Blog Resurrected - from Cuenca, Ecuador

After spending my first five days in Cuenca, I've decided it's time to resurrect my blog, albeit with a slightly different look. There's so much to share about the experience of moving from Vermont and this beautiful city - and some of you might want to know.

Since my last blog, a lifetime ago in February, I have sold my house, sold my car, found homes for all my cats, put together a small shipment of things I couldn't part with, quit my job, and started the legal process of becoming a resident of Ecuador.

The list fits into one paragraph, but the experience was alternately heart-rending and exhilarating, terrifying and liberating. You gotta want it, and you gotta keep moving forward, no matter what.

Here in Cuenca, I have rented a small efficiency apartment for a month, while I look for a permanent place. It's so small that I have to step outside the bathroom to towel myself off after a shower! And while I'm doing that, if I'm not careful, I'll hit my head on the TV!

But it has WiFi, cable TV, a propane stovetop and a microwave, dishes and linens. It is just a block or so from a local mercado, and the town square is a ten-minute walk. Right across the street is one of Cuenca's four rivers, with green space on either side with benches every so often.

Cuenca is a city of 500,00 in the Andes, at an altitude of 8,300 ft. I'm keenly aware of the altitude every time I go out walking - any uphill stretch or set of stairs sets my heart racing. But that should be gone soon.

Families rule here. They stroll around together, mother holding the newest baby, father watching the toddler running in front. They are not in a hurry, but clearly enjoying each others' company. There are no strollers here - babies are held or carried on their mother's back. They are held close in loving arms, not separated from their parent by a stroller or car seat. Think it might make a difference in how a kid turns out?

Another striking thing here is the tight pants syndrome. Young girls and women alike wear the tightest pants I have ever seen! Spray painted on.

It goes without saying that I stick out like a sore thumb here, with my gringa looks. But people are polite, friendly, helpful and very patient with my attempts to communicate in Spanish.

I'll start taking some conversational Spanish lessons tomorrow, but so far I have managed to buy a cell phone (Thank God the instruction book was in English and Spanish), do some grocery shopping, and take the bus around town.

This afternoon I'll start looking at apartments, which is turning out to be a tad frustrating. All the fantastic places that are posted on the Internet turn out to be non-existent. Some people advise using a real estate agent, others say keep away from those real estate agents. It's going to be an adventure!

Now it begins

My travel itch was born when I was fifteen and my mother took an overseas teaching position in Medellin, Colombia. I didn't know I would get an itch - I was dragged kicking and screaming from my California teenage universe. I'd never been in a plane when I got on the flight to Miami.

On that flight from Miami to Barranquilla, an engine blew [chronological give-away] and my brother turned a pukey shade of green in the heat and humidity of the airport lounge where we waited while they repaired the plane. The delay meant we had to overnight in Bogota, because the Medellin airport had no lights for night landings.

The next day, a man pushed me down the escalator at the Bogota airport, as he rushed to get his seat on the plane to Medellin. Ruined my nylons and started a lifelong fear of getting on the down escalator.

So, okay, it might be hard to see how the itch to travel got started with this beginning scenario, but somehow, it did, and basically, I've been trying to get somewhere ever since.

After eight (8) years in rural Vermont, I'm getting pretty itchy, and have begun looking into how I can escape to another country. Today, my country of choice is Ecuador and this blog is going to take me there.