In a world of planned obsolescence, Cuenca maintains its allegiance to authenticity and making things to last

Within a six-block radius of San Sebastian Plaza are two saddlers, at least five furniture makers, a knot of tailors, a sprinkle of goldsmiths, a colorful stained-glass studio, a thriving farmers market, more bakeries than I can count, and twice as many restaurants as I would ever be able to frequent.

People are busy cobbling shoes, repairing appliances, and upgrading computers. The Museum of Modern Art, located across the street from the plaza and one of Cuenca’s crown jewels, has been mounting exhibits that showcase the region’s creative energy. A store across the street sells traditional handicrafts from the surrounding villages.

In another, a tradesman hammers tin into water cans for gardeners, and a woodworker fashions toys painted in a fiesta of colors.

A tailor specializing in alterations sews by hand or on a treadle sewing machine.

A colony of fine art painters will open their doors to capture the amber of early morning light before mixing the colors, which will suspend a moment in time for as long as the painting survives.

The symphonic orchestra of brushstrokes, tapping, clamping, cooking, peddling, winding, ripping, and fine-tuning that resonates from the shops of Cuenca’s artists and artisans underscores the deep-rooted harmony of craftsmanship and purpose that radiates throughout the city.

Most Cuencanos reject the illusion that we live in a disposable world. Material objects have lasting value here and are cared for well beyond tightening a bolt or tuning an engine. It is an understanding of responsibility and care for all things, because our humble planet is finite and should never be taken for granted; it must be preserved.

This determined allegiance to authenticity and care defines a culture that honors preservation, ecological protection, ritual, and traditional values with the same fierceness it holds for the love of one’s family.

A father gives his anxious son a small hammer, a handful of nails, instructions, and encouragement. A mother guides her ​daughter, threading the needle to adulthood.

A car door closes on a well-worn taxi, and someone whispers to a friend for advice or a patron saint for guidance.

Children released from the staid confines of a classroom summon a squall of shrieks, laughter, and name-calling as they race to their playground.

Taxis honk, cannons boom, the fluttering wings of pigeons, an industrial  broom of palm fronds, the clatter of frail carts with jittery bottles tumbling along cobblestone streets, folks bowing their head in prayer and water muttering in its rocky bed.

This is the story of Cuenca.

I know there are those among us who do not feel comfortable in Cuenca, just as I know there are those who wander but are not lost.

However, after seven years in Ecuador, I am still enchanted by the sights and sounds of this precious jewel, where the shadows of tradition and forward-thinking optimism are intertwined, creating complex jewelry that highlights our interrelationship with one another.

The blinding beauty that first overwhelmed me has indeed been muted. The noise, once considered a cacophony, seems a symphony now (albeit a John Cage symphony).

Traditional clothing is no longer exotic to me; it expresses a commitment to tribal wisdom. Andean vegetables, once unrecognizable, are now a daily fare. Even the uneven and narrow sidewalks have slipped into place over time.

I am still thrilled to see flowers bloom every day of the year and am incredibly relieved that time has lost its urgency.

Cuenca is heavenly in that you can create whatever you want. It is worldly in that you need to learn what you truly desire.

The challenge is choosing your best path and remembering the thread that led you here.