TheExpatJournals.com

Yesterday, I was invited to have lunch with an Ecuadorian family. It was quite an experience for me as we spent roughly 4 hours together between lunch and conversation afterwards…in Spanish. While quite a bit of time was dedicated to American politics, quite a bit of time was also dedicated to discussing various events and tragedies in various powerful families in Cuenca.

One of the things that inevitably strikes me in Latin America is how everybody knows everything about everybody. No wonder! It’s like folklore in that the same stories are repeated and dissected from various angles without the topic ever seeming to grow old. There’s apparently a priest in Cuenca who, in spite of appeals from all walks of life and all aspects of government, refused permission to re-open one of the 400+ year old original calles of Cuenca. This was pointed out to equal having lots of power. It is not uncommon here to be introduced to someone along with how they tie into the family. “This is so and so who is my mother’s brother’s wife’s cousin” for an example. So, unless you’re heard these stories for years, it’s sort of difficult to retain with all the various ins and outs and names that are unfamiliar. At one point, I said simply, “I think I prefer just not knowing.”

Another topic of conversation revolved around what constitutes ‘Patrimony’ and what doesn’t. The family has some beautiful colonial and pre-Colombian pottery. It seems to me this is a huge problem waiting to happen for some foreigners. Paintings of certain well known Ecuadorian artists fall under Patrimony. Like Guayasamín or Kingman, both of which also adorned the walls of this family’s house. Colonial sculpture and pre-Colombian pottery falls under Patrimony. When something is declared under the jurisdiction of Patrimony, you are not allowed to remove it from the country.

Here’s Wikipedia’s list of famous Ecuadorian painters.

I know a man in Cuenca with thousands of pieces of absolutely magnificant Inca and Canari pottery…museum quality pieces..many of his finest pieces are stored in an attic. He can sell to someone inside Ecuador, but the items are not allowed to leave Ecuador. I specifically asked whether or not museums could be an exception. No. It seems to me that certain pieces of pottery might be better in a museum setting where thousands each week might be exposed to Ecuador culture, but apparently that logic does not hold sway. So the pieces sit in storage. He has so many exquisite, perfectly intact pieces, many small, but I also think of one ‘tomb’ he has that is a giant vessel with the geometric carvings so uncannily similar among most primitive cultures as well as a perfectly intact 3D lizard. The pot is 2000 years old.

A reputable dealer will warn someone when a piece is Patrimony, but others may simply keep quiet and collect the money. I’m told that the post office is opening and repacking most boxes leaving the country and that if you try to ship a piece out of Ecuador, you could land in jail. Same would be true of smuggling something on a plane. If searched, you could get into trouble. So careful when shopping here because as incredible as these pieces are and as inexpensive as they are (relatively speaking), it could be quite the temptation.

Another thing that struck me about having lunch with this family was what gracious hosts they were. The daughters would come in and welcome me to the home with a kiss on the cheek. Everyone kisses one time on one cheek here. It’s used like we use handshakes in the US. I’m still getting used to it because even after months, my lifelong inclination to reach out my hand is still there. Beautiful lunch, beautiful family and a wonderfully warm way to spend Sunday afternoon. No wonder family is the number 1 value here.

When I returned home, I actually headed next door to discuss something with my neighbor that I had put off doing. And there, I was invited in to have aquita, crackers, cheese and jam. Aguita is simply hot flavored water. Up until yesterday, I thought it was spelled as it was pronounced…ouita or wheeta. When I was in the hospital for that awful stomach condition, by Day 2, I was ready to try to eat something and so was excited when the lady came round with my big breakfast tray. But when I opened the tray, the only thing there was a cup of aguita. That was actually when I learned the word. I asked, “What is this?” What sounded like wheeta was the response.

So after hours of Spanish, once again, I’m speaking Spanish in an Ecuadorian home having hot cinnamon flavored water with crackers, homemade mozzerella and orange jelly. Here, jelly and jam is simply mermalada. And I have to tell you, I’m still getting used to the Cuenca accent so still must focus in order to understand what is being said. They all tell me I speak Spanish just fine, but I know how bad my grammar is and I still cannot conjegate many verbs, so tend to speak in present tense. But I am understood. They have a saying (dicho) here about my level of Spanish. They say, “It is enough to defend yourself.”

They have a lof of sayings here, but I can’t remember most of them. One I learned recently was “Dios le page” instead of simply ‘gracias’ when receiving a gift of food. Anything else is thank you, but food is different. Back when I was getting my cedula and had to do so in Registro Civil which is just about the most chaotic scene I’ve ever encountered in any bureaucratic setting…which is saying a lot…the Jefe kindly took me under his wing and walked me through what I needed done by delegating the various duties to employees. I was taken care of. Which was good because there are zero signs pointing to any direction, zero instructions, and people packed in groups that are not lines waiting to do God knows what. Even watching for awhile was not informative.

Later, I took the man a basket of nice breads and goodies to which he replied, “Dios le page”. Because the seed had been planted that he had maybe helped me out in hopes of a tip, I half wondered if this bizarre response equalled, “I’d rather have money.” So I was glad to learn this ‘dicho’ was simply a thank you.

To digress for a moment, in Panama, the wealthy are called rabiblancos because, no matter how bronze they turn in the sun at their beach houses, pull down those swimming trunks and their ass is white…rabi - tail, blanco - white. (BTW, the BMW driving, AmEx wielding kids of rabiblancos are called yeyecitos. While rabiblanco has become somewhat matter of fact, yeyecitos is still a bit derogatory.) So down here, I learned yesterday there is a name used to describe especially the wealthy in Guayaquil…pelucones. The word has its origin in peluca, wigs the aristocrats used in colonial days. Think barristers in court in London. Or check wikipedia here.

It apparently is used in a derrogatory way and is used often by Correa. I suppose if I read more about Correa in Spanish or listened to his weekly speeches, I might have learned that before now. I looked up the word on google and found this flickr set entitled, ‘Pelucones y Aspirantes a Pelucones.’ Even if you don’t know any Spanish, the cognate surely gives that one away. Here’s that link.

The last time I had a meal and social time with an Ecuadorian family was Carnaval with my next door neighbor. Carnaval in Cuenca is akin to Thanksgiving in the US in that it is a holiday meal time with family. But yesterday, after hours of Spanish already, I had reached some saturation point for the day. I mean, it’s one thing to be out and about and have interaction in Spanish, but to have four hours of conversation is a whole different ballgame. I get tired and begin resisting. So I begged off early using ‘feeding my dog’ as an excuse. It was quite late in the day by now and the dog actually did need to be fed. But that was not the real reason.

What I have found to be true in Latin America in general, but especially here in Cuenca is that to be rude is something akin to a mortal sin. Yes, I have sinned. I think it’s hard for most Americans not to be agressive in the face of frustration. That is what worked for us in the US. But here, that is not only counterproductive, but will label you as something akin to low class.

Again, back when I was still in the Visa process, I learned after 4 months that my Cuenca lawyer had been lying to me and was not doing the job I had paid him to do. He had been telling me that my application was submitted the second week of October, so when I learned…after much frustration to boot…that it was still not submitted at the end of January, to say I was unhappy is seriously understating it.

Perhaps it was growing up in the south where people smile in your face and say what they really think behind your back, but when I went in to fire him, I backed out relatively gracefully using the excuse that I needed an attorney who could speak in English as my Spanish was just not good enough to understand enough to avoid the mounting levels of frustration. Let me tell you…that was not at all what I was thinking. What was I was thinking could only be aired on HBO, not network television.

Living in NYC with it’s straightforward, agressive culture all those years allowed me the freedom to use even my opinions as a weapon upon occasion. Agressive there equals good. People don’t take it personally. It’s strength. Down here, that is so NOT the case. It’s more like living in the south. Honestly, I prefer this civility. I’ve shed the years of NYC and grown reaccustomed to something more akin to what it was like growing up. Yes, my roots are showing.

So I left my neighbor’s home yesterday and walked in our garden with the dogs. Because the mighty Yanuncay is in our backyard, that’s a blessing and a constant source of awe. I still so love the rock bench built into the embankment where it is so peaceful to sit in the afternoon sun enjoying that hidden, ensconced spot with the cool river breezes, but when it rains here or in the Cajas, the Yanuncay turns into a force to be reckoned with. One day this week, it was so high and rushing so hard that I had to just go stare. What made no sense to me at all was the sound. It’s one thing to hear the rushing of a swollen mountain river, but there were also many loud crashing, booming noises that just did not compute. Later, I ran that by a local who explained it was because the raging current carried many smaller rocks so what I heard was those traveling rocks being slammed by the current onto the boulders in the river. Aha! Made perfect sense. Things in general are making more and more sense all the time.

Cuenca is an incredible place to live. In some ways, I feel like all I have been through was to lead me to here where it is gentle. I remember once many years ago my son was discussing with my ex and I our differences. He was a kid, but you know what they say? Out of the mouths of babes…Anyway, he had stated quite simply that I was looking for peace and my ex wanted to be ‘cool’. Well, indeed my ex went on to finish writing a book that has become the standard in it’s topic (a genre of rock music) and that later became a film that debuted at Sundance. So he finally got what he wanted…to be cool. No doubt his parents still pay the bills, but he’s cool. And me? Maybe, just maybe, the Universe steered me here to this beautiful city with the possibility, no the probability of a civil and peaceful life.