Well Seasoned
by Jenna SchnuerKathryn and I begin climbing the stairs of the church, taking
constant breaks to fend off the dizziness and fatigue that the
altitude brings on. Climbing a mountain would probably have been
easier. About 100 steps up, we walk onto a large balcony
overlooking the seating area of the church; a huge stained-glass
window glows brightly. More panting out-of-towners reach our level.
After we go another 50 steps or so, one of the constant surprises
of
Ecuador reveals itself: a café, with floor-to-ceiling windows,
serving rich coffee (and
World Cup soccer games on the tiny TV in
the corner). In the distance, we see the massive statue atop El
Panecillo of La Virgen de Quito, the angel who watches over the
city.
It is at this point that I have to admit to being a chicken.
Another 50 steps (and several breathing breaks) up is a sign
pointing toward the belfry. The problem? The next set of steps is a
tightly wound spiral staircase that shoots through the ceiling,
making it impossible to see how high up it goes or if anybody is
coming down. While I have few fears, climbing tightly wound spiral
staircases is one of them. Instead, I spend time shooting photos of
the stellar views of Quito from the subspiral level while Kathryn
goes on. It turns out that the spiral is topped off with a climb up
some bouncier-than-they-should-be ladders that, thanks to openings
in the walls around them, give climbers the sense that they're
climbing on air. In the
United States, the climb up would be a
lawsuit waiting to happen. But in Ecuador, it's just a chance to
test one's mettle, to see how far you'll go for a good view on a
gorgeous day.
Summer
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