From Sudden Unemployment to a Life of Creativity and Fun in the Andes

My grant-writing job for a large Seattle non-profit ended one afternoon with no warning.

While my co-workers watched in silence, I was ordered to pack my belongings and escorted out of the building.

At 67, I’d planned to work three more years and retire to a sunny overseas locale, where I could live on a small nest egg and my Social Security. Multiple marriages, an embarrassing lack of financial planning, and real estate losses meant if I stayed in the U.S., my choices would be to work forever... or to find a way to survive on much, much less.

Now that plan was shattered.

I began a round of job interviews with 30-somethings. Overqualified in every instance, I concluded that age discrimination may be illegal, but it lives and thrives. Meanwhile, my savings dripped away like bad plumbing. Work at Walmart or…?

Retired friends in Puerto Vallarta encouraged me to move there. But my monthly Social Security check didn’t meet Mexico's income requirements for residency. And Puerto Vallarta—an attractive tourist destination—is not for the faint of wallet.

For years I’d enjoyed reading International Living magazine. I loved all the stories about people who’d re-invented themselves in other countries. I’d traveled to over 60 countries and spent two years in the Peace Corps, so living abroad had been strong on my bucket list.

When IL hosted a three-day conference at the Red Rock Casino Hotel in Las Vegas, I signed up. After listening to all the presentations, Ecuador caught my attention. I met friendly, helpful people who lived in places like Vilcabamba and Salinas. I decided Vilcabamba was too small (it has a population of around 5,000) and the beach lifestyle held no appeal for me.

The Andean city of Cuenca, the third-largest city in Ecuador, offered just the right mix of culture, history, entertainment, and medical amenities. Online I explored websites and blog posts about its expat life.

Cuenca’s cathedral with its famous blue-domes is the centerpiece of this vibrant city.|©diegograndi/iStock

I didn’t visit Ecuador to check it out first. I sensed from everything I’d read (its legal currency is the U.S. dollar and it even has 110 voltage!), Ecuador would be perfect for me. I developed the attitude that this was going to be a fabulous new adventure, and a chance to learn a new language.

Once I made the decision to move to Ecuador, I became a professional downsizer. For three months, I sorted through clothes, books, art supplies, photos, and travel memorabilia.

Honestly, I was sad to leave my vintage Seattle 1960s apartment with its panoramic view of Lake Washington, but my lake-gazing days were now numbered. I advertised things on Craigslist and met my buyers in the parking lot of my neighborhood Starbucks to conduct our transactions. Open the trunk, show the goods, get the cash.

I gifted items to friends who helped me haul donations to Goodwill. I gifted family memorabilia to a young cousin who was thrilled to have them. I sold my 2004 PT Cruiser with leather seats and a moonroof.

In Seattle, I'd never worn my gold and diamond jewelry. And I had a lot of it—mostly treasured gifts. To lessen the pain of letting memories go, I photographed everything.

Difficult as it was to part with these possessions, the money paid for my moving expenses, airfare to Ecuador, and my residency application.

In February 2012 I arrived in charming Cuenca with four suitcases. It was the middle of Carnival, and the city was humming with excitement.

My first impressions of Cuenca were how clean the streets were and how friendly the people seemed. The temperate year-round weather made me feel as if I were at Lake Tahoe in the summer. Rain showers are often short here, and my friend at the Chamber of Commerce likes to say, “We have four seasons every day.” People are kind and helpful to foreigners. The first time a teenager offered me her seat on a crowded bus, I had to smile.

My days became full with writing novels, painting watercolors, studying Spanish (though many waiters, shopkeepers, and doctors speak English), exploring the city, and meeting friends for lunch and mojitos.

My modern three-bedroom condo-apartment—I pay just $450 a month—has hardwood floors, two terraces, pull-out kitchen shelves, big views of the Cajas mountains, round-the-clock security, and two parking spaces in the basement (I rent one to a neighbor for $20 a month).

I enjoy excellent drinking water from the tap. I can walk to the Tomebamba River, my bank, an indigenous market for fresh fruits and vegetables, an English-speaking doctor and dentist, and to el centro (downtown). Also in my neighborhood is a major hospital and the University of Cuenca.

When I get hungry, I can choose from sushi, Italian, steak, Chinese, and seafood restaurants, where a full meal with a glass of wine will be under $20.

Carolyn can pick from a vast range of world cuisines when she eats out in Cuenca.

I'm totally spoiled now. I have regular laundry service, deliveries of fresh, homemade sourdough bread, fat blueberries and long-stemmed roses, and my maid has become family.

In Ecuador, jubilados—people over 65—enjoy special benefits. We have our own line at banks and supermarkets and government offices. We’re eligible for utility, museum and movie ticket discounts, and refund of the 12% sales taxes. We enjoy a 50% discount on the base airfare for any worldwide flight that originates in Ecuador (which comes out to a 40% savings after taxes). And some of that tax is refundable. I even get a discount on my reliable, high-speed internet—it costs $54 a month.

I choose not to have a car. While other expats say they need their “freedom,” for me freedom is not having to deal with car maintenance, parking, and gas stations. With taxi rides for $2, I see no need to have an expensive vehicle of my own.

My premium for full coverage in the national healthcare system is $74 a month. Five years ago, I had emergency gallbladder surgery at zero cost—and no deductible. A dental crown, which I chose to pay independently, was $250. Recently I indulged in cosmetic surgery, which totaled less than $10,000.

I've now created a Facebook group, Aspiring Memoir Writers, and an online memoir coaching business with clients all over the English-speaking world.

My typical day starts with several hours of writing or online coaching. In the afternoons, I explore new restaurants, run errands, or do food shopping. While a local supermarket chain has several locations, I prefer to buy fruits and vegetables and chicken and eggs in the indigenous markets, where prices are lower and I’m supporting local farmers.

I buy almost nothing in cans. Most of our food comes from within 70 miles of the city, with few pesticides (an expense local farmers can't afford).

On Wednesdays, my maid comes to clean (depending on the size of your home, you’ll pay between $50 and $100 per month for a maid to come once a week), and I go to a friend's house where, in her sunny atrium, we paint all day and order in sushi lunch.

There is always an interesting project here in Cuenca. In 2016, writer friends created an International Writers Conference. Another year, an expat friend organized an art tile project for the low walls on the side of a street. I often donate original watercolor paintings to fund-raising events by local charities, such as Hearts of Gold and Mujeras Con Exito. Last week, I attended a one-woman afternoon play, Tea with Mrs. Lincoln, presented by retired American actress Dodie Lovett, in an elegant, restored colonial home.

There are also book reading groups, writing groups, jazz concerts, a pool club, cooking classes, an oldies dance night, a trivia night, a Mexican Train dominoes group, movies in 4D, and annual festivals such as Carnival, Corpus Christi, and the Christmas Paseo del Niños parade.

For anyone new to Cuenca, volunteering with a nonprofit organization is a great way to meet new friends.

Cuenca has become my forever home, with both gringo and Ecuadorian friends. I've been able to indulge my creativity, publish fiction, nonfiction, and adult coloring books on Amazon. After 10 years, I still love walking the tree-lined streets where every brick, stone, or adobe building reflects a distinct personality.

“La vida es buena.” Life is good here in Cuenca, and I'm living it earlier than originally planned.