The saleswoman studies me compassionately while I scrape the last coins out of my jeans pocket and stack them on the counter. Nine dollars and twenty-five cents. It's all the plata I have on me and just enough to buy me the smallest USB flash drive in the store. Truth to be told, I can't really afford this one either (that's this week's lunch money on the table) but my old memory stick has stopped functioning and I need one for work so I have no choice but to cough up my last dollars.
It may be baffling to some people why anyone would actually choose a lifestyle where every single penny counts. Back in Finland, I made about three times as much as I make here and even though the cost of living is higher over there, life in Ecuador isn't exactly cheap. I knew before coming here that this year would be tough money wise; I didn't have a lot of savings and I had no plan except to look for adventure. Quitting my first job here and not getting paid for two months set me back even more and despite the fact that I'm now working full time, six days a week, it's a constant struggle to make ends meet.
Once a month, I head to the bank with my paycheck and the cashier hands me a stack of twenty dollar bills. I then carefully walk home, silently praying that no one will decide to rob me that day. The following day, I pay my rent, which is about a third of my salary. The past two months, I paid twice that amount as a deposit for my apartment and this month, another large chunk will go to the renewal of my visa, which is an extremely costly (and emotionally weary) process in Ecuador. Once these payments have been made, I hide the rest of my hard earned twenty dollar bills in my sock drawer, hoping they will somehow last me until the end of the month.
Some things are relatively cheap here. One ride on the public transport costs twenty-five cents, which means I spend about three dollars a week on traveling to and from work. For three dollars you can also get a fairly decent lunch, including vegetable soup, chicken or meat, always always rice and sometimes even a small dessert. Other things, such as cosmetics, are ridiculously expensive. I usually pick out the cheapest ones at the grocery store but still need to close my eyes and take a deep breath when I'm asked to hand over eighteen dollars for a mascara that will only last a couple of weeks.
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| Normally our fridge isn't look quite as sad-looking but my roommates were on holiday this week and I was reluctant to spend the last of the money that my parents sent me for my birthday on groceries. |
Some of the clothes I wear have holes in them (sorry, mom) but I can't afford to buy new ones so I come up with clever ways to hide the scruffiness instead. I really need a new pair of shoes though. The flats I brought with me from Finland are so flat and so worn out that any surface turns into a skating rink when it rains, which is pretty much every day. I've fallen flat on my face in the street a couple of times and whenever the bus brakes suddenly, I end up sliding from side to side. Luckily, there seems to always be someone there to catch me - Ecuadorians are good like that.
What causes me the most headaches are the unforeseen costs. For example, last week on the bus, someone cut my bag open with a knife. I was only carrying books for work so fortunately nothing was stolen (I guess the thieves weren't interested in learning English) but I was rather upset about having to buy a new bag. There goes another twenty dollars that could have been spent on food for the week. Also, the new bag turned out to be to small for all my books so I'm still using the old one. A coworker rather creatively stitched it together for me and so far it's only ripped open once.
Living on a tight budget can be somewhat daunting from time to time but even so, I can't imagine being anywhere else. It amazes me sometimes to think about the life I had back home where pretty much everything was available with the swipe of a credit card. Not that I was rich in any way but I could afford to travel and pay for clothes and groceries and anything I needed. Although I can't help but wonder if anyone actually needs organic teas and fancy superfoods like goji berries and chia seeds? Flights and hotels instead of buses and cheap hostels? And did I really use to fork out a hundred euros to get my hair cut?! Okay, so the three-dollar haircut I got here was a bit of a disaster but let's face it - it's just hair. It'll grow back eventually.
Every day here, I see people of all ages begging for money. Little children sell candy on the street, teenagers sing rap songs on the bus and people with a handicap share their stories with resignation in their eyes, hoping that maybe this time someone will listen and spare a few coins to help them feed their families. I've also never come across so much entertainment at traffic lights. While waiting for the red to turn green, Quiteños can have their car windows cleaned, buy fresh avocados or enjoy a juggling performance. I even saw a tightrope walker the other day. It's a complete circus and I'm so grateful for the fact that no matter how "poor" I am, I will never end up living on the street. I will always have a home to return to and a family that supports me even when I make the craziest of decisions.
It's all about perspective, isn't it? I don't need special foods when I'm living in a country that is bursting with fresh fruit. Cheap green tea tastes more or less the same as the expensive kind and interesting conversations fill me up way more than any lavish meal ever could. Wine glasses and carefully prepared delicacies are not necessary for a fiesta - most guests will be more than happy to munch on nachos and drink whatever you serve them out of any random cup. Life is funny and life is short and most importantly, life is what you make it. I want to make mine about something other than material things - I want it to be about family, friendship and fun. Sunrises, sunsets and everything in between. Oceans and mountains and most of all, love. True love that will last a lot longer than any plata ever could.
