Moments and Pictures

There haven't been many situations where I've been afraid for my life, but now was one of those moments. "Don't look down, don't look down, don't look down," I muttered to myself. "You'll be fine--millions of people have done this before," Anna's voice chimed from behind, encouraging me onward. "I know they have," I wailed, "and that's what terrifies me!"We were standing on a rickety wooden bridge; below was the concrete ceiling of La Basilica, sloping dangerously downward on both sides. I gripped the ropes on either side of me and tried to continue as fast as my irrational fears would allow. Little did I know that this was only the beginning of a dizzying ascent awaiting us ahead....

Anna and I arrived at La Basilica a bit after 11am, and thankfully this was before most of the crowds invaded the historic stone building. La Basilica is the most awe-inspiring gargantuan, solid chunk of stone I've ever beheld in my short, sweet lifetime. I've never felt more minuscule, more fragile more temporary. I've stood next to the Sears Tower before, but that's a sleek, modern feel and La Basilica holds all the mystery and grandeur of years' worth of time and history. To me, this is far more impressive than just another mundane skyscraper, no matter how tall it is. And when I traipsed the floors of the Sears Tower Skydeck, I had reached the towering heights by means of an elevator. There were walls and panes of glass to enclose the area as well, giving me a sense of safety and security. No such luxury here. If I was freaked out by the wooden bridge, the black almost-vertical stairs ahead of me presented a much scarier scenario. The worst part--there were three flights. Somehow, I made it to the top, trying only to look upwards, going a quickly as safety would allow. I was practically knocked off my feet when I got to the top--not just because of the wind and incredible view of the city, but because I spotted a woman in 6-inch stilettos right across the viewing deck. "How on earth did she get up here and not die?!" I whispered to Anna, "I had a hard enough time and I wasn't even in heels!". "No idea," she laughed and shook her head. We watched as the young woman's boyfriend chivalrously led the way back down the stairs-like-ladder. I wanted to see if she would take her shoes off for the descent; but no, she kept them on. Somehow she also made it down alive; we saw them again at the bottom. The abundance of high heels here astounds me. It seems to make no sense--the hills around every turn, and standing on public buses and the need to walk everywhere--I don't understand it, but I see women in heels practically everywhere.

I was glad that Anna and I had walked around the outside of La Basilica before going up. We marveled at the European/Gothic-style architecture and Galapagos Island-inspired gargoyles. Each gargoyle is a different species of animal found in the Galapagos. I've never been to Notre Dame or gawked over the splendor of European cathedrals, but now I'm beginning to understand the allure. I've heard multiple friends of mine exclaim over and gush about fabulous churches and cathedrals in other countries, and I can finally relate. What stature! What magnificence! I was in awe.

This is not the only awe-inspiring view, though. I have the opportunity to relate one final snapshot of my life here before it's time for cafecito (the bread and coffee dinner we have here in Ecuador. Lunch is the main meal here). A few nights ago, I had cafecito at my host aunt's house. Her apartment complex is perched on the western side of the city, and offers an incredible glimpse of the main snow-capped mountains visible from Quito--Cayambe to the north, Cotopaxi to the south, and the Illinizas trio to the south-east. Quito is SUCH a beautiful city. I am struck by that revelation almost every day when I wake up. From the heights of my host aunt's dining room, I was graced with the most beautiful sight yet. Twilight slowly descended upon the city. The colors on the eastern horizon, reflecting the sun's fading light, changed colors slowly; orange melted into pink and pink slowly faded into purple. The lull of Spanish conversation in the dining room behind me, occasionally punctured by a child's squeal of joy sounded like a sweet melody to my ears. My hands embraced my comfortably warm coffee mug; its steam curled up in the fading light and disappeared into the air.

I sighed contentedly at the richness of this moment. I will never grow weary of watching the magic of the evening unfold. Lights in the houses, buildings and apartments flickered on as the city allowed night to spread its soft cloak of darkness over her. Lights shimmered, the city glittered, unveiling her captivating beauty. I don't know how to explain it--I couldn't turn my eyes from the sight--it was too ethereal, too enthralling. Like all perfect moments though, this one too had to end. But not before I'd gotten the chance to pause and thank God for His grace in allowing me to experience it. If there's one thing I'm learning to appreciate here, it's life. Moments. Seconds. Minutes. Time spent in company with others, days where I learn much Spanish and others, little. Days where I come home from school exhausted and wishing I was back home, and days where I'm yelling for joy on the mountain-tops, thrilling in freedom and perspective, glorious sun and wind. I appreciate life more here. In the States, I am too busy, too rushed, overworked and constantly tired; I am too exhausted and preoccupied to be able to savor moments like this one. Or moments like those last Saturday, on the top of La Basilica, where I could relish the freedom of having a day to myself just to exclaim in awe over churches, plazas and the gold-overlaid interior of La Camponia. So, though I only have a month left, I am determined to soak in all I can, travel all I can, experience all I can. The truth is, I may never have the chance to again.