Cuenca or Bust

OUR ECUADOR STORY #11: "¡Feliz Año Nuevo!" y Adios a 2024

Last night we ventured out close to midnight to see the New Year's Eve goings-on in Cuenca and it's something to see! This is our third "New Year" in Cuenca, but only our first observations of New Year's Eve. On December 31, 2023 we were sick with covid and the year before that we were very green here and didn't know anything of the traditions. When at first we heard of the burning of effigies on New Year's Eve I was, admittedly somewhat shocked, but warmed up to it when I understood more— that the effigies— usually paper maché characters of all kinds, or clothes stuffed with something— represent a symbolic cleansing of what was bad in the prior year, to make way for a fresh start. Sounds like a healthy practice to me.

Last night It was rainy, and the only things we could see, at first, to indicate that anything was up were a small sprinkling of other pedestrians, like ourselves, and here and there some vendors with their manigotes, or año viejos, on display. Some people were carrying away their manigotes individually, or loading up trucks to take somewhere else. Seeing these manigotes assured us that somewhere in this city— which seemed so quiet at the moment— there would be fireworks, and fires, and celebrations on the streets. For manigotes are burned only once a year, and this year that would be tonight, only about 30 minutes away.

We walked through empty neighborhoods where we had thought celebrations would be, We laughed at our own ignorance of how things work here, and gradually made our way to old town, which surely, if anything were happening, it would be there.

We were not disappointed. We stumbled across a party in the street where people were dancing to music, and some very large manigotes were set up on display. It made me laugh as I tried to understand the sign one of those huge paper maché dolls was saying and as I looked I could make out that it said, basically, "What are you looking at, dummy?" ("¡Qué mira bobo!") It seemed to be a large family party, and as there were many spectators and no one seemed to mind, we joined in with the spectators, underneath an awning on this rainy night— to witness the burning of the manigotes.

What else can I say? We saw what we expected to see, and what you see pictured here. One person even jumped over the fiery pile, which we already knew some people do. I half hoped— and half didn't— that I would see this. (I don't want to see anyone get hurt). Some people hugged, some people continued dancing, and generally there was an air of positivity. I hope someday I'll be connected enough with Cuencano friends that I can join in the fun as a participant rather than a spectator. Although I must say, though every time I see dancing here I feel so tempted, but the dancing here is so energetic— I'd need to work out my lungs a lot more before I join in on that part of it.

I am always interested in how things came to be, and so I looked up the burning of manigotes that takes place in Ecuador on New Year's Eve. To my surprise, it seems to have started here in Cuenca. Documentation of the early beginnings is sketchy, but this is a brief summary of what I found out:

The modern tradition of effigy burning in Ecuador most likely started in Cuenca in the early 20th century, with strong influences from both indigenous Andean rituals and European colonial customs. From there, it spread to other major cities like Quito and Guayaquil, and eventually to rural areas throughout the country. The practice became more than just a symbolic ritual, incorporating satirical commentary and becoming an important part of Ecuador's New Year’s Eve celebrations. Over the decades, mass media, tourism, and commercialization helped to solidify it as a national tradition, making effigy burning an iconic event on the Ecuadorian calendar.

OUR ECUADOR STORY # 10 : There Was an Old Woman Who Lived in a Bowl, Part 1

If you are descended from Western Europe you may have been expecting the last word to be “Shoe”. If you are not, this title probably seems odd and nonsensical. Impressions of things (little things or big things) are interpreted through the lens of where we come from. When I first knew I would be moving to Ecuador it felt it to be like a “consolation prize”-- good, but not the best-- that it couldn’t be Europe. But I wondered, what if I were a Latina? Would Ecuador (or somewhere else In South America) have been the dream-come-true retirement?

The first writing after the decison to move to Cuenca reflects this “consolation prize” attitude, and a little of my desire to reframe it. Read for yourself. Does it ring true for you too?

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“WHAT ABOUT CUENCA?

“What about Cuenca? What is it though, about Paris, Venice, London or the Cotswolds, heck, even Amsterdam, Monaco or Copenhagen that catches one’s attention, gets one breathing a little faster, and puts the travel bug in one’s shoes? It’s Europe — magical elegant Europe that wakens some sort of fantasy life of elegance and style, or perhaps intellectual delights, or an ambiance fit for the “artiste”. BUT…

“What about Cuenca, Ecuador? I have no hope of affording living my end of life in magical Europe. Or even familiar U.S.A. My destination is Cuenca, Ecuador. So, what about Cuenca? It doesn’t have the same sparkle, pizzazz, ad starry-eyed dreaminess of Europe. It is something different. But what?

“I predict that it will be like life anywhere on Earth or even the International Space Station. There will be people, who in some ways will be like me, and in some ways different from me. There is a lot of adventure to look forward to in that.”

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More about the "bowl", coming in Part 2.

Our Ecuador Story #9: The Useful Phrase I Don’t Want to Have to Say

The phrase I’m referring to is helpful in making connection with others. Yet, it’s a symbol that I’m largely cut off from the vast majority of people here in Cuenca.

With the help of aforementioned phrase, my first week in Ecuador gave me my first real encounter with an Ecuadoran human being in a public place. I was sitting (by myself) with my sketchpad in El Mercado de Las Flores. (In English: the flower market.) When I’m with David (Doug) I can usually rely on him to know what is being communicated in Spanish, but this was the first time I was out without him. In addition to the general shyness of being in a new place, I was feeling further insulated coming out for the first time after a long bout of being sick. A young man walked up to me and spoke lots of Spanish at me, a mile a minute, and I had no clue what it was about. I was experiencing some mental paralysis, not having the words to deal with this unfamiliar, yet benign sitituation. After the initial brain freeze, I thawed enough for my eyes to notice that he was holding a package of black trash bags, which gave me the understanding that he was trying to sell me some.

My brain now had something to work with. I knew that I didn’t want to buy the bags. I also knew that I wanted to be polite and friendly. And suddenly, unexpectedly, somewhere in my belly “the phrase” made itself known, and erupted triumphantly up through my body and out my mouth in a proud and loud explosion: “NO INTIENDO MUCHO ESPAÑOLl!” With equal volume and enthusiasm the young trash-bag salesperson volleyed back: “WEA AH YU FUOM!”

This two-part outburst then prompted both me and bag salesman to simultaneously communicate together in the international language: LAUGHTER. I answered his question since it was one I could answer in Spanish, and from there we were able to have a little 3-minute or so conversation, him using his little bit of English and me using my little bit of Spanish.

It’s a memory that sticks with me vividly. To this day when that phrase “No intiendo mucho Español” comes into my head, it prompts an internal shout/ laughter sequence, and an external smile. To me it was joyful, because (1) it was my first real connection with a Spanish-speaking stranger, and (2) I recognized it as an important passage: a real step (albeit, baby step) toward the long and winding road of assimilation in my new chosen country.

AN ESSENTIAL THING FOR ME TO SAY

Since that time the phrase “No intiendo mucho Español” is easier for me to access, and I’ve said it many times. It’s been essential.

In fact, just yesterday while shopping I said it twice. The first time, someone seemed to need some help. It was only later that I pieced together what she probably needed, but I wouldn’t have been able to help her anyway. But when had I said “No intiendo mucho Español. Lo siento,” (meaning I’m sorry) she smiled, laughed and nodded, and good-naturedly said, “tambien” (also), which I think indicated that she was sorry too.

I like this kind of exchange because even though I can’t engage as expected, still, (said with the correct attitude) “the phrase” can help me make a friendly connection— which is really a human need. Sometimes when I say it, the focus shifts to “Where are you from,” “My son is in New Jersey,” “How long have you been in Cuenca,” “Do you like my city.” A little chance for mutual language practice. And, to me more importantly, I sense that something deeper is communicated: “I am human.” “I am human too. Let’s be human together for just a few moments.”

There was one time when an employee in a fabric store rolled her eyeballs at me, but usually the response is kind, or at least neutral. Sometimes it’s just a little smile in the corner of the mouth, followed by the easy Spanish words that I need in order to understand. Usually the response is good-natured. With a nod, a smile, and more attentive eye-contact with me.

When I am making transactions, the phrase makes for good efficiency. Usually the other person knows exactly what to do or say to make the transaction happen smoothly. It’s their businses and they’ve been doing it for years, so It seems to come easy to them and without a hitch.

Like yesterday, while shopping. I bought an empanada from a little coffee kiosk. When I said “No intiendo mucho Español,” the guy rephrased himself in one word: “Aqui?” (here?) “No.” “Llave? (to carry?) “Sí.” Once again, “the phrase” came to my rescue, and I could painlessly get what I needed.

I DON'T WANT TO NEED TO SAY IT

But other times it just isn’t helpful at all. Like yesterday, still in the supermarket, a guy was trotting through the aisle (in a hurry I guess) and right next to me he tripped on an empty box and fell. To. the. ground! I looked at him and animatedly said to him: “uh!… uh!… uh!… uh!…,” while being fully aware that these words were not the helpful ones I was looking for. Neither would my go-to phrase “I don’t understand much Spanish” have been helpful in that scenario. The guy got up and was ok, and I was glad for that. Two things struck me about my odd communication in that situation. 1) I looked like a fool. That was ok. The more bother-y part was 2) If he (or someone in a future situation) would not have been ok, I would not have known what to say or do in order to assist that person.

So today I am thinking about the phrase, “No intendo mucho Español,” as extremely limited. Using it, I can get what I need but I can’t help others to get what they need. I can have a little human exchange but I can’t make friends.

So, as I have said, it has been an extremely helpful tool in my toolbox. But it’s not gong to be enough.

Apartamentos Otorongo is affordable, peaceful, and located near historic downtown. The owners are very helpful and friendly. This gave us peace of mind as new immigrants. It was truly a haven during our first 2-1/2 months in Ecuador. (You can read more about our experience of Apartamentos Otorongo on my page: Cuenca or Bust)

Our Ecuadory Story #8: In Which We Leave Our Peaceful Haven and the Training Wheels Come Off

We have just departed our beloved haven: Hotel Apartamentos Otorongo. (hotelotorongo.com). This lodging was much more than simply a place to stay; it became dear to our heart. Not only because:

- it was our first “home” in Ecuador;
- there is a peaceful courtyard and garden;
- the gorgeous Rio Tomebamba runs alongside of it;
- it is positioned right across the river from the historic district of Cuenca;
- there is an art store a short walk away, and great restaurants close by.

All of these things are true and we couldn’t have picked a more perfect location. But our love for Apartamentos Otorongo is more than these things. It made us feel safe. To adequately describe our feelings about this, I must go back in time for a moment.

Let us wind the clock back 19 years, to November, 2004. The place is Hanoi, Vietnam. We have just arrived at the airport as green as can be, never having been in Southeast Asia, and having just enough language to say “hello”, “thank you” and count to 10. Somehow we learned that a piece of our luggage is missing, and not forthcoming until much later that night. Talk about an anxious moment, followed by an apprehensive several hours. We had NO clue what to do. But with the kind and competent help of our host Sandy Harrison, and Liz VanSkike and Zack Grelling, we became reassured, realizing that we were not alone. Whatever would come up in that unfamiliar place could be handled. When traveling abroad, it is GOOD to have a haven!

Fast-forward our time machine to November 2022. The place is Cuenca, Ecuador. Here I can do more than say “hello”, “thank you” and count to 10. Doug can do quite a bit more than I can. But this time the stakes are so much higher. For we are not tourists, we are immigrants. We had put “all the meat on the grill.” Would we feel lost and tossed about in the place that is now our only home? On arrival, this was the state we were in:

We were disoriented after the frenzied preparations, travel and the reality that sights, sounds and customs all were different from what we have been accustomed to. BUT we were greeted at the airport by a very friendly young man who spoke English well. He drove us to Hotel Apartamentos Otorongo and guided us to our apartment. (He was the son of the owners). WE FELT WELCOME.

I was very sick, and we both were fatigued. BUT it was a tremendous relief when we could occupy our own peaceful, private apartment, where I could plop down on a comfortable bed and sleep (which is what I did mostly for my first few days in Ecuador). WE COULD DECOMPRESS.

We didn’t know— with our limited Spanish-language—how easy or difficult it would be to take care of all that we needed to do: learn how to get around, get food and other stuff we needed, take care of our visa and other legal affairs, set up a home, build a community, and ultimately live life as immigrants in an unfamiliar land. Besides, what if something goes wrong that we can’t handle. BUT when we met the owners, we found that they were very kind and very helpful, and we could communicate with them well. WE KNEW THAT WE WERE NOT ALONE.

Fortunately, nothing went wrong (as with the luggage snafu of Hanoi). Still, having the competent support of friendly people who we could communicate with made all the difference. This gave us the peace of mind we needed as we went out and about, learning how to live as immigrants in Cuenca, Ecuador, South America.

Fast forward again to yesterday. We are newly launched into this Cuenca life on our own. And… we are ready! During those first several weeks in Cuenca— from a place where we felt safe— we had the freedom to go out and accomplish the hard stuff. Hotel Apartamentos Otorongo was the soft landing we needed for this huge leap of immigrating to a foreign place.

Yes, it undoubtedly IS good to have a haven! Does this story bring to mind a much-needed haven that you had — while traveling, or during a change in your life, or any situation?

Our Ecuador Story #7: Still tourists!

Don’t get me wrong, we don’t want to be to tourists forever! I’ve been anticipating (and hoping!) that there will be a deep satisfaction in putting down roots here, building a sense of familiarity, and settling into the rhythms of a life in this new place. Eventually that will happen, complete with the upsides (belonging, security, opportunities to step out and grow) and the downsides (responsibilities, boredom, and the old mental “tapes” that try to keep us down). BUT… RIGHT NOW…

WE ARE STILL IN THE HONEYMOON STAGE WITH CUENCA!

“David” (you know: Doug) gets his kicks from exploring the city on foot. For all of his life, whenever he arrives at a new place the first thing he wants to do is obey the call of his feet to get out of the door and explore. As for “Susana” (you know, me), its aesthetics — I savor the plants, hills, the ambiance of the hotspots, the art. Together we have been visiting lots of places where tourists would go. As times passes here in Cuenca, we will do more of “real life”, but we MUST still reserve time and make traditions for these special adventures.

That said, last night was a blast! Maybe you can relate when I say, there are some places that are cathartic JUST TO BE THERE! The sights, sounds, movement, the sense of humanity, and some certain something, or just everything— I don’t know. I first noticed this phenomenon 22 years ago when “David” & I stumbled upon Rockefeller Plaza in New York City. There was a heightened excitement in me, and I felt the air full of anticipation. As if something really important was about to happen. So we stayed to watch the program. But nothing happened. Wind whipped is some flags, people skated, others sat around tables eating expensive food, some drummed on oil drums nearby, and Santa’s helpers rang their bells to collect donations. That’s all that happened. But there was a feeling to me that felt like a lot happened, and I went away from it feeling as if I’d reached the top, as if I’d experienced one of the 7 Wonders of World. I’ve felt it on a few other occasions.

Last night was one of those occasions. It was Cuenca’s Christmas “tree” lighting at Parque Mira Flores. There was a program: lots and lots of speeches over the loudspeaker, but we understood none of that (except that occasionally the word “Cuenca” could clearly be understood). But to us, the program was the park itself and everything in it. It would have been well worth going just to see the big conical metal “tree”, the many many Christmas-themed installations throughout the park, and the fun of the families and kids playing.

But then, as night gradually approached, little by little, the Christmas installations lit up with colorful “Christmas” lights (as we would call those pretty little bulbs in the U.S.). And the park gradually became more dense with humanity as the time for the lighting approached. Young couples, groups of friends, kids playing and walking hand-in-hand or riding piggy-back with the adults in their lives. And along with all the other people we were exploring the art, gazing, taking pictures, and buying snacks and toys that blink with color (yes, I did, I got one! I got a wreath for my head that had flowers, tinsel and blinky lights).

Then we sat on a hillside that served the purpose of bleachers last night. “David” felt the growing chill of the night air, while I (usually relying more on the imaginary tricks that emotions can play) sensed a growing warmth as more and more people arrived, filling in the spaces around us. After a good while “David” joked that maybe we should start a chant “Light That Tree!” and I laughed. But neither of us felt in a hurry for it — it was good just be there. Eventually, the tree got lit from bottom to top, then the star got lit, and the sky above us got lit up too— with fireworks. And when I say above us, I mean DIRECTLY above us. I laid on my back marveling at this whole serendipitous experience, my mind blown away, but also with enough presence of mind to be thinking, “I wonder if any moment some super hot ash or ember will land in my eye.

Nothing dangerous landed in my eye, but “David” said he got a little something— not hot or even warm, but sulfury— that landed on his hand. Eventually we got up to go, brushing the grass off of our pants, when “David” ’s wedding ring slipped off his finger and was lost in the dark. We had our own little Easter egg hunt then, using just the light from the tree, my wreath, and flashlights, and after about 20 minutes he found it down the hill next to someone’s thigh. Whew! A little too much detail now as I re-live the night, so I’ll sign off here, and just say: I think this tree-lighting thing will be the first established new holiday tradition in this new life. Does my post remind you of some similar experience? Or a tradition? Do tell!

Our Ecuador Story #6

“All great beginnings start in the dark, when the moon greets you to a new day at midnight.”
― Shannon L. Alder

I am not sure what I expected. It wasn’t this. But this if fine. I like it.

In the movies, when a big event is expected the action crescendos, rolling us forward in a rising tide until the big event pops out and showers its actuality all over you. Like the big showdown between Harry Potter and Voldemort. Or the giving of gifts by the Wizard of Oz that makes us feel all gooey and good when it's revealed that everyone had what they needed after all.

Doug and I had been preparing for and LIVING for OUR “big event” these past 3 years, 7 months, and 11 days, and we certainly experienced the crescendo. But then, a couple days before the move, I got sick. My emotions went flat and I just was going through the motions, carried along with the support of Doug, and Octavia — our friend and “taxi mom” that got us to the airport, with much love and a care package included.

I only vaguely noted that this was really the big event and soon we’d be be in our long-awaited new hometown. I only vaguely noticed the art in all the airports and recognized that if I were not sick I’d be exploring and photographing all of it. When we arrived at our temporary lodgings (2 month stay) I only vaguely noted the Spanish charm and lovely views, recognizing that I would appreciate this later.

For the whole trip I only wanted to gape in a stupor, or sleep, in turns. The only moment that bore any resemblance to a "ta da!" moment was that moment when I could finally lie down for a long uninterrupted sleep.

That’s life. What we expect isn’t always how it is. I’m glad. This sense of calm is feeling good right now. Little by little this new life will reveal itself.