September 2009 Issue of International Living
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This month: We announce Colonial Cuenca as the top retirement haven in 2009. Find out how jewellers buy their pearls for less. Learn how the economic crisis is creating opportunity in Argentinian wines.
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Stop press: South America’s next eco-hotspot—hiding the world’s largest section of unprotected rainforest—is Suriname.
It’s a jungle out there. A jungle of macaques, proboscis monkeys, pygmy elephants, and the mouse deer, which is a little bigger than a rabbit. Pythons, hornbills, bee-eaters, carnivorous pitcher plants. Lazy brown rivers and crocodiles. Hundreds of orchid species. And the “People of the Forest.”
If you’ve been to Ecuador, you probably know about Otavalo’s textiles, Cotacachi’s leatherworkers, and San Antonio’s woodcarvers. But did you investigate Chordeleg’s silversmiths?
For divers, there may be no better place to live than Cozumel. Sure, you may find places where the marine life is more spectacular, the dive boats less crowded, the land life more laidback…but for day-to-day convenience, Cozumel is hard to beat. You’ll find all the comforts of “back home,” but a lifestyle that is distinctly Mexican—all this despite the fact that Cozumel is a popular tourist destination.
Cuenca has a stunning church on every corner and a festival almost every week of the year. The city attracts young people from around the world, who bring with them energy and vitality.
Between the massive cordilleras of the Andes, nestled in fertile green valleys of equatorial eternal spring, sit some of Ecuador’s most beautiful highland colonial towns and cities. Here are my top four choices for retirement living:
Thinking about moving overseas and worried about how your kids or grandkids will take to it? Don’t be. Children are adaptable and can soak up new experiences (and languages) like big porous sponges.
As the sun rises over the turquoise-blue Caribbean Sea and the sound of the songbirds grows louder, I find that I no longer need an alarm clock in my life.
It’s 7 o’clock on a summer’s evening. I’m seven rows from the front at Barcelona’s El Monumental, on a stone seat in the arena’s less expensive sunny half. I wish I had a white hanky to wave, too. Like fellow fans, I’m applauding Diego Ventura’s skill at killing his first bull cleanly.