IN SEARCH OF THE GREAT PLAZA
Lost in Quito. In search of the Plaza Grande or Plaza de la Independencia, one of the Biggest Attractions in the colonial helmet of the Ecuadorian capital. And in the effort “to arrive to the old heart of the city, one dog Discover Some of the architectural jewels That motivated this important Andean That City Was Declared as Cultural Patrimony of the Humanity by the United Nations.
Walking, perspiring, devouring the streets … Red light, free pass, to Accelerate the step, Avoiding Pedestrians, looking everything, up and down, left and right: clouds, steeples, domes, a winged virgin That steps to the world, a boy cleaning boots … getting lost, to Hesitate, to mistake the direction … Mister, where is the Plaza Grande? A plane is drawn and it Disappears in the air.
Thanks, a smile, a big face of “Understood, Mister, your Explanation WAS clear” and start walking again … Towards where?, anywhere, Toward Where the sheer little street Takes You, It Could Be the Piazza Grande and if not, who cares, it will end up in the atrium of a very old church or in the vestibule of a large house. In the old city you will never loose.
Interrupted breathing. Empty lungs. Air Gets Scarce at 2800 masl It is NECESSARY to stop. Accelerated heart. Palpitating temples … and The Plaza Grande Where Could be?, How Would Their monument be?, Their benches?, Their surrounding buildings?. Got to ask again … To Whom?, everybody walks Quickly as if They Were on a hurry, Entering and Leaving the temples, the stores, the offices and restaurants. Confusion. Coming and going to downtown Quito.
The Square is Not anywhere. Rounds and rounds by the wrong streets That take to Santo Domingo and Its colossal domes or to San Francisco’s monastery, with STI 104 doric columns and Its foundations That rise on the Inca palace That the general Rumiñahui (Face of Stone), set on fire in 1534 That It Was Not so stained by the Spanish conqueror’s sandal.
The sun is Abducted by an outpost of black clouds. Darkened is the colonial city, made ??up of gray. Rain starts. Are tears the drops of the sky That fall everywhere. To run, to hide, to look for refuge … an eaves, a passage of cement columns and arches, Perhaps a church, La Compañía? … no, it is closed, But it is beautiful, the Prettiest in Latin America, They Say .. is it?, Who Knows?, maybe, why not?, the construction Lasted 163 years. Wonderful work of the colonial art of Quito.
The sky stops crying. Once again There is sun and heat. Walk and perspire, the company stays behind with STIs and carved wooden pulpits confession boxes … and Plaza Grande?, Must Be close, why, is it just Something is intuition or maybe more, Some indication: the domes of the Cathedral?, the Ecuadorian flag proudly That flames in the Highest of the Palace of Government?
There Are Just a few meters left-ten or maybe twenty – to arrive to the heart of That City Founded on the ruins of the north capital of the Inca’s Empire and That Was named San Francisco de Quito by the first conquerors. The Plaza Grande or Plaza de la Independencia That is so close one can feel the murmur of the people Standing There. There Are Not more questions.
Looking Towards Every Corner. Enjoying the view, contemplating the Cathedral with STI Immense domes and steeples and Its facade in Which reads: “it is glory of Quito the discovery of the Amazon river” admiring the Palace of Government With their Hussar – severe, petrified – That guard the main door and feeling Moved watching the monument to the Freedom, with STI and Its marble base brass figures. Time to rest … But Will There Be A free bench?. Bad luck, all Are Occupied. People talk, laugh Some, Some close the eyes, Trying to sleep. A lady with her ??knit Advances, a boy anxious waits for His girlfriend, an old man Remembers Other times and anecdotes of historical gray hair combs. That is the Plaza Grande. That is downtown Quito.
The roll of Quito
The Virgin has wings But Does not fly. Standing above-the-world calm, in the summit of a hill from Which she watches over, examine and observe with the orange tiles benevolent expression, the colonial or Gothic steeples and the big squares of That City That ends at the base of the hills.
Their watchtower Was a temple of adoration to the sun in the prehispanic time, THEN CALL Yavirac, today, everybody knows this place as The Bun and STI from the city summit looks like an Immense and multicolored cloth of houses and buildings and a mess of white , black, red, multicolor points That Never stop moving.
From The Bun – where the Virgin of Quito, in fused aluminum replica of the Apocalyptic Virgin made by Bernardo of Legarda (XVII century) is, the contrast Immense Between the old city and the modern city is visible. The large houses Become buildings, the narrow paved streets and get WIDER, the steeples get smaller. The only one thing That Does not change is the sky That will always Be transparent blue. A blue mountain. A Quito ‘blue.
