A few arbitrary moments in Cuenca

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It's a perfect first morning in Cuenca and I’m sitting in a small, sun dappled café. Julio Iglesias is on the radio and his voice coupled with sweeping Spanish guitar actually feels right. The place Lonely Planet recommended for “the Ecuadorian treats” appears not to exist. Instead, I’ve end up at Cafeteria “Mi Barrio” run by Aldo and his wife who have convinced me to have both the humita (sal) and the quimbolito (dulce) along with my pintado. They both taste great and I realize how much I love all these corn-based snacks - especially with my first coffee in FOUR days!!! Aldo’s cranky toddler granddaughter runs around in tears which is annoying but also makes the little café feel even more homey. Soon I will wander off to see what I can see of Cuenca but right now I am practicing my Spanish verbs. The town seems very promising with its cool sun, lush leafy plazas and narrow streets; already I can feel it competing with Quito for my affection and maybe winning. Tomorrow night Lila will hopefully arrive from the coast and we will meet up again as planned for my last two days in Ecuador. Today I am happy to spend some time exploring alone.

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I spend my 2nd afternoon wandering the streets again, after relocating me and my mochila to La Cigale. Cigale is cheaper and there’s something about a backpacker hostel that feels more appropriate than the nice but “family friendly” Hostel Maconda, where I spent my first night. Turns out I’m sharing my $8 six-person dorm room with sweet, welcoming 24-year old Pacho from Bogota who is in Cuenca to teach a week-long course on Web design. Perfect! My next “goal of the day” is to visit the Museo de Arte Moderno. But first I stop to enjoy my last bowl of ceviche de camarones for lunch (all 12 perfectly plump pink shrimp on a bed of diced red onion, tomatoes and cilantro soup for just $4.50!). Walking up towards Plaza Calderon afterwards in a post-ceviche daze I only faintly recognize and almost walk past Kate + Leon, looking tan and coupley. At first I think I know them from NYC, then realize we spent a few weeks together volunteering and hiking in Peru. We smile at each other on the street and make offhand plans to try to meet up later to see Johny Depp in Alice in Wonderland at the cinema. A bit later on Calle Presidente Cordova I see an open, dusty-looking shop with perfectly identical white and cream Panama hats strewn all over its walls. Despite the misnomer, Panama hats hail from Ecuador and can be spotted especially here in Cuenca perched lightly upon the heads of native Indian women in bright, full skirts with long, black braids. An old man with a white moustache and no voice emerges from a back room and urges me in to come in and try one on so I do. I see pictures of him on the wall with other people who are wearing these hats and he nods his head when I ask if he’s made them all. These hats are expensive - and rightly so, being beautifully and intricately woven by hand - otherwise I would buy one even though it looks awful on me. As I continue on, the sidewalk gets narrower and merges with the street and the mid afternoon sun has grown hotter. I spot and photograph a view of Cuenca this time facing the Rio Tomebamba and also some really cool grafitti on the wall. Cool grafitti seems to be in every city I’ve visited in Ecuador so far - artistic, colorful, whimsical and sometimes funny. And then I am at the museum.

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At the Museo de Arte Moderno everything is open and bathed in natural light. Most of the art is from Ecuador, though some is from elsewhere in South America. I like this museum because it is small and I can breathe cool fresh air as I wander in and out of the rooms arranged around its two courtyards. This used to be a house for recovering alcoholics. As small as closets, the rooms are like display cases, featuring only one piece each. A piece of paper attached to a nearby wall lists the artist, title and country. The simplicity of this arrangement, coupled with the air and the light makes the art itself appear even more beautiful, more accessible - palpable, somehow? My favorite is a display of 150 postcards hanging from the ceiling on transparent pieces of string. They sway and sparkle in the breeze. The sun pours in lighting up arbitrary squares like a spotlight. It makes you want to linger, to take another look. I wish more museums were like this one.

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For our last day in Cuenca, we go on a tour to Parque Nacional de Cajas. Its highest point is the vista at Tres Cruxes @ ~4100 meters. The park is named for its lagoons - of which there are apparently about 235 formed within “boxy” valleys or cajas. I don’t know what they were thinking because the lakes don’t look much like boxes to me. But the park is stunning, almost mystical in parts. The lakes shimmer like shards of cut glass amidst the paramou and the landscape shifts from dense fairytale-like woods to expansive, desert reminiscent of Dr. Seuss. We follow our guide Pablo in search of flowers and birds, winding our way in parts around low twisting trees with peeling, papery bark. In the van, we look out the window at languishing cows and alert alpacas. At some point while staring out the window, I am reminded of another group nature tour I once took through the Israeli Negev. Aviva and I were juniors in college then. Now I am with Lila and we are eating chifles I bought at a gas station along the way. I think about how many years have passed since then, how now I am almost 37 and how crazy that is.