Saturday, September 26, 2015

Living in Puerto Lopez: Expat Profile

I belong to a number of Facebook groups that have to do with living in or moving to Ecuador.  During the past few weeks, there have been a couple of disparaging posts and comments about the town where I live: Puerto Lopez.  I'm hoping that I can explain some of the rationale behind this.

I read a comment from someone earlier that our town is a dusty, dirty little fishing village.  Today, that person is wrong.   After some rainfall this past week, Puerto Lopez is a muddy, dirty little fishing village.

(In this post, there will be many generalizations.  I know many people that do not conform to my descriptions, but these are the viewpoints that I have learned from my 2 1/2 years of living here.)

In Ecuador, there are many micro climates and cultures, but the three general categorizations are the Oriente (Amazon basin), the Highlands (living in the Andes) and the Coast.

I have only met one person who has lived and experienced life in the Oriente, so I can't speak to life there.  Many of the expats that live there are volunteers (Peace Corps, environmental advocates, etc.), but I only know this from second- or third-hand knowledge.

The people in the highlands are generally looking to live a comfortable lifestyle in a cheaper, simpler environment (this is only from what I have read - I have never visited.  Again, this does not apply to everyone living there!)  They want good, accessible health care and the opportunity to explore arts and historical culture.  From what I can tell, most of the questions that they ask are related to comforts in life: where to find specific food items, where to find the cheapest furnished apartment and what do taxis/buses cost.  I have no prejudice against them; it is a real challenge to move to a foreign country.  Many seem to try to learn the language and integrate with their local communities, but many do not.

Life on the coast is different.  There are enclaves of expats that want to retain the North American lifestyle, particularly in larger cities like Salinas and Manta (and again - this does not apply to all expats there!), but many of us are outliers.  (If you haven't read Malcolm Gladwell's book of the same name, I highly recommend it.)

In response to the comments that I read earlier, I'll speak about the expats I know that live in Puerto Lopez, Machalilla and Puerto Cayo.  These are some of the distinctions that I've seen:

  • Most of us are in our 40's and 50's.  (I'm not going to call out guys in their 60's - they all look and act younger than me!)  We still have the ambition to work and want to continue progressing and learning.
  • Many of us own property and have either built houses or are in the planning stages.  Building methods, cost overruns and lack of reliable services are all challenges that we are overcoming.
  • Modern, North-American style conveniences for us are located far away, generally a 1 1/2 to 2 hour drive from here.  The closest movie theater to me is in Portoviejo, and the closest fast food restaurants are also just as far away.
  • We don't have "Gringo Events".  (These are scheduled events like Monday Night Football or a regular Saturday get-together).  Most of our social events happen by running into one another on the street.  We do have the occasional birthday party, and my wife and I host "Sunday Football" when the Vikings are playing (with homemade pizza!), but that's about it.
  • I am fortunate to have two friends here that are former nurses, and, for the most part, we provide our own health care.  We do have a new doctor in town and he is very capable, but catastrophic health events, such as a stroke or heart attack, may not be recoverable.  There is an air-evac service available to Manta, but it would not provide immediate response if necessary.
  • Every six months or so, I meet expats who have lived here for 20+ years but are barely known by other expats.  They chose to live here for a variety of reasons: escape from a previous life, separation from modern Western culture or just the opportunity to explore life in a new country.
  • Integration into the local community is key.  I'm still learning the language, but I'm picking up on the local culture and getting to know the people here.  I chat with my local neighbors (as best I can!), high-five the kids I see on the street and visit the local restaurants.  I love it when the kids yell, "Hola!", when I walk by their house and I respond in kind.  Even some of the local dogs recognize me as their friend.
  • Most importantly: my fellow expats and I see the potential for our little village.  The national government is investing over $70 million dollars in our new Malecon, and there is a lot of new development happening.  Some of the roads east of Ruta del Sol have been paved.  Our local TIA recently doubled in size, we have a new commercial center selling higher-end clothing and electronics, and several new restaurants have opened recently.  (We now even have a very good Chinese restaurant!)

These are the choices that I made when I moved to Puerto Lopez.  There are two roads that lead into town, cut into cliff sides, that are generally passable: one to the north and one to the south.  If either or both of these roads failed, my friends and I would be completely dependent on ourselves and our community to ride it out.  We might be eating fish and rice three meals a day, but we'd make it.

In response to the comments that Puerto Lopez is a dirty, dusty, muddy, middle-of-nowhere fishing village, that is mostly true.  It probably isn't suitable for people that want to relax in retirement and enjoy the finer things in life, and again, I can't disagree with that viewpoint; it takes an effort to live here.

For me, though, there is no place I'd rather be.


Thursday, September 17, 2015

Driver's License Recipe

Ingredients:

500 one-dollar bills (approximately)
2 quarts of frustration
1 1/2 facilitators
4 quarts of patience
1 cup of "not my job" (you can buy this at SuperMaxi)
1 very dependable taxi driver
900 kilometers of questionable roads
4 teaspoons of indifference
2 bus rides from hell
2 measures of "what just happened here"
Some grease (your results may vary)

Mix all of the ingredients (minus the grease, driver and 6 cups of frustration - see below) until some of the frustration surfaces.  Use some of the grease to line a long, narrow cooking pan.  Let simmer for eight months.

Approximately every six weeks, add very tiny dashes of hope, encouragement and optimism.  Watch until completely dissolved.  (This doesn't add any flavor to the mix but is highly recommended.)  Bring to a boil for about two hours before returning to simmer.

Continue adding frustration at the rate of about once a week.

After seven months, mix the taxi driver with the remaining two cups of frustration.  At this time, continue to add grease to the simmering mix.

Allow the taxi driver to rise and dominate the flavor.  It is the catalyst that will produce the final result.

After the eight months, throw original mix in the trash and replace with a smile.  Be sure to thank your taxi driver.

You will now have an Ecuadorian driver's license.

Serves 2.