Mi Suegra
I could have definitively done a lot worse when it comes to a mother-in-law. She has not ever tried to get me arrested, has not thrown objects in my direction, or ever uttered (at least not in my presence) “you’re not good enough for my daughter” – even though it is probably true. And my children adore her and she adores them. However, there is the typical underlying son-in-law/mother-in-law dynamic that is the foundation of legions of mother-in-law jokes. Not to mention the occasional conflicts that have flared up during our 17-year relationship. So imagine my trepidation when I had to entertain not one, but two, visits with her while here in Ecuador. It was with such trepidation that given the option between spending a day in the lush tourist town of Baños, or working two shifts, I chose the latter.
Now these are not your typical mother-in-law visits where she dotes over the grandkids, fusses over the mundane, makes dinner… and then kisses you on the cheek and leaves. That’s because mi suegra (Spanish for my mother-in-law) is not your typical mother-in-law. Kathrynne is a 77-year old yoga/fitness instructor, world traveler (she’s been to Egypt, India, and all over the British Isles), astrologist, shaman, faith healer (ok, maybe not a faith healer) - but she was new age in the old age of Mad Men and Donna Reed. But this is Ecuador, and the only things new age here are prepackaged granola bars. And, she is no shrinking violet when it comes to expressing her own opinion on things –especially when it comes to politics, in which we are in total disagreement. And as it would be - her first visit was on the heals of the very heated presidential election.
I feared the results of the November election. Not so much for what a Romney election would mean for America, as bad that may have been. I could deal with the stain on the Obama legacy, a third war in the Middle East, a throwback back to the Wall Street giveaways and tax breaks. What I couldn’t deal with was my mother-in-law's arrival just three days after the election, gloating over his victory. Fortunately, the electorate not only averted war with Iran, but, more importantly, prevented me from having to face my mother-in-law’s post-electoral elation. However, I took the high road and did not rub it in her face (that, and the fact that Greer had already instituted a post-election ban on political discussions during her vacation – regardless of the outcome.) Yet, Obama’s re-election undoubtedly made her visit easier for me to swallow.
Being so worldly, Kathrynne should have been use to the trials, tribulations and foibles of travel, but I am not sure she was ready for what Ecuador had to offer. Five to seven hour bus rides are the norm, and our first trip was a seven-hour ride to the seaside resort of Tonsopa in Esmeraldes Province. The bus ride wasn’t bad – it was very scenic, rather relaxing, and it gave Greer and her mom time to catch up while I caught up on some reading. But it was the half-hour turned into hour cab ride to the hotel that should have tipped us off. The cab driver couldn’t find the hotel, and Kathrynne insisted that he was just taking the gringos for a ride. I wish that was the case. Our hotel, though accurately advertised to be just 200 meters from the beach, was nestled in a section of town that resembled Haiti… after the earthquake. And though our little two-bedroom efficiency was clean, the smell of disinfectant was in a constant battle with stench of mold, with each sharing equal time at the top.
Of course, after traveling thousands of miles, and then seven hours on a bus, Kathrynne would have been well in her rights to be outraged at our conditions. Yet, to her credit, she rolled with the punches and reserved judgment as we ventured into town and the beach. The beach was as everyone described… tranquil, clear water, white sands…very beautiful. But to say that the town of Tonsopa was a ghost town would imply that ghosts actually were there. Aside from the few people who worked in town, we were the only visitors in this seaside “resort”. And as such, there were few amenities, like decent restaurants, to accommodate our needs. We did relish in the fact that we had the beach to ourselves and enjoyed an afternoon soaking in the sun and water. And after an evening scouring the town for a decent meal (the first restaurant seemed almost annoyed that we wanted to be served) we wandered into a place that was eager to serve the only guests in town. Yet to my dismay and consternation – and to the hooting howls of my mother-in-law and the rest of my family, I was served what looked like a chicken bone that the dog left over. I got over my initial resentment at being the brunt of my mother-in-law’s joke, and the next day, we enjoyed the best of what Tonsopa had to offer – the beach - but not before we were given insight to the restaurant business in Tonsopa. A “butcher on wheels” rolled up on a motorcycle with his cart full of hanging beef, as the restaurant owner came out for his daily delivery. We knew it was time to go. We cut our stay short and we looked forward to heading back to the open-air bus terminal, where - as it turned out - we got our best meals in Tonsopa, for another seven-hour bus ride.
And this bus ride was not without its adventure. Warned against traveling at night in Esmeraldes Province, we unwittingly ended up doing just that. So when the bus was stopped and men in police uniforms ordered us off the bus, I thought it could be some sort of shakedown. We soon learned it was a security check (because… it’s dangerous to travel at night) as police searched though our bags. Outraged, my mother in law protested, “you have no right to search through my bag!” FYI, U.S. Constitutional rights don’t follow you to Ecuador. Fortunately for us, her protestations fell on deaf ears (more accurately, un-translated ears), and the police were soon distracted by the security threat found in my son’s possession. After he was frisked, they uncovered two Glock 9mm pistols. Actually, they were plastic BB guns with the firepower of a mosquito bite, yet they were quickly confiscated and handed over to bus security (the guy who collects the money) for the remainder of the ride home. Luckily for the police officers, they didn’t frisk my mother-in-law; they would have been in for a rapid-fire lashing.
But this adventure was just a foretelling of what would come next. Her last trip of the visit was to Otavalo, the largest market in all of South America, where locals and tourists alike come to shop for everything from goats and pigs to tapestries, clothes, jewelry and musical instruments. After a beautiful day of hiking, taking in the sights of a picturesque waterfall, and, of course, souvenir shopping, we made our way back to the bus station for our return to Quito, where Kathrynne had an early morning flight home. Not so fast, gringos! The road to Quito was closed because of a religious pilgrimage and festival. Thousands of worshipers of the Virgin of Quinche halted traffic until about 5am the following morning, too late, of course, for Kathrynne’s flight. We (I) were determined to find an alternate route. I was going to have her on the flight, no matter what.
But being Ecuador, that was no easy task. At first I thought it was a scam to wrangle some money out of gringos, but it was confirmed by several reliable sources. So, two hours later, and a 100 bucks lighter, we were on our way to Quito. The normal two-hour trip took four hours through a dark, unpaved mountain pass, well past midnight, where every bump and turn could have been our last. Yet, Kathrynne took it all in stride; though we still debate whether her vice-like grips around Grant’s neck at each treacherous turn were out of her fear or for his protection.
We arrived safely at our hotel at 2am, giving us about two hours of “sleep” before her departure. But the adventure did not end there. Her flight landed in New York, but she did not. And for several unsettling hours, her family at home and in Ecuador did not know where she was. After her ordeal just to get to the airport, we could not have imagined what had happened to our 77-year-old suegra/madre/abuela. The airlines were not much help, implying that she was somehow stuck somewhere in Panama. Yet, we were relieved to hear that one of her flights was canceled and she needed to be re-routed, and a car service provided by the airline would be taking her home. (Funny side note - she fell asleep on the plane in Panama before take-off, and when she woke up some time later, she thought she had landed at her next stop...confused that she was still in Panama; no wonder given the night she had.) And, this was just her first visit. In spite of all that, she took it all in stride and still wanted to come back to Ecuador for more.
Compared to the first visit, the second was rather boring... mountainous hikes, thunderous waterfalls, tattoos on the beach...the usual for a 77-year old grandmother. However, it was after spending two-full weeks with my mother-in-law, that I realized where Greer gets her passion for life, travel, adventure, exercise and her next crazy escapade. They are both fascinated by the colorful buildings, the ocean vistas, astrology, and annoyed by similar things like the loud bus rides and pushy Ecuadorians. They have even begun planning a new entrepreneurial venture …a mind, body and ‘sol’ tour of Ecuador… combining yoga, meditation, fitness and culture. Seven-hour bus trips and stop and frisks are optional. My guess is that Tonsopa will not be on the itinerary. It was also where I learned to appreciate my mother-in-law for what she has to offer. She did, after all, bring me Starbucks coffee with each visit (how bad can she be?). We even shared some of our grossest bathroom moments with each other. But most importantly, we share the love of my wife and children and, what I think we can both say is a mutual appreciation. They say that if you want to see what your wife will be like in 20-30 years, then take a look at your mother-in-law. I have had two up close and personal opportunities, and it’s not that bad. I could have done worse with a mother-in-law, but I probably couldn’t have done much better. After all, she helped to produce my wife.
I could have definitively done a lot worse when it comes to a mother-in-law. She has not ever tried to get me arrested, has not thrown objects in my direction, or ever uttered (at least not in my presence) “you’re not good enough for my daughter” – even though it is probably true. And my children adore her and she adores them. However, there is the typical underlying son-in-law/mother-in-law dynamic that is the foundation of legions of mother-in-law jokes. Not to mention the occasional conflicts that have flared up during our 17-year relationship. So imagine my trepidation when I had to entertain not one, but two, visits with her while here in Ecuador. It was with such trepidation that given the option between spending a day in the lush tourist town of Baños, or working two shifts, I chose the latter.
Now these are not your typical mother-in-law visits where she dotes over the grandkids, fusses over the mundane, makes dinner… and then kisses you on the cheek and leaves. That’s because mi suegra (Spanish for my mother-in-law) is not your typical mother-in-law. Kathrynne is a 77-year old yoga/fitness instructor, world traveler (she’s been to Egypt, India, and all over the British Isles), astrologist, shaman, faith healer (ok, maybe not a faith healer) - but she was new age in the old age of Mad Men and Donna Reed. But this is Ecuador, and the only things new age here are prepackaged granola bars. And, she is no shrinking violet when it comes to expressing her own opinion on things –especially when it comes to politics, in which we are in total disagreement. And as it would be - her first visit was on the heals of the very heated presidential election.
I feared the results of the November election. Not so much for what a Romney election would mean for America, as bad that may have been. I could deal with the stain on the Obama legacy, a third war in the Middle East, a throwback back to the Wall Street giveaways and tax breaks. What I couldn’t deal with was my mother-in-law's arrival just three days after the election, gloating over his victory. Fortunately, the electorate not only averted war with Iran, but, more importantly, prevented me from having to face my mother-in-law’s post-electoral elation. However, I took the high road and did not rub it in her face (that, and the fact that Greer had already instituted a post-election ban on political discussions during her vacation – regardless of the outcome.) Yet, Obama’s re-election undoubtedly made her visit easier for me to swallow.
Being so worldly, Kathrynne should have been use to the trials, tribulations and foibles of travel, but I am not sure she was ready for what Ecuador had to offer. Five to seven hour bus rides are the norm, and our first trip was a seven-hour ride to the seaside resort of Tonsopa in Esmeraldes Province. The bus ride wasn’t bad – it was very scenic, rather relaxing, and it gave Greer and her mom time to catch up while I caught up on some reading. But it was the half-hour turned into hour cab ride to the hotel that should have tipped us off. The cab driver couldn’t find the hotel, and Kathrynne insisted that he was just taking the gringos for a ride. I wish that was the case. Our hotel, though accurately advertised to be just 200 meters from the beach, was nestled in a section of town that resembled Haiti… after the earthquake. And though our little two-bedroom efficiency was clean, the smell of disinfectant was in a constant battle with stench of mold, with each sharing equal time at the top.
Of course, after traveling thousands of miles, and then seven hours on a bus, Kathrynne would have been well in her rights to be outraged at our conditions. Yet, to her credit, she rolled with the punches and reserved judgment as we ventured into town and the beach. The beach was as everyone described… tranquil, clear water, white sands…very beautiful. But to say that the town of Tonsopa was a ghost town would imply that ghosts actually were there. Aside from the few people who worked in town, we were the only visitors in this seaside “resort”. And as such, there were few amenities, like decent restaurants, to accommodate our needs. We did relish in the fact that we had the beach to ourselves and enjoyed an afternoon soaking in the sun and water. And after an evening scouring the town for a decent meal (the first restaurant seemed almost annoyed that we wanted to be served) we wandered into a place that was eager to serve the only guests in town. Yet to my dismay and consternation – and to the hooting howls of my mother-in-law and the rest of my family, I was served what looked like a chicken bone that the dog left over. I got over my initial resentment at being the brunt of my mother-in-law’s joke, and the next day, we enjoyed the best of what Tonsopa had to offer – the beach - but not before we were given insight to the restaurant business in Tonsopa. A “butcher on wheels” rolled up on a motorcycle with his cart full of hanging beef, as the restaurant owner came out for his daily delivery. We knew it was time to go. We cut our stay short and we looked forward to heading back to the open-air bus terminal, where - as it turned out - we got our best meals in Tonsopa, for another seven-hour bus ride.
And this bus ride was not without its adventure. Warned against traveling at night in Esmeraldes Province, we unwittingly ended up doing just that. So when the bus was stopped and men in police uniforms ordered us off the bus, I thought it could be some sort of shakedown. We soon learned it was a security check (because… it’s dangerous to travel at night) as police searched though our bags. Outraged, my mother in law protested, “you have no right to search through my bag!” FYI, U.S. Constitutional rights don’t follow you to Ecuador. Fortunately for us, her protestations fell on deaf ears (more accurately, un-translated ears), and the police were soon distracted by the security threat found in my son’s possession. After he was frisked, they uncovered two Glock 9mm pistols. Actually, they were plastic BB guns with the firepower of a mosquito bite, yet they were quickly confiscated and handed over to bus security (the guy who collects the money) for the remainder of the ride home. Luckily for the police officers, they didn’t frisk my mother-in-law; they would have been in for a rapid-fire lashing.
But this adventure was just a foretelling of what would come next. Her last trip of the visit was to Otavalo, the largest market in all of South America, where locals and tourists alike come to shop for everything from goats and pigs to tapestries, clothes, jewelry and musical instruments. After a beautiful day of hiking, taking in the sights of a picturesque waterfall, and, of course, souvenir shopping, we made our way back to the bus station for our return to Quito, where Kathrynne had an early morning flight home. Not so fast, gringos! The road to Quito was closed because of a religious pilgrimage and festival. Thousands of worshipers of the Virgin of Quinche halted traffic until about 5am the following morning, too late, of course, for Kathrynne’s flight. We (I) were determined to find an alternate route. I was going to have her on the flight, no matter what.
But being Ecuador, that was no easy task. At first I thought it was a scam to wrangle some money out of gringos, but it was confirmed by several reliable sources. So, two hours later, and a 100 bucks lighter, we were on our way to Quito. The normal two-hour trip took four hours through a dark, unpaved mountain pass, well past midnight, where every bump and turn could have been our last. Yet, Kathrynne took it all in stride; though we still debate whether her vice-like grips around Grant’s neck at each treacherous turn were out of her fear or for his protection.
We arrived safely at our hotel at 2am, giving us about two hours of “sleep” before her departure. But the adventure did not end there. Her flight landed in New York, but she did not. And for several unsettling hours, her family at home and in Ecuador did not know where she was. After her ordeal just to get to the airport, we could not have imagined what had happened to our 77-year-old suegra/madre/abuela. The airlines were not much help, implying that she was somehow stuck somewhere in Panama. Yet, we were relieved to hear that one of her flights was canceled and she needed to be re-routed, and a car service provided by the airline would be taking her home. (Funny side note - she fell asleep on the plane in Panama before take-off, and when she woke up some time later, she thought she had landed at her next stop...confused that she was still in Panama; no wonder given the night she had.) And, this was just her first visit. In spite of all that, she took it all in stride and still wanted to come back to Ecuador for more.
Compared to the first visit, the second was rather boring... mountainous hikes, thunderous waterfalls, tattoos on the beach...the usual for a 77-year old grandmother. However, it was after spending two-full weeks with my mother-in-law, that I realized where Greer gets her passion for life, travel, adventure, exercise and her next crazy escapade. They are both fascinated by the colorful buildings, the ocean vistas, astrology, and annoyed by similar things like the loud bus rides and pushy Ecuadorians. They have even begun planning a new entrepreneurial venture …a mind, body and ‘sol’ tour of Ecuador… combining yoga, meditation, fitness and culture. Seven-hour bus trips and stop and frisks are optional. My guess is that Tonsopa will not be on the itinerary. It was also where I learned to appreciate my mother-in-law for what she has to offer. She did, after all, bring me Starbucks coffee with each visit (how bad can she be?). We even shared some of our grossest bathroom moments with each other. But most importantly, we share the love of my wife and children and, what I think we can both say is a mutual appreciation. They say that if you want to see what your wife will be like in 20-30 years, then take a look at your mother-in-law. I have had two up close and personal opportunities, and it’s not that bad. I could have done worse with a mother-in-law, but I probably couldn’t have done much better. After all, she helped to produce my wife.