Expat Central: Cuenca

Cuenca is a charming city of a half million people - a major regional center in the South Central highlands just west of the Andean cordillera. About 4 thousand non-ecuadorians have chosen this place to roost. American, Canadian, and European "expats".

So what is an expat? Well, that is what we are planning to become. An expat is a citizen of one country whose current residence is in another country. That's all. Nothing EX-PATriotic about it. We just get bored easily and fantasize that adjusting to new languages and cultures will keep us entertained for the rest of our lives. Sure beats TV.

Back to Cuenca. You can see the effect of the tiny expat population in the wider variety of restaurants and also in the realm of real estate development. The suburbs are full of beautiful homes, and gated communities.

So I was surprised to hear that most of this development surge is powered, not by Americans, but by Ecuadorian expats who have returned from the US and from Spain, countries whose economies are now struggling. Meanwhile Ecuador's economy is growing 6% per year, and the money these Ecuadorian expats are bringing back is bolstering that growth.

I don't know if there is a lesson in this. But maybe you could say that people who allow themselves to dream bravely would choose to live in the best circumstances they can imagine. Right now for us that is not in the US, and the returned Ecuadorian expats seem to agree with us.

We're Good Now

We felt so energized by our successful side trip to Paute that Starr & I decided to walk all the way back from the bus terminal to our hotel. Only a mile or two - no problem for us old troopers.

It was a super busy festival night in Cuenca, and all the street vendors were out in force. We bought some odd little "ciruelas" (plums) from a man who wanted to practice his English. So he asked what we were - meaning were we Catholics, or what. Starr answered well: we feel God in our heart and do not see the need for anyone to dictate religious values to us. Surprisingly (to me) the man erupted in joy and said "me too!". In a country of 95% Catholics I was amazed. We talked for a bit - happily and loudly on a festival street corner, then embraced all around and we were on our way again.

A minute later we passed a market and found that for $2 the indigenous healers (aka witches) were giving total body purification ceremonies using medicinal herbs fresh from the mountains. We watched as little children, old folks, young bucks, and mothers went through the ritual. Still I hung back, hiding behind my camera as a passive spectator.

Then Starr said "I think you want to do this". And I had to admit that I did.

I was drawn to an energetic sorcerer of middle age and sat down on a small stool in front of her. She asked for two dollars and began by grabbing a generous bouquet of strange-smelling herbs and holding them under my nose. It reminded me of a mother giving her child a taste of something new to eat.

With fierce focus she began sweeping, thrashing, pounding, and shaking the herbs all over my body and head. Purifying me. She asked me to turn the other way, smell the herbs again, and kept up the onslaught for an eternity in which I surrendered to the ancient practices of her culture. She chanted intently what sounded like "shwoosh-shwoosh-shwoosh-shwah" over and over in cadence with her movements.

Eventually her rhythm began to slow as the natural power of the herbs approached a complete transfer into my body.

Then she stopped, picked up a bottle of cane liquor and took a swig, and sprayed it into my face. I gave a startled shout, releasing some evil spirits,stood up and then politely thanked her for the cleansing.

Not to be outdone, Starr had already chosen her practitioner, a very old toothless woman. Near sightless yet more intent and serious in her practice than the others.

The pictures tell it all.

We're good now.