Going The Distance

The Valley of Longevity, that’s what this place is called. People just live and live and live – it’s famous for its old people. 40 years ago, it wasn’t uncommon to see people of 110 or 120 years of age. The setting is exquisite (nestled in a green valley, surrounded by verdant and fertile hills) and life was always good to these people. The life-expectancy has dropped hugely since the arrival of cars and the outside world in them. But there are still lots of old people around. We came here because we wanted to find an old couple who we could get advice from. We hoped to find some over-100s, but despite much enquiry, we can’t find one. However, married couples in their late 80s abound, so we interview two of them.

The first is Leopoldo and his wife, Soleda. They have been married for 56 years. They used to live in a finca in the hills outside Vilcabamba, but sold up and moved to a pleasant little house on one of the main roads in the town (on Avenida dell’Eterna Joventu, as it happens). They laugh a lot together. Our only issue on the interview front is that Leopoldo is going deaf, which always makes the interviews very difficult. We asked them for an interview, then went back to our hostel to get the camera, during which time the two of them changed into Sunday best.

The second couple, Vicente and Vicenta, have managed 52 years together. They are 86 and 84 respectively, and their faces wear that age. They are both captivatingly lovely people, much laughter, many smiles and much warmth exudes from them. They live in a small village called San Pedro up the hill from Vilcabamba. A village, which they tell me determinedly, has been independent from Vilcabamba for the last 10 years.

The two of them both grew up in the town and have known each other forever. They got together in their late teens but only married late (she was 32). I couldn’t make out the reason for this, sorry readers. That’s dodgy Spanish for you. They only have one son, and two grandsons. Which, by Ecuadorean standards, is a titchy titchy family. I ask about this – Vicenta very nearly died in childbirth. They had to get a donkey cart to take her to Loja (about an hour’s drive on the bike away) and there she had to have a caesarean. After that, Vicente got himself sterilised. Was it hard to be surrounded by your friends and neighbours with many children? I ask. Yes, it was, they reply. Children are the most magical thing that can happen to a couple, and to only have one was very hard. In fact, that was their advice to us, have children. I, of course, delight in that advice!

While we were in Vilcabamba in the morning, asking all and sundry if they knew old couples, and being sent from place to place, we met two ex-pats who live in Vilcabamba. (I can see entirely why they would: it’s beautiful, laidback and filled with bright and interesting people). One, Ann, has just lost her husband – and great love – of 20 years. A widow, still broken by sadness. So much so that even my hardened documentary heart can’t find it to ask her if we can interview her as our first widow. The second, Mike, is a Brit who has been there for 6 years. He was a junkie and a drop out, then his mum won the double rollover on the lottery, each of her kids got 2 million quid, and he basically went to the place he’d wanted to live all his life (he read about it when he was 7 and had wanted to go since).

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