In Search of a New Dentist

The one thing that Ron and I make sure to do is maintain our teeth. Dental care, in Ecuador, is reliable and inexpensive, but a bit different from what we're used to in Canada. The very first thing we noticed is that the dentist doesn't require a set of x-rays. They just poke around, prodding at suspect areas and doing a visual assessment. If something major is going on, most will send you to an x-ray technician to get the low down on what's happening below the surface. I have yet to get a dental x-ray here.

I'd hate to be afraid to smile.

Anyhow, Ron's tried out a few dentists, mostly because the one we started with tried to "up sell" him on replacing some old fillings. Another dentist he visited said everything looked fine, so Ron was feeling a bit put upon. Don't get me wrong, we don't just flit from dentist to dentist, this process took more than a year to complete. The second dentist was more expensive than our usual. Perhaps, that's why he didn't feel the need to up sell us on other services.(Besides, isn't that what whitening, braces and veneers are for?)

Recently, we heard of a new dentist from a friend. As it was that time of year again, we made an appointment and headed over there on Easter Friday. (No holidays for a young go-getter, I guess.) Anyhow, the young fellow mentioned a couple of places where I'd lost enamel (gum recession!) from heavy brushing (it's been that way for a while) and he recommended taking care of it before too much more time passed. This wasn't a complete surprise, as other dentists had mentioned this as well, but without offering a solution. The young doctor mentioned that the colour of the exposed tooth was changing which is a strong indication that attention was required. He had been incredibly gentle during the cleaning, which weighed in his favour.

Keep smiling that smile!\

Anyone who knows me really well, knows that I'm terrified of the drill. Naturally, I was gutted. He explained the procedure, which made me feel even more nauseous and nervous and, yet, I agreed to come back the next Monday to have him take care of the three spots. He promised me no drilling, just polishing. In passing, he mentioned that most people don't require freezing. That about did me in, but he seemed quite earnest and swore that he would crack out the Novocaine at the first sign of discomfort.

No matter how goofy!

Needless to say, I survived the process with only some minor discomfort and sore gums. (And one small sore where the mouth piece that kept my mouth open rubbed. This almost always happens to me.) To be honest, while those particular spots never bothered me (pain-wise), I'm glad to have filled in some gaps that bugged me aesthetically; avoiding cavities is even better.

For the two cleanings, one front tooth polishing, and three "cover ups" (for lack of a better description) it cost us $120. Not too bad. Have we found our new dentist? Maybe, we'll see. But if you're looking for a dentist, or perhaps just a change, check out Christian Brito. His office is just off Parque de la Madre. Contact: cristian.rbrito@gmail.com or call 0995 942 109. He does speak English well, so no worries for those of us with less than stellar Spanish skills.

Have a dental recommendation? Let me know in the comments!

The Low Down on Stuff in Cuenca

The exotic lifestyle that most people think I'm leading is a bit of a sham. The truth is that it really isn't all that different from the life I lived in Canada, minus the secondary language. (Even that's a push, have you heard Newfies talking amongst themselves? Not to mention French Canadian!)

It's not just all about gin and tonics on the patio

Sure there are the bureaucratic challenges, the (seeming) lack of foresight when it comes to executing new mandates etc., but is that really any different from life back home?

Our newest challenge was the Cuenca buses switching to card only payment, no more coins. This is actually taking full affect on April 1st, which only makes me more dubious, but I have noticed that buses are taking out their change boxes and putting in something much more temporary. We set off to obtain our "tarifa normal" reloadable bus pass from the Etapa office at Gran Columbia and Tarqui. There was a huge line, but we were happy to find out that it was for "tarifa mitad" (the half price fair for students and seniors), we got to waltz up and receive our cards, which cost us $1.75 each...with no fare on them. The next task was to load them with money, so we can actually use them on the bus. Considering that this will be the only means of riding in the near future, you'd think they'd make it easy for you, but alas, like so many government initiatives, the execution is a bit lacking. The nice young man who gave us our cards didn't mention that we could load them at the Etapa office. 

So, we set off to find a recharge "station". The website on the back of the card offered lists of places in El Centro to do so, but without addresses and the interactive map didn't appear to be working. We wandered around and asked for directions (we're not proud), and were innocently misdirected.(This happens frequently here, no one really knows where anything is or what anything is called just because things change so frequently.) We finally stumbled across a store with the sign we were looking for and fairly easily put $5 on each card. Current fare per ride (no transfers included) is 25¢ and will be raised soon to 30¢. Tranvia will start at 35¢ and if ridership isn't high enough it will be raised to 50¢. (That's Ecuadorian logic for you...or maybe government logic, not sure.) If you're a student or 65+ the fare is half price. The cards will make that tricky half cent easier to calculate. 

This card will also be usable on Tranvia, the lightrail system that still is under construction. Happy news: the construction is back on track and should be complete on (the new) schedule in September. Bad news: with all the required testing, putting up signage etc, it won't be ready for the public until several months later.

Besides that, the health insurance requirement is still in affect, despite the complete chaos that has ensued. I'm secretly waiting for the government to abandon the initiative, just due to it's overwhelming complexity, but that could be wishful thinking. 

The state of my computer and health insurance
legislation are about the same.
(Yup, that's masking tape and metal duct tape.)

Our rainy season seems to have forgotten to arrive this year, though it is more overcast than usual. We've had some glorious days and for that I'm grateful. That's about all for now. Happy daylight saving time to those of you that practice it!

This Crazy Health Insurance Requirement

When we first came to Ecuador we were told that we might need to prove ourselves healthy. So we went to our doctor and got a letter stating that we were in good health and unlikely to strain the health care system here.

Unlike the US, (yes, that is a dig) they have a socialized health care system here that one could participate in. We never got around to applying and opted to put cash aside every month to pay for medical incidentals. (Dentist, doctor etc.) Until I hurt my leg/hip, we'd spent maybe $200 on such things. 

I guess that when...

Then the ugly head of mismanagement raised its head. This is strictly my opinion, the Ecuadorian government puts the onus on extranjeros that are straining the system as they aren't paying into it.  I guess that's possible, there are a lot of immigrants coming from Argentina, Venezuela, Columbia and  other Latin American countries to try and improve their lot in life. (Aren't we all?) Here, they take care of your medical needs and worry about payment after. Because of that and some North Americans who have also taken advantage of the system, it has left the Ecuadorians to foot the bill. I can see how that might put a strain on a countries budget, especially when the rug has been pulled our from under them in the form of devalued oil. That doesn't mean that bribery, embezzlement, fraud and plain old mismanagement haven't contributed to the situation. The health system is going broke.

...you do stuff like this...

Anyhow, in classic reactive style, they have decided to make health coverage manditory. For the social program (for the two of us) they want 21% of our stated income that we used to apply for the pension visa. (Yes, more than a fifth of our gross income.) So we started checking out other options and the cost of health insurance is SHAMEFUL. (We belong to the tribe of "Insurance-is-mostly-a-money-grab" (Yet, we always buy travel insurance...go figure!) Granted, compared to what is paid in the US (or so we've heard) the rates are low here, but to an innocent Canadian with universal health care benefits back home, it was all rather shocking.

...insurance is a good thing.

We finally found something that was acceptable to us (private coverage), but it's still costing us $115 USD (yay us for being under 65) that we weren't really putting out before.I'm trying not to resent the fact that we are required to pay for something that we'll likely never need. In truth, it's a small price to pay for my freedom here. So, be prepared, the rules are changing (not a surprise) and you might be turned back at the border if you don't have health insurance. You can't say we didn't warn you.

The Legend of the Ecuadorian Head Cold

I confess, right off, that there really isn't any such legend. Generally speaking, a cold is a cold is a cold, but every once in a while I come down with what I've deemed "the Ecuadorian Cold". 

Everyone understand this concept

True: suffering from this sciatic-like problem and having a cold at the same time is pretty sucky, but while the Ecuadorian cold takes longer to get rid of, it's a kinder, gentler cold, in its own way. So, what's the difference you say?

Think about your last head cold: the stuffy head, the cough, perhaps the chills and, of course, the sore throat...all at the same time. Nasty. In contrast, the "Ecuadorian" cold comes in stages. Mine started with a sore throat and chills. I felt terrible for a day and then the chills went away and I was just nagged by the sore throat. A week later, my nose  slowly started to fill up, not in an aggressive head pounding way, but in an endless drip that might drive me around the bend. And now, I'm at that icky gummy point that makes it hard to breath through mouth or nose, but this too will pass.

I don't know how long this cold is going to hang in. It's my great wish that it and the sciatica go in short order. As to the later, every week is a little better and for the former, it can make itself scarce immediately.

My Own Ugly Truth

 

When I could actually climb up onto something.

So, I've been in a lot of pain lately. It started with blowing out my back on the flight between Santiago and Auckland, but I thought I'd healed from that. My back would twinge off and on, but it wasn't anything I couldn't deal with. I like to think I have a pretty high pain tolerance and I've been doing all the "right" things: working on strengthening my core, keeping mobile, setting up the computer at a place where I could stand comfortably. I walked - a lot - to keep myself limber and probably was too stubborn about it. "Come on, Kid, walk it off!"

Then my back started stiffening up and a week later I had pains shooting down my left leg and it was hard to sleep through the night. I could barely turn over. Sciatica. Not pleasant. I went to massage therapy, not those nice calming massages that you get when you're on vacation, but one of those muscle probing, subcutaneous manipulating massages that leave you bruised, but somehow strangely hopeful.

The joys of a functioning body

That was almost three weeks  ago and I'm still suffering. (I'm hoping that it's improving, but if I don't take ibuprofen or other anti-inflammatory, the pull of the nerve hurts. I've gone to another massage appointment, a physio treatment and one with a chiropractor, but here's the truth of it: I probably should have taken care of it when I first realized I couldn't do the things I normally could. (You know: touch my toes, tie my shoes without discomfort.) I just didn't have it in me. I didn't want to "deal" with finding someone, making arrangements (possibly in Spanish) and figuring out the where, how and how much of it. And my hesitancy led to this. And all because it's different here. 

Me, feeling like Humpty Dumpty

There aren't a lot of walk-in clinics, so you have to get to the doctor's office early, make an appointment (if you're lucky enough) and then return later to get checked out. Then, should I need x-rays, I need to go somewhere else and then return to the doctor to be seen again. Then I started wondering what I'd have to do if I needed an MRI or something. My concerns got the better of me. 

I'm glad to say I'm slowly on the mend (fingers crossed), but my laziness and reluctance to shake up my normal existence got the better of me. I'll never take my flexibility for granted again and will work hard at keeping and improving it. The more obstacles we face, the more comfortable we get, but our hesitancy might be our undoing when a new situation pops up. I guess that's something to take into consideration if you're looking at moving abroad. Can you do what it takes to take care of yourself in a time of crisis. Okay...crisis might be an overstatement, but I've never been in so much pain in my life!

Hard to BULK Up in Ecuador

Let's face it, we're a consumer nation, and there's nothing we like better than a "good deal". This concept has spurred on things like buying clubs, IKEA and (of course) Costco. To be right up front, many things in Costco scare me. Have you seen the size of some of the tuna tins? (Ron's parents only wished something like that existed back in the day, what with the 11 kids to raise.) It's given us the idea that bigger is often better: yes the idea of bulk purchasing. 

Now, there's only two of us, but we still bought 20kg bags of rice, 24 roll packs of toilet paper and 3 litre tins of olive oil. Why? Because we knew we'd use it and it was always cheaper in the long run. This leads me to Ecuador - land of the single purchase. You can actually buy a single cigarette from the corner stands. When you go to the pharmacy and are looking for ibuprofen (for example) you can actually buy ONE PILL. It can be challenging to buy the whole packet - at the very least you get a strange look. Heck, I've even seen them hand out single shots of cough medicine. (You can also buy eggs individually.)Toilet paper is the same price whether you buy 4 rolls or 24 - actually sometimes the 24 is more expensive and almost all food items are individually wrapped. When you buy a packet of saltines they come in neat little packages of three crackers. Talk about over packaging!

Single serve pills

So, why? Why is this? It actually comes down to cash flow. Just because 24 of something costs less per unit (in theory), you still need the money to buy the larger quantity and not everyone has that luxury. So the smaller stores sell the smaller individually wrapped packages at maybe a penny or two higher than the big stores sell the multi-unit packages (per unit). Why buy 10 when you can buy 1? (This also applies to instant versus brewed coffee. Instant is cheaper and you don't need extra equipment.)

Tons of tiny instead of one big one

This has been a life lesson for us and it's been very difficult to get our little North American brains wrapped around. It's really hard not to reach for the "family sized" items, but we're getting a handle on it. It's actually so crazy that I've seen restaurateurs buying 50 tiny bottles of soy sauce. (You can't get bulk soy sauce here, at least from what I've seen.) They don't have food distributors like they do in NA. either, they all shop at the mercados and at the big chain grocery stores...can you imagine the nightmare of running a restaurant???

Here, the answer is mainly..."no"

Anyhow, this realization is humbling and, in many ways, simplifies everything. There are no coupons to worry about, sales to chase (at least most of the time) and you buy what you can afford and no more.  That's not to say that there aren't people here with money. Cuenca is actually quite a well off city, but we can learn a lot from people who only operate in cash.

So the next time you're buying your jumbo pack of [fill in the blank], think of me and my Ecuadorian neighbours with our little pack of one.

Over the Hills and Far Away

We were a bit fretful about coming back to Ecuador after our wide ranging adventure to Australia. Whatever would we do with ourselves? There are no extended holidays to plan, no SCUBA diving to train for, but there are major limitations on our funds after surviving a first world holiday on a pensioner's budget.

Church in Banos de Cuenca

Pastoral views

Little gold hummingbird

Our quandary was resolved by a weekend hiking group. We've been heading out, with some regularity, to the outskirts of Cuenca to enjoy unknown (to us) neighbourhoods, new restaurants and the camaraderie of like-minded individuals. We may not be the fastest hikers, but we do enjoy the journey.

One of the many rivers

The first surprising experience was having a woman demand that we give her $5. ("Soy pobrecita, deme cinco dolares!" - "I'm a poor woman, give me $5!") I, conveniently, never have cash if Ron is with me, so I apologised and kept going. ("Lo siento senora, no tengo ningun dinero" - I'm sorry Madam, I have no money".) It's unusual for beggars to be so bold, and to be honest, she came around from the side of a fairly nice house that she insisted wasn't hers - which is entirely possible.

The next surprise was finding a beautiful little French restaurant in the outskirts of town, called Le Petit Jardin. I had a gorgeous fried trout in lemon butter. The only thing missing was vegetables, but we are in Ecuador, so allowances must be made.

The third surprise is how far you can get on a quarter; choose the right bus and you can ride for an hour on a thin 25 cents. You wend through the city and into the suburbs (a rather loose description of the little towns that are slowly expanding to meet the city limits) and go all the way to the end of the line.

Then you disembark and hope like heck that someone in the group knows where we're trying to get to or has a smart phone to find our way. It's always fun to try and get directions from the locals, who seem astounded to see gringos, let alone one's that can speak at least some Spanish. (I call it the "talking monkey" phenomenon.) At the end of the hike, we usually try to grab a meal, or at the very least a beer. 

We also talk of many things, inane and profound and generally enjoy each others' company. It's a great mix of people from different backgrounds and places, but we manage to get along.

Some of the crew on the hike

Our last hike was more daring. We headed out into the Cajas (an hours drive from El Centro) and took on an 8.5km hike at a higher elevation. What you must understand is that hiking at elevation (for children of sea level) is much like climbing to the 40th floor of a building. (Forget how you feel for the first 5 flights, think about all the rest.) 

Steep!

This never changes, at least not much - you gasp for breath on inclines like "the Little Engine that Could". What does change, eventually, is your acceptance that there is less air and it won't kill you. It's especially hard for newbies to embrace this concept, but over time they realize it to be true.

Cajas colours

Fresh from the set of Vikings
one half of our guide team - Axel

Sample of some of the easier trail

The sacrifice is worth it. The views are stunning and we had such a gorgeous day that it was impossible not to enjoy the sweeping landscapes, bright blue sky and shimmering lakes.

Shahbaz coming up the hill

So, yes, we've found something to fill our time, at least for a day of the week, and for that we're grateful. It's a good gig, if you can get it.

God, what a Blast!

It's our favourite time of year, says I, tongue firmly planted in cheek. It's no secret that Ecuadorians like noise. Loud music, car and building alarms, barking dogs and cars without mufflers are common occurrences here. They also like celebrating Saints days with noisy fireworks that sound vaguely like cannons. They can be heard all over the city and every church (and there are lots of them) has a special celebration annually, where the devoted get up early and light off these noise makers before heading into services.

La catedral nueva

Generally speaking, it's not all that bad, given a few blocks of distance, the sound isn't completely heart attack enducing, but when the church is right next door to your house, it's a whole different matter. Why do they do this? Who knows, there are many theories, but none really make sense. Someone told us it was to scare away evil spirits, but that's not logical. War is noisy and I can't think of a better space for lingering malignant entities. If someone has an idea, I'd love to know.

Iglesia de San Francisco

We live next to the church of Cristo Rey, or  Christ the King and this Saturday is when Catholics traditionally celebrate his transfiguration. (Or so says the internet, I had to look it up.) This is (apparently) a big deal here. At 5:39 Monday morning, we were awoken with a bang...literally. Now here's the funny thing: these "sound" fire works go off randomly all over the city, in a similar fashion to people lighting candles at the alter; not everyone does it, but some people do. So just as you're settling back to sleep, off goes another one. The first day there were only 6 (not counting the ones during normal business hours) randomly spaced out, so that sleeping was just a distant memory.

La iglesia de Cristo Rey (we think it used to be
a monastery)

Yesterday there were seven, before 8am. They're loud enough to make the windows shake and car alarms to go off. This, of course, would never happen in North America, what with noise by-laws and an aging population prone to weak hearts and nervous constitutions, but that doesn't seem to bother anyone here.  

Iglesia de Santo Cenaculo (?)

I know what you're thinking...don't live close to a church. Ha ha! Just try it. Unless you're willing to move out into the countryside, there is going to be a church near you. It's rumoured that Cuenca has at least 52 churches, one for every week of the year, and that's within the city limits. I can see 17 from our windows and that doesn't include Cristo Rey, which is behind us.

Iglesia de San Blas

Only three more days to go until it's back to the dogs and alarms.  

Sea of Tranquility

So, I thought that it might be a good idea to start mediating. Something that I've always liked the idea of, but have never been able to achieve. (You know that scene in "Eat, Pray, Love" where she has to mediate for an hour or two and is already crazy in the second minute...that's me.)

I'm one of those people...my mind is constantly busy. If I was solving world problems, I wouldn't feel so bad about it, but it's mostly just drivel, interspersed with the odd moment of inspiration. Being a writer, I spend a lot of time just making stuff up in my head. Anyhow, due to a series of  unfortunate events, I've been feeling stressed out. (I know, what could possibly be stressful in my life? It's all relative...seriously.) Now, after all the horribleness and discord, it seems even more important.

Ron was out, I chose a nice relaxing piece of music that I used to use when I did yoga and positioned myself on the sofa, cross legged. I told myself that I could make it at least five minutes. I admit that it was a struggle. My mind is preprogrammed to roam. I realized that I could actually hold a quasi-mantra in my head and still think of things in behind it. I'd kill the rambling and refocus on breathing. It was hard work in a way. (I occasionally caught myself saying "shut up, stupid!" and that's not a healthy thought process, so I switched it to "not right now". It seemed to work.)

Now, I have no problem sitting still. Those who know me well, know that I'm notoriously lazy and can loaf around all day with little difficulty, but I have yet to achieve the same thing mentally. Sure, I had to shift my foot a couple of times to prevent developing pins and needles, but besides that I was still. I pushed through to the end of the song and then realized that it was 17  minutes long. I'd done it: passed the 5 minute mark and then tripled it. I'd managed to rein in my thoughts, sometimes for more than 30 seconds and I actually did feel calmer.

So what did I learn? Like anything, finding that moment of peace, no matter how fleeting isn't going to be easy. I'll need to work at it (especially since our oven still isn't working and needs to have all the thermostats tested...sigh), but it is possible - I hope. Here's to tranquility...in maybe five to eight months. 

However long it takes, let us find peace.