When a Cuencano asks you who to call

Sometimes one of the clearest signs that you are beginning to belong in Cuenca is not when you know whom to ask for help. It is when a Cuencano assumes you might know the answer.

Robert was leaving his building when Fernando stopped him near the entrance.

“Roberto, usted sabe de computadoras, ¿no?”

Robert laughed. “I used to. Computers have changed.”

Fernando knew that Robert had worked with technology years earlier. It had come up during one of those short conversations neighbors have while waiting for an elevator or standing in the lobby.

Fernando’s sister was coming to Cuenca for a few days. Her laptop had begun doing strange things, and she wanted someone trustworthy to look at it while she was here.

“¿Conoce a alguien?”

Do you know somebody?

Robert reached for his phone.

Then he stopped.

Why Did Fernando Ask Robert?
Fernando asked because Robert was no longer simply the foreigner who lived upstairs.

They weren’t close friends. They had never had dinner together. Most of their conversations lasted less than two minutes.

But Fernando knew things about him.

He knew Robert had once worked with computers. Robert knew Fernando’s sister lived outside Cuenca. They recognized each other in the lobby and occasionally stopped to talk.

Nothing about the relationship seemed important enough to mark on a calendar.

Yet when Fernando had a computer problem to solve, Robert came to mind.

The interesting part was that Robert hadn’t always known whom to call either.

Where Had Robert Found Someone He Trusted?
Robert had started where many expatriates start when they don’t know anybody: GringoPost.

Several months earlier, his own laptop had begun behaving strangely. Programs froze. The machine restarted unexpectedly. Robert understood computers well enough to try the obvious fixes and well enough to know when he had run out of ideas.

He searched GringoPost and found a recommendation for Andrés.

Andrés looked at the problem.

“This isn’t really my specialty,” he finally said.

Then he pulled out his phone.

“Call Mateo. He works on the strange problems.”

He gave Robert the number.

“Tell him Andrés sent you.”

Robert contacted Mateo.

What Changed After Mateo Fixed the Computer?
Almost nothing seemed to change after Mateo solved the problem, except that Robert saved a name.

Mateo was younger than Robert expected and asked better questions than Robert expected.

They talked while Mateo worked. Robert mentioned some of the technology he had worked with years earlier. Mateo laughed at one of his stories, then showed him what was actually causing the current problem.

Eventually the laptop behaved again.

Robert paid him, thanked him and added a contact to his phone: Mateo – Computers

At the time, that was all it was.

GringoPost had led Robert to Andrés. Andrés had led him to Mateo.

Robert had found someone who could help.

Months passed.

When Did Robert Become Part of the Chain?
Robert became part of the chain when Fernando asked him the same kind of question Robert once had to ask someone else.

Now they were standing in the lobby.

“¿Conoce a alguien?”

Robert looked down at his phone.

There it was.

Mateo – Computers

“Sí. Conozco a alguien.”

He sent Mateo’s number to Fernando.

“Tell him Robert gave you his number.”

Fernando thanked him.

Then he headed toward the elevator.

Robert walked outside.

A few steps later, something about the conversation struck him.

Months earlier, Robert had needed help and had gone to the expatriate community because he didn’t know where else to start.

Now a man who had lived in Cuenca all his life had asked Robert.

Who Decides When You Belong?
Sometimes the people around us begin treating us as part of their community before we notice the change ourselves.

We tend to look for larger signs.

Maybe our Spanish improves. We understand the bus routes. We stop converting every price into dollars. The streets become familiar. The person behind the counter recognizes us.

Those things matter.

But communities also run on small exchanges of knowledge.

Who repairs this?

Where can I find that?

Who should I call?

Do you know somebody?

At first, we are usually the ones asking.

Then, occasionally, the question comes from the other direction.

Fernando did not tell Robert that he had become part of Cuenca. He simply assumed Robert might know someone who could help.

Robert did.

Sometimes belonging becomes visible in a very ordinary exchange. This six-slide story shows how the question can quietly change direction.

When a Cuencano Asks You Who to Call
Sometimes one of the clearest signs that you are beginning to belong in Cuenca is not realizing that you finally know whom to call.

It is realizing that someone who has lived here all his life thinks you might know too.

Robert had entered the little chain because he needed help.

GringoPost pointed him toward Andrés.

Andrés pointed him toward Mateo.

Now Fernando had come to Robert.

Robert pulled his phone from his pocket once more as he walked down the street.

Mateo – Computers.

It looked like an ordinary contact.

A few minutes earlier, it had become something else.

Someone in Cuenca had needed information.

And they had asked him.

The exchange between Robert and Mateo raises a larger question: When does asking for help expand what we can do rather than prove what we cannot? In the Next Cradle companion story, Learning New Technology After 50: The Fear of Being a Beginner Again, Claire must answer that question for herself.
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Author’s note: The characters and events in this article are fictionalized to illustrate common experiences among expatriates living in Cuenca. Any resemblance to actual individuals is coincidental.