My confidence in Spanish is like the weather here. I wake up and it’s cool and cloudy. I walk outside and I’m transported to late October. I can imagine the leaves at home, as they fall from the sky, the brilliant color the price paid for the loss of life. Like the dancing of male Monarch butterflies that travel down to Mexico solely to die. The sky is gray this morning, and the cobblestone streets are quiet as I leave the house. A few buses and taxis pass by, but for the most part the city is still sleeping. I could still be sleeping. It’s too early in the morning to feel that life is actually being realized, lived, following me as I walk to my bus stop. I must be on autopilot. Or like a house of mazes and mirrors. I’m walking somewhere, I arrive at my destination, but I don’t plan my steps. I turn when the streets open, and the road seems to pull me in the right direction rather than my own conscious thinking. I imagine it must be similar for the butterflies, whom in a few hours later will be, well…nature has a way of being cruel and beautiful simultaneously.
 |
| Traveling Companions |
As the butterflies fall to the ground, their energy spent like autumnal leaves, I finish teaching my morning class. I walk outside to a new day. Sunny and warm instead of crisp and ponderous. I chat, I interact, I make a mess of my Spanish. Talking with Lorena in the sunshine, my confidence in my Spanish increases, because, she an easy speaker. She speaks slow enough for me, uses the right words and constructions that are not too difficult to follow. She smiles and her burgundy hair still catches my eyes, as the light, coming through the leaves of the tree under which we are in repose, shines on her.
Remember though, I am talking about my Spanish skills. Sunny and fluid or still and isolating. Nearly 7 weeks have passed since I have been in Cuenca. With Lorena, I almost feel that I can speak and understand as a young child can understand the words of a caring mother. But with others I feel like I have learned nothing at all. Like my ears and brain are disconnected. As it is, I’m still uncomfortable going out and making friends for I feel that I will just bother the other person with asking them to repeat everything they say. Yet, I am thankful for the friends I do have here.
 |
| New Fruits! |
Speaking of, last weekend I had a delightful trip to Azogues and Biblian, two towns that lie outside of Cuenca. I met Lorena and her friend Irma at the bus station. We took a short ride to Azogues and met Lorena’s other friend Miriam who gave us a guided tour of the city. We started off with the market, which is usually my favorite place in any town. There were many fruits there that I had never tried, so we spent a few dollars on many types of fruits, which hopefully, in a forthcoming blog entry, will be catalogued in detail along with pictures. We also tried the morocho there. Supposedly it’s famous, but it didn’t suit my tastes. It was more milky and less thick than the morocho in Cuenca, and therefore, I choose Cuenca’s. We carried our goods out of the market to the cathedral, took a few pictures, and walked to the Franciscan church high up on the side of Azogues. The church was beautiful inside and out. It gave a beautiful view of the city and of the virgin, also perched on a distant mountain outside the city. We walked down the Nave, approached the choir, snapped a few photos and headed to the back. To the side of the church was a large courtyard and cloister. Lorena and I were unknowingly talking to each other and taking photos right next to the father who was giving confession to a few of the devout. oops...
 |
| Church 2 of 3 |
In my home church one expects PowerPoint and computers. It’s an evangelical church in America. It’s quite common. Church and the services have evolved along with technology to suit the needs and desires of the congregants. I didn’t know if I would find a similar change here in Latin America. The changes here are small and subtle. For example, Willow Creek in Illinois is a monolith of a church, the equivalent of the Coliseum of ancient Rome. In Cuenca, it’s the New Cathedral. However, in the cathedral here, there are no acoustic guitars, no large screen TVs, no computers and no light dimmers. The icons are still there, the candles, the Eucharist, the simple wooden benches, the simple austerity mixed with boisterously gilded colonnades and edifices. Yet, if you stay until the end of the mass, acoustic pop worship music will be played from the speakers. If you look around, you will see satellite dishes roosting next to quiet gargoyles.
 |
| The Outer Cloister |
The interplay between technology and tradition is alive here in Cuenca. My vision is by no means far-reaching or exhaustive, but a few instances suffice to give a hint. I have a student, 29 years old, who lives with his family: his parents and three siblings. We were speaking in class one day about neighbors. He said his neighbors start washing their car at 6am and he, who has usually just arrived home an hour or so ago, is trying to sleep. He drinks, sings, learns English, seems like a normal 29 year old American, except that he lives with his parents and his mother still mothers him. She complains that he stays out late at night and doesn’t go to church. Then, 2 weekends ago, I went out with another student and her friend. The interesting thing was, all through the night, the mother of the friend continually called, asking where she was and if she was safe. She told a few white lies to get through the night. Another friend, who lives a decent ways from Cuenca, was not allowed to visit us in Azogues last weekend, her parents wouldn’t let her. And then there is another, who is involved in technology and health. She is teaching teens about safe-sex, working for Microsoft, and yet, lives at home and her mother is not exactly delighted that she goes out at night. She is a single female, living at home, definitely not being conventional. And most unconventional, is my dance teacher, who moved out of her parents’ house, and is a single woman living alone. All these people are in the late 20s or early 30s. The influence of technology and media from other countries is in Ecuador and is visible in the changing lifestyle, fashion and beliefs of the younger generations. And yet, being here, seeing these families living together, I am missing living with my parents.
 |
| Cathedral in Biblian |
After visiting the church, we headed back down the hill towards the bus station and caught a bus to Biblian. We climbed the steep ascent to the church and took photos of the church and the surroundings. It is a beautiful landscape. The church itself is built right into the rock wall, therefore, as one enters the church, one can feel the earthiness of the place. The back wall is mostly the wall of the mountain. The church is slate gray as a result. But the air is clear and the colors more vibrant in contrast to the pale tones of the earth.
 |
| Straight Lemon! |
After visiting the church, we walked up to the peak of the hill and rested. We were tired. We ate some delicious fruit while the winds changed from warm to cool. We looked off to the south and saw dark clouds approaching. We knew we should leave soon. But before we did, Miriam pulled out 4 large lemons from her backpack. This is what you eat when you need some energy. It hurts my cheeks even now just thinking about it. But, I ate an entire lime. We headed down, hopped on the bus, rode back to Cuenca, dinner, sleep, class in the morning.
 |
| La Vista |
Bread and taxis. Nothing else is as sure.
I was playing guitar by the window of my room today. From my window you can see into the hallway of the house, the hallway that leads to the kitchen. There is a curtain, which I would describe as mostly opaque, that doesn’t quite cover up the entirety of the window. I was in the middle of changing my clothes from sporting to formal this afternoon, when the desire hit me to play guitar. I was wearing only boxers, in front of my window, when I heard the phone ring outside my room. What if someone comes by room and decides they need to talk to me. “Estoy desvestido” I would shout…wait…does that mean I'm naked? I don’t know. Desvestido? This could turn into a desperate and rather embarrassing situation…
No comments:
Post a Comment