Expat Journey

Ecuador is a Noisy Country

There. The thought that has been subconsciously rolling about in my head for months has finally come out. I hate to complain about my host country, but I have to be honest–I’m having a really hard time with the lack of peace and quiet here.

A Little Background

In May, Jeremy and I moved from small town Cotacachi to Cumbaya in Quito. Cotacachi is lovely, and rural, and beautiful, and… well… let’s face it… dull! There just wasn’t enough for us to do there. And while we met delightful expats, with one or two exceptions, the majority of them were retired (mostly from jobs they despised) and content to spend their days playing board games, watching YouTube videos, going out to eat, and drinking at the local expat-friendly watering hole. And that’s just not our thing.

So we moved to the big city. Cumbaya is an upscale area of Quito with about 40,000 people. We were initially enthralled by the bigger city atmosphere and we found a house to rent in a small gated community that was within walking distance to everything we needed.

Now, I’m no stranger to a metropolitan environment; Most of the time, I gravitate toward the hustle and bustle of urban life. But I’d neglected to factor in the overlay of Latin American culture atop city life. Gawd, it’s noisy.

As I write this…

…the neighbor’s dogs are out on their roof barking incessantly. This has gone on for approximately five hours and happens 2-3 times per week. The owners aren’t home. They’ve been gone all day and it’s now 6:45 PM. This may go on for a few hours more. We never know. The dogs are lonely, hungry and bored. They’re also making my life miserable.

So, why don’t I speak to the owners, you ask?

To tell you why I won’t do that, I need to tell you a story. This past June, another neighbor (there are only 7 houses in the community) decided to throw a rowdy (and loud) party on their rooftop deck. Bear in mind that the houses are incredibly close together. The party was rocking–complete with amplified music–well past midnight. Sleep was impossible; we were exhausted; the cats were stressed. It sucked.

So, the next day, I pulled out my copy of the HOA rules, and right there, under Section 8, paragraph C, it states that noise must be kept to a level that does not disturb your neighbors.

No one would deny that I was definitely disturbed, so I had a leg to stand on. Or so I thought. Given that we’re the only non-Ecuadorians in the neighborhood, I wanted to be sensitive, so I texted my landlady, told her the issue and asked her advice on what to do. She immediately got together with the head of the HOA, who advised me to “put out a text on the community WhatsApp group so we could all resolve the issue.”

What the actual F??

Why was I being advised to take a complaint about one neighbor to the entire group? I may not be the world’s best problem solver, but the thought of bringing a beef with one neighbor to the entire community seems like unnecessary drama to me.

But that’s what I was told to do, and since having peace and quiet is the hill I want to die on, I sent out what I thought was a tactful message to the group referencing the party and asking if these types of gatherings are the norm, and was the clause in the HOA rules simply not enforced?

The sole response, as expected, came from the homeowner who had thrown the party. To summarize the response, it was basically, “it was only one party and we wrapped up early.”

Clearly, “early” is a subjective term.

The essence of the response was that no one else had a problem with it, so why were we bitching?

So, you can bet yer bottom dollar, I won’t be taking any more noise complaints to the group for “problem resolution.” Meanwhile, at least three days a week, our thoughts are permeated with the unending noise of unhappy canines.

More adventures in neighborhood camaraderie

I know a lot of folks that live in close proximity to their neighbors complain about barking dogs. But on top of that, we’ve had mariachi bands playing in the center courtyard for another party. (No, mariachi bands are not an Ecuadorian tradition; they are Mexican. But any tradition that is loud and obnoxious is eagerly embraced by Ecuadorians, I’ve discovered.) Our next door neighbor insists on starting his diesel truck and letting it “warm up” (in the 65 degree temperatures of Ecuador) for 10-15 minutes a little before 7. Every. Friggin. Morning.

And then there is our neighbor on the other side. They have a young adult son who fancies himself a heavy metal guitar player. He likes to strangle the strings several times a week with the windows wide open. It is the most torturous sound you can imagine. It sounds like a cat fight on steroids. I hate this kid with every fiber of my being. Double on Saturday afternoons. (That’s when he most often mangles the instrument.)

Dull is starting to sound good

That’s not counting the noise that drifts in from outside the community. There’s a bar a block away, and I swear they must have amateur night a couple times a week. I’ve learned that many Ecuadorians can’t carry a tune. But what they lack in pitch, they make up for in volume. They are nothing if not enthusiastic. I can’t for the life of me figure out why the kid next door hasn’t been signed up for a weekly gig there. He’d fit right in.

But man-oh-man–what an assault on the ears. Throw in the trucks that incessantly beep while backing up (I swear none of the trucks in this country go forward.), the guy next door who loudly hocks a loogie several times a day, and the couple with the outdoor dryer which buzzes every ten minutes for up to 2-3 hours when a load of laundry is done, prompting me to want to scream “for chrissake, put your damn clothes away, already!”

And is if that weren’t enough

The last little gem of noise pollution concerns the alarm on the gate to the community. When we toured the house prior to renting, the agent assured me the development had 24/7 personal guard protection (i.e. a human guard). That turned out to be untrue. We have a guard here six days a week from 8:00 AM to 6:00 PM. The rest of the time, the seven homes are protected by an alarm system that surrounds the entire development. Each resident has a controller that has a button to turn the alarm on and off when they leave or enter the gate.

Ergo, we are only as safe as our least conscientious neighbor. And, how do I say this politely? Ummmmm…. our neighbors are not conscientious. Nor have most of them figured out how the alarm button works. It’s not hard: there’s one button to toggle the alarm on and off. There’s even an idiot light mounted next to the gate. Light on/alarm on. Light off/Alarm off. Get it?????

Apparently not.

Subsequently, the alarm goes off at least once a day. Without fail, Mr. Diesel Truck Man next door sets it off every single morning as he leaves. Like clockwork. And inevitably, someone sets it off almost every evening after the guard leaves. So, not only do we have the constant whoop! whoop! of an alarm, but when it goes off, everyone assumes it’s an accident and so just ignores it. I pity all of us if there is ever an actual ladron (thief) trying to get in. We may as well throw open our doors and invite them in to take whatever they want.

What to do?

I dunno. I’ve got nuttin. I often hear expats say they get used to the noise of Ecuador, but I just don’t think that’s ever going to be the case with me. I enjoy immersing myself in my own thoughts and I can’t concentrate on anything with the cacophony that surrounds us more often than not. And I don’t really believe that people tune out noise as well as they think they do. On some level, it has to permeate their consciousness and affect their productivity, not to mention their inner peace.

But both of those seem to be in short supply down here.