Four things you can expect living in Cuenca
I had been living in Cuenca for four months when I submitted my first story to CuencaHighLife. That was 10 years ago; the best 10 years of my life.
The fascinating culture of celebrations requiring both prayer and parades still thrills me. I was captivated by the transformative influence of my neighbors whose kindness and wisdom taught us how to live among those who cling to mountains so steep that only the heartiest and strongest-willed ventured high enough to sink roots on a ridge more suited to alpaca — but where, on a good day, you can almost see the suburbs of heaven.
Above all else was finding the love of my life, Lena. I will love her forever and always.
It’s been a great ride.
I would like to share with you some stories of my education, having cleaned up most of the, “I never let the truth get in the way of a good story,” parts and adding just a few.
This is what I have become.
If you are new in town or planning on joining us, here are four things I feel you can reasonably expect.
- Expect that you will be engulfed by the kindness of strangers.
I am constantly awestruck by Cuencanos’ sense of “do unto others” as a way of life. My favorite example, only because it is the most recent, is this:
I fell the other day.
I was in the flower market taking photographs of the candies displayed for the feast of Corpus Christi when I tripped over a small barricade, careening towards a pile of just-emptied candy and pastry boxes.
As I lost my balance I recalled the last time I fell and copied an Aikido exercise I learned long ago — twisting as I descended, and grabbing my camera tight to my chest, I corkscrewed myself into a soft landing celebrated by puffs of powdered sugar squeezed from the exhausted boxes that saved me.
The sound of my crashing caught the attention of many shoppers. The result was typically Ecuadorian.
Twelve folks rushed over to help. Of that number:
Five people felt every bone in my body checking to see if I was injured.
Another five pushed and pulled as they struggled to brush the powered sugar from my clothing, and help me to my feet
The final two pointed out to me the barricade I tripped over and reminded me, repeatedly, to watch where I am going in the future.
Every person was genuinely concerned for my well-being. I believe you can expect the same.
I have read that Ecuadorians will sometimes promise what they cannot deliver. You will hear, “Don’t worry! I’ll be there, right on time, and will install your new liver in under an hour!” But alas, it does not come to pass. The desire to be of service sometimes exceeds their ability to perform, but I find no fault — and certainly no frustration in their unattainable offer. Truly, it is the thought that counts and I have found that in times of real crisis, when you need immediate help, Ecuadorians are there for you.
- You can expect the weather to change.
Monday began as a cloud-covered morning that held every indication of unrelenting rain certain to join us shortly. So, it should come as no surprise that glorious sunny skies barged in with glaring finality. I fumbled around with my umbrella and sweater all day long. Tuesday was different. An unannounced express train of clouds barreled into town, spilling monsoons from which no person or thing could escape. I was caught unawares and slogged my way home wearing squeaky canvas shoes that squirted a trail of my misery with every step.
On Wednesday, I was more prepared. I had a small umbrella tucked into my satchel for the rain and a hat to protect my bald head from high elevation sunburn.
The weather in Cuenca is always changing. You can expect to have your perfect weather day nearly every day, just not all day — some days are highlighted by brief sprinkles and gentle breezes, others by thunderous downpours that overflow creeks and sidewalks. But when the sun retires, and the early evening grows, it is not uncommon to hear somebody remark, “My, it was a beautiful day.”
- You can expect to be dazzled.
The sheer range of beauty is so compelling and ever-present it is impossible to take it all in. One quickly learns to be “out and about” as much as possible to see as much as possible, because there is always something wondrous right around the corner. Expect to be awestruck. Expect to lose direction and wander along streets that have no signs identifying them. Time and the weather washed them away years ago yet they have never been replaced because they are no longer needed. The names are chiseled into a collective memory of generations.
Expect to get lost … and that is a good thing. Cuenca is a walking city. Wear solid and sensible shoes. And bring a camera.
You can rely on the trumpet of car horns and street traffic to give way to much softer melodies of evening echoing across centuries. Listen! They resonate still and influence the pace and spirit of the people who have called this place home and woven themselves into its fabric over millennia.
Stand before and run your hands on the pink marble blocks of the Humiliation Cross in front of San Sebastian Church. Consider, if you had committed a crime, what it would mean to be marched there. To be tied to the base of the cross, and then to suffer the withering punishment administered by your community for your misdeeds. Imagine the redemption that follows. Ponder the meanings of suffering and sanctity. Be in this place and all that it bears witness. Wonder on the beauty of beacons of light piercing the ascending clouds overlooking the plaza.
- Expect magic.
Now, I expect some cranky old dude who has been here for a spell will try to throw shade on me with, “What do you know? Just let me tell you a thing or two about the dangerous sidewalks and…”
I’m just sayin’ I have yet to meet a single person who does not like Cuenca. Most use the word love. Nearly every person has a story of some serendipitous event and I believe it, so do I.
If you can embrace a changing tide, strive to be productive, and insert yourself into this fascinating and complex culture, you will thrive. Many are waiting to greet you.
