Cuenca Again

May 31, 2013

I’m back in Cuenca for a week or so to take care of on-going eye problems.
I saw my eye doctor yesterday and I am scheduled to have cataract surgery next Tuesday. Both of my eyes have cataracts, but the left eye is down to 20% vision, so that one will be operated on first.  This is the same eye that I had laser surgery on about 8 months ago to repair a torn retina, and because I had Lasik surgery done on my eyes about ten years ago, the surgery will be a little more complicated than normal cataract removal.

I have a lot of confidence in my eye doctor here in Cuenca, and looking forward to being able to see again.  I don’t know what cataract surgery costs in the States now, but the cost of this procedure here is going to cost $1200 - $1500, depending on what type of lens is needed (to be determined during the operation).

 



The Festival of Corpus Christi started yesterday. It is a weeklong celebration that includes fireworks, bands, a multitude of the stands selling dulces, and other festivities.  It’s always fun to wonder around El Centro and Parque Caldron during these holidays.

 

 

 

 

 

In fact, it seems like every time we are in Cuenca, there is some type of holiday celebration happening, generally rooted in some religious observance (during our last trip here, it was during Palm Sunday weekend), and I love that Ecuadorians embrace merriment at the drop of a “Panama” hat.*

Taken during last visit to Cuenca
during Palm Sunday weekend.

An Olon example of a "Castillo"

I had heard that the fireworks might be limited this year in Cuenca, because one of the “globos” (incendiary paper maché hot air balloons) set fire to the roof of the seminary that adjoins the Catedral Nueva in Parque Caldron last year, though the nightly “castillos” (firework castles) will still be allowed.  There has been some heated debate in Cuenca this year between the fire department and traditionalists regarding this issue, but my bet is on the fireworks contingent.

I heard quite a few fireworks last night from my hotel room (several blocks away from the park) despite a ferocious thunder and lightning storm that passed through during the evening.

I came to Cuenca alone a couple of days ago because Todd had to work, though he is coming in later today to join me.

Tomorrow is our third wedding anniversary and we are celebrating it at Joe’s Secret Garden (Fried Chicken Night!) – which is one of the BEST and most unique places to eat in Cuenca.
 

Taken during one of our passes
through Cajas National Park

This is now my 12th trip and my twenty-third time across the Cajas pass in the last year (a three hour drive from Guayaquil to Cuenca).

And it is still a beautiful – if hair-raising – ride through generally fog shrouded mountain passes, with sharp pin turns, high cliff drop offs, and the occasional sudden landslides onto the highway. 

These days, I just generally either nap or bury my head in a book, preferring not to see my life flash beforehand if we careen off the side of the mountain, figuring that those that are sleeping or drunk have a chance of surviving these things.

I mentioned this on one of my recent Facebook status updates, and had the funniest conversation with a friend of mine (Gayle Hill) who lives in Pennsylvania:

GAYLE:

Leigh, I decided to find some pics of the area known as Cajas Pass and it is quite spectacular. I read a hiker's experience crossing that area and she described it as treacherous because it rained heavily and hailed during the hike. Anyway, it is a beautiful place and you are lucky to live Ecuador and also lucky to be fit enough to walk in the mountains.

LEIGH:

Shit, Gayle – I didn’t HIKE across the pass....LOL... Not nearly that fit… LOL!
NOOOO.....I do something even MORE treacherous when I make the trip.
I take shuttle vans with lunatic drivers each time.

This pic taken by either Todd or me/off our camera.
Around our fifth time across the Cajas before
we actually got sunshine going across.

It’s funny because there may be many words to describe me, but “athletic” would not probably be one of the first descriptions that comes to mind (said as I am firing up another cigarette as I write this).

* I hope by now, most of you reading realize that the “Panama” hat actually originated, and are made in Ecuador.

Sea Sparkle

May 26, 2013

Courtesy of the Internet

Last week, folks along the coast here were treated to four or five nights of ocean fireworks.

There was a blooming of bioluminescent algae technically known as “Noctiluca scintillans”, which according to that Oceana link:

Is “also known as sea sparkle, Noctiluca scintillans is a large dinoflagellate that lives near the surface of the ocean, where it feeds on other planktonic organisms”.

Wikipedia says this:

“High concentrations of their plankton food source that likely result from environmental conditions such as well-mixed nutrient-rich waters and seasonal circulation factors are implicated in population blooms of N. scintillans, known as “red tides”.

Swimmers may report being illuminated by a ghostly glow-in-the-dark plankton - a floating bloom of algae which fires up into a luminescent sparkle when disturbed. This gives Noctiluca scintillans the popular names "Sea Ghost" or "Fire of Sea".

Runoff from agricultural pollution may contribute to the severity of these blooms. However this is not required to cause explosive growth of Noctiluca scintillans.

Not all blooms associated with N. scintillans are red”.
 

 I lived on the coast of Southern California (Dana Point) for  15+ years, and I’m familiar with the red tides, but the phosphorescent algae that nightly bloomed here last week was a bright neon blue and apparently MAGICAL!

In particular, those who got in to swim while it was happening said it was a transcendent experience.

 

Courtesy of the Internet

 




There were numerous sightings on the Montanita and Olón beaches, including one spectacular night show witnessed by friends at T.J.’s  “Tres Palmas” bar (also see their Facebook page “Montanita Brewing Company” for more pictures) on the Montanita Point.  Some of them got great pictures, and I hope they don’t mind if I include them here. 

Courtesy of T.J. Bennett - Taken from Tres Palmas

I, unfortunately, did not get to see this marvel – but not for lack of trying. It was around the second or third night after it started that I became aware of it, and then I spent the next three nights either at Tres Palmas on the point, or perched atop one of the Olón lifeguard stands watching for it, but had no luck.



Courtesy of Tito Verdaguer - Montanita



I was told the luminescence didn’t occur with every breaking wave, so one needed to kind of watch carefully.  Maybe, maybe I saw a couple of weaker displays, but my eyes could have been playing tricks on me too.

On another note, I received this comment on my last post that I want to respond to here, rather than in the comment section:

Dear Lee,
As I read your post I wondered if my heart would ever accept the long distance between myself and my children and me for creating it. How do I keep my heart from breaking at birthdays and holidays and all the special little moments missed?
I realize children have their own lives, and don't miss us like we miss them, but that really doesn't help. How do you do it Lee? I would really like some help on how to harness the desire to be with my children and still be adventurous and live my own life.
Words of wisdom please.
Anonymous


Dear Anonymous,
Your questions provoked such a deep emotional response within me.
So much so, that I am going to answer your question here rather than in the comment section.
Without a doubt, being so far from loved ones is one of the most difficult aspects of being an expat.
As you said, it’s not just the birthdays and holidays, but all the small special moments (i.e., my youngest granddaughter’s first steps/first words; my oldest granddaughter’s first school dance; girls’ night slumber parties with my daughters pigging out on junk food and watching chick flicks).
It is being absent at times when your grown children may actually really need you to be there (despite having their own lives) and only being able to do so vicariously through Skype and Facebook and email…and living with the guilt, knowing you made the choice to move so far away from them for this “later-in-life” adventure, and at times, feeling very selfish about the decision.

On the other hand, there is also the hope that our kids and grandchildren are inspired to be “world citizens”, and see by example that it is never too late in life to take chances, to live their dreams, and to plunge into new challenges.

And with one daughter living in England for the last 10 years, another now in Germany, and my oldest in Southern California (and most of the rest of my family in Kansas), we’ve been a “far-flung” family for some time, so our relocation to South America has perhaps been an “easier” adjustment for us to make than others have had, or will experience.

 
How do I do it?
I cry.  I’ve had times in the last 3 years, since we moved to Ecuador permanently, when all I can do is weep inconsolably because I miss my family, and all that was familiar.
And I write.  That helps me a lot, even if most of it doesn’t see the light of day on this blog.

The short answer....I have no words of wisdom to offer.
You learn to live with your heart breaking at times,
Leigh
 

Courtesy of the Internet

“Your children are not your children. They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself….
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so He loves also the bow that is stable”.

Kahlil Gibran

 

 

The Olón lifeguard stand where I perched for
a couple of nights.
Picture of this gentleman sitting on that
same stand at sunset
taken a couple months ago

Jungle Light

May 6, 2013

My youngest daughter, Kacie, and her husband, Pedro (who is from Brazil), and my 2-yr old granddaughter (Clara) recently came for a 10 day visit.
Kacie and I haven’t had the opportunity to see each other in four years, and this is the first time I’ve had the chance to hold Clara in my arms, ever. 
I mean, we talk/see one another on Skype when we can, but it’s not the same thing as having my baby (with hers) here, together in person.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I also have two lovely daughters that came gifted because of my first marriage.
My oldest, Elizabeth and my 12-yr old granddaughter, Avery, live in Southern California:

(Hi Avery, if you are reading this – I really miss you, Squirt!)

Middle daughter – Katherine – has lived in England with her British husband, Clive for the last ten years. Katherine and Clive are thrillingly expecting twins (a girl and a boy) next August, and mother and babies are doing great.
And I’m really sorry that Elizabeth and Avery couldn’t make it here, since Lizbee was pretty instrumental in getting the ball rolling on this one, but ended up not being able to make it.

 

Playing in the Rio Olon

 

I believe one of the hardest consequences of being an expat is the distance from so many loved ones. 
I’m often envious of the close-knit, extended families I see here in Ecuador. Many of them will never travel further than a few hundred miles from Olón for their entire lives, nor care that there is a whole 'nother “world" out there.
They are with their families and friends, and really (?) is there anything ultimately more important than that in life?



Photo courtesy of Kacie

For that matter, I’m also jealous at times of family and friends who have never budged very far from Kansas City (where I grew up) and still enjoy all the familiar sights and traditions of that area, and chose to raise their families there….Especially during the holidays.

(though snickering behind my hand about the recent mid-west May snowstorm).

 

I think the most difficult times for me are during the holidays when everyone is posting cozy, snowy Facebook pics of their families – dressed in some festive clothing – gathered around a turkey, with a fireplace burning brightly in the background…while I am  profusely dripping sweat, trying to sweep an errant bat out of my house.

 

 

 

Anyway, Kacie has been to Ecuador to visit once before, and knew what to expect.  It can take some visitors coming to our Ecuadorian coastal areas time to reconcile the reality with pre-conceived ideas.
It doesn’t hurt that Kacie also speaks four languages fluently.  She is a linguist with the Army, and two days after they left here, they were on their way to make a new home in Germany, where she is posted for now, so I was particularly grateful that we had this time together.

Kacie and Pedro had a list of things they wanted to do while here, and I was more than happy to babysit while they did them.
That got me out of zip-lining, jungle-light expeditions and Montanita late nights, thankfully. Been there/done that.

 

 

 

What it did NOT get me out of was the “day of horseback riding on the beach”, which was top on Kacie’s checklist. The horses can be “ordered beforehand” and show right up at door, with the guide, at more or less the appointed time.  Kacie was really looking forward to riding horses on the beach.

 



 

 (she is also an accomplished equestrian).

 

Kacie requested two horses for us to ride. By a complicated formula that involved heated discussions amongst the adults, logic, default….I somehow ended up on the second horse for that venture.

I haven't ridden a horse in probably 35 years.

It was fun, except for the painful concrete saddle. I didn't even know I had bones in certain places until then.
I actually was provided with a very gentle and responsive horse (and I do know some basics, thanks to Girl Scouts and other horse riding lessons in my youth).
While the horse was very obedient to my lame nudges, I decided early on just to try and stay on the saddle with the least amount of pain, and let the horse take its own course, who was generally keeping pace with the horses of the guide and Kacie.

 

Never. Ever. Again.

 

EXCEPT --- now and then, my horse was determined to walk straight into the ocean. 
I mean – STRAIGHT OUT INTO THE SEA.
Several times – just  out of curiosity – I let the horse do it, if nothing else to see how far he planned on going with that idea (and not too worried, since I figured I could vault off the horse if he got too deep in the water) during his kamikaze missions.

I would rather cut my front lawn with a pair of child scissors than agree to do that again.

I couldn’t walk or sit comfortably for two days afterwards.

But, nevertheless, I will always treasure that experience and memory.
 

 

 

The Good and The Bad

April 25, 2013 

It’s been an incredibly long time since I’ve written.
Since I last posted, we were in Cuenca for a week, and Semana Santa has come and gone (the week before Easter), which is a big and crowded holiday on the coast; there was a huge surf tournament in Montanita the following week; we’ve been meeting with architects regarding plans for the house we are getting ready to build on our lot, and my youngest daughter and family came for a visit (I’ll write about that in my next post).
I honestly don’t know where to jump back in, so let me start here:

 

The 2013 ISA World Masters Surfing Championship was held in Montanita from April 6-14.
Twenty national teams (from all over the world) were represented, with around 150 participating athletes.  See the International Surfing Association link here to see more details and the results.

The waves and weather were perfect for it, and turned out to be a lot of fun!  Todd and I had a great time going to the contest during the final two days.

 

 

 

 

 

 

The throng that came was a wonderful, international crowd of all ages, and true surfers...dedicated to the gnarly break, and chilling out. 

For sure, it was a cool and mellow crowd of people who did come, and I hope Montanita hosts events like this again. 
My visiting son-in-law, Pedro (who is from Brazil) was thrilled to meet the Brazilian team one night while having dinner in Montanita, and had his picture taken with them.

 
 



My son-in-law, Pedro (in the red shirt) and Kacie with the Brazilian team.
Photo courtesy of my daughter Kacie's camera album.



 

 

 

 

Around 35,000 to 40,000 folks were expected to attend.   I don’t think the crowds were quite as big as expected.  They were here, but most of them must have stayed/partied on the point, at the hostels there (a cool barrio where the surfing contest took place, and around a 5 minute beach walk from the town of Montanita).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Anyone notice or looking at
 the flag on this one?

 

 

 

Montanita proper was unusually tamer than normal, considering all the people that were here – but then again – there was a very visible security and police presence everywhere, including in Olón. 

The town pulled off the tournament pretty well, and did get most (I say this with some uncertainty) of the sewer lines installed/main roads cobbled back in place JUST before the surfers arrived, and only a few places in Montanita had that whiff of poop.  Crews worked night and day tearing up the town’s roads to upgrade the sewer system, although I admit we were a little concerned when the roads were still torn up the night before the opening event.  But they pulled it off. *

 

 

 

There was some overflow into Olón.

That being said, there was an incident about 10 days prior that marred the surfing event.

We were in Cuenca when we started getting frantic emails and phone calls from our coastal friends alerting us to the fact that “some people/entity” were picking up all the dogs running loose in Montanita and surrounding towns.
Yes, it is true that the stray dogs are occasionally “culled”/euthanized here, generally using poisoned meat. But there is also a generous amount of time given beforehand via signs and announcements, so that pet-owners can keep furry family inside.

In this case, many around here feel that not enough notice was given, and that it was heavy-handedly carried out. No one entity (i.e. the “communas” – coastal town city councils, for lack of better description) is claiming responsibility.  Lots of finger pointing, lots of different stories (though no one thinks the ISA event organizers condoned or knew of the action) but the fact is that several pet dogs, obviously well-fed and wearing-collar dogs were picked up as well.
The smaller dogs and puppies were found dumped into a dumpster in the town of Palmar (about 15-20 minutes south of Montanita).

 

 

The local volunteers for the PAE (Protección Animal Ecuador”) came and humanely euthanized the surviving little ones.
The larger family-owned pets (3-6 of them, depending on who you talk to about this) have never been found.  Major consensus is that they were dumped live into the sea.

We live in Olón. We adopted a 7-8 month old beach stray almost 3 years ago. Her name is Daisy. She is a very much loved member of our family, and a beloved mascot of our neighborhood. Many of you who have visited our area know her.

She runs free, as do most all the dogs in our area. About the only dogs on leashes in town are those brought here by the gringos….expat dogs, if you will.
Daisy wears a collar, and everyone in town knows she belongs to us. She is very independent; she knows how to take care of herself.  We have taught her to stay out of trash, not beg from tables, and she is not allowed inside (with a few exceptions, like firework nights, -which terrify her - and then, only inside our house or Doug and Pam’s place).
As a former stray, she could never be restrained to a leash, nor shut up in a yard. She would hate that, and she would not be the wonderful dog we all know and love if she was restricted in that way.

Courtesy of Karen Miller
October 2010
Olon, Ecuador

You can take the stray off the beach, but you can't take the stray out of the dog....That is just the way it is here.

But during this recent culling of town dogs, some collared, obviously well-fed, well taken care of pet dogs were picked up (including dogs in yards) and evidently destroyed.

It is beyond sad.

Daisy could have been one of them.  Since we were in Cuenca when this happened, we are very fortunate to have friends in Olón who were quick to find her, and put her in a safe place during our absence.

The irony of all this to me is that the day before we left for Cuenca (on a Wednesday afternoon, and the calls/emails about dogs being picked up started coming in on Friday), I discovered a flea infested, mortally ear-cancer ridden dog laying in the corner of our bedroom as I was packing. 

(Much to my surprise… You should have seen me jump back!)

At first, I actually did think he was dead, based on the flies and the vomit-inducing, putrid smell in the room.  I guess he quietly snuck in while I had our front door was open for a breeze.
Once I got over my alarm at finding him there, and determining that he was still (barely) alive, I literally stood there and scratched my head and chin trying to figure out this one.
What to do?  A truly WTF moment.
I mean, I didn’t want to hurt the obviously fatally ailing dog getting him out of my bedroom. 

I also did not want to get bit in the process.
As luck would have it, a couple of Ecuadorian girlfriends came by for a completely different reason about two minutes later.  I was still in shock, and waved them on into the bedroom.
Then we all stood there and WTF scratched our heads and chins.

I was like:
ME:  “What to do? Who do we call about this one?”
EC GIRLFRIENDS:  “Beats the hell out of us”.
ME:  “Yeah, but the police are nearby.  Can’t we go get them, and MAYBE ask them to remove it?

And if we can’t find the town vet, would the cops then mercifully shoot it?”

The EC GIRLFRIENDS apparently agreed with what I said about shooting the dog, but shrugged about the likelyhood of the local police agreeing to off the dog with a gun.

No one knew where the town vet might be found at the moment.
 

Eventually, one of these Ecuadorian girlfriends managed to gently “sweep” the dog out of the house with a broom.  He then staggered over to Daisy’s outside water and food bowls (dripping copious, vile brown cancerous ear liquid along the path to it, inside and out).
I chose first to bleach the ick from the house and dog bowls, since Daisy was with me (and Todd was in an out-of-cell-phone reach area), though I did try and call him first, leaving a message similar to “HOUSTON, WE HAVE A PROBLEM HERE” kind of voicemail.
I went to find that poor dog after dark with a flashlight (figuring he wasn’t able to make it far), but did not find him, and now can only hope he didn’t die buried alive in a dumpster or drowned.
It might be difficult for some reading this to reconcile “leaving out the poisoned meat” method of euthanizing sick and homeless animals as an acceptable way to eliminate them, but that is the way it sometimes works here in coastal Ecuador.

Fortunately, organizations like PAE are making a difference, and worth supporting.

I for one hope the people responsible for this particular dog round-up are held accountable....and thrown into dumpsters or out to sea to drown as they did to those dogs.
 

 

 

 

*   There is still much Montanita refuse-related problems to be addressed, and work has resumed on the sewers after the World Masters ended.
The Montanita dog round-up and the on-going Montanita sewer system flaws did recently spawn a number of Ecuadorian national newspapers articles about the issues.