2012 Cuenca Perspectives Collage

2012 Cuenca Perspectives Collage
VIVA CUENCA

VIVA CUENCA!

My mission in publishing this blog is first to provide a living history of my settlement and life in Cuenca, and to provide myself and the reader with a journal account delineating my reasons for why I have chosen to settle in Cuenca. Second, the posts are my way of staying in contact with family and friends back in the states, and to provide them with an understanding of a country and culture that most North Americans have little knowledge and awareness. Third, the blog is open to one and all who wish to compare and contrast the experiences of expat bloggers living in Cuenca, so that you can determine whether or not from your perspective Cuenca is an appropriate move for you. Fourth, my blog provides another example of how expats view and interpret life in Cuenca. Ecuadorians and Cuencanos who may read this blog are especially invited to post comments that may enhance all expats understanding and appreciation of Cuneca and its people, or to correct any misinterpretations in my assumptions and perceptions of Cuencano culture. Finally, I hope I can convey the feeling of love and appreciation that grows within me each passing day for this heavenly city nestled in the Andes and its very special people.
Showing posts with label Marc. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Marc. Show all posts

Saturday, July 10, 2010

Blessings and Curses, Curses and Blessings!

I had such an easy time (well, easy time for me) formatting my blog that I deluded myself into thinking this blog posting is going to be a piece of cake. Wrong! I never learn. Nothing new for me on a computer ever comes easy. While some of you have wondered; "Jim, where's the blog you promised?" "Jim, did you forget to email me with the link to your post site?" I just wasn't ready to post beyond the first posting, until I learned how to download photos. I hear you snickering, "Oh that's easy." It's always some simple step I fail to see, or when I apply someone's written directions they just don't work the same way for me. After spending three hours Monday evening, another two hours Wednesday evening after my son, Marc, demonstrated to me what to do, and another hour Thursday afternoon attempting to follow my son's email instructions; I still can't download the photos from Photobucket to my blog.

I finally had lunch with Marc today before he travels to Maryland, so we could go over my transferring photos from my camera to my laptop, and so we could see what my problem is with downloading photos from the computer. Well, as you can see, I managed to get two photos posted. Neither of them is the same size. But this is the closest I'm going to come to a victory. I lost a third photo into cyberspace, which is probably lost forever. I ran out of time to post the fourth photo of Marc. Unless another miracle happens, maybe I'll get a photo of you, Marc, posted as well when I'm in Cuenca. I've worked on those photos for six hours today, since Marc and I parted. I guess I'm stubborn as a mule, because I should have been packing for Monday's trip.

Quite frankly, I have little experience with wifi and laptops. If I have connectivity problems in Cuenca, this may be the last post you'll see until I return. If this obstacle infuriates me beyond my breaking point, I may also steam-roll the computer into a permanent part of the road pavement.

I have little patience with all this technology, but a great deal of perseverance. It never fails that after I struggle with some software, someone will then come along and lickity-split, "That's all you had to do, Jim." I love computers when they function as they should, which means not expecting me to do anything more than what I already know how to do. Marc soothingly says, "Dad, the computer is not your enemy, it is your friend." "Don't let it get to you." Yea sure, coming from the computer whiz kid. I know growth often requires trials and tribulation. However, it gets frustrating when there is no gain for the pain, until someone instantaneously shows me what to do. Blessings and curses, curses and blessings.

Whither To and Fro

Last summer on my return trip from Hawaii, I spent a few days in Monterey, California visiting with my eldest son, Marc, who was residing there. There is no doubt that the Pacific coast is awesomely beautiful. The colored-hew of the jagged rocks lapped by the ocean waves, the beauty of the trees and forests, the sandy beaches--all like scenes I remember from "Play Misty for Me", and from a previous travel along the Pacific coast. Of course there were towns like Monterey and Carmel to experience and enjoy. (Sorry, folks, didn't see Clint Eastwood anywhere.) My son and I had a very good meal at an Italian restaurant. Italian pasta is not something one would recommend for lite eating. I think most people would agree that a plate of pasta is a meal in itself, although you can not tell that to an Italian. The meal was particularly memorable for its dessert. I was brought a slice of carrot cake that was at least a quarter of the entire cake, complemented with huge double mounds of vanilla ice cream. As the waitress approached our table the site of that cake was obscene. I saw the owner smile and look approvingly as the dessert made its way down the aisle like a bride at her wedding, and captured the attention of every eye in the restaurant. I humorously, publicly offered to share "the slice" with everyone present. I can be a real sucker for desserts, so I generally stay away from them. Like an alcoholic, it's all or nothing with me. In this case, it was all; and yes, I did eat every last bite of that sumptuously delicious cake. The two women sitting next to us smiled when the cake first arrived, but upon my completion of dessert gave me the most disgusting sneers, which screamed "glutton!" Guilty as charged, with no iota of guilt feelings. If given the chance, I'd do it all again!

In September, Marc had made his way for a month of travel and study in Egypt, where he was able to see all of the historic sites and immerse himself in the culture and history. Needless to say, Marc enjoyed the experience immensely, and had the opportunity to make new American friends who accompanied him on the trip as well.

By January, Marcus was saying goodbye to Monterey and traveling by car to his new assignment in Texas. His brother, Chris, was doing desert training in the Death Valley area, and Marc stopped by the isolated base, and by chance actually caught Chris at a time when he wasn't doing a mission simulation. No one can contact the soldiers while they're training, and Marc if he had not been military himself never would have gotten beyond the gate. The two had about an hour to visit at the base's Burger King. Chris was totally surprised, wearily tired from the little sleep he gets in training, and found their meeting to be totally surreal. What were the odds of pulling off such a meeting in the desert of California, while one brother was on his way to Texas and the other would soon be returning to Hawaii.

Marc recently completed his assignment with the Air Force in Texas, and is now at home before he leaves this Saturday for his new assignment in Maryland outside of Washington, D.C. Since he was seven and took a Saturday class in French, it was obvious Marc had an ear for languages and sound discrimination. At seven, he had already sounded like a little Frenchman. It was no surprise that this highly verbal kid would later choose to be a college English major, study Spanish in high school and in college (If only his dad had done the same--welcome gringo to Cuenca.) Now as Marc heads out East, and looks forward to everything the East Coast has to offer, I'll head southeasterly this Monday for Cuenca. What an age in which we live; where life, space, and time are all compacted into a one big swoosh. In turn, my sons have truly been raised to live in a global world.