Melody But Not Many Words

Years ago my job was to look, listen, record, analyze, and report.

I became adept at discerning the “melody” of accents that identify national or specific geographic origin.

My hobby in Ecuador is watching the news and sports from Latin America, Mexico, and Spain. The “lyrics” mostly baffle me because they speak so fast. But I hear the melody fine and I'm smitten by the sensual rhythm and delicate expression of speakers from Madrid and Seville.

When my teacher, Mercedes, offered me a guided tour of the central historical city I jumped like an eight year old going to Disneyland. The bonus was that we rode a city bus. Our only rule was no English.

The Presidential Palace, churches and museums, and innumerable businesses. Municipal, national, and military police to make us feel secure. Prostitutes showing off at 9 am.

After the museum celebrating Ecuador's independence, Mercedes asked if I'd like to see one last church. This, she said, is great on the outside with Baroque architecture but the inside is “WOW!” “Claro (sure)”, I replied.

Nothing prepared me.

Mercedes talked fast with the young lady guide. She got me in for the 50 cent student price then told the guide to speak slowly but no English. My teacher then waved, smiled and said chao.

Within 2 or 3 minutes I heard that wonderful Spanish spoken by my guide and I asked where she was from. Barcelona, she replied. A nun temporarily studying in Quito. I thought “HAH!”

That was the last I saw of her until the end. Oh, she was by my side throughout, describing this historical masterpiece. Her arm waved this way then she pointed to that and my eyes followed.

Her voice was soothing as if she knew I was in sensory overload.

Every square centimeter except the portraits, the massive paintings of Hell and Judgment day, the seats, floors, and the cupola in the ceiling was gilded in 23 carat gold leaf.

The ceiling was viewed through a mirror to avoid falling over backwards and the cupola was designed to bathe the church in glittering sunlight when the hour was right. I was there when it was. I have no words.

I asked if I could film and she said “no, just enjoy and praise God”.

It took 165 years to build, was seriously damaged in a 1987 earthquake and then repaired until 2005.

It is called La Iglesia de la Compania – de Jesus.