Cuenca at Last!
The flight was less than an hour. The seats were intended for someone maybe 5 feet tall and 90 pounds. The isle was not intended to walk down. Tiny is the word for that flight. But it was the last hurdle after a year of preparation and anticipation. I couldn’t see out any of the windows. It was dark. You see, the sunrise and sunset are exactly the same every day of the year, so by 7 PM, it is dark. We land, taxi and come to a halt. People are trying to find ways to teeter in the isle and get their bags from overhead. No one can breathe. At long last, the door opens and people start squeezing through the opening. It was a bit surprising to find a rolling ladder at the door and an outdoor walk to the terminal. Not good or bad, just surprising. We line up at the baggage carousel. It was tiny. Maybe 15 feet long and a sharp turn back. You could watch them pull up and toss the bags through. I am standing there waiting as if in a trance. It had been a long few days, and I was beat. I had eaten almost nothing and still was weak from my medical stuff. Added to that was the ever-present lack of oxygen. In researching, I was aware of it but hadn’t thoroughly grasped the idea. I mean, we were at an altitude that if you are a pilot you go on oxygen or risk passing out. The slightest movement causes you to gasp for air. Add to the fact that over the previous few years of inactivity I had blown up to the size of the good year blimp, it was taking its toll.
My bags come around and I muscled them off. And I’m exhausted again. But I have to walk. I pile my bags on a cart (all four of them) and start moving in the direction of the crowd. We turn a corner and see a rope line with hundreds of welcoming spectators. Some held up signs, others smiling and waving. Flowers were in many arms. On any other day, it was a sweet sight. But here I am, lacking a single muscle in my out of shape body, struggling with a few hundred pounds of luggage while feeling like a guppy flopping around out of the water. It was hard to be excited when you feel like you are dying. Tunnel vision and the “eeeeeeeeeeee” sound in my ears, I plod onward. I am looking for a short dark-haired girl that was going to meet me. Do you remember my friend that had recently moved to Cuenca? She agreed to meet me with her uncle at the airport and transport me to a B&B downtown.
In my planning, I also looked for places I would live. I found that there are many nice places for a good price. One of these was a condo in a high rise on the same property as the Hotel Oro Verde. The upside was it was in a great location. The downside was it was a one-bedroom. But I had talked to the owner, who was an ex-pat American with an Ecuadorian wife. She owned this little B&B downtown. He offered to allow me to stay there basically for free for a few days while we got a chance to go see it.
There on the line is the girl I was looking for, holding this long, purplish dried flower as a welcome gift. While normally I would have really appreciated the gesture, I start off my first contact in Cuenca with an indifference. My body language probably read…”Oh great, what am I suppose to do with this? I can barely handle the stuff I’ve got now! Where do I put it? What do I do with it? Do I pretend and make a fuss?” Yep, there I am, being welcomed by people and I’m probably being an ass. I will say this one last time (that is likely a lie!) I was trying to survive. I was so damn weak, tired and worn down I could barely put one foot in front of the other. They hustle me outside to look for the car. I nearly took a dive off the high sidewalk because I was so out of it. The short dark-haired friend saved me from a face plant.
They both seemed more than understanding and helped me each step of the way. We loaded up the car… or rather the uncle did, and I fell into the back seat. Since the plane arrived I really hadn’t seen anything except my feet. I have no idea what the airport looks like, and the drive to the B&B was without awareness. I tried to explain I had no idea what to do with the flower but thank you for the thought. You can imagine how it went over. It sucked knowing someone tried to do something nice and it was basically blown off and you were doing the blowing. I couldn’t help it. Not now, not feeling as I did. Looking back it was a really nice 5-foot tall dried flower and would look great in my apartment. But to top off my rudeness, I forgot it and left it at the B&B. Kill me now.
We arrive and struggle with bags to the place. I am welcomed again, and shown a room… up a flight of stairs. What the hell! The stars are aligned against me! I don’t want to completely expose the extent of my total lack of manhood at that point, so I start wresting one of the large bags up the stairs. I get to the top and into the tiny room and I am so dizzy I am about to fall over. The rest of my stuff appeared and I am ready to pass out. I am not sure what happened next but people started disappearing. I recall talking to my friend then it is morning. At some point, I had just fallen asleep. This plague of weakness stayed with me for over a week.
I survey my surroundings. I am in the tiniest of rooms (yes, we continue with the tiny theme).
Luggage stacked, I start pulling them apart to look for towels, toothbrush etc. I gather up my stuff and realize I am wearing it again. Gasping for air that doesn’t exist. I feel every bone aching and each movement a chore. I hobble out into the hall down to the community bathroom and try not to fall over the railing to the room below. It was wide open in the old Spanish style. The bathroom is a tiny room with a toilet, and outside next to it is a glass door to a tiny shower. The entire ceiling of the upstairs was essentially a sunroof. I get my shower which totally used up what little energy I had. I hobbled back to the room and dropped into the chair. Now what?
The man had shown me a little basket with 3 or 4 teabags made of coca leaves. He suggested drinking some tea as it relieves nausea from the altitude. I figure when I get my next round of energy I would give that a shot. But first, it is time to regroup and plan out my next moves. They were already planned actually so it was to review the plan. Step one… get a phone chip so I had communication with the world again. Step two, open a bank account so I could stop carrying around so much cash. Step three, find a place to live. Step four, meet with my lawyer and hand over the paperwork I brought with me.
My friend shows up, having taken a day off work to assist me. We walk (oh my God yes, we walked!) up the street in search of a bank and a phone place. We stopped at a bank. I took a number and waited. Our turn came and we lacked a document. She left to go get it and I stayed. I stayed because I couldn’t walk anymore at that moment. I wish I had drunk the tea! She came back and we get a new teller, and he has a whole new list of requirements. We leave and try another bank… their list was even longer! We hiked around in circles for a while and then I decided to just get the phone going. So we make our way to the phone place. “Movistar” is the company. No, it isn’t movie star as in the movie. It is movi as in movile as in mobile phone. So there we are, choosing a plan and handing over documents. After a few hours, I get my phone working. The speed of service is not a thing here, and you need to get used to it and accept it with a smile. Remember, you are the foreigner here. Things work just fine for them and it is the way it is. Things don’t need to make sense. Just roll with it and you will be much happier.
Day one… just a phone. Nothing else. It felt like a failure. I fall asleep early, wake up to the tiny shower, and managed to drink the tea. It did help. It removed constant nausea and even helped me breathe a bit better. I was still a mess, but it helped.
The next few days I managed to meet with my lawyer. He took me to a bank and talked them into opening an account. I got rid of half my cash and felt better. He took all my documents. We had a good time meeting and talking, and his lawyer buddy drove us around. Keep in mind all he was paid to do was receive the documents. The driving me around, helping with the bank etc were all just kind gestures. People here tend to be very kind and generous. Even if it is a dried flower.