Ecuador Experiment

An Aspect about the Spoken Word in Ecuador

2016-07-19T07:53:00.000-07:00

National traits symptomize aspects to a country. Since I arrived in Ecuador in October 2015, I´ve discovered traits about Ecuadorian people I find engaging. My landlords invited me to their home to celebrate Christmas. I had a wonderful time with their extended family of grandparents, sons and daughters, cousins and in-laws. I found they laughed, danced and celebrated with an exuberance and humor uncommon to my experience in the United States. One common trait to Ecuador is the people here know how to have fun and enjoy themselves.

Tunnel entrance in Guayaquil city.

Another aspect I´m finding true is that in Ecuador people share a sense of collectivity. The good of the community is valued. Networks of friends aid to surmount individual, difficult life circumstances. People ask for help from one another without feeling embarrassed to either do so or to have to do so.

The health of the country environmentally speaking is valued as a whole, as well as the health of individuals. Signs on freeways remind people to not contaminate the water. Packs of cigarettes display graphic pictures of cancerous lungs or amputated legs. Quite a few Ecuadorian friends of mine have remonstrated against my smoking cigarettes, clearly concerned for my physical well-being. Not so in the United States, where friends mostly consider another´s smoking to be none of their business.

One aspect common to the people in the United States is to place a high value on good work. Most every employee and business in America strives to produce genuine quality products and excellent customer service. In Ecuador my experience has been this aspect is valued to a lesser degree. I had invitations to a party printed and the business failed to include the address to my apartment. At an upscale restaurant, even, the waiter failed to bring all I had ordered. A representative of an internet service provider came to my apartment one morning, investigated and then declared my location made a situation such that service would be impossible to provide. In the afternoon, a different rep from the same company made an unscheduled visit and told me that service could be provided.

Street scene in Guayaquil city

Among Americans as a whole a high value is placed on the content of the spoken word. It is considered important in the United States to do what you say you are going to do. I´m finding to my consternation this aspect is less valued as a whole in Ecuador. An Ecuadorian fellow I know suggested we meet to get together and talk. I agreed and invited him to dine with friends the next Friday at my apartment. He didn´t show at the appointed time. He didn´t show at all and didn´t call to say he would not. The same type of instance happened with another friend I was to meet at a coffee house. In a third example, an Ecuadorian friend asked for a favor. I agreed. We set up a time and place to meet. I waited in vain for him to show, and I waited in vain for a telephone call from him to explain why he wasn´t there.

As a result, I am enjoying those engaging aspects to Ecuador. As well, when I find a business that does quality work, I make special note of it. Furthermore, I find that if I am to live in Ecuador, I must become less trusting.

How circumstances paint a picture of Ecuador

2016-07-04T10:17:00.000-07:00

The water is off here in Cuenca this early Monday morning, but no dogs are barking outside and it´s not cold inside the apartment. It´s a good time to write a story.

I´ve become a known entity around here in the San Sebastian neighborhood in which I live. The female owner at the market I frequent most often recognizes me also when passing by out on the street. I´m acquainted with two neighbors across the street who wave and greet me when we see each other outside. The fellow who owns the local CD movie sales shop is selling his business, but it´s pleasant to buy movies from him because he tries hard to accommodate with suggestions and he´ll readily order a movie I want he doesn´t have in stock.

Last night I walked to the river to get a break from a lot of thought clamboring about my head. I watched the water rushing within its banks and listened to sound created by its washing over the rocks. I was alone, feeling a certain comfort that could be represented by the river passing below in its travel to an unknown destination.

The seed of myself I planted in Ecuador nine months ago has grown roots that now tie me to the ground, and shallow though they maybe---I´m not going anywhere else soon.

I am discovering South America and its land and people and it´s turning out to be the greatest lesson of discovery I´ve ever had in my life. I´m learning there are other ways to look at the world. I´m learning that other societies can be different not just in superficial ways but in fundamental ways. And that´s turning out to be okay with me. I´m game. I´m also learning what it means to be from the United States and that´s okay too. It isn´t learning by reading a text book, it´s experiential learning and it´s slowly changing the way I am.

The other day I was kneeling on Simon Bolivar Street to tie the loose shoelaces on one of my shoes. As I struggled to get up a woman offered to me her hand. I refused the help. I have a mentality that values self-reliance, while she exhibited a trait home to a mentality that values mutual assistance.

While I´m not here to complain, that doesn´t mean I have no complaints. When I find an Ecuadorian shop or an Ecuadorian worker who takes pride in their quality of work, I make note of it. I don´t assume everybody does good work anymore because I´ve lived here long enough to know better than that by now.

But last month I also attended a concert performed by the orchestra of the University of Cuenca and attest the quality of its presentation of classical music was on a par equal to the best I´ve enjoyed anywhere, anytime.

Homeless Dogs Part of Cuenca Life

2016-05-21T15:57:00.000-07:00

While walking home on Simon Bolívar street one afternoon last week, I saw this little dog taking it easy on the sidewalk. I started taking pictures. Apparently annoyed, the animal trotted into a store and I followed. I saw the store owner inside and asked her if the dog belonged to her. She said yes.

Store owner´s dog

I stooped and called and it came over and let me pet its head. I love dogs and felt glad to be doing it. I sometimes think if people were dogs there would be no need for figures like Buddha or Jesus. A lot of times, I attempt to pet the dogs I meet on the streets of Cuenca, but I get virtually no takers. They ignore me. Not that they would pee on me, but I´m like a fire hydrant or a tree to them---an inanimate object.

I´m not used to it. There isn´t almost one dog back in the states, at least where I come from, that would not gladly accept a petting human hand, not to mention warm words like ¨good dog¨ or ¨nice boy.¨

Everyone, both Ecuadorian and ex-pat with whom I talk agrees the city has a sizeable homeless dog population. I couldn´t find official figures, but I can report it is not uncommon to see scruffy looking dogs on the streets of Cuenca.

Lunch for two homeless dogs in Parque El Paraíso

Mauricio Bernal is the owner of Sabatino´s restaurantin Plaza Otorongo, and we´re talking one day last week, and he´s telling me he feeds his left-over restaurant food to homeless dogs who live around the plaza. He says a small pack of them visit at the same time daily because Bernal does the feeding at the same time daily. It´s this way with many restaurants says Bernal.

Dog regular in Plaza Otorongo

He says there is no official, city-wide program to sterilize street dogs, hence their population continually rises---every six months the females give birth to new puppies. In an effort to reduce this growth, Bernal claims some people put puppies into bags and tie the bags and throw the puppies into one of the rivers in Cuenca.

Sometimes, he says, people will try to sell puppies in one of the open markets in town, and failing that will leave them to fend for themselves.

Many homeless dogs live in El Paraiso Park, Bernal says, where ¨They know they need to be friendly to get food.¨

There is a private organization in Cuenca dedicated to promoting the cause of humane treatment of animals. ARCA was founded in August 2003, and runs a vet clinic and an adoption agency. It has volunteers, collects donations and sponsors public events.

ARCA introduced a proposal to the mayor of Cuenca in June 2013. Called Citizen Dog, the proposed measure would elevate animals to official status as creatures due public policy attention. Among other practices, the measure would educate the public about good animal practices, implement legal norms and protections, and institute a program of sterilization.

Not Yet Speaking Spanish like a Pro?

2016-05-05T19:04:00.000-07:00

Little else galls more than to not understand the language of the people of the country in which I live. As such no greater motivation exists and by default no effort can be wasted---no mistake made that can deter---to become a fluent Spanish speaker is fifty percent of the reason I moved to Cuenca, Ecuador.

Street scene in Cuenca

I had at one time entertained the notion that immersion as methodology for learning a foreign language was--- in and of itself---sufficient to achieve fluency. Not so by a long shot. I met an American ex-pat in Cuenca who has lived here for five years. Although a 50- something, bright, college educated woman, she speaks no more than token Spanish. ¨Gracias¨, ¨hola,¨ and ¨adios¨. Immersion is a big help but it´s not a critical factor.

In addition the aid that immersion offers isn´t activated unless its benefit is utilized. When taking a taxi it does not help to hear the news on the radio but it does help to listen. When watching television, it does no good to filter out Spanish shows and watch only English language programs. It does good to have Ecuadorian acquaintances or friends with whom you can practice speaking Spanish. Immersion is worthless if English only is spoken to fellow ex-pats.

Ex-pats enrolled in Spanish language schools like Yanapuma or Simon Bolivar, or ex-pats who hire tutors---these people demonstrate sincere desire to adjust themselves to the life of Ecuador. It is a credit to them to be doing so, not only because learning a second language entails hard study, but also because it is a sign of respect towards Ecuador.

Simon Bolívar Spanish language school in Cuenca

Be this as it may, the type of Spanish spoken by teachers to educate students is not the same type that is spoken in the shops or on the streets, or in the bars and banks. I tend to understand a great deal of the Spanish spoken to me in the classroom. I tend to understand little of the Spanish spoken to me by the fellow shining my shoes in downtown Cuenca or by the taxi driver taking me to Mall del Rio.

I would argue there are two reasons why this is what it is.

At the school the professors teach at an understandable rate of speed. This is to say their communications are conveyed in a manner slow enough to comprehend. This is not artificial. It´s authentic Spanish elaborated in an educational environment.

The second reason why is that Spanish spoken by Ecuadorians in day to day life is laced with slang that makes no sense to those who are not native to the country. That´s why this book by author Nicholas Crowder, who writes extensively about Ecuador, can help towards a better understanding of Spanish as it´s spoken in ordinary life.

Observations on Gender Communication

2016-05-05T06:55:00.000-07:00

I do a lot of listening to women talking in the gender language of the female, and I'm amazed as I observe how much access they have to their feelings. How do they know so much about themselves I wonder as I listen with interest and admiration and sometimes envy as these women soak their words in the inner worlds of their beings and speak them with fluidity and ease and confidence. I don't know what my feelings are half the time, and if I did I wouldn't bet a dime I'd be able to express them. Women seem to have an ability to communicate feelings with all their various gradations of nuance. Like in the picture from Shutterstock below, women seem to know what they are about in ways I venture to say men just don't know.

My observation is men are inexperienced when it comes to talking with feeling and about feelings. Men obeyed the social rules growing up as boys and never learned how to exhibit empathy or access the more gentle feelings. Men sit silent about how they feel. I'm a man and I don't often feel exactly what's going on inside. I feel anger, impatience and frustration too often, but those are not feelings. They're automatic responses. I don't know my inner world. I was never taught how to access my inner world. I remember this little league baseball game that happened when I was a kid. The game would decide which team won the pennant. I was pitching, and I was among the top pitchers, but we lost the game. I felt devastated and cried. Another baseball player saw my crying and yelled at me to stop, and that's what I did, instantly, feeling embarrassed in front of everybody watching. I broke a social rule that boys don't cry, and that's an example of how social environments mold people into what they become. Boys are taught not to express feelings. If the male gender doesn't get family and social permission in childhood to express feelings they don't learn how to express feelings. I'm not a social scientist. I'm a gentleman with my own perspective making observations about the world the way he sees it. What I observe is that women live inside and share inner worlds with other women. Men live in the outside world of making mechanical adjustments to the environment. The landscape of creating and implementing blue prints for exterior projects is where men feel at home. I recall a woman telling me her husband plays cards with his friends from time to time. She told me if she asks afterwards how they were feeling he says he doesn't know. That's the point. Men don't talk about their feelings.

When I was in 6^th and 7^th grades, the girls sat on one side of the classroom and the boys on the other. The teacher would ask a question and almost every time the hands that shot up rose from the female side. I felt a little ticked. I knew my friends were smart and had good answers to these questions. I wanted the teacher and the class to know I had an answer but if I raised my hand I'd get colored by the boys with the subtle tint of appearing too feminine. I was aware of this but I'd raise my hand. I wanted recognition for intelligence more than I feared being labeled a sissy.

Women are so much better at knowing and expressing their feelings than men that this divides the genders. Women share feelings with other women while men gravitate towards comfortable discussions about outside events in politics or what's in the news. When women gather informally they don't talk about politics or history. They talk about the people in their lives and share sentiment about how they feel affected. Men are mostly only able to talk about the outside world. They don't speak the language of women. Since the women's movement began four decades ago, women have become engineers, attorneys, scientists and politicians. They know how to speak the language of men. It's not their native tongue, but it is a second language. So women can talk about the outside world with both women and men and share their inner feelings with both genders. Men can talk scientific theory with both genders but they don't know how to share feelings with either gender. I'm painting with loud colors and broad strokes, I know, but to me it's like an elephant in the room. Women are entering combat units while men don't know how to express tender feelings and empathy.

How and when are men going to learn to speak in at least a rudimentary way the language of women? How are men going to acquire the nurturing and empathy characteristics women have that allow them to feel and share who they are. How are men going to deepen communication with women if the feminine aspect is so thwarted it doesn't gets discovered in the first place.

Men are starting to learn. I think it's helping that homosexuality isn't hidden in our society like it was in the heyday of the Greatest Generation. There's less peer pressure to act in the Marlboro man way that blocks access to feelings. Men are starting to learn by osmosis because they are realizing they need to know. The women in their lives are making a demand of it.

Different Points of View

2016-04-24T22:57:00.000-07:00

You might fairly inquire how it is I know what I´m talking about---what credentials do I possess to write about Cuenca, Ecuador? I ask myself the same question. Experience is the main guide when time comes to write the stuff of my Ecuador Experiment.

So far I´ve learned enough to know I´m a complete novice at living in this city. I´ve learned enough, after six months, to know that what I do know is much less than there is to find out---what I know is no more than the tip of a titanic iceberg.

Subway Restaurant on Cuenca Street

What captures my interest about the ex-pat matter are not only discoveries of differences and similarities between the cultures of Ecuador and the United States, it´s also a dawning internal discovery occurring at the same time. For most of us who have repatriated to life in Ecuador, the older years of retirement age present new territories of being alive. These two enormous changes in time and place combined make for solid adventure.

So yes, it is true---due to inexperience what I write may be off the mark, but write I must if I´m to blog. So I employ slang and say I´ll take a stab at it.

I´d say work and money are not treated like gods in Ecuador. In this society people as a whole do not confuse wealth with happiness. In the United States, work separates from the functions of daily activity. What I mean is that work is placed upon a special pedestal. It´s work! Nothing is more important than work! And it´s unacceptable to interfere with the main purpose of work---which is to please the client--- an end to which both boss and employee subordinate almost all else.

Llama animals outside Cuenca

Not so in Ecuador. Work here is one of a number of forms of participation in the living of life. It isn´t an end in itself. It is one of the means toward another end--- which I´d describe as the goal to live without the pressures of undo concern. Here in Cuenca one time I had to wait for the supplier of a service to go out and get a coke before she offered to me her business attention. Although the customer is important, in Ecuador the customer doesn´t necessarily come first.

Not so long ago I had ordered furniture to be made by an Ecuadorian cabinet maker in Cuenca, the work excellent and completed in timely fashion. I had e-mailed my phone number and e-mail address to this man´s business, but he didn´t call or e-mail to schedule the delivery. He arrived with the furniture across the street from my apartment in his truck twice at times I wasn´t home. It wasn´t until his third delivery attempt that he managed by chance to catch me at home. This I think is an example of a more general trait. The evaluation of time as important appears evaluated as less important, in Ecuador---on a different plane than time in the United States, where what is considered not wasting time has cultural value.

Life in Ecuador on the whole is lived one day at a time. Few people have much extra money. The average salary amounts to about $400 a month. As well, the 2015, fourth quarter Ecuador unemployment rate of 5.65% is enough notification to keep most employees from taking their jobs for granted. I´ve noticed many Cuenca people don´t discard items that have little value because in Ecuador virtually every penny counts.

Monument in Cuenca

But I don´t sense people consumed with worry about what tomorrow may bring. I speculate one reason why might be contained in the national memory of Ecuador. The country´s history is replete with dislocation in a long and tragic story that goes far back into the time of the ancient Incas. If nothing else, Ecuadorians are made of sturdy stock.

A Tale of Heart on Fire in the City of Cuenca.

2016-01-01T11:19:00.000-08:00

I jump over flame on the Cuenca street of Honorato Vasquez this New Year´s eve night. The custom long endures for meanings unsure; I make meaning for myself that the leap takes symbol of vitality born anew.

Fire consumes the remnants of a past now tethered in memory, and over the heat I hurdle onto further offerings of time yet undiscovered for ill or not---and offer gratitude.

My want for deep experience testifies in an idiom not yet fully learned. Raised in North America to most value intellect, I feel South America calling with warm, heated winds of corporal sense. Cuencanos dance tonight in welcome to the new born 2016, and I saw it so not in an ornate club but in the street dirt of land ancient to earth---not by many couples separate but as people united. I have long waited for these moments without ever knowing.

Death shall not take my life unlived to full measure, not now. I am seed in soil ripe with nutrients for spring growth. Damn the years. Ecuador rubs into me and onto me while connections form into friendships which adhere and bind. I become as graft of vine onto branch.

The owners who rent my apartment extend accepted invitation to their family Christmas. I meet an entire Ecuadorian family from grandparents to sons and daughters, grandchildren, aunts, uncles and cousins---all willing to share family warmth with me the tenant. Laughter ensues as jokes stoke fun and music brings dancing. The wealth in this land of Ecuador derives not from the worth of money. I learn in my bones poverty resides more not in absent material but in the absences of heart.

Colored lights decorate New Year´s eve night in downtown Cuenca´s Parque Calderon. I purchase a stick of meat cooked by veteran man of many years, and we small talk in the Spanish so far spread about the southern hemisphere. I eat the small measure of food with gusto and take a stone bench to watch what appears about. An man size effigy in flames explodes to shred the dummy and emit cascades of smoke. The tending 30-something Ecuador man with lighted match then sets rockets skyward which burst above in sound, light and color. We pass greetings and I move to walk myself home. I´ve heard family news this day that weighs, that clouds the spirit of celebration. It gives added measure to knowledge that life struggles in vulnerable circumstance.

I examine a pile of ashes and retrieve this half-burned ledger. The numbers calculate 2015 sales and I get my meaning. The things of life turn to ash. I am ash---not yet made. I sense in Ecuador a facing towards death that grants an extra appreciation for life. I speculate. Hosts of Ecuadorians on the day of the dead flock to the graves of deceased loved ones in cemeteries throughout Ecuador. They sit for hours beside the tombstones, place flowers and cards with messages to family on the other side. They eat and drink. The specter of death does little hide from native Ecuadorians, augmenting ability, it seems to me, to live in manner warmer, more of essence than ways lived in the culture of Caucasian North America.

Staying cool in the city of Cuenca.

2015-11-22T09:01:00.000-08:00

I don’t quite get it. After waiting three years---I don’t quite get why I don’t feel more upbeat than I do about obtaining my cedula last week. It feels ordinary when it’s not ordinary. It’s an official declaration from the government of Ecuador that I’ve been welcomed into the country. That’s something about which to party.

Building on Estevez de Toral near Mariscal de Sucre

I am going to host a party to celebrate, but inside, I feel relatively neutral. Why the sober face? It’s not because I’m not appreciative. I’m grateful I hired Gringo Visas to work on my behalf to obtain the cedula. I was never worried in any core way---I was sometimes impatient--- yes, but never worried about the ultimate outcome.

Morning rain on Estevez de Toral

I think I’m putting on the long face about Cuenca deliberately because I don’t want to fool myself. It’s just a place to live. It’s not paradise on earth. Nothing on earth is anything like paradise and I don’t want to get moved too much by the romance and antique beauty of this trendy, cosmopolitan city. I want to be reserved and conservative while I let the enormity of the change modify me at a pace I can absorb.

I do feel grey, steel currents, some awesome keeling of the sailing vessel as it tacks at an angle in the new wind I’ve chosen to take my life. I’m going to be durable as never before. I never did think I’d suffer respiration troubles. But my lungs lacking capacity at the 8,300 feet of Andean mountain altitude in Cuenca, hurt---enough to get me scrambling to grab an asthma inhaler! I’ve adjusted by now so I’m fine.

And I am adjusting as a whole, experiencing resurgent vitality and sometimes loads of fun---renewing old connections made in 2012 and making new connections in 2015.

One part of what is intriguing of late to me is the resilience of Ecuadorians. It´s something deep. They don’t as a whole have much money---it seems like what to an ex-pat is chump change is a lot to an Ecuadorian---it’s exactly what they don’t have or can’t afford to spend on extras. The rent I pay for the apartment in which I live is a quite a deal to me---$330 a month for two bedrooms, bathroom, kitchen and sitting área---all utilities included. Yet it´s been explained by Ecuadorian visitors I could get much more for much less. These people appear as comfortable and well dressed as anyone with a $60,000 salary back in the states. They have confidence, big city cool and classic composure. Definitely, sex appeal and Catholicism are alive and well in Cuenca.

Native Ecuadorian in Cuenca

I observe the aged woman wearing a deep colored purple dress and black baseball hat. Her braided hair falls down her back in pigtails, and she’s barefoot. Her leg muscles don’t bulge but they’re developed enough to notice. She carries a basket of fruit and vegetables on her back and she could walk with it fully laden probably across the entirety of Cuenca. The air about her is quiet, accepting, patient.

Woman buying bread from man in barrio San Sebastian

I don’t know enough to say much. But Ecuadorians wearing traditional indigenous clothing are called Native Ecuadorians---the people who were living in Ecuador when the Spanish arrived. Their history in South America extends back 11,000 years. According to Wiki, seven percent of Ecuador’s population is indigenous, 72 percent mixed indigenous and European and 20 percent mostly Spanish stock. But I heard an Ecuadorian friend tell me every Ecuadorian is indigenous as they all come from Ecuador.

Cuenca model

Chalices used in Catholic Mass

Seminal Reflections about Cuenca

2015-11-04T07:32:00.000-08:00

What has it been like this past, first month of living on a permanent basis in Cuenca,Ecuador?

It’s been tough. It’s not like it was in 2012 when I visited the city for 90 days and knew I was going to return to the states. The temporal nature of that stay diluted the experience in comparison to what I’m feeling now with permanent visa in hand.

Street scene in Cuenca

Temporary and permanent refer to very different beasts. The temporary retains the past life, it ties past life to present life and one can always see an end. It’s Bud Light. The permanent cuts the past life entirely off and renders in the mind the stay a matter of gravity and deep content. It’s dark German beer.

The 90 day stay though served good purpose in that I met Ecuadorians I’m in contact with now, and those connections nourish a sense of belonging.

I’ve rented a two bedroom furnished apartment which I moved into November 1. No rental application needed, detailing like ten years of past address history, no references needed, and no job history or credit report needed. I needed to give $330 cash for a month’s rent and $300 cash security deposit and I received a receipt from the land lady.

Street market in Cuenca

When I took my first shower, the shower curtain and rod fell to the floor. I’m going to fix it because word from the neighbor tenant grapevine is that if you need something repaired, it’s you do it or it doesn’t get done. I’m not particular. I lived in my truck two years, lived on a boat, lived in dingy, dirty hotel rooms and slept out in the bushes and on the streets at times. It does not perturb me in the least if it’s me who must do apartment maintenance. At the rental cost for what is to me a well-appointed abode, it’s what I call only fair.

Here are some dark side shadows. What is it with these Ecuadorians walking on the sidewalks who bump you and pass on without an “excuse me?” What is it with the urine smell on some streets that can hang in the air for blocks? What is it with the so often, so interminably loud piercing car alarm sounds?

It is what it is. But if you’re a gringo with a problem prostrate, and really need to piss quickly, if you’re like me, you’re delighted to relieve yourself without fear of police repercussion or signal of societal disfavor, like back in the states.

Street scene in Cuenca

What I like most about Ecuador---it’s human. It’s real. It’s warm. I see couples kissing in public much, much more often than I did in the states. Romance absorbs with the air people breathe in Cuenca. Gay and lesbian romance I've noticed also about town as well, and it doesn't appear especially necessary a matter to hide.

Despite my complaints, I’m laughing. I’m laughing with taxi drivers, vendors, waiters, new and old Ecuador friends and sometimes strangers sitting on a park bench in the downtown district. My Spanish teacher at Yanapuma is an engaging woman who speaks Spanish with me two hours a day four days a week, and we frequently find cause to laugh.

Cuenca City Hall

The Spanish I studied these three years past, much of the words and phrases return to mind in the immersive environment. Furthermore I don’t care about how to say exactly, correctly what I want to say nearly as much as I want to make myself understood. As a result I’m relaxed because I’m not worried about making mistakes. The relaxation enables me to speak mostly without hesitations. I’ll also speak with body language, hand gesture, facial expression and tone of voice to supplement understanding of my Spanish. I’m serious. Becoming a fluent Spanish speaker is so important to me I would stand on my head to get a point across.

Transplanted: The older branch of Americas.

2015-10-18T15:37:00.000-07:00

I felt sad while walking about the neighborhood last night where I’m staying at Hostal Rosario on Honorato Vasques street in Cuenca, Ecuador.

Pale flakes sprinkled on my mood while light and color exuded mystery in a locale quietly tossed in song with music and laughter.

I can telephone my only living aunt but can’t drive fifty miles to visit and it’s a dull ache that place that wants to hug and kiss the worn cheek of the woman I will most likely never again see alive.

It hurts.

Cuenca salves similar hidden woe without knowing and perhaps in subconscious empathy for me the retired man struggling to understand and speak Spanish. The teenager standing amongst pals greets with fisted hand while the old woman selling goods like Gatorade and Clorets smiles with a welcome to Ecuador expression that warms with kindness I feel.

The world looked Spanish from the vantage of Cuenca’s stone streets I trod last night, but I looked in the sky and saw the same moon above San Francisco, Paris and Rome. No matter what anyone may remark about Cuenca noise and dirt or its third world status, no matter what about all that this city draws tourists from around the globe. Hippies carrying backpacks and speaking Italian signal evidence of what I mean about this being an international city. I’ve heard French and German spoken by people taking photos and perusing maps eager to capture new sets of travel memories. Red and yellow double-decker buses accommodate passengers taking tours of the city as Cuenca charms both eye and heart.

I feel in this society a rule of relaxation which doesn’t quite exist in the world from which I came. I’ve learned Cuenca cab drivers don’t like their taxi doors slammed shut while I rush fast to get going. That’s the way I’ve always done it but I’ve been reprimanded for doing so and now close those doors with a much lighter touch. It’s called adjusting. I hope to come upon a future when for myself, after having made more adjustments of various kind, I’ll begin to look upon the planet in a way I’ve never before done. That’s what I hope grow out of my Ecuador experiment.

I start taking Spanish lessons Monday four days a week two hours a day at the Yanapuma school and perceive this the way best to avoid later misunderstandings which have wrinkled interaction with Ecuadorian friends who don’t speak English.

I’m beginning to understand additional Spanish daily on the fly by reading street signs, ordering meals or buying goods at the small mercados. I hear now sometimes words and sentences I understand said by people walking past me on the street and it’s a benefit of immersion when this happens. I’m going to be watching TV and reading books and newspapers in Spanish and without one doubt given patient time, practice and study improvement will accrue to fluent status.

My New Beginning

2015-10-03T11:56:00.000-07:00

It´s about time to write another post. I mean---I am on the jet that´s taking me to Ecuador. Well---not anymore.

But I was and I was writing while in flight and thinking.

It´s been three years since I left Cuenca after a three month visit. And I´m glad I did visit because I´m not going into an unknown. I know people who live in Cuenca. I´ve tasted the flavor of the city. I´m acquainted and that´s good because I´ve experienced the initial culture shock.

Small store owner in her mercado.

Back then I dealt with the problem by clubbing and by doing a lot of drinking and eating.

Not this time. For one, this time I´m carrying a permanent visa instead of a visa good for ninety days. I´m going into Ecuador this time with a grip and with a plan requiring commitment to achieve.

I´m renting a room for now at the Hostal Rosario on the street Honorato Vasques. It´s tranquil here at the Hostal. The garden outside calms. I hear English, Spanish, Italian and French words being spoken outside. I met a woman here from Switzerland yesterday. Later I´ll find an apartment in which to live on a more permanent basis.

Garden at Hostal Rosario

It´s Saturday. Yesterday I took a taxi to the office of Gringo Visas. It´s part of the deal. The final part where Gringo Visas acts as a guide through the process to obtain the Ecuador cedula that is like a permit to live in the country. Every single comma was in place---no grammatical errors so to speak.

As a consequence no missteps occur. The Ecuadorian foreign ministry does enforce its codes to the strict letter of the law. I cannot say how much gratitude I feel. It has been a relief to have Gringo Visasworking for me because I didn´t stress one time about the company making any serious mistake.

A young man who translates at the office escorted me to a bureau of immigration where an official stamped needed documents and presto---I´m good to go---scheduled to pick up the cedula Monday morning at the office of the Ministry of Foreign Relations.

On Street Mariano Cueva near Hostal Rosario

Ecuador and Cuenca---the personalities of these places fit well with my personality. I enjoy history and Ecuadorian history stems in part from ancient Inca days. I like to explore at garage sales and flea markets. The very streets of Cuenca are paved in old stone. Spain´s influence is evident in the many Catholic churches built hundreds of years ago--- ringing bells---displaying ornate antiquity.

Sky above Cuenca on Honorato Vasques

I like laughing as well and since I´ve been here, well, practically everywhere I´ve been with someone else we did a bit of good laughing---The banker at the ATM machine who helped with a debit card problem. My hosts at Hostal Rosario, who by the way wanted first my comfort and the rent later, content to wait and be relaxed until I had it to pay. Ecuador is going to take adjusting time; it will be great to adjust to something that´s going to be good.

Air Flight Time: It's been scheduled.

2015-07-26T18:45:00.000-07:00

The die is cast. I have figuratively speaking crossed the Rubicon river. In my mind there will be no turning back.
I purchased a one-way air ticket to fly to Ecuador to live in Cuenca indefinitely, and will be departing September 29th.

Dawning of the new day.

That's it!

And the two month delay between now and flight time will do me good in more than one way. It allows time for a concentrated measure of practice to learn more Spanish. It provides plenty of time to take a slow approach to the go-day. I don't want any rushing around to do anything in a hurry.

A couple major reasons exist as to why this prelude period benefits me in substantial ways.

In early May terrific pain in my shoulders, arms and neck sent me literally screaming inside an ambulance to the emergency ward at the San Francisco Veterans Administration Hospital. (Fort Miley) MRIs revealed the source of the pain was degeneration of the spine. That's the point. I'm still waiting for the pain to entirely or mostly subside. I'm taking lots of pain medication. I'm doing stretch and movement motions daily. Given time it's likely the pain will largely disappear of its own accord. I'm keeping my fingers crossed. Maybe by the time I'm taking a taxi to the airport, I won't need to manage any pain. Maybe and hopefully.

If anything scuttles my current plan to go to Ecuador, though, it would likely derive from an acute worsening of the spinal degradation. I'll see how the cookie crumbles and do my best to stay healthy in the meantime.

Cuenca, Ecuador

The second reason this rather considerable pause before leaving benefits me is that I put myself in a situation which is so well suited to learning how to best live that I'm not going to abort the process before it's over.

I'm living in a Christian-based residential recovery program for veterans with addictions. It's a house in San Francisco. We live here to re-examine our lives in a safe, conducive place to do so. We all are living here to learn to discard thought patterns that tear us down. We support one another. We listen to one another. We are all men of the black and white races on the same team playing ball to win the World Series.

Five days a week I attend classes sponsored by the Psychosocial Rehabilitation and Recovery Center (PRRC) at Fort Miley. I'm doing role playing exercises on how to maintain the flow of conversation. I'm learning how to catch a false, detrimental thought before it lands in my head, check it out, then change it into a new, pro-me thought based on authenticity. I'm taking a class called "Advanced Skillfull Emotions" that has a workbook and homework. It teaches for example how to recognize when you begin to start fooling yourself into relapse by letting emotion have a free hand---to identify triggers that spell danger in the form of allure, comfort or excitement.

Veterans Administration Hospital in San Francisco, CA

I'm not going to miss this opportunity which landed in my lap, not even to get to Ecuador sooner.

Anyway---meanwhile, with the help of American ex-pats living in Ecuador, I've placed into order vital needed ingredients. I'm in contact with a medical doctor in Cuenca who has agreed to include me as his patient. I know where to go to find an English speaking psychiatrist. I've bookmarked a page on the net where I can reserve a temporary residence. I know an airport shuttle service that will pick me up at the Cuenca airport. And I know the day, time and place where the 12 Step meetings I attend are held. I intend to build a structure of support for myself while I'm in Cuenca.I intend to become part of a charitable organization or church that does good works.

When I arrive in Cuenca, I'll go to the office of Gringo Visas. This company did all the needed work for me to obtain my permanent visa. And when I get to their office, they will direct me to the immigration office to have my visa officially registered. Since this by law must be done within 30 days of arrival, it's high priority. It will seal the deal.

The jump over a big hurdle to Ecuador.

2014-11-22T16:37:00.000-08:00

Yes, the Ecuador Experiment was over. My last post on it was published in March, 2013.

But it was never really over. It was in the freezer. Now I'm taking it out to thaw.
Why? Because like Caesar crossed the Rubicon River, I am going to live in Cuenca, Ecuador. I obtained my permanent visa to live there from the Ecuadorian government just this month. Once there, all that's left to completely seal the deal is to register the visa with the Foreign Ministry within 30 days after arrival--- to secure what's called a cedula.

Cuenca, Ecuador

I contracted with Gringo Visas, owned by Maite Duran, to facilitate my request for the visa. Gringo Visas then sent a list of what documents they needed--- for example, criminal record sheet, passport photos, proof of pension letters. Once I obtained and sent them, Gringo Visas took the ball and ran with it for me to the touchdown. Because of their sterling reputation, because they are well known and large on the landscape of companies providing this kind of service, and because of the many Facebook expat friends of mine in Ecuador, who are also FB friends with Maite, I trusted Gringo Visas to be a reliable, honest company, and my trust was not displaced.

8484 Wilshire Blvd in Beverly Hills, the building housing the Ecuadorian consulate

Unfortunately for me the Ecudorian consulate in San Francisco closed down a few months ago. The permanent visas are only distributed in the consulates, so instead of a short drive across the Golden Gate Bridge, I drove some 400 miles to the Ecuador consulate in Beverly Hills.
No worries. I enjoyed the night drive on a virtually empty freeway. I enjoyed the feel of Los Angeles. And I enjoyed getting together with a brother while down there.

My Ecuador Experiment is over.

2013-03-24T17:31:00.000-07:00

I went to Cuenca, lived there three months, and found I could live there happily. I plan to return in 2015.

Cuenca, Ecuador

Meanwhile, I’ll be allocating the bulk of my time to studying Spanish, also saving money to have more of it with me when I go.

When I start to live in Cuenca, my two main goals will be to become fluent in Spanish speaking ability, and also, to plan and implement visits to various locations. Since I will be living in a Spanish speaking country, the “immersion technique” will considerably facilitate the goal of learning to speak Spanish. Since living in Ecuador will be very affordable for me, the opportunity will exist to set aside surplus money to visit places I couldn't afford to visit if I lived in the United States. [Rome, Paris, London, Jerusalem, Athens, Madrid, Santiago, Mexico City]

So, this is my last post to Ecuador Experiment. The purpose for which the blog began has been completed, so this is a proper move. The blog will stay on the internet. This keeps it alive as an archive and allows the possibility to start writing posts for it again in the future, in some other form.

My thanks go to Len Hodgeman for suggesting I begin Ecuador Experiment and for his guidance in setting it up. My thanks also go to members of the Society for the Promotion of Writers, Poets & Artists, who critiqued my posts.

Having the Ecuador Experiment blog was a great experience for me. It encouraged me to write; I felt a desire and an obligation to write weekly posts, and up until the time I returned from Ecuador, this is what happened almost always. I learned much about computer and internet technology, and enjoyed doing so.

Especially to those who subscribed or followed Ecuador Experiment, thanks for your interest and support.

Michael Bell

Dog friend.

2013-03-10T10:06:00.000-07:00

I don’t know this dog’s name. I don’t know its gender or age. All I know--- is I count this dog a friend.

The dog is Enma’s. Enma is the Ecuadorian lady who hosted my three month stay of living in Cuenca. I had no responsibility for the animal. The dog owed me no loyalty or affection in return for its shelter and food. Yet we were friends.

Enma and her family own three dogs total that look almost like clones to the dog pictured. It was hard to tell which dog was which. I don’t pay that much attention and they look so much alike. One of these dogs disliked me. That dog would lunge at my ankle as I walked by--- try to bite. I had to be on guard. Enma said he treated everyone that way, but it didn’t seem so to me. It seemed he had a particular dislike for me. One of the other three little mops of a dog was neutral towards me. He had no particular affection, but he left me alone---he didn’t try to bite. And sometimes he’d visit in my room. One of those dogs, maybe more than one, for some dog reason appeared to come in my room just to go to the bathroom.

But the dog pictured above, he had a definite affection for me, and I grew to have more and more affection for him. I don’t know why that little rascal of a dog liked me, that furry funny little thing of a jumble of dog hair. He just did. He’d scratch the door to my room, wanting entrance. I’d open the door---he’d jump on my bed. He might start licking my face. Nose---lips--- ears…cheeks…continuously. Maybe five minutes. He has a small raspy feeling tongue. I don’t know--- it's a mystery. Seems he could tell if I was feeling bad. Once when I was bummed---I swear--- that dog’s little licks were just the cure.

Sometimes he clambered on the bedspread, lay on his back and I’d pet his stomach. Other times we’d play. I’d dart my finger to the dog and quickly pull it back. He’d try to catch it. He’d run around the room excitedly while I kidded him with this finger teasing.

Once, in the kitchen--- I got up from the table after lunch, and my dog friend snapped at that other dog who liked to nip at me. He intervened to protect me from getting bit. That's a friend.

Back in the States.

2013-02-23T18:44:00.000-08:00

I’ve been back in San Mateo since October 28^th, my three month stay in Ecuador completed as planned.

Since then I successfully filed for bankruptcy, and moved to a new abode, still in San Mateo, where the rent is $390 less. I now have a good, working budget, and I’m saving $540 monthly to build a more than sufficient reserve of funds with which to move to Ecuador--- for an extended stay of many years. I plan to move to Cuenca in 2015.

Yes. Living in Ecuador is an option, after all. I choose to exercise it. I can live in Cuenca contentedly. I did before. There’s something in the very air of that city that’s charming. The clouds seem more white, the sky more blue. The people as a whole have kind, warm-hearted souls. Time after time I experienced the kindness of Ecuadorians helping me to adjust to Cuenca or to remedy one form of problem or another. A lady I saw often in the Parque Calderon wrote down the name and phone number of a friend who speaks English to aid me with directions. A young Spanish language tutor led me to a crowded cell phone office to get my newly purchased smart phone activated, translating for me the whole while. I wouldn’t have known how to get there or make myself understood without his help.

I sensed conservatism about the people of Cuenca, and it refreshed me. Many of the elderly men who walked on the avenues downtown wore second hand looking suits and ties. The many churches built 450 years ago in the Spanish colonial style reinforce the sense of a past not dead but living. Cuenca steeped me in a culture so different from that of my own that I returned to the United States changed. Things don’t seem to bother as much as before. I own a confidence I didn’t own before because I did something that proved a capability I didn't know for sure I had.

I took the following photos of different places and people in San Mateo, as a present for my Ecuadorian friends in Cuenca.

The cost of living in Cuenca.

2012-10-14T19:38:00.000-07:00

When I see how inexpensive it is in Cuenca, Ecuador---I feel sometimes like exclaiming to the vendor... “What are you doing charging me so little!?!?!” If you’ve never felt you were being charged too little---visit Ecuador---you just might find yourself feeling that way too.

Prices on door to restaurant in downtown Cuenca

There’s an Ecuadorian man about my age I see by accident somewhat often in downtown Cuenca. His English is not that bad and he’s a jolly sort. Between my beginner's Spanish and his English, we’ve had some good-hearted laughs. The last time we bumped into one another, though, he was obviously feeling depressed. When he asked for money I didn't hesitate to give four dollars to him. He was grateful, but later I asked myself why didn't I give ten dollars to him? Ten dollars in Cuenca is chump change to me, but it would have helped him so much more than four. When it comes to giving money out, maybe I still feel a bit like I'm living in the states---ten dollars to me in San Mateo is an amount to spend carefully.

Hamburger and bottle of water in Cuenca restaurant: $1.75.

I’m on the low-end-of-the-financial-totem-pole in the states. My total monthly retirement income meets my expenses with little to spare; my income in Ecuador however overturns that situation---in Ecuador I’m on the high-end-of-the-totem-pole. The value of my dollars in Ecuador climbs such that for me to live here, I would need only around thirty-three-percent of my retirement income. To emphasis this point---I repeat, that’s versus the roughly one-hundred-percent I need to live like I do in San Mateo.

I’m content with my standard of living in the states except that it takes almost all my monthly income to maintain this standard of living. There isn’t much left to save for when the truck needs repair or when a root canal at the dentist is needed. Those expenses are paid with credit or by scooping money out of savings. I could work or start a business. That’s true. But I’d rather not if not compelled. I prefer if possible to have free time for writing and travel---and that's possible if I move to Ecuador.

Brand new for $2, 691.10.

I allocate about forty-seven-percent of my income to rent shelter in San Mateo, where I live in a studio apartment with a kitchen and bathroom. By looking at rental figures supplied via theEcuador Expats page on Facebook, I see I could rent a one bedroom apartment in Cuenca for about thirteen-percent of my income.

I’d be content to have a haven in Cuenca comparable to what I have now in San Mateo. I would like a garden. I’d be content also to take the bus and taxi and prefer to do my own cooking.

Samsung TV for sale in store in Cuenca. $101 a month for 18 months

The surplus money I could save by living in Ecuador would not only pay for unexpected expenses but also for visits to Rome, Paris, Athens and Jerusalem---places my heart beats to see before I die. These considerations I put onto the scale I’m using to decide whether to choose to move to Ecuador.

Raisans for Breakfast

2012-10-07T18:14:00.000-07:00

By Michael Bell

I see you…still,
Your contours of loveliness in the rain wet window moving…
Past a shadow,
Past lanes of red or white beams stretching east or west.

I see your smile turn towards me while an autumn sun sheds its last light.
Your Island hand adorned with silver ring…

I see you press a radio button while I drive
Carefully… on glistening streets of an early evening's round.

Only wind from an open window kisses your lips.

Perhaps you're the friend of kindergarden days hunting
Grasshoppers in the wheat fields of summer,

Perhaps from that last day of flirtation in the desert camp
Where an astonished boy met allure of sweet-heart candy and a pretty girl’s eyes.

Who knows under or above the earth?

For whilst Memory of robust days abide…
I seek still to live strong in the climate of the age.

And tell with serious face that you standing human are
No longer a girl but a woman for whom laboring men
Would build a thousand castles.

Think not unkindly…then…of this stammering man’s shoddy cloak.
Models crawled past his cannon on the left long ago,

And bewildered…

He follows a path left by broken twigs of yesterday,
Quietly looking for the gentle beat to your heart.

Cuenca is an option.

2012-09-30T14:24:00.000-07:00

I’ve twenty-eight days left to my three month stay in Ecuador. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that I didn’t leave my hang-ups behind. But I didn’t come to Ecuador to escape problems; I came to find an answer to a question---to find if Ecuador is a viable option as a place to retire. Not that I’d necessarily choose the option--- but that I’d find out if I could I live here and be reasonably content. The answer is yes. Living here is an indisputable option.

Something about Cuenca makes me feel at home. It's partly the funk---Cuenca is an antique city and I admire the look and feel of just about anything antique. I liked playing in messy garages and exploring attics when I was a kid. I like flea markets. I liked living in a boat on the water in the Sausalito houseboat community. I liked living in studio ware-house space in San Francisco.

Cuenca is a city with lots of graffiti and a population of plenty of down-home-type-people who feel relaxed about themselves and life in general. Despite my inclination towards the funky, I like to dress well too. I like good furniture and art around me. Cuenca offers abundant art and an absorbing culture which appeal to my refined sensibilities. Its easy going atmosphere tends to calm my jumpy disposition. Cuenca feels like an-all-around good fit. I defer to later whether or not I’ll actually choose this option.

It would be easier socially speaking to stay in the United States. I was born in Sacramento, CA. I speak English with the fluency of a native speaker. I would miss people I know and love who live in the greater San Francisco Bay Area. When the time comes to choose whether or not to seek permanent residency in Ecuador--- there is no question it will be a difficult decision to make. I’m a smart man to have tested the water about this first before diving into the river.

I’ll need to consider more than one aspect when the time comes to make this decision.

One aspect is that I am bi-polar. I frequent chat rooms---you know---chat rooms--- and once I heard a person in a chat dismiss this diagnosis. I could tell she felt angry about it even on-line. She claimed the term is not much more than a linguistic device used to absolve people of responsibility for their actions. I’m a mostly practicing Catholic and yes, I agree people are responsible for their actions. I agree with the moral teachings of the Church. I agree.

Yet two days before I left for Ecuador I drove for five hours to reach the brothel called Mustang Ranch in Sparks, Nevada. I put $20,000 on my American Express Card within a day and a half to pay for services received---almost all of it dancing, companionship, conviviality, sharing meals, conversation and cuddling. I did this on instinct---I just felt the need for intimacy. I knew the "being scared" I was feeling about going to Ecuador would dissipate in the arms and charms of alluring women. They did.

Each of the four classy women I had fun with at Mustang Ranch made me feel like I owned a million dollars. I can’t help but now view legal prostitution kindly in light of this positive experience. These women were more than women selling sexual pleasure. They were companions. American Express is going to pay for their company because I turned out to be a really bad risk---but I felt both determined and uncertain about going to Ecuador before their help assured me I felt fit for the adventure.

Would I have done this kind of spending if I had not been influenced by powerful mania on the eve of my departure? It makes little sense to say I would have. Yet, I am responsible for my actions. If I'm not, then who is?

In the process of making my final decision I will need to consider that in the San Francisco Bay Area I have a system of medical and psychiatric support already in place to help me manage my general health and bi-polar illness. It’s provided by the Veterans Administration Hospital in San Francisco. This fact does not mean I'll remain in San Mateo. It means it gets put on the side of the scale that tips towards remaining in San Mateo.

A fair amount of time will pass before I'm ready to make the final decision. Other factors will need to be weighed. Time may later have things to say I can't or won't listen to now. It will take time to obtain a discharge of bankruptcy. The petition I filed to have my marriage annulled by the church could take longer than a year. If I decide to move to Ecuador, I won't do so until after these matters are resolved.

I acted on instinct and mania when I visited Mustang Ranch and charged American Express all that money. It was a vacation from reality. It broke boundaries and felt magnificent. It got me to go to Ecuador. And I wonder how I’m ever going to honestly feel the contrition the church teaches that penitents need for genuine repentance in the confessional.

Some Differences

2012-09-25T10:32:00.000-07:00

I toured Cuenca last Saturday. I shed the notion I’m too cool for such plebian activity long enough to climb aboard a red-colored tour bus parked right downtown. It carried us through narrow streets and onto mountain terrain where panoramic views of Cuenca awaited.

Most of the people on the bus were Spanish speaking tourists or Ecuadorians and almost everyone was taking pictures. Cuenca is an old city built of tile and brick and it’s evident everywhere. I did see new apartment buildings. Modern office buildings dot the city in lots of places that would fit well into the urban landscape of any city.

Cuenca is a city of contrasts. I saw women washing clothes in the river while later I spied two people in white coats standing in front of a pharmacy.

I don’t see antique furniture in Cuenca. Most people in the city are far too poor for a market in antiques to exist. I see lots of stores selling new well- made furniture. Sometimes the ATM machines don’t work until later and sometimes connections to the internet are down or slow to access. People in Cuenca don’t deposit used toilet paper into toilet bowels because doing so would clog the city’s sewer system. It’s put into little plastic garbage cans situated next to the toilet.

I don’t take hot water showers here in Cuenca. The water temperature is somewhere from cold to lukewarm. In the house where I live the cooking and heating is powered by propane tank fuel and I assume it’s the same for most other households in Ecuador.

People driving cars don’t make a big deal out of waiting for pedestrians as do American drivers. It’s best in Ecuador to let traffic pass before crossing the street. On the other hand, pedestrians cross the street when a break in traffic occurs. Police and security guard presence in Cuenca is heavy compared to that of any city I’ve seen in the states. Most carry shotguns or rifles in full view and guard stores, banks and sometimes it seems nothing specific.

Prices and costs in Ecuador are very low compared to those in America. Before I moved to Cuenca, I’d heard this is true. Personal experience drives the news home much more tellingly. I dined at a fine restaurant and the cost of the meal was $8.00. In a similarly well-appointed restaurant in San Mateo that same meal would have cost at least $20. It’s better to buy with coins or one dollar bills for a service or product in Cuenca. Merchants not infrequently don’t have change for $10 or $20 bills. The most commonly used currency here is the one dollar coin.

Flower shops abound in Cuenca and it seems they get a lot of business. I often see people carrying bouquets of flowers. A low fee modern medical clinic near where I live serves anyone who goes inside with health concerns. I went there for relief from insomnia. The charge for the doctor’s consultation was $40 and the prescribed medication cost $60.00. That night I slept the whole night through. Many vendors sell food on the streets in downtown Cuenca. I pay whatever a vendors tells me the item costs, but I’ve been told I can bargain for lower charges.

I don’t see evidence of social discontent in Ecuador. I saw a small march in downtown Cuenca one day and the people were Catholics carrying statues and crosses. I have seen no evidence of people pushing for social change with actions like a march for gay rights or a demonstration to oppose abortion. Children in Ecuador wear uniforms to school.

Frequently after the evening meal I’m in my room upstairs in the house where I live. I can hear the Fernandez de Cordova-Lafebre family members in the kitchen laughing and talking and they can keep up the merriment for hours.

An Infrustructure to produce Spanish language learning.

2012-09-18T10:12:00.000-07:00

I thought living in Ecuador would help to speak Spanish because here everybody speaks Spanish. I told myself in California--- it’ll be easier to learn if I’m ‘immersed’ where communication is in Spanish. I’ll be forced to speak it out of social necessity.

That’s like thinking a diver can breathe under water because he’s immersed in a lake. I could live twenty years in Ecuador and still have no more command of Spanish than I do now. Immersion doesn’t help unaccompanied by study, practice and training as a student---without hard work it is like going underwater without an air tank and breathing apparatus. This is what I’m discovering---if I want to speak proper Spanish it demands years of study.

Simon Bolivar School of Spanish in Cuenca

If I’m going to communicate in Ecuador, which I need to do, I need scuba diving gear that ‘bubbles’ if I’m going to successfully ‘immerse’ myself in this sea of Spanish ocean. It will at a minimum require knowledge of grammatical structure, the forms of verb conjugations, an extensive vocabulary and an understanding of how to form sentences in the past, present and future. The ‘immersion technique’ of language learning does help because it provides abundant opportunity to practice speaking the language.

As any country needs infrastructure to further develop itself---roads to get places for an increase in tourism--- canals to distribute water for drinking and farming---refineries to convert oil to gas--- another example---telephone poles---each pole laboriously sunk into the ground over the entire land with telephone wires and cable connected to each pole and distributed across the country---that’s needed first--- before people can easily talk on telephones. It’s the same with me and Spanish. I need an infrastructure to develop and enhance my ability to speak Spanish.

The Spanish classes at Simon Bolivar Spanish Language School are basic in this respect. The classes have regular hours. Five days a week two hours a day. I’m being tutored and have had and do have now the same tutor for each lesson. The material covered started with the pronunciation of Spanish letters. My current tutor Monica is methodically, slowly and patiently taking me through lists of vocabulary words--- teaching which are masculine and feminine---teaching rules on how to know when a word is masculine or feminine. I’m learning regular verb usage in the present tense. I’m learning how to conjugate verbs properly with the help of an infrastructure I’m building. One element is a notebook. I take the notebook and write the infinitive of a verb at the top of the sheet. I then write its conjugations---I, you, he, she, we, and they---in masculine and feminine---writing over and over to fill sheets of the notebook so the writing itself accords practice on how to conjugate the verbs. I then record the conjugations on a digital voice recorder. When walking down a street to go somewhere or to do something, I can multi-task---do what I’m doing while listening with earphones to the recordings to augment the proper formulations within my memory.

Another pillar in the infrastructure of my education of Spanish is Sitio Guatemala. I study it via Skype with a tutor named Evelyn one hour per evening Monday through Friday. This hour keeps me focused on learning Spanish when I really feel like going to sleep.

In the past tense and future verb tenses, as well as with lists of formulations of irregular verb constructions, I will write these down in the notebook in coming weeks to continue to build the infrastructure I need to make Spanish a part of who I am as a person. I listen to Rocket Spanish lessons also as part of the construct of my infrastructure.

Other supports to the aqueduct that supplies the drinking water of this language learning are as follows.

I make it a point to read at least an article or two of personal interest from El Mercurio. Doing this enables me to not only feel like part of Ecuador but also to understand words I wouldn’t otherwise but do because I understand a context within the story. I ascertain the meaning of some words this way without needing a dictionary.

Another support is the Conquistando El Espanol Workbook from SimonBolivar Spanish School. It contains Grammar, exercises, vocabulary and homework. I use the work book to learn the fundamentals of Spanish. I’m an ebb and flow kind of person, know what I mean? I’m a hard worker with the heart of an Epicurean and a lazy Stoic---so I work with this book often but in a more or less irregular way.

Another support is to HABLAR. Speaking---to people---the taxi driver, the clerk, the shoe shine man, the lady in line, the waiter, the guy in the park who just sits on the bench one morning next to me and starts talking, to home-stay family members in the house and at breakfast, lunch and dinner---speaking without caring much whether it’s said correctly---not allowing the impediments of ignorance to hamper fluidity of expression. I’ll use gesture…facial expression and body language as means to gain understanding. But I make it a point as an integral part of the infrastructure of language learning that while I’m here, as a whole I’m going to try hard to speak only Spanish.

Movies in Spanish are another support. I watch at least probably five a week.

It would help to put emphasis into learning about Ecuadorian cultureto learn Spanish I think, but these activities are not part of the design to my infrastructure. Doing them would be extracurricular activities disconnected from the engine of Spanish learning I’m building and using as I go along this path. I do plan however to buy and read a famous fiction book by a noted Ecuadorian author.

The people of Cuenca.

2012-08-25T07:24:00.000-07:00

Where does the inspiration for this story on the people of Cuenca reside? It lives in the Cuencanos! The people I meet and see. The hawker of lottery tickets whose voice sounds crisp with the sense of certainty that given time he’ll make a sale.

The teenagers gathered on the sidewalk I meet by chance---who let me take their picture on Mariscal Sucre Street.

It is in the police too, standing solid and evoking the presence of order.

It is in the spirit of this woman who consented to let her picture be taken though I interrupted her lunch. Her countenance sheds beauty on the city of Cuenca itself.

The city is of a spirit gathered in common yet displaying variation---of culture and wealth, of material deprivation--- of art and music---of modernity fused with an ancient past. Life in Ecuador today must due to the very laws of nature breathe in part from hurts that took place in its often sad history---and the serious spirit of the Cuencanos it seems was etched in part by that past---by the seasons of time which groaned to bring forth the fruition of the present day---peculiar to Ecuador---yes, but as well part of the larger movement of European power upon the whole of the North and South Americas.

There is a cool to the people of Cuenca which intrigues me. Perhaps this air about them developed into what it is because it did grow in the soil of its past.

It is not only in the sophisticated woman I met selling jewelry and watches in as shiny and modern a store as any in Silicon Valley---or the businessman in a suit strolling casually down a busy street at noon---it is in the silent middle-aged man shining my shoes without brusque movement but instead slowly---with focus on the details of his work. It is in the careful presentation by the teachers at Simon Bolívar School of Spanish. I meet this sophistication in the warmth given to me by my host family.

Maria del Carmen, Maria Eulalia, Enma Lafebre, Karina Ochoa, Mauricio Fernandez de Cordova.

FAMILY OF FERNANDEZ DE CORDOVA-LAFEBRE.

Enma and Ivan are the mother and father, and they have three children, Ivan, Mauricio and Andres.

Cuenca is composed of a tranquil people. The city doesn’t appear as if in a race against time. It seems as if Cuenca is in agreement with time to let it pass as it may.

I need to get out of Ecuador---a.s.a.p.---way before the three months I’d arranged. I’m waiting for a flight with an empty seat back to San Francisco. The genesis of this return has nothing to do with anything like a funeral in the family. It has to do with waves of bipolarmania that have been swelling in me for months---but that peaked just before I left San Mateo for Ecuador. It was an avalanche that cascaded against and smashed the frontier wall guarding simple common sense. It was a fury for false freedom that overwhelmed the mere defenses of practicality and tepid faith. This mania of biological explanation was tempted into occlusion, I believe---with dark forcesof theological explanation---evil forces I believe that seek to destroy my immortal soul.

All of it…all of it almost does compel me to seek shelter in comforts and satisfactions that don't have within them any peace that comes from God. When I get back to California---I’ll promptly get behind the shield of the laws of bankruptcy.

I felt at home in Cuenca as soon as I met this lovely city.
What is it I see in the people and hear in their conversations as I sit and write this post at my table inside a restaurant across from Parque Calderon? What is the difference I notice as compared to those Americans conduct in restaurants in California?

Perhaps the way people dance in Cuenca helps to explain this difference I sense. The people here dance together in a way that as a whole Americans do not. They dance to the tempo of music like we do, but not alone---not separated--- instead they dance close together and feel and touch--- in synchronicity to the music---their bodies sharing the feelings of male and female bodies holding hands and enveloped in spirited motion. I can dance to the beat of music---I’m loose enough for that---but I don’t dance in the close mesh I’ve seen Ecuadorian men and women dance with one another.

I’ve connected with a few Cuencanos. Strangers have become friends in a short time. I think because there is a vulnerability to people here---a willingness to open up to the other person.

Ivan, the head of my home stay family, is an extraordinarily intelligent man with a background in engineering, who very much is on the quiet side. His interest in looking at this blog and my Facebook page was quite a compliment to me. Ivan is now a Facebook friend.

Jaime teaches English. We met on the street close to where I live and he asked me to set aside time to explain a list of American-English expressions he didn’t understand. We got together twice--- he came to understand common uses for which there probably is no Spanish to English dictionary---for instance, what is a ‘grouch’--- or, what does it mean --- ‘he put his foot in his mouth.’ Jaime or Jim, is about 76 years old and teaches English to some fifty students for about $2 an hour.

Gladys operates a tiny grocery store with two cabinos utilizable for making affordable phone calls---she and her son helped me to put vital telephone calls through to the United States which involved international and country code dialing which I kept messing up when doing by myself. She’s easy to like and her son Alexandeo is a good kid---persistent and focused--- and the family deserved every el dinero I paid to compensate them for their extra service on my behalf.

Gladys Morocho, Alexander Guzman

Steve at D’Talles Joyeria didn’t just sell an Android smartphone to me. He walked me to a swank administrative office after the sale, where it was activated and set-up with a calling plan. He invited me to meet his family. Elizabeth, one of my teachers at Simon Bolivar took me on a walking tour of the heart of Cuenca, introducing me to artisans and shopkeepers selling fine, hand crafted merchandise of excellent workmanship---art and craft of theme and design unique to Ecuador.

And Santiago, one of my Spanish language teachers from Simon Bolivar---I relied on him for essential help while dealing with the apparatus of technology in Ecuador. He is a friend who listened to stories from my life I felt I had to tell.

Santiago Pulla

One behavior of quite a few Cuencanos I’m not familiar with is to be bumped while walking down the street with no ‘excuse me’ or ‘pardon’ offered following the bump. I thought this was a universal politeness. It apparently isn’t considered rude here to act that way.

Every morning, many afternoons and most evenings, Enma or Maria, the house-helper who is more like a part of the family than hired hand, call ‘a comer’ to me and the other home stay guest, Gordon, an attorney from near Washington D.C. who also studies Spanish at Simon Bolivar. At table, delicious, well prepared meals are served, starting with soup. The home-made soups are tasty as can be and practically each serving is different from the last. The main course of meat or fish with vegetables and rice and ‘pain’--- with a deep black coffee---is always a treat. I light up every time I hear ‘a comer.’

Enma Lafebre, Maria Eulalis, Gordon Pearson

At table the conversation flows back and forth in exchanges often punctuated with laughter. Sometimes the family’s attention focuses on television news or a silly comedy that nevertheless sparks a lot of laughter. The grant of asylum by Ecuador to WikiLeaks founder JulianAssange took top story news here on the TV broadcasts, and the family at table listened with serious expressions on their faces. I understand and speak more and more Spanish as I listen and participate in the conversations at table.

Alexandra Diaz, Student Coordinator at Simon Bolivar School of Spanish

Outside the house and forced to either speak Spanish or not be understood--- that’s powerful incentive for anyone to find words and form sentences that get across what you mean to say.

Tim Murphy, student at Simon Bolivar and American ex-pat living in Cuenca.

Cuenca lives in its people and its people exhibit an aspect of care about giving. Otherwise there would be no organization like Fundacion Bolivar Education. The foundation has a desk at the Simon Bolivar Spanish School attended by volunteer coordinator Sandra Molina.

Sandra Molina, Volunteer Coordinator, Fundacion Bolivar Education

Students receive discounted pricing for their lessons if they volunteer. Founded by Simon Bolivar Spanish School in 2004, the foundation for eight years now has been finding and sending volunteers from around the world to help to those in Ecuador needing assistance.

For categories such as children and youth, better health, environmental protection, teaching others and more, the Fundacion Bolivar Education relays helping hands to where there is need in Ecuador--- one charitable aspect in Cuenca that adds to the color of the city.

Fausto Balarezo, Academic Director, Simon Bolivar Spanish School

Pictures from among the people of Cuenca.

Cuenca Techno

2012-08-12T08:25:00.000-07:00

Have computer problems in Cuenca? If you need a fix to get online just walk around the Parque Calderon area downtown and soon you’ll bump into a computer repair shop or a cell phone retail outlet.

If you feel the heebie-jeebies because you’ve missed an injection of Facebook---saunter down Mariscal Sucre--- you’ll soon find a WiFi connection at a restaurant or coffee house. Don’t think for a minute that Cuenca is not part of the internet world with its technical minutiae and the same types of savvy tech heads found in North America.

Inside Milenium Shopping Center

Last week I had computer and cell phone issues I would not have had in California. It’s true. These have tried my patience---the ones peculiar to a country where internet infrastructural development is behind that in the U.S.A or Europe or Australia. I also had technical issues I would have had to deal with anywhere.

It is a supposition, but since the technical stage of growth in Ecuador forces people to deal with more glitches, I think this probably raises the technical smarts of the average computer user.

One obvious fact of the matter is that no lack of computer talent and business exists in Cuenca.

I feel less foreign because of it. The clerk at the cell phone store shares with a focused interest in solving the technical problem.

Last week the most personally disturbing element was lack of smooth functioning and affordable cell phone access to people in the San Francisco Bay Area. The complications causing the disturbing feelings were largely due to the cell phone service provider rather than any cause germane to Ecuador. But it’s complicated business to align computer and cellular phone systems between Ecuador and the United States, for any of the providers.

My experience with computer technology has gone way up while here in Cuenca configuring networks and making adjustments so I can get past expired pages.

Last Friday I purchased a Samsung Galaxy S II smart phone from D’ Talles Joyeria. The sale was conducted in a composed manner. And after the sale, owner Pablo Toral told the employee who sold the phone to walk me to a place where bi-lingual speakers offer cell phone plans and activate phones. I'll be at the store Monday to walk on over there with him.

Here I am writing in a coffee shop about computers, and while at it I see this lady across the street selling head gear indigenous to Ecuador at least a thousand years before the arrival of Spain.

Cuenca Impressions

2012-08-06T11:22:00.000-07:00

It’s Sunday morning in Cuenca with all the beauty of a sunny, blue sky day abounding with majestic grey and white clouds. The quiet in Parque de San Blas gives a peace so welcoming to me that I could sit on this bench across from the church of San Blas happily for the rest of the day. It’s 10:40 a.m. I’m writing while waiting for the 11:00 a.m. mass.

Parque de San Blas

I cannot believe how much at home I feel in Cuenca. Its history feels alive...in the people...in the Spanish colonial structures. It calms my nervous disposition to be here.

Church of San Blas

The church was packed. The people were well dressed compared to Americans going to mass I see on Sundays at St. Matthew’s in San Mateo. I saw a people reverent and seemingly affected more by the presence of God than interested in each other. There was a spry, bedraggled senior inside the church. He appeared at ease and while it was communion he walked about the aisle holding a wicker basket for donations---not for the church mind you, for himself.

Interior of San Blas

The splendid interior of the church was markedly composed of colored statuary of course of Jesus and Mary, an ornate altar, a high wood ceiling painted off white and bordered with a pattern of small niche block. The pews looked to be a light walnut wood well preserved yet so old I could see worm holes in places---the tell tale sign of antiquity.

Walking home from Simon Bolivar Spanish School

I would say my impression in general is the Cuencanos are a patient and careful people. Sure the city has its rush hour at the end of the day. But the city is steeped in a sense of calm.

Nobody anywhere can be impatient and mostly rushing about and at the same time create the works of art and craft I see in Cuenca.

Especially for everyone new to living in a foreign country.

2012-08-01T19:08:00.000-07:00

by Anne Bell

The interaction of language and social behavior is fascinating to me. You can speak a foreign language perfectly, but if you don’t take the time to understand the social habits of the foreign culture in which you find yourself, you will have less satisfying interactions with the people you encounter. You may notice that you have offended someone, and not understand what you have done to cause offense. Here is a common example:

From left to right, Ecuador Experiment blogger Michael Bell, my maternal cousin Vicky Porche Weber, my brother Alan Bell and my sister Anne Bell. (circa 1994 in San Francisco)

American manners:

After making “friendly” eye contact, you may approach someone in a public place to ask a question, or to get directions, without needing to say “Hello” or “Excuse me”. Smiling is always helpful. After you have your answer, you say, “Thank You” and “Have a Good Day”. This is the polite way to ask assistance from a stranger.

French manners:

After making “neutral” eye contact, you must verbally greet a stranger before asking for assistance, even if you only wish to know the time of day. You must say “Hello”, and “Excuse me”, or even “Excuse me for the interruption”. Smiling is always helpful. You have established yourself as a well-mannered individual, so you are now free to ask your question. After you have your answer, you say, “Thank You, and “Good Day”. This is the polite way to ask assistance from a stranger.

Social Behavior Translation:

“Friendly” eye contact means smiling at someone. “Neutral” eye contact means what it says -- neither smiling nor frowning. In France, if you smile at a stranger, you are either flirting with them, or you are a weirdo.

A French person is always very happy to offer assistance to a well-mannered individual. I have had the experience of politely asking directions of a stranger, and having the person physically walk with me for a few blocks to my destination rather than pointing the way on the map. A French person is likewise equally happy to ignore or to refuse assistance to an ill-mannered person, because the rude shouldn’t expect the same treatment as the polite. This is way the world works, and they are doing you a favor by reminding you of this fact.

In memory of my maternal family. The Porche plot in Colma.

Even after six years in France, I am still capable of approaching a store clerk or the postman, and blurting out my question, (especially when I am rushed). This may result in my interlocutor pausing, and then greeting me with an exaggerated “Hello, Madame”. I will then blush, stammer out my belated “Hello” and “Excuse Me”, perhaps even adding a head shake and a “Pardon”. I have now just communicated that I have forgotten my manners. All will then be forgiven, and we are now back on good terms and can get to the business at hand.

In France, there are social courtesies to be respected if one wishes to communicate well. But because I am an American expat, I sometimes fall into my American habits. For an American, making eye contact can replace a verbal “Hello” and “Excuse Me”, and I would be considered perfectly polite were I communicating somewhere in California or Arizona. But I live in France now, and eye contact alone doesn’t cut it.

Being a foreigner is hard, and you are bound to make mistakes. Your best protection is a genuine smile, the ability to laugh off your social gaffes, and the grace to move on. Your foreign accent is evident to the person in front of you, so they will usually forgive you easily.

When you come back to the U.S.A., you will automatically start every interaction with a stranger with a “Hello” and an “Excuse Me”. You will be a beacon of Old World courtesy in our overly abrupt and anonymous Modern world, and hopefully this simple kindness will be noticed and appreciated by those with whom you come into contact.