Cuenca Ecuador - Turi

Diane: We have all been studying Spanish for over a week now. It is a mind-bending and mind-fuzzing process that leaves me mentally floppy. Every word of every sentence needs careful thought, correction, and proofing before being said aloud. By the end of the day, I have trouble holding a coherent conversation in English. Tom and I are taking a class together. Our teacher, Raúl, is a gem. Some days I don’t have the patience to wait while my brain scans all the prepositions I know looking for the proper one in a given context. Or to find the verb I want, pick the proper tense, figure out the irregular root, and then to conjugate. But, Raúl has patience for all this and more.

Today, Raúl took us up to Turi for a fabulous view of Cuenca. The Spanish word, cuenco, means bowl. From Turi, it is apparent that Cuenca is surrounded by mountain peaks, creating something of a bowl. I didn’t read this in a tourist pamphlet or hear it from any of the locals; I just made it up, so take it with a grain of salt.

I also make up a lot of Spanish words. About half the time, I come close to a real Spanish word, so it’s well worth it. Take it from me – taking an English word and changing the ending to sound sort of Spanish is a great approach for learning the language. Looking words up in the dictionary and studying vocabulary when you’re over 25 years old just takes way too long. And that’s if you’re using an outstanding dictionary. For example, my pocket dictionary, which is definitely not outstanding, doesn’t provide any translations for food items. Ordering from a Spanish-language menu with my dictionary is a great exercise in enhancing my creativity skills, but an exercise in futility when it comes to enhancing my language skills.

Besides a great view, the town of Turi also sported a church, a common occurrence in many small South American towns. One side of the church had a colorful set of murals.











After taking advantage of the various photo-ops, I headed down the long sets of stairs back into town. Just after starting down, I fell into step with a friendly local woman, Carlota. By the time we made it back to Cuenca’s historic center, we were new friends. We came upon a friend of hers, who is here as a missionary from the U.S., and a friend of this friend from the coast. We spent the next 3 hours in Carlota’s living room engaging in a lively discussion entirely in Spanish. They were all very interested in several topics that I brought up and very patient as I haltingly explained all the details in Spanish. I even understood most everything that everybody else said.

I walked home exhilarated. Emotionally, I felt as though I were walking on clouds, but physically I was most certainly walking underneath them. When I arrived home, my clothes were soaking wet and my brain had boiled down to so much language-mush.