I talk to myself in Spanish. I think in Spanish. It’s everywhere around us--in the people we meet, the signs we see. We’re living with Ensouk for a couple of days in her beautiful apartment across the street from La Lengua Spanish School main offices in Quito.
 
And it’s a bit complicated.
 
We met Ensouk (I think I spelled it Ensu then because that‘s how it‘s pronounced) and Ligia (the school director) at the school our first day in Quito, then played on the beach with them that weekend when they came to Puerto Lopez.
 
Ensook insisted we stay with her when we returned to Quito, so after staying two days at the awful Secret Garden and another two at the much more pleasant Travellers Inn, we’re here with her two days before we head for the jungle and some HEAT.
 
So here we are in Ecuador with a South Korean speaking Spanish. When our Spanish kapoots and her English gives out we resort to sign language and lots of laughter. After breakfast this morning Ligia pops in with a bag of Ecuadorian fruit and says she’s free this afternoon so we’re all heading to el centro to the historical district. I’m intending to finally get pictures of the city from a high perch, as the teleferico (sky tram) the has been socked in every day. The hill we’re climbing in the middle of the city gives a great view I’m told, so it will have to do.
 
This is all totally dependant on the looming dark clouds every afternoon that envelope the mountains surrounding Quito. One never knows, but there are other options. We'll see...

Later...
Our afternoon was sans lluvia (without rain) so we had a wonderful time in the old city.