to share it with you. To get you in my 'moment' requires a certain level of 'willing suspension of disbelief'.  First, know that I will take you where your senses are asked to remember. Did you know that your nose has the best memory? Your nose (olfactory sense) is very primal and essential in mating mother and child at suckling time. The reality is that if that first smell of your mother could be kept pristinely preserved for your reference today, you would likely have some pretty early visual, tactile, and auditory remembrances associated with it.  So now, sharpen your senses, let go of your daily woes, and ride with me on your imaginary mountain bike because we all need some exercise!

Yesterday was my maiden voyage on my Mongoose, hereafter to be christened Mongo.   My good friend Juan at PaBikes, just down the street from Palermo arranged to have Mongo set up for me at 3:00 just as he promised. I had an important appointment at 4:30 downtown and wanted to make sure that I had enough time to break in Mongo en route. After a brief safety briefing with Juan (it should have been a bit longer, but I’m the whacko who was antsy to get rolling) it was my turn for questions. “Juan, is it ok to take Avendida Doce de Abril to my destination?” Notice I didn’t ask “Is it safe?” I wanted it to be ok.   I could tell by his fixed gaze that he was sizing me up for a coffin. “Well, its ok, my friend, but you must be very careful.” I keep forgetting that in the Latin culture when asked a question, the answer is never ‘NO’. The polite thing to say when the answer is at best dubious is ‘of course’, or ‘mañana’. Latinos are way more courteous and polite than we gringos. It’s a culture thing. Ok, I’ve been here long enough to know as a polite listener that you add up the speakers’ facial expression, their encouraging positive words, and take their intent entirely from their face.  Juan's intent was very clear. “You silly gringo, you are out of your mind!” But I AM a silly gringo, so I listened to his words and ignored his obvious intent.

So I’m down the calle (street) on Mongo checking out the gears for the first time. I’m in my own little world of mechanics and the thrill of new equipment, oblivious that the grim reaper was muffling his laughter. My endorphins making me drunk beyond the legal limit, I’m careening down a quiet street to get my bike legs and I leap a curb and go headlong down a busy street that immediately goes into a tunnel. Whoops. This is pure lunacy. There’s no turning around and traffic is going 45 (that’s mph) down a single lane with high curbs on both sides and with a total width that gives just enough room for Rachel’s Miata. I am so screwed. Ok, the traffic is going 45, there’s no way to turn around or stop, so the only thing I can do is pedal my ass off and hope I can get through the tunnel before a fumy metro bus devours Mongo with me on him. Of course I’m brand new on this bike and as I feverishly go through the gears to make this mountain bike a world class touring bike I throw a chain. Sh-t.

God is forgiving. Jesse Ventura said you can’t legislate for stupidity. I’m glad God was watching me this day. Rachel prays for me every day to clear the way because I don’t always look and think before I lunge forward. (See horseback ride in Vilcabamba). Between Rachel’s prayers, God’s forgiveness, and my stupid luck (that Jesse never made a law for), I survived my first test and solid learning. Tunnels are not for bikes silly gringo.

My second test: traffic circles. Otherwise known as circles of death, the traffic circles in Cuenca are uniquely designed to reward the brave and severely punish the courteous or faint of heart. For the bicycle rider, well, remember the grim reaper thing? His laughter is no longer muffled. So I’m going down the side of the street so close to the curb that my tires are rubbing and I hear the Blue Angel of Death (BAD) behind me (metro bus) belching (whatever they belch) chortling, and spitting out the last bike rider, hungry for fresh two wheeled meat and we’re nearing the Circle of Death (COD).. For the life of me I’m in a tizzy because I know the toilet water swirls clockwise below the equator so I’m thinking the same must be true in the circles of death. I therefore prepare myself for a right hand swirl. Wrong! Irch. Brake time. I don’t mean break time, I mean BRAKE TIME.   Ok, I’ve got the gears down pretty good now, but the brakes……I think I you already know that a good mountain bike has disc brakes. That means when you throw on the brakes you….stop. If your right hand is stronger than your left and you lay it on good you can do forward summer salts with your bicycle. Well, not to worry. I’m a silly gringo, but not stupid. I put equal squeeze on both wheels and I stopped and jumped on to the dubious safety of the sidewalk. Now I’m socially screwed. The metro bus driver that was hungry for fresh Mongoose got his laugh in, the other drivers already in the circle of death are paying attention to their own possible demise, and the pedestrians on the sidewalk that I so rudely claimed a sharing piece of are incredulous that I didn’t stay the course in the COD.   Now I know how the matador feels when he leaps over the fence.

Ok, lesson #2 in bicycle riding in Cuenca: stay the hell out of the traffic circles.

Still alive and wiser to a magnitude of ten, I wait for my moment to join the fray once again and see my opening. You thought I was going to jump back on the street didn’t you! I am a silly gringo, yes, stupid, no. Awash with relief and the satisfaction of a gained sense of normalcy I become once again the cool suave bike rider now that I am the predator, not the prey. With my chubby knobby mountain bike tires I am king of the cobblestone.   I am the Lion King riding a Mongoose. If the irony hits you, that’s good. Of course even the Lion King must be kind and courteous to his subjects, so I’m dodging fruit vendors, school girls (where are the school boys anyway?) and find that power poles are put in the most unlikely places on the sidewalk. Ok, the pedestrian route is not without challenges either.

I am safe and unscathed. My bicycle is like new. I was taught the skill of street survival on two wheels and I’m here to tell you about it. Life is good. I love Cuenca.

Wheels Beneath My Feet!

2010-09-21T18:18:00.002-05:00

I am a walking maniac. I love to walk and since I've come to Cuenca I walk about 6 miles a day on average. I take the long way to downtown along the Tomebamba. It keeps me fit and my encounters are wonderful. Here's the problem. I'm wearing out my shoes fast. I also love bicycling and find that it gets me to places much faster and with less effort than via Sketchers. If I want to get the same exercise as I did walking, I will simply go farther and faster on my bike! My shoes will thank me! Well, maybe not, but you get the idea. Rachel plans to bring her bike from the states so we will both be very mobile. A couple weeks ago I made friends with Juan Vintimilla, owner of PaBikes, a great little bike shop right down the street on Ordonez Lazo. Today I walked in, talked with Juan, and test drove a Mongoose mountain bike. It is awesome. I had a cross over bike before, but this one is the real deal. It's the two wheel version of a Land Rover with plenty of horsepower (me). It has disk brakes that could stop a Mack truck and shifters that are as tight and sure as Rachel's Miata. The front forks are made to take some pretty severe bumps and are adjustable for riding street or in the sierras. This Mongoose will outlast me and I'm planning on at least another 30-40 years.

I had the double pleasure while visiting with Juan to meet an associate of his, Mauricio Carrion. Mauricio has been living in New York City and promoting cycling there but has come back to his roots in Ecuador. He is going to be organizing bike rides around Ecuador. How cool is that! Mauricio is an ergonomic specialist so he works with Juan and Juan's customers to make sure they are fitted with the right type and size bike and to make accomodations for people with special needs. For example, I have a bad lower back, so he is recommending a more upright posture and hence a longer post on the handlebars. I don't think I got quite this much attention on the last bike I bought in the states.

Well here's the really good news. I told Juan and Mauricio (above) that there aren't any secure bike racks in the underground garage at our condo, Palermo. I told them that if they would help me lobby the manager to have one installed, it might help them sell more bikes to those of us at Palermo. It just so happens that Mauricio's cousin is the building's owner's manager! Tomorrow Mauricio and Juan will come down here and we will get this arranged. I am very excited, because that was my biggest concern for having the bikes in the Palermo underground garage which to me is where they should be stored. I believe this is what you call customer service. If you're in Cuenca and need a bicycle, see my friend Juan.

Chordeleg, Ecuador

2010-09-21T09:30:00.001-05:00

Yesterday I had this urgent need to move about. Each day that I wait to reunite with Rachel is in most ways an empty feeling, a frustrating trial of patience. It charges my spirit with the task of healthy daily maintenance. She is in the US and I am in Ecuador. Practical realities dictate that we must follow a determined course of action that will enable us to be together on a permanent basis. She has much to do in the US to prepare for her new life with me here. I have much to do on this end to prepare a comfortable home for us. Today's technology allows us to see and talk to each other every day on Skype. That has been a life saver. It is wonderful, but you are not in each others presence. It is her presence I crave and yearn for. How do you fill that void?

Rachel and I have discussed wedding bands. We are at an age and state of mind and spirit that permits and prefers practical and simple solutions in life. Wedding bands are a symbol of a committed and loving relationship. They tell the world that you are a couple and that no one else is invited into your intimate world. In Ecuador there are very practical considerations about wedding bands. The number one rule is that you don't flaunt wealth in this country without the risk of calling attention to yourself as a vulnerable target for theft. We don't need to worry about being wealthy anyway, so we fit right in. A set of simple bands without precious stones is a no brainer.

So, you ask yourself, what does this have to do with your lonely moment where you have this urgent need to move about? Chordeleg. This little village kept coming up in conversations with locals and expats alike. It is known as the jewelry village for all of Azuay, and some people come from much greater distances because of the extensive offerings of simple but good value silver and gold adornments. Jewelry in local parlance is joyas. What a great name is that! Of course a jewelry store is a joyeria. It occured to me that I should fill my time this day with real purpose! I must see the joyerias of Chordeleg and see if Rachel's and my bands might be waiting there for us.

I walked a half block to the bus stop, jumped on #8 and with 25 cents and 15 minutes I was on the other side of Cuenca at the bus terminal. From there I fumbled around looking for a ticket and kept asking the ticket agents which bus line went to Chordeleg. They all kept pointing a different direction. Silly Gringo. I didn't need a ticket. I just needed to pay my ten centavos (10 cents) to go through the turnstyle and get on the bus to Gualaceo and Chordeleg. Oh yes, there was another 75 centavos once on board. That 75 cents took me on the scenic 40 minute ride along the Tomebamba and into the beautiful valley of Gualaceo. The bus was comfortable and clean. I had been to Gualaceo with my friend Xavier a week or two ago. Gualaceo will definately be a return trip when Rachel gets here. It is the city of shoes for women. Chordeleg is the city for rings on your fingers. Cotacachi is the city of leather, San Antonio de Ibarra the village of wood furniture, Otavalo the city of colorful woven fabrics, well you get the idea. I love the idea that a community of artisans can help each other grow and perfect their trade. I also love it that when you have a specific need you can go where the best of the best artisans reside and find many styles, qualities and prices to suit your budget and taste. I'm still looking for that community of electronics wizards, Senior Samsung and Senior Sony. I'm told I won't find it here. Bring your 60 LED in your shipping container. That inconvenience I can live with.

So here's some pictures from Chordeleg. There were all types of rings there but my size 12 chubby gringo fingers didn't find what they were looking for there. I think fate wanted Rachel and I to do our ring shopping together. I know all my women readers would say, Dah!

And a River Runs Through It

2010-09-18T21:27:00.001-05:00

"Eventually, all things merge into one, and a river runs through it. The river was cut by the world's great flood and runs over rocks from the basement of time. On some of the rocks are timeless raindrops. Under the rocks are words, and some of the words are theirs.

I am haunted by waters."

Norman MacClean, A River Runs Through It

One of my favorite movies of all times was A River Runs Through It. It is about the true life story of Norman MacClean, born in Iowa, raised mostly in Montana where the major portion of the book takes place. MacClean's book adds a poetic picture of the times and place that even the best cinematographer can't capture, but the film was also a great piece and I've watched it countless times. I love the phrase for which the book and movie are titled. Every time I walk along the Tomebamba I think first of my Rachel and her Piscean affinity to the rushing water and fishing. I then imagine Norman and Paul, their fly rods gracefully and rhythmically arcing a rainbow dance on the water that no trout could resist. They would have loved to angle the high headwaters of the Tomebamba in the Cajas.

Today the Tomebamba graces the parkways of Cuenca and is a constant reminder that Mother Earth will always have her influence on our lives and will forever connect us with our very core. The water that rushed in a torrent of excitement and fervor in the rainy season is now a picturesque rumble on its way to the Amazon. The smooth rocks at its bottom have seen the times of the Cañar, the Incas, and the Spaniards. Now the descendents of those proud peoples play soccer along its shores on Sunday and a few of us gringos just watch, listen and marvel that we are in some small way a part of all of this too. This is a beautiful city, and a river runs through it.

I Wonder

2010-09-18T08:16:00.001-05:00

Sometimes I wonder about how things happen. Are they random? Are they driven by the laws of attraction? Does God's will drive the events that unfold before us? Is Pachamama beckoning us to live in our hearts? Do the earth’s chakras pulse for alignment?

All I know is that when I eschewed my corporate life in the US and vowed that I would live the rest of my life in my heart, things have come to me in a way that is indescribable in this venue.  After 59 years, the love of my life has come to me (or I to her?) and she shares my passion for a change of living and life. I am drawn to a life in Ecuador, and every day I live here I know it is not random. Call it what you will. We each have our ways and beliefs of describing how the world works, but to be open to possibilities is what it is all about. If we're not open, we have already died.

I came alone to this beautiful land in January of 2010 with an open mind and more importantly, an open heart. My Spanish was still in my eighth grade classroom and I struggled beyond Buenos Dias. My friends and family thought I had completely lost my mind. Perhaps I had. I'm glad I did. You see, coming here and living here in Ecuador isn't just a geographic adjustment in time and space. It is a commitment to living in a different and yes, for me, a better way. That doesn't mean that everything in the Andes is perfect. If you allow yourself to be annoyed, you might find that barking dog chorus or the 5 AM rooster ensemble is not to your liking.  You might even find that the evening cool down is just a couple degrees too cool for you. But if that is all you see and hear and feel, then you've just flat out missed it.

Did you notice that the women here carry their babies next to their heart? Did you notice that when things don't go right, people are ok with it? I was stuck on an airliner in Guayaquil at 1 AM waiting for two hours because of a bomb threat in the terminal. On board passengers were accepting and joking and laughing and conversing with each other; another bump in the road. I think if this was in Chicago or New York there would have been some eyes gouged out. We're in a van from Cuenca to Guayaquil and have to stop for construction. Yes, there are a few people who step out of their vehicles to relieve their bladders. It's ok. God gave us the means to relieve ourselves and I think he wants us to if we don't make a big deal of it. Nobody was flipping out because we had to pee. Gee, looks like we might be here for a while....not a problem because the locals are here with their wonderful little treats to feed us on our sojourn over the pass. Everyone produces here. I mean EVERYONE. If you don't have a job, you make food or serve food, shine shoes or just find something to do. The indigenous get $25 per month from the government to help their family tide things over, but you know, they keep on working anyway. Last night I spoke with the bartender at Zoe's. He didn't speak a word of English, so I was challenged to do what I could in the language I'm supposed to be learning. We met in a universal language about family. His 3 children and wife live in Guayaquil. He didn't have work there so he travels the mountains to work during the week at Zoe's in Cuenca to feed his family in Guayaquil then travels back to the coast on weekends. My friend Xavier is an entrepreneur of the Horatio Alger cloth. He works like a fiend, is smart, loyal, and honest, dedicated to his customers and would literally take his shirt off his back if you asked him for it. But when noon comes, he brings lunch home for his family, not because they're not capable of doing for themselves but because he loves them, wants to be with them and like every other family in Ecuador noon meal is a time to be with family. Likewise on Sunday, you see families everywhere. They are playing soccer in the greenway along the Tomebamba. That's right, Grandpa Pedro, father Miguel, daughter Victoria and baby Maria. They're all there. They are all having fun, smiling, and yes, there's no other place they'd rather be.

So, for all of you who think this is a third world country. Think again. I take issue with that really. There are 13 million people here, more or less. Is there poverty? You bet, lots of it. I haven't seen or heard of anyone going hungry though. Everyone seems to be fed. Are there beggars? You bet. I think there are 15. Every gringo that goes back to the states tells you about them. Did they tell you that they didn't have any legs? Did they tell you that they played the pan pipe for you to soothe your soul? Was it worth your quarter to rest your soul?   My soul is rested. I am home.

Parque Calderon, A Place of Happiness and Tranquillity

2010-09-17T11:17:00.006-05:00

Parque Calderon in Cuenca is a favorite spot for young and old alike.

Pan Pipe Maker

2010-09-14T12:12:00.001-05:00

Musical instrument artisans abound in Ecuador. This man has a little shop just off Parque Calderon in Cuenca. I fell in love with the music of the Andes while in the Imbabura Province in January 2010. It seems you hear the pipes most in the north. Whenever I hear them wherever I go, I stop, listen, and readjust my heart and soul.

Groceries at the Coopera

2010-09-14T11:51:00.004-05:00

Assorted groceries: You guess
30 large eggs
2 Yellow peppers
2 Green peppers
2 lbs of bacon
1 lb of ham
1 cucumber
3 large, 4 small tomatoes
1 lb of fresh shrimp
1 pineapple (precut)
1 cantelope (precut)
1 carton of honey tea
4 packages of raisons
6 bananas

If you guessed $20 that was close! $19.77
The meat, vegetables, fruit, and seafood is wonderful at the cooperativa. I always feel like whatever I bring home from there is fresh and healthy and a good buy.

Please God, is This Where You Would Lead Me?

2010-09-14T06:45:00.003-05:00

As we decended into Cotacachi Ecuador I asked God for a sign. I wanted to know if this mystical province of Imbabura in a country called Ecuador was where I should live. God has always shared his sense of humor with me and this time he gave it to me in spades. People who know me are aware of my passion for my alma mater, Iowa State. Who in their wildest dreams would ever imagine that as we came around the corner to follow this bus into Cotacachi that it would be emblazoned with the emblem of my beloved Cyclones! Moses got a burning bush. I got Cy!

Seriously......I have not ever seen another US college emblem anywhere else in this country. Moments after I ask God for a sign I see Cy leading us down an obscure road into Cotacachi. Coincidence? A God Thing? You decide.

Mozart #35 In Cuenca

2010-09-13T07:38:00.001-05:00

Mozart #35 as performed by the Cuenca stringed symphony Friday night was an unexpected delight. I have to thank Gringo Tree for alerting those of us who got their message of the change of time and venue for this event. I alerted a few others and we had a respectable gringo representation in the otherwise disappointing crowd to hear this excellent production. It seemed appropriate that I should take a hike back to the facility on Saturday to take a few snapshots of the facilities in the daylight. I happened to be too late to get into the museum, but found these two sisters who had enjoyed the museum while it was open. If you are considering a move or a visit to Cuenca, your cultural yearnings need not suffer. This city loves their arts, music, and festivals and it is largely free of charge!

Transportation of Goods The Dependable Way

2010-09-10T09:19:00.001-05:00

The picture was taken near Vilcabamba. Lots of fruits and vegetables are grown here and must be transported over rather rugged terrain. Four wheelers are expensive and may not even be able to go where these little friends go.

Narrow Trail with a Long Way to Fall

2010-09-10T09:12:00.002-05:00

If you look carefully you can see the drop off from the trail ahead of our guide. The picture understates what we are about to see. Because I can see what's coming up I know I need to put Rachel's big-assed camera back out of harm's way so we can operate in a hands free way. The picture ahead is not taken.

A More Sublime Moment on the Trail

2010-09-10T09:09:00.003-05:00

Yes, there were a few fragments of time when we recovered from the adrenaline and absorbed the flora, fauna, and fragrance of the sierras, the gentle rhythmic clop of the hooves, the wonderment in the reality about where we were and how it changed us forever.

Your Horse Stumbles and Your Day Ends Badly

2010-09-10T09:06:00.001-05:00

All of the pictures taken on this trail were from on top of a horse. When the going got tough I had to have my hands free in case the horse fell. What this means is that the pictures of the really rugged terrain where you look over the side and the pearly gates beckon were not taken. We chose life over pictures in this case. I'm not sure whether Rachel would agree to a reprise of this event, but I'd do the camera thing different next time!!

Sheer Drop off Ahead

2010-09-10T09:01:00.000-05:00

Momentary Sea Captain

2010-09-07T19:31:00.000-05:00

Vilcabamba Weekend Adventure

2010-09-06T09:04:00.000-05:00

Dear All,

This will be another ‘shotgun’ so please forgive. We will write more personal emails as time goes on, but I thought it would be nice to recap our adventure from yesterday in the high sierras around Vilcabamba.

First a word on our hosteria….It has plenty of charm. We have a bamboo roof and the block walls are painted in a rather garish hue but the arched doorways and windows pull it all together. It is not the Sheraton, but I can’t think of a Sheraton in this world that I’d choose over this one. We were probably hungering for some warm air since the temps have been unusually cool in Cuenca. We have found the weather here to be predictably warm.

Rachel and I spent the night in Loja Thursday night. Loja is a charming colonial city and seemed to be nearly constantly bustling with activity. It is really a happening place. I’m glad however that we had our two nights stay planned for Vilcabamba. The road from Loja to Vilcabamba was severe twisting and turning all the way down the mountains into the valley of longevity. To say it was magical and mystical is selling it short. To me, this is the most beautiful part of Ecuador I’ve seen yet, but there’s so much more to see. I think what makes it seem so special is that you look out into the mountains in every direction and there is almost no habitation. It seems so unspoiled. We had heard of an ‘outsider’ influx and I’m sure that is true, but we just haven’t seen it. There are some beautiful homes here and I’m sure they come from outside money, but so far they are unobtrusive to the countryside. The old part of Vilcabamba is quaint, clean, safe, and full of friendly faces. Rachel and I went for a walk on Friday down a paved country lane past modest and beautiful homes, small farms, orchards and streams constantly with the backdrop of the high Andes.

Yesterday (Saturday) we embarked on an equine adventure into the mountains. We were able to get connected with an outfit that came right to Terra Madre (Mother Earth) to pick us up. We went right to our horses in town where we met with our guide, a 16 year old boy who spoke no English. Our horses looked to be a bit undernourished, but they were rugged beyond imagination. I have learned that the best trail horses here look this way. They proved to be up to the task. We agreed to a ride that took us to a very secluded cascada (waterfall). I don’t know how far in miles our journey took us. I’m thinking our total trip was 15 miles. I can tell you that in all my years of horseback riding I was never on a more challenging trail. When I was in the army in the caisson platoon we rode with the Maryland Park Police on some challenging trails, but nothing like this. I am still absolutely amazed at Rachel’s moxie and grit. For me I’ve spent many hours in a saddle on rough terrain but Rachel is a beginning rider, that is, she was a beginning rider. The trail was well defined but incredibly narrow. It was like a cow path often through rugged rock outcroppings and loose boulders that kept the horses and riders constantly on our toes. There were times when we would look over the side and it was a sheer drop off of some 2000 feet. Yes, one misstep by our horses and we were goners. I still marvel that such a trip was allowed to anyone but expert riders. We had no idea. At one point we met up with some ranch hands that were ‘leading’ a cow and bull by ropes up an incredibly steep slope and onto our path. We were meeting them head on. Our path was so narrow there was not room for either of us to turn around or step to the side. The Holstein bull broke loose of the rope and came charging towards us. Frankly, the situation was extremely dangerous. There happened to be a very narrow ledge that was about four feet above our trail and we somehow managed to get our horses to lunge onto out of the way of the charging bull. The athletic moves we demanded of our horses would have made a goat shudder. This was the high adrenaline portion of our trip. The rest of the trip was more sedate like sitting on a railroad track waiting until the last second before leaping off. I look back at yesterday and thank God we’re all still alive and well with just a bit of stiffness that can only be attributed to 59 year old bodies riding narrow horses with undersized saddles for 4 and a half hours through extreme conditions. Thankfully we got some pictures but really didn’t have the right lenses to take in the extreme drop offs in perspective. At any rate, this was an adventure to be sure and we are certainly richer for it. I can say that the total sensual experience was something that could not be recorded by photos, video, or any other means but the composite receptive organs of human experience. It was fabulous.

Just a word to Rachel’s family and friends…..I will not put her in harm’s way like this again. I had no idea what we were getting into. After the fact I’m glad we did it because it is over and we are safe, but I wouldn’t do it again because the next time we might not be so lucky. We had a marvelous time, one that we’ll remember for a lifetime. I will forever be able to play it back in my mind the precarious situations we were in, remember the sounds, the smells, and especially the visuals of our adventure.

Today we will head back to Cuenca. I’m a little sad at that and I’m sure Rachel feels likewise. It’s not that we don’t love Cuenca, but Vilcabamba is everything that you might read about and more. It is special. I can say that there are a couple enclaves of gringos here that have a condo type community where they have unfortunately separated themselves from the local populace. This has understandably caused some hard feelings with the locals. For this I am personally ashamed as a gringo. I know there are many ‘good’ gringos in country that love the local culture and embrace what it has to offer without tainting it with gringo ways. It seems however that we will forever be trying to ‘make up’ for some ugliness that inevitably follows the few.

Our newfound friends await us in Cuenca for a dinner party tonight in Rachel’s honor. That’s how it is here in Ecuador. The friendships that are so easily forged here are simple, unassuming, and heartfelt. I marvel at how people like Ximena and Miguel and Pincho, Doug and Cindy, Xavier and Chris, Bill and Dean, and countless others just roll out the carpet with warmth and welcome. We met a couple here in Vilcabamba (Ric and Eve) who are helping out with the hosteria. They are likewise full of warmth and good will. It seems like when you are in a foreign country and don’t speak the language very well that there would be insurmountable barriers to living, but the opposite seems to be true. Whenever there is a need, the right person steps forward to help.

Tomorrow we will hopefully get our internet and cable hooked up in the condo. We also have some furniture being delivered. Xavier has ordered an oven, microwave, a washer and dryer through his dealership and these items too will arrive sometime next week. As mentioned earlier, Rachel ordered window treatments, but those won’t happen for another week or two. I’m very thankful for such a wonderful place to live. Keep in mind that all who receive this email have an official welcome to the extra bedroom.

We will be in Ingapurca sometime this week and I’m sure it will be much less of an adventure than what we’ve had here, but probably equally memorable.

Love from Ecuador

Jim and Rachel