eddsaid----cuenca---ready or not, here i am!!!

1 Minute 50 Seconds of Fame

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 16 May 2013 18:09:00 +0000

The segment on Diane Sawyer's World News show unexpectedly aired last night. We received notification only hours in advance. John Quinones and Sarah Netter spent two full days with us and Paul & Jan Cottage shooting hours of footage, so we were anxious to see how the final piece was edited.

We were pleased that the focus was generally on expats moving abroad with Cuenca basically serving as a backdrop for the story. An interesting statistic quoted was that almost 350,000 Americans are receiving their Social Security payments in another country. Since I and most everyone I know have payments deposited in a US bank account the true number of expats must be staggering.

And growing.

It was fun to see a family photo we furnished the network showing up.

One minute and fifty seconds later, it was over. All in all I think the story was well done and we were honored to be asked to participate.

Here's the link to the segment plus an accompanying article:

American retirees stretch their dollars in Ecuador

Arch Nemesis?

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Tue, 14 May 2013 03:40:00 +0000

When Cynthia and I were going by bus to the beaches of Montanita sometime ago, we arrived at the terminal in Guayaquil early enough to have lunch before departing. Looking around the food court we observed the usual variations of grilled meats, rice, and beans found in our malls here in Cuenca.

Then we spotted something unexpected—a McDonald’s! We rarely ate traditional fast food when we lived in the States and in three years have never had a Whopper at the Burger King near our home . But as often happens when you’re on vacation, we said, “What the hell, we’re on vacation!” and wolfed down Quarter Pounders, fries, and Cokes.

We enjoyed our guilty pleasure so much that we ordered an encore meal with Big Mac’s when we got back before returning home. These two little episodes formed the bookends of a memorable getaway.

I share this story as a backdrop to the announcement that Cuenca’s very first McDonald’s is being built down the street from our neighborhood Supermaxi. Since our city is already home to the aforementioned Burger King plus KFC, Papa John’s, Pizza Hut, and Subway this occurrence was inevitable and, from a competitive viewpoint, arguably overdue.

But the forums are abuzz with predictable histrionics ranging in emotion from sad to disappointed to hysterical. Without knowing the subject matter you would think the Death Star was spotted hovering over the Cajas.

Many are lamenting this invasion of American “poison” into the Ecuadorian culture. Some even think the government should “do something” to keep franchises out or at least severely tax their products to discourage consumption.

Here is a sampling of other vitriolic quotes:

“Monsters!”

“Horrors!”

“Filth!”

“Tragic!”

“Let’s boycott!”

Really? Come on, people, get a grip.

I have to wonder when some of the commenters last actually ate at a McDonald’s. The 60’s? Because the menu has certainly evolved from the early days of burgers and fries.

For instance, Cynthia and I took advantage of a 2-for-1 coupon while in North Carolina a couple of weeks ago visiting family to try McDonald’s new Premium McWrap. The one we ordered was a large flour tortilla filled with chicken and super fresh vegetables. It was healthy, delicious, and a bargain at the retail price of $3.99 (and an absolute steal at $2 each).

Breakfast choices now include a McMuffin with egg whites, oatmeal, and a fruit ‘n yogurt parfait. For lunch or dinner you can order grilled chicken and a variety of salads in addition to the wraps.

Of course the burgers, fries, soft drinks, and shakes dominate the menu. But the good news is that in any restaurant the patrons get to pick what they want to eat.

There’s a fancy restaurant in town called Tiesto’s. The specialty there is a steaming pot of yummy meat or seafood swimming in a decadent sauce. The food is undeniably delicious, but each time I’ve eaten there I’ve not been able to sleep because of the richness of all the butter and cream.

So I’ve decided that I won’t eat there anymore. The pain simply isn’t worth the gain.

Others I’ve spoken to have mentioned a similar experience, but I haven’t noticed a clamoring for Juan Carlos to clean up his act and start offering healthy alternatives. The truth is you can order a healthy meal or a calorie-busting feast almost anywhere you go. Or, if no such choices are available, you can choose as I have with Tiesto’s to not dine there.

I see vendors set up outside schools selling salchipapas (little weenies and French fries) and all manner of candies. I notice people walking down the street every day munching on a bag of chips. Could they be nibbling on an apple instead? Of course. But they didn’t want an apple, did they?

The real issue is not about McDonald’s coming to Cuenca. It’s about individual freedom. You don’t want to eat at McDonald’s? Then don’t. But how is it your business to tell other people what they can do?

Any notion of government involvement is pure poppycock. I appreciate much about American life, but our government’s overzealous attempts to protect its citizens from themselves is not one of them. A most refreshing aspect of Ecuadorian culture is the emphasis on personal responsibility. You never see a TV commercial here with those pathetic personal injury attorneys who promise to “get you the money you deserve.”

Imagine you are at Parque Calderon observing one of the countless fireworks displays. An errant rocket strikes you and you go to court seeking damages. I can envision the judge saying something like this: “Guess you were standing too close. Next case.”

Some folks not yet living in Ecuador state that McDonald’s coming to Cuenca is causing them to rethink their plans. Let me help you out. Even having a thought about a fast food chain being a potential deal breaker is a clear indicator that you will be miserable here. Don’t come.

Method acting always asks, “What’s the character’s motivation?” Perhaps some of our self righteous do-gooders should ask themselves the same question.

A pretty famous guy said, “If you would save the world, first save yourself.” So beyond your personal decision to avoid eating at McDonald’s, is not any further action an attempt to impose your “superior” value system on others?

Ecuadorians are perfectly capable of managing their lives and making their own decisions without our assistance. The bigger problem than McDonald’s arrival is the arrogance of individuals who barge in without an invitation trying to fix everything because of their need to be “right.”

Can we please bag the superiority complexes and remember that we are honored guests in this country?

Please?

Primetime

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 18 Apr 2013 18:11:00 +0000

Well, this has certainly been an interesting week. Cynthia & I spent Monday and Tuesday with John Quinones and his producer Sarah Netter from Diane Sawyer's ABC Primetime News. They came here to interview us and another couple, Paul & Jan Cottage, about our decision to move abroad.

They spoke with the Cottage's Monday morning, then we all met for lunch downtown.

In the afternoon we showed them around the city. Tuesday morning they met Cuenca's mayor and did some other filming in El Centro, and in the afternoon they interviewed us in our casa. We finished our time together with a rousing Gringo Night at DiBacco.

The segment will probably air sometime in late May or early June. I'll keep you posted.

PS. We head for the States tomorrow to see our family. A highlight will definitely be meeting our new 3 month old grandson Aaron in person for the first time. We're pumped!!

I’ve Gotta Get Out More

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Sun, 07 Apr 2013 21:11:00 +0000

OK, I admit it---I don’t know what’s going on around here most of the time. I’m probably not that different from you. I enjoy hanging out around the house whenever I can and therefore am unaware of everything that’s going on in the city.

Yet it seems every time I wander around Cuenca, day or night, I run into events and activities that make me ask myself, “What else am I missing?”

Yesterday was a perfect example. Every Saturday morning I walk to the gym. My route includes a steep hill as I enter the historic area. At the bottom I can’t help but notice that the road is blocked off and cops are standing around.

H-m-m-m-----what’s going on today?

I see a crowd at the top and I hear music playing. Must be yet another street festival—those happen so often here you don’t even think about it.

Nope, today’s gathering is for something a bit more unusual—a soapbox derby race.

Really? They still have those?

Indeed they do. I Googled the subject and learned that the 75th annual race is being held this July in Akron, Ohio (of course it’s called the “All American Soap Box Derby” in the US—Central and South America apparently don’t count).

Well, that was an unusual start to the day. I finished my workout then meandered downtown running a few errands. Just as I passed by the new cathedral a zillion indigenous people came pouring out. I swear it was like kicking a gigantic ant hill, and I suddenly found myself engulfed in a sea of humanity.

Picture the scene: A 6’3” guy in gym clothes with a shaved head, earring, backwards black baseball cap, & John Lennon sunglasses is standing on the middle of the sidewalk. He is surrounded by hundreds of swarming little bitty brown people. The ladies are wearing their colorful long skirts, and on every head (except mine) is a snow white Panama hat—none that rise higher than his nipples.

It was a scene right out of Gulliver’s Travels or the Wizard of Oz. I would love to see a photo.

After freeing myself by inching through the throng I bumped into a Cuencana friend of mine minutes later. I described what had just happened and said, “You’ve lived here your whole life. What was that all about?”

Her reply: “I have no idea. Something religious?”

Do ya think??

It’s not even lunchtime yet. As I’m heading out of town to the Supermaxi I pass a lady on the sidewalk. She’s dressed as a white bird. Real feathers and everything. I look around for the parade—for her companion—for something. Nope—just a lady walking down the sidewalk dressed as a bird. Sometimes you just don’t know what to think---------.

There’s a small park near our home. Other buildings block our view, but three nights a week we certainly hear it. That’s because some guy with a loud microphone and louder music holds aerobic classes there from 8 until 10 on the concrete basketball court (which is never used for basketball, by the way).

On our way to a party last evening our taxi goes by the park and a volleyball tournament in progress. Temporary stands have been erected, people and balloons are everywhere—it’s a party!

A couple of hundred yards away, but who knew??

Now we’re back from the party, it’s 11 o’clock and I’m turning out the lights. At the end of our street a fireworks extravaganza erupts (Why? No idea---), so I stand in the dark for 10 minutes watching “the rockets’ red glare” and “the bombs bursting in air” out the window.

Quite an emphatic exclamation point on an eventful day in Ecuador. I’ve been inside all day—wonder what I’m missing today?

No Vacancy

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 19:29:00 +0000

There was an interesting article last week in Cuenca High Life, a local online publication. It seems that several real estate developers are refusing to sell units in their new condominium projects to gringos.

"What?" you might ask. "Don't Ecuadorians think we're all wealthy? How can this be possible?"

Well, mostly because we're a pain in the ass. Not all of us, of course. The article states that too many foreigners have been overly rude and demanding, prompting developers to sell only to locals.

I was quite happy to read this because it's a great message about who's really in charge here. We expats are guests in this country and should always behave accordingly. These knuckleheads who move here with the expectation of finding, or creating for themselves, a "cheap America" and constantly complain about people not speaking English (in Ecuador!) and everything else that doesn't suit them need to be taught a lesson.

And there's no better classroom than one's wallet.

Foreigners are often falsely blamed for rising prices in real estate because we are an obvious presence. Sales to expats are only a tiny percentage of the overall market, so these developers have decided that their profits will not be adversely affected by their decision. In fact, because Cuencanos are more accommodating, their bottom lines will increase. Since Ecuador (thankfully) doesn't have myriad laws, rules, and regulations protecting everyone from everything like the US, these businessmen can simply say that their projects are "sold out" without fear of retribution.

My advice is blunt:

If you're not excited about relocating to Ecuador, please don't come. If you're in Ecuador and not happy, please leave!

The Way We Were

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Sat, 16 Mar 2013 20:59:00 +0000

Our first year in Cuenca Cynthia and I were what I've termed "social monsters." It seemed we were at a Gringo Night, dinner party, or other gathering almost daily. Sometimes multiple events crowded our schedule, and none of them involved punch and cookies, if you know what I mean.

This was all great fun because in our previous world we never gave ourselves permission for much of a social life. Busy careers filled our weeks, and weekends revolved around chores and errands. We were like kids in a candy store, voraciously gobbling up every invitation that came our way or having folks over to our home.

But just as over-consuming candy is eventually bad for your system, so too the nights of falling into bed at all hours began to take their toll. Trips back to the States gave us a break plus a chance to evaluate our activities, and we decided we needed to scale back our social calendar.

We just couldn't hang any more.

So upon each return to Cuenca we backed off the throttle more and more until we settled into a healthier and more comfortable balance. In fact compared to our earlier days we became downright boring.

Out of nowhere all that changed. Shortly after Cynthia got back from a visit with our family in New Jersey earlier this month a steady stream of invitations started gushing in. Literally every day and/or night for the past two weeks we've been out there once again. Birthdays--open houses--dinner parties--symphony performances. Two days ago we had a "two-fer"--lunch with some blog friends who are in town, then a jazz concert at a local restaurant that night.

We were supposed to go on a all day outing to a botanical garden yesterday. I almost cheered out loud when I received a last-minute email announcing the trip had been cancelled. We got to sleep in and loaf around the house all day recuperating. There was another symphony concert last night but we put on pajamas and watched a movie instead.

I hope that one day of rest was enough, because tonight there's another birthday party. Tomorrow we're going to a barbeque. Tuesday it's a going away party for friends. Wednesday the Chamber of Commerce is hosting an outing. Thursday we're attending a benefit for a cancer hospice.

After that the calendar is amazingly open. But it's only Saturday-----.

Of course we could turn some of these opportunities down, but every single thing involves people and events we truly enjoy. At least temporarily the "monsters" are once more on the loose, and I must admit it's been an absolute blast.

When we got off the plane here in Cuenca three years ago we had no idea what our new life would be like. Suffice it to say on virtually every level we've been ecstatically surprised and pleased.

Crossed Wires

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Sun, 24 Feb 2013 15:04:00 +0000

Yesterday morning my cell phone rang. I didn't recognize the number of the caller.

"Hello?"

"Yes, this is Joyce. I was wondering if you'll available next Friday morning. I'm moving Bill to an assisted living facility outside of Cuenca. I need help breaking down the bed and taking it there, and then another bed needs to be brought back here. I'm willing to pay $100."

"Um, the $100 sounds good, but who is this again?"

Pause.

"Is this Oscar?"

"No, this is Edd. I don't know Oscar, and I don't believe I know you either."

"Oh, sorry. Cancel the call."

Later in the afternoon I went to the home of some good friends for dinner. I knocked on the door, and when it opened, Trish greeted me with a big smile.

And at the same time seemed to be shooting me a bird with her middle finger.

I was confused with these mixed signals and commented on her odd welcome. It turned out she had moments before cut her finger and was holding it up to stop the bleeding.

So in the same day a stranger treated me like a friend, and a friend treated me like a stranger.

Mashpi Lodge

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Sat, 23 Feb 2013 17:49:00 +0000

A private driver picked us up from our friend's house for an early morning drive to Mashpi Lodge. Mashpi has ushered in a new level of tourism in Ecuador. It's an extremely high-end ecolodge hidden in an amazing cloud forest northwest of Quito.

On the drive there we crossed the equator twice and enjoyed the lush countryside.

We drove past fields of sugar cane and through tiny villages for a couple of hours before heading down a narrow, bumpy dirt road for another forty five minutes. Where exactly was this place?

A short distance from the last village we entered the cloud forest, and instantly the air became misty and cooler. It looked, felt, and even smelled different. The surroundings felt primitive, like we were entering the world of Avatar or Jurassic Park.

Finally the clouds thinned and we arrived at the gate. As it opened we expected to find ourselves at the lodge, but, no, there were another twenty minutes of excitement and anticipation as we wound our way past waterfalls and increasingly dense vegetation. Then at last we rounded a curve and there was Mashpi Lodge, our sleek, ultramodern home for the next three days.

The interior is stunning, with wide open vistas of the forest in every direction.

And talk about a room with a view--WOW!

After getting settled and eating lunch we were hooked up with two lovely couples visiting from Canada.

We hiked to the Life Center, where native butterflies are studied.

We saw beautiful scenery

and even a baby ocelot along the way.

This is an orphan they are hoping to reintroduce into the wild, but without parents to teach it to hunt the task will be difficult.

Inside the Life Center we observed many species of awesome butterflies.

We were told that sunny days are unusual, so we felt fortunate to see a stunning sunset before heading back to the lodge.

The next morning required early rising for bird watching from the lodge's observation deck.

This is a good example of why the area is called a cloud forest.

I must admit I heard about 1000 birds and actually saw about five of them. Maybe I didn't consume enough coffee to sharpen my vision. Then we were off on another hike, this time a long one to a waterfall. There's Mashpi in the distance as we trekked through the forest.

After about two hours we heard the roar of the waterfall and soon arrived.

Some of the group chose to cool off in the water. The temps were a bit too nippy for us.

The challenge of a long hike is when you get where you're going you still have to go back. We were pooped, so after lunch a nap plus a bottle of wine and a trip to the Jacuzzi formed the rest of our afternoon agenda.

On our final morning we packed in the activities before heading to the airport. First we climbed up, up, up the observation tower

for a breathtaking look at our surroundings.

Then, we climbed into a bicycle-like contraption for a treetop cable ride across a long valley.

Across the sky we soared, feeling just like Elliott and ET.

I must say ET looks a lot more gorgeous than I remember from the movie.

Everything looked much different from our unique vantage point.

After that adventure we had one more memorable treat in store. We stopped near the front gate at a hummingbird observation spot. Thirty one different species have thus far been identified at Mashpi, and many of them were strutting their stuff for us.

A most remarkable thing happened just before we left. As our departure was on Valentine's Day, Mashpi's staff had given both of us roses when we checked out. These are of course not indigenous in a cloud forest, but we were curious to see if the hummingbirds would react to the flowers' red color. Indeed they did.

So we decided to take our little experiment a step further, and Cynthia received a Valentine's present she'll never forget!

Did we have a fabulous time at Mashpi Lodge? What do you think?

Quito

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Wed, 20 Feb 2013 14:59:00 +0000

I used to hate Quito. When we first visited four years ago it just seemed like another big. dirty, unsafe city. The drive from the airport into downtown went through a seedy area. The historic area was filled with unsavory characters during the day, which gave little incentive to venture out at night. Little kids would rush up to you with shoeshine kits--when you were wearing tennis shoes you wondered if they were a distraction for pickpockets.

All that has changed. The mayor has done an outstanding job of cleaning up downtown, ridding the area of riffraff, installing lighting, closing streets to vehicles and encouraging pedestrian traffic, and keeping graffiti under control. The transformation has been nothing short of astounding.

Plus we had the pleasure of meeting Daphna Amit, a fellow speaker at International Living's conference last August. She and her husband Rami offered to show us around their neighborhood, which was a short walk from the hotel, before we returned to Cuenca. Our afternoon together proved to be a revelation.

We strolled through beautiful streets with lovely homes, shops, and restaurants. We dined al fresco at a cute pizza restaurant. They took us to their 10th floor apartment in an area called Gonzalez Suarez that, sitting high atop a hill overlooking the city, affords magnificent views. As we later boarded our plane Cynthia and I could only say to each other, "Who knew?"

So we were excited when Daphna graciously offered her spare bedroom to us after the most recent conference for a couple of nights before we visited an ecolodge in a cloud forest several hours away (Part 3 of this series). She told us that she was going to take a city tour on Monday with Ecuador Expat Journeys, a company owned by IL speaker Sarah Dettman, and that since we were her guests we'd been invited to tag along.

This wasn't to be a typical city tour focusing on sights and attractions. Since our fellow travelers were attendees of the conference our day would be geared toward seeing different areas of Quito as potential places to live.

Around 40 of us boarded a bus that morning and headed out.

We were fortunate that because Carnaval was in full swing the streets were virtually deserted. Carnaval is the biggest travel weekend in Ecuador all year, and many people leave town and head to the coast or other getaways.

Our bus wound through the city, beginning in Daphna's nearby haunts then climbing to El Panecillo (meaning "little bread loaf" because of its shape), a hill that dominates the southern skyline. This is the home of the Virgin of Quito, a large statue that watches over and protects the city.

The views of Quito from this vantage point are quite impressive.

Next we reentered the city and explored other in town neighborhoods with large parks, malls, and modern architecture quite unlike what we see in Cuenca.

We made the obligatory stop at a mercado downtown and I was thinking, "Oh, boy, another mercado," but even this was a surprise. The building was well-lit and spotlessly clean,

and I was impressed that all the meat and seafood was refrigerated and behind glass, a far cry from our local markets.

Many Quito residents live in "the valleys," a sprawling area south of the city. We drove through Cumbaya, an upscale community that resembles suburbia in the States--gated communities with large homes, strip malls, chain restaurants. For status-seeking Ecuadorians such a lifestyle is a dream come true, but this is the very existence we gladly left behind and have no desire to revisit.

The road we traveled will be the main connection between Quito and the new international airport that opens today until the "real" roads are completed. You might ask, "Why in the world would they open a new airport when the roads aren't finished?" This question would be a dead giveaway that you don't actually live in Ecuador.

The official projections are that the trip between the airport and downtown will take an hour and a half. Given that the existing road is already the main thoroughfare for all the outlying residents commuting into and out of the city, and that "Ecuador time" is often, well, different, I'd suggest this timing is probably overly optimistic, especially during rush hour. We plan to avoid the new airport like the plague for the next year or so unless we can make direct connections without an overnight stay.

Our excursion finished in Sarah's outlying community, where we enjoyed a delicious almuerzo together

before returning to the city. It seemed like we were in the middle of nowhere, but because of the lack of traffic we got back amazingly fast.

Thanks so much to Daphna for putting up with us for two days, and to Sarah for showing us her hometown "up close and personal." Quito certainly deserves a serious look from potential expats seeking big city amenities and cultural activities.

International Living Conference

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 17:06:00 +0000

The last week or so has been incredibly busy for us--so much so that a series of three blogs will be needed to give all that has happened proper description. So here we go-----.

Cynthia and I were honored to be asked to speak again at International Living's Fast Track conference in Quito that took place February 7-9. Over 420 attendees came from all over the US and Canada to learn the in's and out's of relocating to Ecuador. Twenty five speakers shared information about immigration procedures, health care, shipping a container, learning Spanish, starting a business, purchasing or renting property, and of course, in depth presentations of the most interesting areas of the country to live.

Our role was expanded this year to give an overview of Cuenca as well as tell our story about how we came to live there. We took the audience through a day in the city from the time they get off the airplane, showing them hotels they might choose and food they would eat. Then we took them on a "walking tour" of the historic district and New Town, pointed out interesting day trips in the surrounding countryside, and provided some current properties for sale and rent.

Then we related the circumstances that precipitated our move abroad, how we chose Cuenca, and what happened during and after our arrival. It was our goal to provide both "information and inspiration," and our talk seemed to be well-received.

In addition to this full slate of speakers, an exhibition hall was filled with businesses assisting all the guests with their relocation requirements. We manned a table in this area to answer questions about Cuenca during coffee breaks. The evenings offered great networking possibilities with cocktail parties and special dinners. I believe the 3 day program was greatly appreciated and extremely helpful to every participant.

During our presentation I asked for a show of hands of how many people were particularly interested in Cuenca. I was amazed that it seemed almost every hand went up. I told everyone to keep their hands up and look around to see who their future neighbors might be.

If this level of interest was indicative of how many folks all over North America are seriously considering our city for their future homes, Cuenca is going to look quite different several years from now.

A Day in the Life

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 17 Jan 2013 02:12:00 +0000

One of the things many friends and relatives wonder about us expats is, "What do you do all day?" We reside in a faraway foreign country, and it's hard for people back home to put themselves in the picture of what our daily life is like.

One might envision exotic experiences and amazing adventures. Hate to burst your bubble, but our lives aren't all that remarkable. Let me share with you what the world of Edd and Cynthia looks like.

Cynthia goes to yoga practice on Monday and Wednesday mornings: I go to the gym Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings. That's it regarding our weekly "schedule." It seems like we talked about having more structure in our lives a couple of years ago but couldn't really see the point.

Most mornings for me when I'm not at the gym involve writing of some kind. That's when I'm most alert and energetic. The rest of the day and evening are put for grabs.

Afternoons are when we often meet friends for lunch or take care of errands. More and more, evenings are spent at home with meals we prepare (always from scratch--there are very few processed foods here). We go to bed and get up when we feel like it, but generally we're asleep before midnight and up by eight.

Even though we've scaled back our social calendar from the early days we still seem to "go out" three or four times a week. That's still a dramatic increase from the 3-4 times a year in the States. This week Cynthia met a friend for lunch yesterday. I met a friend for lunch today. We're going to dinner with a couple tomorrow night, to the symphony Friday night, and attending a birthday party Saturday night. Oops, that's five things and three evenings--maybe a bad example.

My day today was as "typical" as any, so I'll quickly describe it. I wrote for International Living early, then, noticing what a gorgeous day it was, laid in the sun for awhile. It's summer here and today we enjoyed exceptional weather.

After showering I walked into town and met my friend for lunch. Two hours later (we take our time here) I walked to a leather store for measurements. You see, I fell in love with an awesome jacket in a store at the Miami airport last month but the price of $1095 was WAY outside this retiree's budget. I'm getting it custom made here for $120. Holla!

I then walked to the grocery store, picked up a few items and carried them home. After recovering from all that walking I'm now back upstairs at the computer.

We'll be eating our New Year's day meal of blackeyed peas and cabbage shortly (Hey, it's Ecuador--so what if we're two weeks late----!). Then after cleaning up the kitchen we'll probably read for awhile and hit the sack.

Exotic? Amazing? I don't think so.

But you know what? It's our life, and we love it!

The Bombs Bursting in Air----

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 10 Jan 2013 19:58:00 +0000

As we exited the Guayaquil airport the smell of what seemed like burned gunpowder hit our nostrils. Loud explosions were going off all around. Although it was late at night, riding in our van to the hotel Cynthia and I observed that the streets were filled with people. And everywhere we looked the darkness was illuminated by burning fires. Our driver had to divert his route to avoid several of them.

What was happening? A riot? A revolution?

We laughed as we listened to loud salsa music on the radio and watched a panorama of fireworks across the harbor. It was New Year’s Eve in Ecuador and we had by chance emerged from the airport at the stroke of midnight.

Talk about an exciting welcome home!

Seeing fireworks was certainly not a novel experience. In the US such displays are only enjoyed on New Year’s and the Fourth of July. From our windows in Cuenca there is hardly a week that goes by that we don’t observe fireworks in the night sky somewhere in the city. Another holiday we don’t know about? Perhaps a wedding celebration? We’re never sure.

And those fires? Effigy burning is a major part of celebrating New Year’s here. The idea is that the effigy contains all the bad things from the year just passed, and burning it ensures that they won’t happen again.

You see effigies for sale throughout the cities of Ecuador for days prior to the big night. They are filled with sawdust and newspaper plus a few small fireworks. It is important that they burn completely or the negative mojo will continue to plague you in the coming year.

Many Ecuadorians jump back and forth over the burning effigies 12 times for luck. Others hope to increase their luck by throwing coins (for wealth) or rice (for plenty of food) into the fire.

In addition to anonymous effigies you may see the likenesses of political figures, Homer Simpson, or the Smurfs. And some of them are surprisingly well-dressed. One of my fashion-conscious friends bought one last year that had on a snappier outfit than what I was wearing.

I was like, “You’re burning that shirt?? What size is it?”

I relish many things about living in Ecuador. One of them is the unabashed love of life here, and the energy put into New Year’s Eve festivities is a great example. Ecuadorians’ enthusiasm for their many holidays and festivals is a reminder to loosen up, have fun, and be active participants in our lives.

What did you do on New Year’s Eve? Attend an over-priced event at a restaurant or club? Watch “The Ball” drop on TV? Go to bed early?

Sounds like you need more fireworks in your life. Maybe next New Year’s Eve we can jump over your burning Papa Smurf together here in Ecuador.

No, get Homer Simpson instead. The Smurfs didn’t wear shirts.

Please Accept My Apologies

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Wed, 09 Jan 2013 00:38:00 +0000

Cynthia and I went to a party recently. We knew a few people there but had never seen, much less met, most of the guests. This isn’t unusual anymore. So many new folks have moved to Cuenca since our arrival over 2 ½ years ago that we just can’t keep up.

Upon introduction several people who are new to the city realized I am Edd of “eddsaid” and shared how much they enjoyed my writing. One even said she had gone back and read every single post I had written.

While such compliments were humbling and deeply appreciated I was also a bit embarrassed because lately I haven’t blogged much. This hasn’t happened due to lack of desire. The truth is I’ve been frustrated that it hasn’t seemed like there’s been anything interesting to write about.

When we hit town one comical episode followed another as we tried to adjust to being strangers in a strange land. After as long as we’ve now been here, you either have sort of figured things out or you’ve gone back home.

So what to write? I bought groceries at the Supermaxi and we watched a movie? I went to the gym and ran some errands? Sometimes our days are no more interesting than that, and I just can’t bring myself to chronicle such mundane “events.”

But reflecting on the comments at the party I realized something. While I’m no longer like a character in a sitcom or reality show, I now have a perspective to share with readers of what expat life looks like after several years.

The initial buzz of energy that accompanies showing up in a foreign country makes for exciting writing, and readers enjoy vicariously stumbling and bumbling along. Expatriation, however, is truly more of a marathon than a sprint. Deciding to move all the way to a place like Ecuador and leave your old world behind isn’t exactly a casual decision. Deep soul searching and extensive preparation precede taking your seat on the plane.

Life happens moment by moment and it’s easy to overlook how things change. When I think about it our physical surroundings are the same but so much is different. We came to Cuenca with no grandchildren; in a few weeks there will be three. The exotic travel we had planned is currently on hold with more trips back to the US to visit family.

We were social monsters for the first year; now our evenings usually end early after a meal prepared at home or a dinner with friends. I planned to retire; I’m currently a partner in a tour company, correspondent and speaker for International Living, and a freelance writer.

And Cuenca itself continues to evolve as well. As opposed to the continued doldrums in the US, this place is absolutely booming. New construction and important infrastructure improvements are evidenced everywhere. So too I observe a different attitude with many of the expats arriving now.

Gosh, there’s a lot more to write about than I realized. I apologize to faithful readers for my woeful lack of production on this blog, and thank you so much for hanging in there with me. I’m not really a New Year’s resolution kind of guy, but I promise to share with you the perspective I now have in 2013.

Something I Hadn't Anticipated

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Mon, 17 Dec 2012 04:02:00 +0000

My last post presented what was hopefully some helpful information about navigating the Cajas mountains. And I mentioned that our own upcoming trip wasn't happening at the ideal time.

The good news is none of the factors about the phase of the moon or time of the year adversely affected our journey. But we were still an hour late arriving in Guayaquil.

Flat tire? Engine trouble? Avalanche?

Nope. The police.

As best I can understand, none of the van services are properly licensed for what they do. Why? Faithful readers know by now you don't ask that question in Ecuador because the answer doesn't really matter, but I'm guessing either a) they can't get the correct license or b) it's too expensive.

So they're licensed as tour companies although no actual "tour" occurs. Periodically the bus companies from whom business is being siphoned complain loudly enough that the police temporarily "crack down" and hassle the offenders. We learned they are sometimes stopping the vans en route and making the passengers get out, forcing the van companies to find alternate transportation like taxis to complete the trip.

Not exactly the desired scenario when you've got an international flight awaiting.

We had planned to leave Cuenca at 7 AM and arrive in Guayaquil around 10, allowing plenty of time for our 1 PM departure. After learning at the last minute of these police shenanigans we switched to 6 AM "just to be sure." Plus we figured the police might not be diligent enough to be out hassling illegal vans so early.

Since we rarely arise when it's still dark the 4 AM alarm was in fact alarming, but we got to the van service's office on time and boarded a totally full vehicle. The driver instructed if we got pulled over we were to say we were going to Guayaquil for a city tour.

As we hoped the drive through the Cajas was uneventful and we figured we were in the clear. Nope. Our driver got a call from his counterpart coming from the opposite direction that the cops had a roadblock set up ahead.

Immediately we were off on a side road through the countryside. The guy sitting next to me got on his phone, pulled up some app that plotted our course, and became the navigator. Cynthia and I were having a great time enjoying our impromptu "country tour." We had plenty of time and were fascinated to be in a portion of what I like to call the "real Ecuador" that we knew we'd never see again.

Somehow we eluded the cops and emerged on a highway that took us into Guayaquil from a different direction than usual. This too was a revelation. I knew there was a lot of money in this city, but the vans from Cuenca drive through miles of slums to get to the airport. You thus get the erroneous impression Guayaquil is a huge dump that you want no part of.

I still want no part of it as far as a permanent residence because it's quite hot and humid, and traffic there is LA-like horrible. But we drove past gorgeously landscaped gated neighborhood after neighborhood with huge attractive homes. Beautiful malls. The Guayaquil Tennis Club. Tony Roma's, Goodyear, Chili's.

Who knew?

Although an hour "late," we arrived at the airport when we had originally planned and checked in. Being 6'3", exit row is a blessing for me that rarely occurs in the States (plus the SOB's charge extra for the privilege of sitting there). Since Latin Americans are small they could care less about extra legroom and I always score.

Such was the case on our nonstop LAN flight, perhaps the best flight we've ever taken. We had a ton of room in our 2-seat area next to the window plus the plane wasn't full at all, so I was able to stretch out on the empty 3-seat row next to us for a couple of naps.

For airplane food our lunch was quite tasty and complimentary wine was liberally poured. The flight attendants were pleasant and there was a wide choice of entertainment options on individual screens. The 6 1/2 hours, pardon the pun, flew by and we felt refreshed when we landed in JFK that evening.

We're now in Hoboken with our daughter and enjoying our newest granddaughter for several more days before moving on to our son's home in North Carolina until the end of the year.

Sure hope the police have found someone else to hassle by the time we return to Ecuador.

Tips for Traveling through the Cajas

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Sun, 09 Dec 2012 19:52:00 +0000

Many of us Cuenca residents have traveled through the Cajas mountains to and from Guayaquil, home to one of the two international airports in Ecuador. This 3 hour van ride (cost $12 per person) can offer spectacular views on a clear day that help you appreciate what a crazy-gorgeous country we live in.

But weather in the Cajas is highly unpredictable, and sometimes you get stuck in rain plus fog so thick you (and more importantly the driver) can barely see past the front of the vehicle. Rain or shine large rocks fall from the mountains onto the road, causing unexpected swerving when they suddenly appear right in the van's path. Also rain or shine your driver often seems intent on maintaining the same schedule, barreling into and blindly passing slower vehicles on the many sharp curves along the route.

We have made this journey so many times that we've gone from outright fear to the understanding that these guys drive this road every single day and really do know what they're doing. Still, many folks who have endured one harrowing ride vow to never repeat the experience, opting instead to take a $150 round trip flight between Cuenca and Guayaquil.

I've recently learned some valuable tips about the best and safest times to go through the Cajas from Juan Munoz, a lifelong Cuenca resident, good friend, and guide with TerraDiversa. I'd like to pass on to you the info he shared.

Time of the year

The period from December through May is known as the "rainy season" in Ecuador. This is somewhat of a misnomer since there are rarely extended periods of rain or drought, so the dry season of June through November really means "less wet." Still, Juan says that from now until June you are much more likely to encounter inclement weather going through the mountains.

Time of the month

We are all aware the phases of the moon affect tides (witness the damage from tide surge in New Jersey when the recent hurricane hit that area during a full moon). Who knew the moon also impacts the cloud cover in the Cajas? Juan advised me that during the period from a half moon to full moon the skies in the mountains are much more likely to be clear.

So the absolute best time to go through the Cajas is during the dry season when the moon is half full to full, and worst is in the wet season from a new moon to half full.

None of this information is foolproof, of course. But I can verify from a recent trip the validity of Juan's advice. In early July Cynthia and I were returning to Cuenca from Guayaquil on the very last van that leaves at 7 PM, and quite frankly we dreaded what was ahead. It's bad enough running into fog during the day. At night you're looking at the possibility of three hours of white-knuckle terror.

To our delight during the entire ride the sky was crystal clear with, yes, a full moon beaming down from above. The views of the mountains were absolutely magical.

We're heading back to the States this Thursday. I just checked the calendar. There's a new moon that night, and it's the beginning of the rainy season. Oof.

At least we'll be on the 7 AM van instead the 7 PM one. Fingers crossed.

A Walk in the Park

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 29 Nov 2012 01:48:00 +0000

I had a lot of freelance writing assignments due today. When I was finished my back was killing me and my eyes felt like they were going to fall out of my head from staring at the computer screen all day so I decided to take a walk through nearby Paradise Park to refresh my body and clear my mind.

The street that we live on, Avenida Paucarbamba, was one of the ritzy streets in Cuenca that was first developed when well-to-do locals first left downtown and fashionably moved to the “suburbs.” I put this word in quotes because our home is a mere 20 minute walk from the center of the historic district.

Today many of the old homes have been torn down and replaced with commercial buildings and mid-rise structures like the one we live in. But a scant two minutes from here lies what I call the “real” Cuenca—mostly modest homes, small businesses, freely roaming mutts (which makes me realize how few stray cats are ever seen), and an occasional crowing rooster. Wandering through such neighborhoods helps keep me in touch with how privileged we are to live a wonderful life here even with our modest, by American standards, monthly budget.

On the weekends Paradise Park is filled with people—soccer matches, families enjoying picnics on the grass, folks riding paddleboats on the lake. On this Wednesday afternoon the park was mostly empty. A few ladies were walking their dogs and several kids were playing on the old school metal swings and slides (heaven forbid—someone might get hurt!) under the watchful eyes of their moms.

But the park today was mainly the turf of sweethearts. Young couples walked hand in hand, sat on rocks by the river, or did homework together.

At the far end of the park, after walking through a towering eucalyptus forest, the Tomebamba and Yununcay rivers converge. The rushing waters crashing together there are a powerful energy center for me, and, as always, I sat for awhile to renew my spirits.

After emerging from the forest on the other side of the park I walked past the “food court,” perhaps eight stalls selling a variety of meals and drinks. On this late afternoon only two were open, and I noticed that the most expensive items on their menus cost a whopping $1.25.

I took a different route home and strolled past a restaurant where Cynthia and I sometimes enjoy an almuerzo (fixed menu lunch of soup, fresh-squeezed juice, and entrée) for $1.75 each. We never know what we’re going to get but it’s always been tasty and plentiful.

As I approached our building I thought how much this little stroll was a microcosm of our whole life here. I knew I wanted to walk to the park and back but had no thought of exactly how I would get there or return. I simply set out in the general direction and wandered without a care about the specifics, knowing I would eventually reach my destination. And I did, having a wonderful time every step of the way.

How different from my previous over-scheduled, over-planned, and under-enjoyed life.

What Do I Miss Most about the US?

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 15 Nov 2012 18:41:00 +0000

I’ve often been asked what I miss most (after family and friends, of course) about living in the US. This question invariably catches me off guard, and I’m always stumped for a suitable reply. I guess I have lived here long enough that I don’t even think about such things any more.

I believe I now have a definitive answer. Those of you who know me well might guess I’d say Popeye’s fried chicken. Good thinking, but my existence really isn’t that adversely affected by a lack of two-piece-spicy-white-meat-with-red-beans-and-rice-and-a-biscuit-please.

With Cynthia gone for two weeks I’ve been responsible for all the household chores, specifically those food-related—shopping, cooking, and cleaning up. We have a loosely-enforced agreement around here that whoever cooks, the other one cleans up. Well, with one soldier MIA that plan goes out the window.

And herein lies my discovery. I can now state unequivocally that what I miss most about the States is----

A dishwasher.

That’s right. A dishwasher. An appliance that you put the dirty dishes in, close the door, push the button, and the dishes come out clean.

Overall our apartment is wonderful. It’s large and modern with incredible views of the city and surrounding mountains. Our shower looks like it came from the set of a sci-fi movie, and the hot tub has a remote control.

Because the apartment was originally intended for the owner of the building it is designed in the Ecuadorian way with the expectation of live-in help. We have a maid’s bedroom and bath upstairs.

This domestic help would be expected to do everything—clean, wash and dry the clothes, iron, shop, cook---and wash the dishes. Thus no need for a dishwashing appliance.

We have a maid who comes once a week which is enough for our needs. Even if we could afford full-time help we wouldn’t want someone living upstairs—it would be kind of creepy. And we certainly don’t want to eat Ecuadorian food every meal.

So we hand wash all the dishes, pots, and pans every meal. This is by no means my favorite task. But I hate to come into a dirty kitchen first thing in the morning so normally everything is cleaned up the night before.

That routine has been altered during Cynthia’s absence. As I said I don’t like washing dishes in the first place and don’t mess up enough at one time by myself, so my alternate strategy has been to just avert my eyes from the cluttered sink when I come in to make coffee in the morning.

I’ve learned that leftover brie takes on the consistency of super-glued pieces of automobile tires when left overnight. And that I seem to use the same knives and utensils over and over, which requires fishing them out for repeated washing anyway.

While not profound (and maybe even silly-sounding) I do miss having a dishwasher. A lot. Yes, I could opt for paper plates and plasticware. But that seems so picnic-y.

Being here without my sweetheart is definitely no picnic.

Halloween in the NC Suburbs

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Fri, 02 Nov 2012 00:16:00 +0000

After visiting our new granddaughter in Hoboken for awhile we headed south to North Carolina (just before Sandy came to town) to be with our son, daughter-in-law, and darling 17 month old granddaughter Addison.

Last night was of course Halloween, and since this neighborhood is filled with young families we stocked up on trick-or-treat candy. Cynthia and I raised our two children in a similar setting so we knew what to expect.

Or so we thought.

The elaborate outside decorations we observed on walks around the community were clues we didn't pick up on. I've never seen so many skeletons, bats, spiders, ghouls, ghosts, and graveyards. And there's now this spider web stuff adorning porches and shrubbery.

When we saw neighbors setting up fire pits and lawn chairs in their driveways we realized this Halloween celebration was going to be on a bigger scale than we'd ever experienced.

At six o'clock the doorbell rang for the first time. We weren't ready. The dogs went nuts as Addison was still being dressed in her costume and I scrambled for the candy bowl. I gave the kids some candy, we got the dogs sequestered, and our little giraffe was ready for her first trick-or-treating.

Cynthia and I manned our own lawn chairs outside as the onslaught began.

The waves of kids came in a decreasingly desirable order. First out were what trick-or-treating is all about-the smallest ones with their cute costumes and shy behavior. Parents reminding them what to say. Sweet angels and little devils and princesses.

Next came a mixture of ages from acceptable to borderline too old. Lots of Dorothy's from the Wizard of Oz, ninjas, and nerds. I enjoyed messing with the middle schoolers. I told them (with tongue in cheek)if I couldn't guess their costumes they got no candy, which threw them all a curveball. Typical exchange with a guy:

"I give up. What are you?"
"I have no idea."
"Neither do I. That's why I asked. Here's some candy. Get out of here."

Another:

"You're a nerd, right?"
"Yep."
"Did you even change clothes after school or is this how you always look?"

One girl came up and proudly said, "I bet you didn't know I used to live right next door to you!"
Me: "I bet you didn't know I don't even live here."

And so it went. Then came the posse I detest--the older teenagers who should be home giving out candy, not shamelessly still trick-or-treating. I think they drove themselves here. One guy with a mask was bigger than me, and another one had a beard--growing out of his face, not drawn on. But what do you do--say "no" and take a chance on them egging or otherwise vandalizing your home?

You give them some candy so they'll go away.

But this year in the late crowd I encountered two categories that I guess are a sign of the times. Several actually made requests: "Do you have any Reese's?" Really? I'm giving you something and you're being picky? I'll give you one Reese's for two Hershey's, knucklehead.

Even more surprising was a kid who refused what I gave him, saying, "I can't eat this." What, it's got Red Dye #5? Peanuts? No, the other kid got the Reese's. Then he actually picked through the bowl and grabbed a couple of suitable choices. By this point I was too pooped to even care.

By 7:30 four huge bowls of candy were gone and we were cold anyway (no fire pit--who knew?), so we went inside, turned off the lights, and closed the shutters.

Several plaintive door knocks afterwards went unanswered. We were treating ourselves to much-deserved glasses of wine.

On the Road Again

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Sat, 27 Oct 2012 02:18:00 +0000

During the 2 ½ years I’ve lived in Cuenca I’ve traveled back and forth to Guayaquil through the Cajas mountains numerous times. Early trips terrified me. It seemed that the drivers were much too reckless and going way too fast. Now I’ve come to realize that these guys drive this road every day and know every inch of the 3 hour journey.

I’m on my way to meet my new granddaughter in New Jersey, and this time I allow myself to truly relax and enjoy the magnificent topography. At every time of day the mountains show a different personality as the sunlight reveals unnoticed nuances of shade and texture.

Today it is early morning and the sky is bright blue with a smattering of clouds. The depth—the contrast—the vividness—are impossible to describe. Every direction I look there is a stunning canvas begging to be painted.

Weaving through the peaks are irregular stands of trees that are obviously there on purpose. Part of an unusual ecological agreement, the Finnish government actually pays Ecuadorian landowners to plant these trees to increase oxygen on the planet. Their orderly unnaturalness somehow adds visual interest to the landscape.

In what seems like the middle of nowhere I periodically see indigenous folks walking along the side of the highway. Where are they going? How long will it take to get there? What can life be like so high up among these mountains and so far apart from each other?

It is the end of the dry season and we have gotten much-needed rain in the past few weeks. The closest mountains are once again impossibly green, while distant peaks are a deep blue. Ahead is the Sea of Clouds, a blue valley seemingly always covered by a thick, fluffy white blanket.

Thankfully we stop halfway through for a bathroom break (it was an early start with a lot of coffee). Once on the way again I immediately fall asleep.

I briefly awake to see that we are descending the western part of the Cajas. Although I’ve never been to either place the flora here reminds me of Viet Nam or Cambodia. The lush foliage, banana trees, and misty fog are always a welcome sight because they signal the end of the back and forth, up and down part of the trip. The rest of the way the road instantly becomes flat and straight.

I doze off again, my slumber interrupted only by the speed bumps we traverse in several towns along the way. All of these places look identical to me—chickens and pigs being grilled on spits—fruit stands and little stores—open-air joints serving food to customers sitting on white plastic chairs.

Coast people look different. Of course because it’s hotter they often dress in T shirts, shorts, and flip flops, but it’s easy to see these folks have descended from different bloodlines than those in the highlands. They are on the whole fatter and to me generally not as attractive.

Highlanders call coast people “monos,” or monkeys. This is because speech is much faster here, like chattering to the ears of mountain inhabitants. Also they consider people who live on the coast to be lazy and “clever” (translation: not to be trusted).

Past the string of small towns the final leg to Guayaquil is an excellent 4-lane divided highway than spreads to 10 lanes on the outskirts of the city. During Rafael Correa’s years as President all of the major roads in Ecuador have been greatly improved and many new ones built.

Here as throughout Ecuador stand empty homes in various stages of construction. Invariably this means a relative is in the US or Spain working. When money is sent home more work is done until it runs out, then everything stops until more funds arrive.

Coming over the first bridge Guayaquil’s skyline appears on the left. For a city of 3 million+ it is quite uninspiring except for one twisted high rise tower on the water's edge. To the right McDonald’s golden arches declare we have arrived in a metropolis much larger than little Cuenca.

For some reason Guayaquil is much better landscaped than Cuenca. Our parks and common areas, while well-maintained, are haphazardly planted with no design. Another obvious difference is the presence of old school window AC units (Cuenca has no heating or air conditioning because of the temperate climate).

Almost exactly three hours from the time of departure our van arrives at the Guayaquil airport. Time to go meet Miss Eloise!

Lights Out!

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Wed, 17 Oct 2012 18:53:00 +0000

I tried to watch the Presidential debate last night, but wouldn't you know it, 15 minutes after it started the power went off in our neighborhood. This was followed by a brown-out where the lights dimmed and the television turned on/off/on/off/on/off. And then no electricity again.

If I had asked Mitt what happened he would have immediately blamed the problem on the failed energy policies of the Obama administration. But since I'm in Ecuador, I didn't bother.

By the time power was restored the event was over and I was stuck watching the "talking heads" giving their views on the proceedings. Fortunately this turned out to be like the halftime show of a football game on TV where they show only highlights, so perhaps I didn't really miss much after all.

At this point in the campaign season I'm certain of two things. Obama seems to have "inherited the worst financial crisis since the Great Depression." God, he's been saying that for 4 years! Come on, man, conjure up some new material.

And if elected, Romney will inherit the second worst financial crisis since the Great Depression, but he's got a 5 Point Plan that will fix everything. This number is important because it allows him to hold up only one hand and at the same time use all of his fingers every time he says it.

How awkward would a 6 Point Plan be? So many decisions--hold up 5 & 1? 4 & 2? Or demonstrate bipartisanship and go 3 & 3?

From the little I saw Obama definitely amped up the energy level from the first debate and seemed constantly on the attack. But feisty and effective are not synonyms. I, like probably most Americans, would prefer that he stay positive and tout his first term record. But when your two notable achievements are 1) passing a health care plan the majority of people don't want and 2) running up the biggest deficits of any President in history, maybe going after his opponent is lesser negative choice.

I found two post-debate statistics from polls of undecided voters to be extremely interesting. On the one hand, by a narrow margin Obama was declared the winner. But on the other, these same voters said they trusted Romney more on "pocketbook issues"--the economy, jobs, the deficit, and health care.

So this election may come down to a choice between a superb orator and your wallet. One might think that's an easy decision but, guess what, in the last election the orator won. In three weeks we'll see if he can do it again.

Evil Spirits

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Wed, 10 Oct 2012 20:21:00 +0000

Awhile back a reader asked me to do a post on the wine situation here in Ecuador. Since I am currently working on International Living's 2013 Retirement Index (a quality-of-life survey of 22 locations around the globe) which includes a monthly budget, this seems like the perfect time to comment on a category that is certainly one of our expense items.

Let's cover the gamut of alcoholic beverages while we're at it, because liquor, wine, and beer all have their own stories to tell.

All imported goods are of course more expensive. I can't remember what a can of tomatoes costs in the States, but the Heinz variety here is over $3. So unless you "eat like a local" you've gotta be prepared to pay the price.

And with recent tax increases on hard spirits you have to drink like one too. A fifth of Bacardi is now over $30. Oh, you're a vodka drinker? Absolut runs around $50. As does Johnny Walker Red. Brutal, right? Fortunately there are drinkable alternatives. Rum made right here in Cuenca is only $8 a fifth, and Sky vodka rings in at a reasonable $20.

Wine prices are no bargain either. Ecuador has no viticulture industry to speak of, so these products are also imported. Bottom shelf domestic stuff in US grocery stores that you can pick up for $4.99 is priced in the teens. Most of our selection not surprisingly comes from Chile and Argentina, and with these countries being so close it's frustrating to see prices perhaps 50% higher than back home.

The go-to wine for many gringos is in a box, not a bottle. Concha y Toro,a mega-winery with high to low end production, has a boxed variety, Clos, currently available for $5.51 in merlot, cabernet, and "white." It's comparable to Trader Joe's 2 Buck Chuck (Charles Shaw) but, again, at over twice the price for its US counterpart.

And what the heck is going on with the price increases of locally made beer? There's no import tax on that! When we moved here 2 1/2 years ago a 6 pack of Pilsener was about $3.50. Now it's $4.93. By the bottle Pilsener is 80 cents (which I just realized means buying singles is slightly cheaper) and Budweiser is $1.00--not much of a price difference. But the beer bargain is always the big 20 ouncer's from local convenience stores. They're only $1.00 when you return the bottle.

I often joke that a vegetarian teetotaler can get by in Ecuador on a tiny food budget. We're neither, so be aware that if you eat meat and drink alcohol a disproportionate share of your grocery dollars will go to those two categories.

What about the Grandchildren?

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 04 Oct 2012 21:20:00 +0000

I'm totally proud to present to my blog friends the newest member of TeamStaton, Eloise Grace Walker.

Our second granddaughter and the first child of our daughter Adrian, Eloise today is the ripe old age of two weeks. This little bundle of joy has remarkably long arms and legs and amazingly large hands and feet, so I'm going out on a limb with the early prediction that she will end up as the tallest member of the family.

And I'm 6'3".

With two here and #3 on the way (our first grandson makes his debut in late January) I'm often asked, "So are you thinking about moving back to the States now?" In fact the subject came up just yesterday when I was chatting online with an old friend.

I wrote an article for International Living a couple of months ago that I'd like to share with you here. Hopefully it sheds some light on this emotional topic.

What about the Grandchildren?

One of the major concerns for retirees considering relocation abroad is being separated from their grandchildren.

My wife and I weren’t grandparents when we arrived in Cuenca over two years ago. Now we have a one year old granddaughter and two more grandbabies on the way.

Since we've reached this milestone many friends still living in the States have said to me, “Gosh, it must break your heart living so far from your grandchildren.”

Really?? We visited family for two weeks in March and the whole month of June. And we’re going back in the fall to welcome our newest granddaughter into the world.

It is a completely erroneous impression that because we live abroad we'll be missing out on our grandchildren growing up. The truth is we’ll see them more because we've lowered our monthly expenses and we're no longer tied to jobs.

If we were still working in the US we'd have 3 or 4 weeks vacation a year and hope we had enough money to visit. Plus we want to see the world and selfishly perhaps do not want every day of our available travel time devoted to family visits.

Now to be fair, our two children live in different states, so there’s no way we could live near both of them simultaneously. Therefore some form of travel would always be necessary even if we still lived in the US.

Your feelings towards your grandchildren should be an important part of your thoughts regarding expatriation. And brutal honesty about those emotions must drive your decision.

I know a grandmother who moved to Cuenca and found herself absolutely miserable being separated from her grandchildren. Although they loved the city and made many friends, she and her husband were back in the US in less than six months.

Do you already have grandkids? Do you live close by and see them often? Are they the light of your life? Then listen to your heart. Moving abroad is probably not going to work out well for you.

But if you are comfortable with visiting maybe not as often as you’d like but for longer periods of time, by all means continue to make your plans.

Most locations in the US and Canada can be reached from Ecuador in hours. With Skype video you can stay in touch for free as long as you like and as often as you desire. You don’t have to physically be there every moment to feel like you’re an important part of your family’s life.

Reality check. When we left our little granddaughter after the last visit I bawled my eyes out in the airport. Would I love to hug her every day? You bet. Being apart isn’t easy, but for now it’s doable.

Don’t let the notion of being “so far away” stop you from considering a move abroad. You’re retired now! You can enjoy an exciting new life and still visit those grandchildren as often as your budget allows.

Hit Me with Your Best Shot

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Wed, 12 Sep 2012 23:42:00 +0000

“There is nothing to fear but fear itself. There is nothing to fear---.” I kept repeating this mantra as I walked to meet Cynthia.

You see, we were going to a clinic together where I was about to get my first shot in over 50 years. There’s a reason for the long time gap. I’m petrified of getting shots, and have sometimes gone to considerable lengths to avoid them.

It all goes back to when I was a wee lad so skinny that my nickname was Eddy Spaghetti—cruel in the way only children can be but nonetheless descriptive of my puny muscularity. I was deathly afraid that if the doctor stabbed me with too much force the needle would go completely through my arm and come out the other side, the medicine squirting into the air.

Thus I tensed up so much that when the hypodermic was removed the tiny hole expanded to the size of a gunshot wound (at least in my imagination). I have painful memories of walking around with my arm in a sling because it was so sore I couldn’t move it.

Once when I was home running a high fever the doctor made a house call (are you old enough to remember those?). He determined I needed a shot and instructed me to roll over. I grabbed the spindles of the headboard on my bed with such strength that both he and my mother could not turn me over. Only when Mom threatened me with a belt did I relinquish my death grip.

The subject of shots reared its ugly head once more when I was a teenager. While on the job I suffered three severe cuts to my hand on a dirty warehouse fan (don’t ask) and had to be rushed to the hospital for treatment.

I was clearly in shock, but mustered sufficient presence of mind to solemnly answer “yes” when asked, “Have you had a tetanus shot recently?” I knew I didn’t want to add insult to injury by having one arm in a sling while the other one was also incapacitated. Scary old memories die hard. Crazy in retrospect, but such was my fear of needles.

Sometimes life requires you to do things for others that you wouldn’t do for yourself. I’m about to become a grandfather again, and my daughter who is carrying her first child read that there is an unprecedented number of whooping cough cases this year in the US. Infants are particularly susceptible to this illness, so I reluctantly agreed to being vaccinated to put her mind at rest.

I had already decided the shot would be administered in my thigh. Even now no one would mistake my physique for Arnold’s, but my scrawny thighs are at least as big as most people’s arms.

We met at a military hospital where our doctor assured us we would be taken care of without any problems.

Well---------

We found the office and sat in the waiting room for our turn. I noticed that all of our fellow patients were little kids with their moms, which didn’t seem quite right. An old lady soon escorted us back and we showed her the papers the doctor had given us. She read them and frowned.

Here’s an insider tip we’ve learned in our 2+ years in Ecuador. When someone just says “No,” it can sometimes mean “Maybe.” But when the “No” is accompanied by a vigorous backhand thrust of the forefinger it means “Absolutely not.”

She gave us the finger along with an avalanche of Spanish that could only be interpreted as, “Get the hell out of here.”

What could we do but sheepishly retreat? We didn’t understand why we were shown the door, but our Spanish wasn’t proficient enough to effectively argue. I must admit I had mixed emotions about this rejection. I was all psyched up to “face my fears,” but not altogether unhappy that I had been spared.

But Cynthia was bound and determined, as we say in the South, to see this through, so she made an appointment yesterday with our doctor to explain the dilemma. He promptly called a pharmaceutical rep who said she would order the vaccine. Then he told us to go downstairs to the pharmacy to finalize the delivery.

The lady there also made a call and said the vaccine would be delivered tomorrow in the morning (in Spanish this is “manana en la manana”—often two lies in one phrase). We dutifully and skeptically returned at lunchtime today and to our surprise, the order was actually there.

We paid and took the medication downstairs to the emergency room for the shots to be immediately administered. I was sticking with my “in the leg” strategy and had even gone to the trouble to look up “leg” (Hey, how often does that word come up in normal conversation?) so I would properly instruct the nurse.

She said it had to be given in the arm. I said I wanted it in my leg. Perplexed, she scampered out to consult with her colleagues. Meanwhile Cynthia was quietly getting her shot without incident behind the adjacent curtain. I heard conversation, then a guy came in and informed me this shot could only be given in the arm. Not even the butt.

I wasn’t backing down. I said, “A muscle is a muscle. What difference does it make?” Gotta give the guy credit. In classic Ecuadorian fashion, he looked me in the eye and replied, “This is special medicine.” A rebuttal that makes no sense and yet to which there is no response. Perfect.

At the same time Cynthia, who had been listening to all this through the curtain, sternly said, “It doesn’t hurt, Edd. Take the damn shot.”

Well, there it is. I removed my shirt and took the damn shot. And-------

And nothing. I hardly felt the injection and my shoulder is barely sore. Like meals I’ve so looked forward to when returning to the US that weren’t nearly as wonderful as I had imagined, similarly this dreaded incident was basically a non-event. Thus I am now safe from infections, whooping cough, and diphtheria (whatever that is), and my arm is not in a sling.

Is there a moral to this silly story? Perhaps that anticipation often trumps reality, and fear is False Evidence Appearing Real. My little episode does make me question how many truly important opportunities and enriching experiences I might have passed up over the years because of similar unfounded trepidations.

How about you?

What Do You Do All Day?

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Sat, 25 Aug 2012 20:44:00 +0000

I’ve made frequent references in this blog to living in the moment. While yesterday wasn’t exactly “typical,” it does demonstrate what can happen when you just put yourself out there.

The day started with only one thing on the calendar—meeting friends for lunch at 1 o’clock. Good—a quiet day heading into the weekend (yes, we casually note when those roll around).

My friend and partner Juan called to say he could come by at noon and take me to get a replacement phone for the one that was stolen. Kind of tight time-wise with our commitment, but OK—let’s do it.

We went to the phone place and got all the paperwork done, but the phone wouldn’t be ready until 5:30. Could I come back then? Those of you who have followed our adventures and misadventures are aware that coming back is usually part of showing up in Ecuador when any kind of paperwork is involved. Sure, I’ll return then.

Our lunch rendezvous happened right on time and we had a lovely meal during two hours of chitchat. Since we were in El Centro we decided afterwards to drop by TerraDiversa to pick up our monthly shipment from the wine club we joined.

While there we learned that it was one of our employee’s birthday. We also found out that in the evening Mansion Alcazar, perhaps Cuenca’s finest hotel, was hosting a trade-only event to showcase their new spa facilities. That sounded like fun, so we decided to attend. After all, we had no plans, right?

Now we were caught in that in-between time—it was too early to pick up the phone and too much trouble to go home then turn around and leave almost as soon as we got there. When Cynthia learned where the business was located she realized it was close to a clinic where she needed to make a doctor’s appointment for a friend.

So we strolled over there with the thought if the phone wasn’t ready we’d sit and relax until it was. While we were waiting for the receptionist to return we were more than a little surprised to see the female half of the couple we had just eaten lunch with walking around the corner.

She was there for an appointment with another doctor who apparently wasn’t showing up. Our appointment was made and her husband, who was waiting in their car, did a double take upon seeing us all walking out together!

After telling them goodbye—again—we walked to the phone business. It was an hour early, but time is very fluid here, and what do you know, the phone was ready. Outstanding! I remembered seeing what appeared to be a chocolate store on the way, so we doubled back to hopefully pick up a birthday gift for our employee since we would be seeing her later at the hotel.

Except we got our directions mixed up and went the long way around the clinic. Cynthia had just said we’d probably see someone else we knew when we walked around the corner. Guess what---we walked around the corner and immediately saw another couple we knew. Things like this actually happen all the time here.

After chatting with them for a bit we found the store but it didn’t have what we needed. Then Cynthia remembered a kiosk in the shopping center below the Supermaxi that sells chocolates and would be on our way home, so off we trekked. En route we bought a bag of cherries (they’re in season now) from one of those wheelbarrow produce merchants. We also saw Juan again as he was walking from a dental appointment.

All of these places we had walked to are not close to each other and we were getting really pooped, but an obstacle course loomed ahead. Our path took us around the stadium, and we discovered it was game night.

We weaved through ticket hawkers, food vendors, shirt vendors, noise-making vendors, plus lots and lots of excited fans. I think soccer is all that really matters in Latin America.

After emerging from that madhouse and purchasing the chocolates we decided to splurge and take a taxi home (that normally happens only when we’ve got too many groceries to carry). But it was late Friday afternoon, the soccer game was right up the street and roads were blocked, there were about four people waiting and no taxis in sight, so screw it, we kept walking.

Finally back home with an hour to rest up before heading out again, off came the shoes and out came the vino. Sufficiently fortified with a couple of glasses we taxied to the hotel (no more walking, we agreed!) and, as expected, enjoyed a lovely presentation of the new facilities complete with tasty hors d'oeuvres and more wine.

Then the TerraDiversa group plus the folks from another tour operator decided to take the birthday celebration elsewhere, so we piled into vehicles and went to a nearby bar. Thirteen people crammed into table space for at most ten. Here came the food. Here came the beers and more vino. In other words, here came the party!

We didn’t understand much of what was being said, but so what? Everyone was talking, laughing, and having a great time.

A ride home was offered but Calle Larga, the street where the bar is located, is party central and jammed with cars and people on the weekends. It was therefore much quicker to walk (so much for our agreement). Around 11 we arrived at the casa exhausted and inebriated. I barely remember going to bed.

So let’s recap: lunch at 1 was our one thing to do.

Instead it was: phone place+lunch+walking toTerraDiversa+walking to clinic+walking to phone place+visiting friends along the way+dodging the soccer crowd+walking to chocolate kiosk+walking home+home with wine+Mansion Alcazar+bar+walking home.

And sometimes that’s what we do all day in Ecuador.

Hummingbird Exhibit

noreply@blogger.com (Edd Staton) — Thu, 23 Aug 2012 12:35:00 +0000

It seems everyone in Cuenca except Cynthia and a survivalist wacko without a computer (just kidding) is writing a blog these days. So perhaps you've already seen photos of the hummingbird exhibit that has been in town this month.

On an absolutely glorious day we finally got around to visiting yesterday and were pretty much the only people there. Sent down to us from Quito, at least 50 sculptures have been painted and decorated in unique ways.

It's a pretty amazing display of creativity. If you haven't seen it, I highly recommend heading over to Otorongo Plaza before the end of the month.