#2421: What a difference a week makes in Cuenca

Post 2421

- 9 years and 52 days since I started this blog -

  

Journal
(written about Feb 16-Feb 21, 2020)

Read this once (it won't change for the rest of the trip(s): I'll be linking this post to Facebook. If that's how you got here, here's some background: About 10 years ago I started this blog as a food journal. I had a medical situation and needed to lose weight. Initially, that's all I did here: Journal my food intake and my weight. It contributed to helping me lose 20+% of my body weight in 6 months, and continuing it has kept me on track since then. I started adding commentary after a while, but lately it that has become less frequent. 

While I'm traveling, I let go of the weight-tracking and food journaling, except for the occasional food shot when I've eaten something interesting (or visually appealing, or both). And that's where we find ourselves now.

It's been a week.

One thing that is true about me is that I'm easy to please. There's a threshold of enjoyment, and the bar isn't that high, but once breeched, I'm good. >

Cuenca breached that threshold easily. There was enthusiasm from other North Americans that had already moved here. The charm of the Cuencanos. The near-perfect weather. The culture I've not even made a good start in getting familiar with. The good music I got to hear and play. The very low cost of living. The surprisingly good food.

I collected all those positives with nary a mention of the downsides. All that was before I saw or heard about any of the negatives. This third week here, I've been exposed to the other side.

I don't think the negative opinions and experiences sum up to a good argument against living in Cuenca, but they are being taken into consideration.

In no particular order, here's some of the stuff that happened this week:

I had what I think was the best cup of coffee I ever had. At Sinfonia - Roaster and Cafeteria, I had the best cup of coffee I've had in Cuenca, or anywhere else. It was at very first taste, the best cup of coffee I've ever had.

At Sinfonia, the owner buys his choice of organic beans directly from local, Fair-Trade, organic farmers. He roasts the beans (in the store) in small batches. He is a trained barista, and so, apparently, is his staff. I think the very brief tree-to-cup time has everything to do with how amazingly flavorful and complex this cup was.

I've been drinking coffee since I was fifteen. Then, I tried to make it taste as much like coffee ice cream as I could.

When I was nineteen, I was in Pittsburgh, and met a friend who ground their own beans for coffeee. He was a super-cool guy, a partner at Free Being Records, one of the hippest record stores I ever knew of. He explained that a cup of great coffee, made well, from good beans, was no more than a penny or two more expensive than supermarket ground coffee, so could be enjoyed by anyone. Even with milk and sugar added, I could taste the difference. It made sense to me. I began buying all my coffee at Zabar's.

Seven years later I was asked, by a restaurateur I was doing some audio installation work for, to taste-test different grinds of coffee - he was trying to calibrate a new grinder.

When I said, I didn't drink coffee black, he and the chef (his wife) gave me a lecture about coffee appreciation. That's when I started drinking coffee black, and I've never gone back.

Am I boring you talking about coffee? Sorry. It was a big moment and a great experience for me, drinking that cup of delicious coffee

That was probably the high point, of the last few days, but there was other good stuff.

Another thing I found was some phenomenal Ecuadorian chocolate. Pacari. Ecuadorian chocolate is among the best in the world, but unlike coffee, the plight of cacao producers is, well, much worse. It is really hard to produce good beans. But they're doing it in Ecuador, and in the very recent past, Ecuador has developed a reputation for great chocolate.

It is. I'm enjoying some a dark chocolate with chili bar right now. Yes, I wish I could share. But, sorry.

I had a nearly-three-hour immersion Spanish class that left me feeling stupid, but I got over that pretty quickly (secret of my success: Forgive myself quickly - AKA, get over yourself), and I'm going to go back.

I had some beers in a bar (imagine that) where the owner challenged me to name a song he didn't have in his collection. He came up with Joy of Cooking's 'Closer to the Ground' and the Blue Magic's 'Sideshow' and the Stylistics' 'People Make the World Go Round' and I happily admitted defeat. Very happily. The beer was good, too.

That was where I met a guy that made an impression on me, in a negative way. After a very affable conversation about where we were from, and my questioning how he'd come to live in Cuenca, he told me how much he liked it here, but then went to great descriptive lengths concerning the fortified, walled-off ("12 effin' feet high and electric") fortress he'd built himself.

I mentally checked out. I think I understand that kind of thinking, but don't like or agree with it.

To be fair, I don't feel like I have anything to protect (freedom being just another word for nothing left to lose), and I wouldn't want to live in a place where I felt like that. But the way some people think about it, there isn't another option, which is part of the problem I have with that kind of thinking. They're trapped by their possessions. I won't be, although I'm not quite there yet.

At a restaurant called A Pedir de Boca, which is also where the immersion Spanish class was held, and is a place I really like a lot, I met with a facilitator, Isabel. A facilitator is someone who, for a fee, helps with any issues involved with relocating to Ecuador, mainly getting residency. It's a profession that sprang up when some educated Ecuadorans realized that lawyers were getting all the expat trade to get their visas, when the process didn't require an actual lawyer, just someone who knew the rules and how to work the system.

Many facilitators also serve as all-purpose concierge, and will be helpful in finding a place to live, and dealing with a lot of other aspects of moving to a new country. (Foreshadowing).

It was a very positive meeting. Isabel speaks perfect English. She came with the highest recommendation from someone whose recommendations have checked out 100% - in fact, he is a client, even after seven years here in Cuenca.

Every question I asked was met with an answer. Visa stuff, financial stuff, health insurance stuff. She boasts (and so far, no one has come forward to contradict her) a 100% success rate getting visas. And other people attest to her compassion and honesty and helpfulness.

Beyond making Isabel's acquaintance, at lunch we had Cuencano Carnaval soup, special, made once a year. I have no idea what's in it. Dozens of ingredients were easily visible in it, and it tasted amazing. One of the best soup meals I've had anywhere.

In counterpoint, my visit to what is reputedly Cuenca's best Thai restaurant was less successful. The spring rolls were wrong. Too big, too many too-thick layers of dough in the wrapping, not as many, or as correct, veggies in the filling. They weren't bad, but they weren't Thai-like. The drunken noodles with chicken that followed won't bring me back, even though the level of spice was exactly as asked for (that isn't easy anywhere).

Working with what's available and fresh is desirable, but here it means you don't have all the desired ingredients for authentic Thai. The cost was on the high-side, too, compared to what the dish would have cost in Chiang Mai. And that includes a multiple for being on the other side of the planet. It should have cost twice as much, and it cost three or four times as much.

Much better is the Kamaq Burger at the Wednesday night jam (at Kamaq Gastro Arte and Cultura), where, in addition to a really good meal (I think the young chef in the open kitchen is very talented) I had another great musical outing, got to play a lot and with some good musicians I'd played with before. I also had the luxury of a sound check that let the audience and musicians hear better what I was playing. From comments I got thaat was a good thing.

As I said, I played a lot, got a lot of love, and had a good meal. I also got turned on to another open mic, and invited to (maybe) play at one of the guys' gigs. This is good. More playing time is good.

I met an expat who doesn't seem to like Cuenca, where she's lived for a year-and-a-half, after living in many foreign countries, including ten years in China, immediately preceding her move to Cuenca. She doesn't like the food. She thinks the people are lazy. She thinks Cuenca is boring. She was interesting to talk with. She did not discuss plans to move away. I understand some of her complaints, but can't see where her attitude and experiences intersect with mine.

The difference seems to be in her ambitions and expectations. She's not retired, she's doing business here. If I were the slightest bit ambitious, if I were in any way entrepreneurial, I might feel more like her. But that's not where I am, and has little to do with where I've been on my way to now.

Instead, one of my advantages in all the travels I've done is that I travel light, in every way. I'm not looking to do a deal, I'm not hustling. I'm a lot more curious than judgmental. I may be rich compared to the residents of the places I'm checking out (not the case always - looking at you, Lisbon), but there's little more than my phone that shows it, and my phone is three models old. I don't have much, materially, to lose.

I've met one of those people that make you feel like you've always known them. He's staying at the same hotel. He's Anthony, from Connecticut. He's about eight years younger than me, heavily involved in music, and has been coming to Cuenca for years, although he still lives in New Canaan. He's had a lot of music business experience, talks about players he knows (when he saw my Steinberger, he told me a story about having to pick one up from Sam Ashe for Felix Pappalardi, a pretty famous bass player and producer (Mountain)), but I don't think he's played at professional level.

We met when he came up to the smoking terrace where i was having a puff and talking on the phone. He wanted to tell me something and ask a question.

What he wanted to tell me was that when I was talking on the terrace, talking on the phone, everybody in the hotel could hear me - some kind of weird acoustic phenomenon, since the terrace is on the roof at one side of the building. He just thought I should know that the previous night, when I was having an animated conversation around 11:30pm, I might have been keeping everyone awake.

He didn't sound angry - I think he thought it was humorous. But he introduced himself, and we talked a bit, then he got to the question: What was the restaurant where I had gotten the great fish dish he had heard me raving about on the phone last night?

A kindred soul.

Thursday, February 20th, was the beginning of Carnaval here.

I have been very happily looking forward to it. But the on-the-ground reality has been a bit disappointing.

Carnaval in Cuenca is a bit different than other Carnaval celebrations I'm familiar with, mainly New Orleans, in person, but through media, the other famous ones in Argentina, Brazil, Italy, Spain.

This Carnaval came with a warning: Don't bring your phone, or carry more money than you might use. Don't wear good clothes. Stay on the main, well-lit streets.

It turns out, Carnaval in Cuenca is not a very old tradition. The City celebration was actually started in the back-half of the twentieth century as a tourist attraction.

It became a big celebration which Cuencanos celebrate with big aerosol spray-cans of foam and water guns. And sometimes eggs. It becomes a big, loud, sloppy birthday party for 8-year olds.

Very recently, it's become complicated by world events. The Northern Andean countries have become home for hundreds of thousands of Venezuelan refugees, and, including in Cuenca, with them has come elevated levels of crime, especially property crime.

Let me be clear: I don't think all, or even most Venezuelan refugees are criminals. But their presence in poor countries - Ecuador IS a poor country - strains all systems. Turns up the heat under the pressure-cooker.
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With the big crowds of people that attend these festivities, along with the pushing, shoving and temporary blindness with getting water and foam in your eyes, thieves and pick-pockets (always the prevalent local crime, 'way before Venezuelans) have a field day.

Last year, on the last day of Carnaval, they busted a pair of thieves with over 250 cell-phones.

I was warned by literally every expat and Cuencano I talked to in the days leading up to the Thursday night Cuenca Carnaval Kickoff (I just made up that name - it's a concert in a nearby park in El Centro). A number of them say the avoid all the areas where the celebrations are going on during Carnaval, and a few recommended I skip it, as well.

I wore what I wouldn't mind washing or, in extreme, tossing. I put a paper clip on $15, carried in my front jeans pocket. My hotel key was in the other front pocket; I walked six blocks to San Francisco Plaza, ground zero for the party.

Halfway there, I saw people coming in the other direction, flecks of foam on their clothes and in their hair. Mostly smiling. Lots of children with spray cans, sometimes unleashing their foam randomly. Sometimes just over their heads, into the air - not necessarily a good thing for those around them more than three feet tall.

Two blocks away, and the streets were lined with people selling cans of foam (really BIG cans of foam) and super-soaker water cannons. I decided to see what it was like before I bought any.

I'm not sure what I expected. I knew it would be nothing like the floats and parades of New Orleans. What it was, was a big, loud concert in a large, open plaza (see my selfie of the plaza during a non-event day - it's where the red Cuenca sculpture lives). I didn't like the music as I approached, liked it a lot less when I got in front of it, in the kill zone. I thought, this is not a healthy volume to expose children to, and the children were everywhere.

And everywhere, people sprayed people with foam. I saw signs of thrown eggs, but didn't see any thrown. I was foamed a bit, not covered, though, from hat to shoes. I don't actually know what's in the foam, but it wipes off almost like a solid, and doesn't stain, as far as i can tell after the fact.

But I wasn't entertained. There was little visual spectacle, no parade. Just blasting euro-pop, too loud, and people covered in foam wanting to cover you in foam.

I walked through the crowds in the plaza and then a couple of blocks to Parque Calderón, which was towards my hotel. I was blowing off Carnaval before the celebration was officially an hour old.

But I was wrong. People were celebrating in Parque Calderón, too. There was music, better music, but this time it was recorded music with live singers. Celebratory karaoke. Thanks, no. And, okay, foam, I get it, I'll leave it.

Humming 'Mama Told Me Not to Come' to myself, it's an early night for me. Next morning, I read about accounts of people who've had their phones and/or wallets stolen, even with precautions taken.

Next night, I've been invited to a concert at a small coffee shop on one side of Parque Calderón. I'd been there before, nice place and they support live music. As I approach, I see the street has been closed to traffic, and at the corner, almost right in front of the place, they've built a big-ass stage, where there is a very large salsa-pop show band playing really good music really loudly. I know before I get there my promised music won't be happening, and sure enough, the place is closed.

But the band is great, and standing to the left-rear of the stage, I am away from the crowds, the foam, the water and... I'm enjoying the music! I'm dancing by myself. I'm counting time to the bass-lines, and I hope I can remember some of the licks I'm hearing.

I love a good horn band, or a band with good vocals and harmonies, and this band has 'em both. The front (which I can see the back of) four - a trombone-playing lead singer and three female vocalists in traditional dresses - everybody in the band is wearing the same cowboy hat are fully choreographed, and what I can hear of every instrument says every member of this band is on.

The crowd is going crazy, too. They're yelling, fully participate in call-and-response parts (about every third song). I have no idea at all who I'm listening to, but I have to think the Cuencanos enduring, or maybe enjoying, getting coverd in foam by two giant foam cannons in their very midst, know exactly who's they're listening to.

I hang for a couple of hours, wishing that I had felt this safe and easy last night, wishing I had brought my phone (feeling very much out of harm's way) so that I could show you what I was talking about. Then I enjoy some ice cream, and head for home thinking how this more than makes up for last night.

A few hours of a few days of the year when it's better to avoid the 'fun' in El Centro don't stack up against even the three weeks I've been avoiding nothing except walking up and down more than two flights of stairs.

I can't determine, to my own satisfaction, how productively or interestingly I've spent my  time here this week, but during the course of the week I decided that, instead of pursuing the next city on my list, I'm going to come back to Cuenca, with the idea of relocating here.

I don't have a precise timetable, but when I come back, I'll bring whatever documents i need, plan on staying three months, and, if Cuenca still suits me then like it does now, apply for residency.

I think I've already articulated the reasons why: basically, the ease I sense living here would endow. High in the Andes, I sense that I could be up on Cripple Creek, if you know what I mean.

You've been pretty patient with me, so here's some thanks in the form of a small album of photos. (Click the preceding, or HERE to view).

I'm grateful for all my experiences, and for the amazing life that somehow got me to right here, right now.

Food Comment

This is a picture of the best cup of coffee I've ever had. The ultimate americano, thanks to Sinfonia - Tostadoria y Cafeteria.

Pasta Mariscados and a salad - incredibly good food (seriously one of the best fish dinners I'be ever eaten) at the Argentine restaurant, La Esquina. So. Much. Seafood: Clams, mussels, langoustine, crab, octopus, sea bass, scallops. Oh, my!

Excellent hueves rancheros and blackberry juice from Cafe de Nucallacta. Coffee recently dethroned as my favorite in Cuenca - but still very good.

Carnaval soup from a Pedir de Boca. What's in it? I think, everything, except for eggs (but I don't know). The protein was pork and chicken, although it was available in a vegetarian version. Amazingly complex, an absolutely spectacular meal.

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