Tamera's Take: P.T.S.D., CATS, and What the hell am I doing in Crucita Ecuador?

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Tamera's Take is about being here.
Are you ready?  I am.

...going to have to get back to you on that one.

The gully gave way behind the once beautiful house.

It has been about two months since our last post.  Well, my husband's last post. I started this one on June 17, and obviously was not able to finish it. Today is July 17.  I do not know what to say except that since April 16, 2016, I have no idea what I am doing anymore.

On Pandora Radio listening to: "Under Pressure" by Queen (with a little help from David Bowie)

The song seems appropriate.

Too damaged to pass inspection. It will be torn down.

Of course I am talking about since the earthquake.  I cannot even say the "E" word without feeling nausea.  That would be the "T" word in Spanish.  Terremoto

We will just call it, IT.  If you read Stephen King, you will know that IT is just as terrifying.

The first two weeks after it happened I felt a certain amount of shock was normal.  Expected even.  I did my best to keep the shock in check.

Try to be normal.  Try to move forward.  I said these things to myself every day.  I told myself everything was going to be okay.

A month after it happened, I noticed my "shock", or whatever it was, was not subsiding.  The day I started writing this post marked two months.  Yup still there. Somewhere in the back of my mind I kept thinking ever so briefly, "PTSD".  I associated PTSD with soldiers returning from battle; victims of violent crimes; children dealing with death in the family; etc.  So that cannot be what it going on with me.

Remains of beautiful blue windows from nearby house.

I am acquainted with a few counselors, therapists and psychiatrists, both socially and professionally. I used to work at a women's center, which is how I became acquainted socially with several counselors. But here is the thing about that line of work.  Two words.  "Absolute Confidentiality".  They never discussed clients, and I never asked.  So I do not know a lot about the various types of mental illness and how they are diagnosed.

A long time passed before we could walk the beach again.

I know they exist. I know some can be treated; some can only be managed.  I do not think any can be completely cured. I say this from years of personal experience.  I will not say who, when, where, or how I know them personally.  It is confidential, and let's leave it at that.

I finally contacted one of my counselor friends.  P.T.S.D. (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). Right on the mark.  Damn.

She helped me as much as she could given my location.  Actually she helped me a lot.  She researched and sent me information on free online books about P.T.S.D, online support groups and therapists, etc.  There are even support groups that you can Skype with.

Everyone knows at least one person who suffers from a mental illness. It is an illness that is hard to understand if you have never walked in those shoes.  It is not something people like to talk about.  If you have a broken leg, it is visual.  The pain is something people can relate to.  If you say, oh by the way I suffer from, (fill in the blank), people do not know how to respond or act towards you.  Yet the person with the mental illness is in pain and suffering just as much as the person with the broken leg. Just think about it the next time you meet someone who has Depression, Anxiety Disorder, Bipolar Disorder, P.T.S.D., or any other form of mental illness.

Looking down from the hillside to Crucita

As an extremely introverted person, I analyze everything. Always have.  Always will.  I know I am getting slightly off topic but it seems important for you to know that I thought about the changes in my behavior for the past couple of months.

What were some of those changes?

Crucita fishing boat waiting to go back out to sea.

Separately, they seemed insignificant at first.  However, the more of them I recognized, the more they seemed to start sticking together and forming a black hole in my mind. It was like pieces of me were disappearing.  I am sure I sound crazy at this point, so here are some specific examples.

I started to forget details and events completely.  No recollection at all.

Following a major earthquake, aftershocks are normal for two to three months. I had to look this up. I have no prior experience with earthquakes so I did a lot of research.  It was necessary in order to get through the days (and nights). But I was not able to look any of this up the first week after it happened.  Yes, we had intermittent electricity starting around day 3, but we did not have WiFi for a week.

We live near the ocean. Every time the wind blows, the doors and windows rattle, and I jump out of my skin. Why? Because it sounds and feels like the beginning of an aftershock.

Those aftershocks came.  I read the other day that Ecuador has had over 2,000 aftershocks since April 16.  The aftershocks that I only vaguely remember learning about in school. The only reason I remember the first week of aftershocks we experienced, is because every time one happened, I wrote it down in one of my notebooks.  I had no idea of the measured intensity, since I had no access to any outside communication.  All I could do was write down the time and describe them.  I am not even sure why I was doing this, except that I thought that if there was some pattern, I would see it and know if they were going away or getting worse.

If "worse" then we had to be prepared to leave; even if on foot.  We would not leave the cats. The two Sherpa cat carriers we used to bring our poor cats from Florida to Ecuador, were waiting by the door. I am sure the cats would rather take their chances than get in those carriers again, but in those carriers they would go. We would not be able to bring much else with us. Some dry food, water, change of clothes, hats, sunscreen, Off, sanitizing gel, candles, matches, cash, passports.  I had filled our beach bag with items that we thought were critical if we had to flee.  There was no pattern to those aftershocks.

Every day ready to flee.

Nightmares.  I did not really dream about the earthquake.  I dreamed about tsunamis.  Almost every day.  I still do occasionally.  Thankfully the dreams are getting better.

How does that tsunami dream look?  I am on the third or fourth floor of a building, standing in front of a large window that overlooks the ocean.  I am sure this building represents my house but looks nothing like it.  It is night as I stand in front of this window.  But darkness does not stop me from seeing the wall of ocean water coming towards me.  It is taller than the place I am standing. I do not move.  I do not yell.  I know it is coming and there is nothing I can do.  That is my nightmare.

It is important to say that during this earthquake, we were never in danger of a tsunami.  I do not know why that became my nightmare.

I will speed through some of the other "symptoms" I experienced.

No desire to take walks anymore.
No desire to touch the ocean.
I stopped taking photos.
I forgot nearly every Spanish word I knew.

Every family member and friend wanted to ask me questions and talk about the earthquake.  I did NOT want to talk about it.  At all.  Ever.  But they wanted and needed information.  So with my head spinning, I talked.

I wanted to do things to help other people here in my village or nearby, but I had absolutely no way to do so.  I felt helpless.  I felt even more guilty.  I felt guilty that I was alive and my home survived.


My husband got an Earthquake App for his phone. It sends out an alert of earthquakes/aftershocks in real-time.  So basically an alarm goes off as it happens.  I hate that app.  Every time the alarm went off I went numb.  Every time there was a notification, my husband had to say it out loud.  I finally asked him to stop telling me.  I just could not take it any more.

Sleep is a thing of the past. Before the earthquake I was in bed and asleep early every night.  I woke up between 5:30 - 6:30 am every day.  Now sleep comes as the sun rises if I am lucky.  Am I just afraid to sleep in the dark?  I do not know.  Am I ever going to feel happy again?  I do not know that either. But I hope so.

It is amazing how things can change 180 degrees in the matter of 58 seconds.  That is how long the earthquake lasted, 58 seconds.

Everyone back in the States asks us when are we coming home.  Our response - we are home.  But I would be lying if I did not admit that I miss those familiar people and places back in America.

Gertrude Stein, an American writer, poet, feminist, and playwright once wrote, "America is my country and Paris is my home town".

America is and always will be my country. I have called many places home in my life. Orange Park Florida, Newport Rhode Island, Elmira New York, Tallahassee Florida, Hollywood Florida, Gadsden Alabama, Atlanta Georgia, Jacksonville Florida.

Right now Crucita is my home.  If I am lucky, I will have the chance to call other places home as well.

I have no idea of what the future will look like.  I know what I want it to look like. But that is going to take some time and a lot of adjusting.  Until then, I am just waiting for my compass to point north again.

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Travel is Fatal - Beware the Beasties

Mark Twain well Samuel L. Clemens actually, said it.  It is true.  Truer words have probably been spoken.  Maybe.  People have been talking to each other for a long time.  These words however, ring very true to me.  Especially true.  Thank you to an old friend for sharing it.  The entire quote is this:

It is also true that Clemens had rare insight and understanding of human behavior.  Especially rare was his talent for making the regular Joe understand what he was thinking.  You read him and say "yeah, I knew that." and you probably really did.  You just can't quantify it like he could.

You may not agree with any or all of this.  It is one person's opinion.  You may love it.  Make up your own mind.  Figure it out for yourself.

School of Surf

My wife wrote a bit about technology earlier.  We are not using a lot right now. Not because we do not have it but because what we are doing takes time. We do not have the time to watch TV, movies, or sporting events as much as we may want to.  So we keep up with friends family and news using Facebook and "smart" phones mostly.  We can use it anywhere so why not?  It is actually a primary tool for us now.  A connection in real time.  Facebook in the morning, in the evening, when we can really.

This blog is another tool.  We can get in depth here.  Family, friends, and total strangers can follow along, perhaps gaining some insight into who my wife and I really are.  Maybe just seeing we are okay.  Some may hope to find we are not okay in a secret chamber in their heart; whether they know it or not.  Whether they admit it to themselves or not.  It is human nature and that is okay. Most do not really mean it but the thoughts creep in which brings me to my point.

The School of Surf is needed for this.

Since I now read from and post to Facebook every day, I see a lot more of what makes people who they are than I used to.  It probably sounds weird but there is a rhythm to your Facebook posts. Many times I can tell when a person is posting from work.  People are more active when working, that is for sure. Mondays people start early.  Posts are different with our moods.  People disappear for days at a time and then post in flurries.  Rhythm there too.


It is also a little strange seeing posts from my unique vantage point.  I'm connected but not.  Not above it.  With it.  Hovering in the peripheral.

There is a lot of fear.  Fear of Government, fear of terrorism, fear of religion, fear of losing faith, fear of not belonging.  Fear of others.  Yep.  Fear of other people.  That is what it clearly (to me anyway) boils down to.  Mistrust and denial are big.  There are people spending vast amounts of money to make us buy what they want us to buy, make us believe what they want us to believe, to manipulate us.  To spread that fear.  Yeah, I think you know it.  And you probably really do.  Deep down in your heart of hearts.  It is very scary.

There is good news.  You can protect yourself.  It is not hard to do.  I actually have the answer and it is not 42.  Ready?  Learn.  Not what you were expecting I know.  Okay.  I will break it down further.  Listen.  Still not what you were expecting?  Me either but it works.  It really does. Sometimes it is not easy.  It is hard.  Harder still when you KNOW you are right about something. When you believe something. When you believe IN something.  Sometimes, most times it is worth it to put that aside for a minute and try to see things differently.

Local art on Calle Malecon.

"Get your facts first and then you can distort them as much as you please." - Samuel L. Clemens

I see quotes attributed on Facebook that simply are not true.  I see statements from politicians in the news that just are not true.  People see these things and all of the sudden it IS the truth.  I have done it.  You have done it.  Some post that stuff on purpose to further their own ends.  Politicians do, corporations do.  We should be afraid.  Part of human nature is to believe and there are people paid to take advantage of that. As the late Sir Terry Pratchett alluded to in his book Going Postal; if the beginning sounds right and the end sounds right, the stuff in the middle, the blurry stuff, gets filled in by us. Especially if it plays to a strong fear or strongly held belief.  I have shared things on Facebook adding that they were not true and people just do not see that. They only see what they want to see.  We want to believe.  We have to go beyond that. It is what makes us people.

So who can we trust.  Simple answer here.  Each other.  Arm yourself.  Many Americans do so with guns. It is our right.  I do not really have anything against that though I must confess; I do not understand why one needs an assault weapon to hunt.  So do that if you believe in it.  If you truly believe in being prepared and well armed, do not stop there.  Learn.  Learn if what you hear, what you believe, is true.  Take nothing you read or hear especially on the internet, at face value.  Find out for yourselves.  See if what you were taught all your life is true.  It may not be, at least for you.  Not anymore.  Keep an open mind.   Do not let the infamous "them" control you.  Think for yourself.

True Panama hats are not made in Panama.  They are made in Ecuador.

"As long as I learn I will make mistakes." - Beastie Boys

Clemens said travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness.  I can tell you unequivocally, it is true.  Learning. Continuous learning is another bullet for your survival stockpile.  Experience is key. Make mistakes. It is how we learn, how we grow.


My wife and I have traveled to many places.  We ended up here, at least for now.  Being here has changed our perceptions.  A little distance changes everything and change is necessary.  The world is smaller.  We can travel without leaving our couch.  We can research sans library.  Travel and learning are synonymous and people seem happiest when traveling for pleasure. When learning for themselves.  A small amount of effort can make us so powerful.  So fearless.  If we only try.  Adios.

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Tamera's Take: Strange Trees, Cats and Rose Colored Glasses

Tamera's Take is about being here.
Are you ready?  I am.

The ancient Maya of South America believed that a great Ceiba tree stood at the center of the earth, connecting the terrestrial world to the spirit-world above.  The long thick vines hanging down from its spreading limbs provided a connection to the heavens for the souls that ascended them.

The Ceiba tree’s branches were believed by Mayans to act as a seat from which the gods watched the people walking below.

Humans are not separate from nature.

Ceiba Tree facts:
During the dry season the symmetrical flowers can be rather small and inconspicuous at less than 3 cm (1 inch), to showy at more than 12 cm (5 inches); and are usually white, pinkish-white or red, with leathery petals.  This tree has a largely branchless trunk which grows to 60-70 metres (200-230 feet) and buttress roots that can be taller than a grown person.  The deep roots mean it is often one of the few trees left standing after a hurricane.

Borrowed photo. We were riding a bus. 

Thanks to the following websites for the above information:

http://www.fauna-flora.org

http://www.ceiba.org




As I write this, we are currently at the end of the dry season.  There is a bus route from our town of Crucita directly to the city of Portoviejo, about 30 km (18 miles) away.  The buses are scheduled about every 10 minutes, cost $1.10 to ride, and you hail them like a cab.  Equally, when you want to get off, you simply stand up and go to the front of the bus. The bus driver will immediately stop and let you off.

Groceries from Portoviejo

We needed to go to Portoviejo to do some grocery shopping.  We do not have a car, scooter, motorcycle or even a bicycle - yet. There are two options.  A cab or a bus.  A bus it is.

The bus makes a circle around Crucita, on Calle Malecon (coastal road) and Calle Portoviejo.  We are told by our friend Tamy to get on the bus at Calle Malecon, because it will be less crowded.  We are not sure why it will be less crowded, but any advice Tamy gives us is good advice.



It is about 50 yards (45 metres) from our gate to Calle Malecon.

As a side note, during the writing of Tamera's Take, I decide to login and listen to Pandora Internet Radio, only to receive the following message:

Zahi is not amused.

Dear Pandora Visitor,
We are deeply, deeply sorry to say that due to licensing constraints, we can no longer allow access to Pandora for listeners located outside of the U.S., Australia and New Zealand. We will continue to work diligently to realize the vision of a truly global Pandora, but for the time being we are required to restrict its use. We are very sad to have to do this, but there is no other alternative.

This frustrates me, but only for a moment.

Three countries does not sound very global.

I go to the back up plan and play some of our music saved to the laptop.




After all, I am in Crucita.  The sun is shining, the wind is blowing and the waves are crashing on the shore.   This was not the case yesterday.  It was raining on Friday.  Bus Ride Friday.  Black Friday for everyone in the U.S.

[listening to Under the Milky Way by The Church]

Back to Calle Malecon.

Calle Malecon

We are not sure what side of the Calle to catch the bus, but we know that there are no bus stops to search for, no increasingly confusing time schedules to decipher, no bus transfers to make.

Unlike the bus systems in the U.S. and probably many other countries, when we see the bus, just hail it like a cab.  Simple enough.

This is going to be easy.


After standing on the Malecon for about 3 minutes we see a bus heading our way.  Great.  This is going to be easy.  Our arms go up.  The bus stops.  "Este el Autobus a Portoviejo?" I say to the man who opens the bus door (not the driver).  "Portoviejo? Otro... (something something something and I have no idea what)."  Says the man who opens the bus door (not the driver).  However I did catch the word "otro" which means "other".  The man is smiling and pointing to the other side of the street.  Like I said, this is going to be easy.

Views from the bus on the way to Portoviejo 

We cross the street.  Well that was simple anyway.  Wait for it.  Yes.  Here it comes.  Another bus. My husband says, "you put up your arm this time, I did it last time".  I reply, "I held my arm up too". We both laugh and both put up our arms.  Better safe than sorry right?   It worked last time.  It worked this time too.

I should say at this point that "CRUCITA" is painted on the side of the buses.  In the front window is a sign that reads "Portoviejo".

[listening to Yer So Bad by Tom Petty]

The man (not the driver) opens the door.  Portoviejo?  Si.  Good, this is going to be easy.  Then there are those very steep steps.  Only two of them.  But very very steep.  My husband Jason and I are taller than most people here.

Did I mention the bus had really steep steps?

Views from the bus - house for sale

After climbing the steps, the very steep ones, I try to give the man (not the driver) money.  He does not take it.  There is no meter to drop money into.  No place to slide your Metrocard.  Confused for just a moment I keep walking up the aisle looking for two seats together.  Before I know it I am in the back of the bus and I get a look at the passengers for the first time.   All children and teenagers in school uniforms.  For the most part they are sitting in the window seat.  No one in the aisle seats.

Views from the bus - Rice Fields!

Confusion sets back in as I look towards the front of the bus, which is moving. Instinct sets in and we both choose an aisle seat. Did we get on the wrong bus? Did I say this was going to be easy?

The bus stops again and the new passengers are not school children. Feeling a little better by the addition of passengers, who are obviously not coming home from school, I relax.  It is 12:20pm.

We are on our way to Portoviejo.  Us, the school children, the other passengers who are not school children, the man (not the driver), and the driver.  We round the corner and a few more passengers get on the bus.

A man (not the other man or the driver) is walking up the aisle carrying a basket.  What is in the basket?   He is selling something to the passengers.  Fresh baked bread.  Rolls to be exact.  They smell wonderful.  I think about buying one, but decide not to.  I just want to observe for this bus ride.  There are two teenagers sitting behind me.  They are sitting very close together.  The teenage boy buys two rolls, one for himself and one for his girl-friend.

The man (not the driver).  Very nice man. 

The bus stops to let people on and let people off, as buses do.  The school children are quiet or talking very softly.  The other passengers talk socially to each other.  The man (not the driver) walks towards the back of the bus to collect the fare from each passenger.  The children pay a very small fare.  I can not see exactly how much they give him, but it seems to be a few small coins.  Jason and I each give him $1.10, he counts the money and smiles at us and nods.  We got the fare right.

This is nothing like any other bus ride I have taken.  I am actually enjoying it.  I knew it would be easy.

I hear the teenage boy behind me say, "Americanos.  No comprendo."  Of course he meant us.  He was right.

Am I wearing Rose Colored Glasses?  Who can say?!

Maybe I am, maybe not.  I will let you know.

Last Stop

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Sometimes, I Guess There Just aren't Enough Rocks

Earlier in the week I wrote about some of the challenges we discovered once we got here in the "It Ain't All Poached Eggs and Rubies" segment.  I guess I should quantify.  We didn't "discover" it all.  We read about some of this stuff before we got here.  We read about a lot of stuff before we got here.  Some correct, some not.  Things change.

New condos in South Central Crucita

Here in Crucita change seems to be on a fast track.  Fiber-optics are coming.  A new highway is coming.  New housing is coming.  I am not here to talk economic impact or politics.  That is going the right way for a smacked bottom and I know it.  The point is things change and we have to change with them.  Information posted a year ago may have changed.  I say this a lot because well, things change.  A lot. Older blogs or websites may not be current. Generally, not the author's fault. Now my butt is eternally covered.

We are just coming to the end of our first week here and while things have not changed per say, we have learned more about what has not.  Some "bad", some "good".  In reality these things just are.

Our blog writing has changed.  I do not know how many have noticed but most contractions (don't, we've, you've) have been weeded out unless it is a quote from somewhere.  It is not because I am a lazy writer or because I am simple, as true as that may be.  It is because we now have readers from places other than the good old U.S. of A (and no, we are not tracking our own hits!) .  That is exciting for us.  I did not really expect much more than family and a few friends to be readers.  We had a hit from the Ukraine.  Many from Ecuador.  I am positive most are English speaking ExPat bloggers or visitors but-

Americans use contractions but many nationalities do not.  They do not translate well or so I hear.  We are trying to be as international friendly as possible because after all, we are trying to help all people.  This is a writing nightmare for us.  An editing nightmare too.  It adds an hour or so to the process.  We are not professionals and attempting to change a lifetime habit is in a word, hard. Good thing we have time, huh?

In line water heater.  Quite all right.

I said earlier that I wanted a gas stove for a long time.  I went on about how happy I was to have it.  I am.  Supremely happy.  Can someone tell me how to turn on the freaking oven?  Dag nabbit blob!  I say this only because in my ramble about appliances of all things; I left out the fact we do not have a toaster.  No problemo mon.  Make it in the oven.  Nope.  Don't have, it, fresh out. (Quote.  The contraction is intentional).

DO NOT not flush the toilet paper.  We are on a land-locked, permanent cruise.  The sewage system here is not as good as many are used to.  It is very important not to overtax it.  Throw away that toilet paper, throw away that brush, just don't throw it in the toilet and a flush, flush, flush!  We are not chicken proof. We are not peanut butter proof.  That was special, just for my Jacksonville peeps. Be honest, you guys will have that stuck in your head for a few days now.  Flush toilet paper and give rise to the munthsters of the deep!  It is far too perilous.

That brings me to the water.  We come from the water.  The Toadies said it. It must be true.  We have to use bottled water (you can boil it too) for drinking and brushing teeth.  A five gallon can be had for $1.50 or less.  From what we know, the piped or "city" water in and of itself is perfectly fine. It is treated.  The issue really, is not the water, it is the delivery system.  Aged and flawed like so many of us.

Main power line.

Power is another thing.  Yes we have it.  Right here in our own little old home.  Almost all the time.  We have been here a week and lost power twice. The first time for about 2 hours. The second time for about 1/2 hour.  We knew about it.  It is another infrastructure issue like the water. The electrical is a bit sketchy if you are American as well.  We are on 110 amperage.  I think a few of the photos will help the electrically inclined understand.  Don't recoil in horror.  It is going to be OK.  Promise.  The house is made of concrete.

The air raid siren bugs me.  I think most every town has a whistle (Maxwell House, Beechum County, AL), bell, etc. that is set off on a quasi-regular basis.  We have an air raid siren.  It is not too loud or annoying to the ear,  It is quaint.  It is the kind of thing where you say "there goes the siren!" (like everyone does not hear it already, dumkopf!) when it sounds and smile. What bugs me is I do not know WHY it goes off.  Some days I hear it twice. Some days I hear it 5 times.  Never the same bat time.  Never the same bat channel.  I'll find out soon enough. For now it's on my mind.

Update 02-02-2016: The siren is from the school which is in session From 07:00 until 21:00 Mon through Sat!

Rocks.  Rocks, rocks, rocks.  Maybe stones is a more appropriate description.  It seems to be a permanent issue.  We use them all the time.  The exterior doors of our home are all held open by rocks.  We are renting so can not install hooks without landlord permission.  The Pacific breeze is generally pretty strong.  Since the rocks are not heavy, after a time, the doors will slam shut.  If you are upstairs you have to run down and fix it.  If you are downstairs, run up.  I know there are solutions people.  We just do not have the knowledge required to find what we need yet.

Rocks.

The rocks are found on the beach as we are cradled against the coast by a crescent of mountains.  They can be treacherous to your feet.  They are not sharp, large, or even particularly heavy.  There is a line of them along the beach  just like the shells line up on many beaches.  You can see them when the tide is out.  When the tide is up you can not see.  One second you are stepping on sand and the next; rocks.   The transition can bruise the bottoms your feet. Pirates, ye be warned!

The rain has stopped and it is time for us to set out on a new adventure, time for me to overcome my fears.  "Man up" in other words.  I am thankful my wife is here to give me strength.  I can not imagine doing this alone.

Some of you want the pictures of the native people doing native things.  I get it.  I try not to take pictures without permission.  I do not think the locals would enjoy another loco gringo waving a smartphone in their face without permission.  I do not know the words.  We have had bigger fish to fry, sometimes quite literally.

We must brave the bus and try to find a grocery store in Portoviejo.  We must replenish items we can not get here.  Another challenge.  Another segment all its own.  Wish us luck.  Adios!

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