I immediately tried to go to sleep on the overnight bus into Ecuador, and was successful for a while until I was awoken by the German guy sitting next to me leaning on my right shoulder asleep. I shrugged him off and was able to sleep until the same thing happened again, and once more after that.
Around 2am, the bus reached the border with Ecuador, and everyone had to get off to go through immigration and customs. Getting through immigration with Peru and receiving my exit stamp was no problem. I was one of the last people in line to go through immigration into Ecuador. When I stepped up to the counter and handed the lady my passport, she immediately gave it a strange look. She typed on her computer a bit, but then started examining my passport using a special light and a magnifying glass. She was shaking her head and saying something under her breath in Spanish while eyeballing me.
At this point I was the only person left in the immigration facility. The bus driver was ready to leave. He came in and told me to hurry up in an impolite manner. I just stood there waiting while a group of three border agents were now scrutinizing my passport. Eventually, they asked the Peruvian side to examine it as well. The bus driver came in again, shouting, but this time the border agents deflected him.
My passport is slightly beat up, but otherwise in good condition. I had no idea what they were looking at. My passport picture is four years old, when I was a bit rounder, and I also look really stoned in the picture. Maybe that was it.
So now there’s a group of six people huddled around my passport, examining it with various tools and discussing its legitimacy in Spanish. “La pictura es mi, es una pasaporte real, Estoy una persona simple,” I muttered trying make a case for myself. Eventually, they use a weird device that looks like a miniature copy machine and scanned my passport. Discussion ensued, and the border agents gave me the nod, finalized my paperwork, and stamped my passport. I hurried out of the facility, just as the driver was storming back in. “Why didn’t they just scan my passport immediately, instead of making me wait around for 10+ minutes while they had a pow-wow… maybe they just like to make random people sweat from time to time,” I wondered as I boarded the bus.
I was able to sleep on and off, mostly on, for the next four hours until our bus arrived in Cuenca, Ecuador at about 7am. I exited the bus to about 50 degree Fahrenheit weather, which I was not prepared for, wearing shorts and a light hoody after coming from the beach . I rounded up my things and found a cab out front.
As the cab was pulling off, I noticed I didn’t have my pocket knife. This was the single most useful thing, aside from my phone, that I brought on my trip, and had developed a sentimental attachment. As we’re leaving the bus station, I asked the cab driver to go back. He parked in front, and I hopped out and made a snap decision to leave all my things in the cab. My gut read was the cabbie was a good dude and wasn’t going to rob me, plus it was 7am and most the seedy types don’t get up this early. “Esperanza un momento, por favor!” I yelled, as I jogged into the bus station.
I went to where my bus was parked, but it is no longer there. I asked a security guard where I can find my bus, and she said we can go to the main office and find out where it is. As we’re walking there she asked me what I left aboard, and I told her my pocket knife, and she stopped in her tracks. She was thinking I forgot an Ipad or something. After a brief discussion, she convinced me it wasn’t worth the effort, and I sullenly walked back to the front of the bus station, feeling like when Tom Hanks loses Wilson in Castaway. I went outside and my cab was still there. At least I didn’t lose my knife, and then get all my things stolen too. In retrospect, not the best decision, risking all my stuff with the cab drive for my pocket knife, but it all worked out.
I also placed my faith in the cabbie for my hostel. I didn’t have anything booked, and had failed to download the map for Ecuador in my Maps.Me app prior to leaving Mancora, so didn’t have any idea where to go. I asked him to take me to ‘el centro,’ where there’s lots of tourists. When we got there, I asked if he knew any hostels for backpackers, and that’s how I ended up at Mallki Hostel. I paid the driver and gave him a decent tip and piled my stuff in front of the locked front gate.
I pressed the button. No response. It was about 8am, pretty early for hostel folk. I pressed again, nothing. After a short while I got buzzed in. I wandered in to be met by a stringy Ecuadorian, Christian, rubbing his eyes as he lead me to reception. I made it to my room, a four bed bunk in which I was the only occupant, and was able to sleep until about noon.
I enjoyed a leisurely coffee and breakfast at the hostel, then spent the afternoon walking around the city. Cuenca is a lovely city. It is reminiscent of Europe with cobblestone streets lined by antique colonial flats with terra cotta roofs. Parque Calderon in the center of the city is a jewel in itself with 300 year old trees, groomed shrubbery, and walking paths with plenty of benches to enjoy the scenery. Cuenca was a nice counterpoint to Peru: many gourmet restaurants, cafes where the baristas take pride in their craft, flower shops, boutiques, and specialty shops. Ecuador uses US Dollars, but Cuenca was cheap: $0.50 to $2 cab rides, $0.25 buses, $3 lunches, $1.5 beers, inexpensive groceries, etc. There is a large population of expatriate retirees from US and Canada living in Cuenca, and it’s no wonder why.
I found a store with climbing gear, and bought a new knife. It wasn’t exactly what I was looking for, a rope knife, but it was good to have a cutting tool and peace of mind again. I figured I would buy a new Gerber knife when I got home.
I met up with Chris and Heidi, whom had already been in Cuenca for a few days, for dinner. When I met, I was surprised to see Heidi on crutches. She had hurt her foot several weeks prior and had been limping around on it since. They finally went to the hospital in Cuenca, and it turned out she needed surgery to have two screws put in her foot. Barring problems working out paperwork with their insurance company, she was set to have the surgery in two days. Ecuador has great medical care, and I was astounded to hear the cost of the surgery would only be $1500. They planned to hunker down in Cuenca for a few weeks while she healed up post-surgery. We had a few drinks and shots toasting her foot and wishing her a smooth surgery and speedy recovery.
After dinner I headed back to the hostel. I found a group of people drinking beers, playing guitar, and singing songs around a fire. I met a bunch of people including Nyasha and Abby from Boston. They went to T University veterinary school (kind of big deal in the vet world) and had just finished their last semester before becoming legitimate veterinarians. They were spending their summer in Ecuador working at an animal reserve about an hour outside of Cuenca. They had weekends off and came into the city every Friday. They invited me out with them and I obliged.
We went to a bar near Cuenca University, a short walk from our hostel. Nyasha and I hit it off. She is one for witty banter. I get the feeling she usually ran people over with her brand of banter, but I was slightly toasted and in the zone and gave her banter right back to her. We had some drinks and did some dancing.
At about 2:30am, a group of us walked down by Rio Tomebamba, a gushing river running east-west that bisects Cuenca. After a little while, Abbey and her boyfriend Manu disappeared and the others went to get rolling papers. Nyasha and I sat down by the riverside and before long were making out to the sound of the whistling water.
After a while, we decided to head back to the hostel. We stopped at a playground and goofed around on the slides and other playground equipment for a while. At one point Nyasha and I sat facing each other on a playground suspension bridge making out. A police officer came by and broke up the fun, telling us to move along.
We made it back to the hostel, only to find I now had two people occupying the top bunks in my room, and her room was completely full. We fooled around on a couch for a while, before she convinced me to go to my bed. We climbed into my bed and disrobed silently. The two guys on the top bunks were fast asleep. We began going at it, but before long the others had woken up. They just turned over and tried to ignore us. We kept going, trying to be as quiet as possible, but that just didn’t happen. Nyasha was strangely turned on by the voyeuristic nature of the whole thing. Dorm life.
Saturday morning we slept late and got up about noon. After breakfast, Nyasha, Abbey, and I set out for Parque Paraiso, a huge wooded, scenic park located about an hour by foot east along Rio Tomebamba. We stopped at Pumapungo, an archaeological site of Incan ruins along the way. We spent the afternoon in the park mostly laying in the grassy shade—we were all horribly tired from the prior late night.
We headed back at about five and went to Mercado 10 de Agosto, a huge indoor bazaar of meat and produce. We went upstairs for a late almuerzo, complete with jugo de coco (coconut juice). Jugo de coco is the most amazing thing in the world! Creamy icey sweet coconut heaven. I would have at least one of these every day in Cuenca.
After returning to the hostel, I went and laid down to take a nap. I got up later, still not feeling great from the night before. I resolved not to go out, and spent the evening idly hanging around the fire, but not drinking and noncommittal when asked if I wanted to go out later. Nyasha and I laid in my bed talking for an hour or two. We started making out, but right then a couple people came in to go to bed. Her room was full again too. I didn’t want to do it again in my dorm, so there was only one option left—the shower. It was actually awesome. Dorm life.
The next day, Nyasha and I had breakfast, took a trip to the supermarket together, then said goodbye; I was going to an Airbnb for a Sunday poker session and she was heading back to the animal reserve that afternoon. I packed up and hopped in a cab for my Airbnb. It was a luxury apartment all to myself for $35. I slow cooked a beef roast all day, just what I needed after a long, exhausting weekend. Poker didn’t go so great, and I wrapped up my session early after busting my biggest stack in gross fashion, booking about a $650 loss.
The next day I headed back to the center of Cuenca, and got a room at La Casa de Cuenca. Mallki Hostel was good for the community and atmosphere, but was impossible to sleep there with crappy beds and a lot of noise. I spent the morning and early afternoon writing, then headed to almuerzo (lunch) at Cilantro. Almuerzos are a thing in Ecuador: a three course meal consisting of soup, entrée of fish or chicken, rice, beans, salad, and a pastry plus juice or tea for usually between $2-3. The almuerzo at Cilantro was gourmet, the best I’d had. On the way back to my hostel, it happened… my shit story.
Preface: One day back in Iquitos, I walked into the dining room at the Green Track Hostel to hear four girls discussing ‘shit stories,’ or stories of people shitting themselves while travelling. Each of the girls had their own shit story, plus they had a few from their friends. I made fun of them a little, which they chided me for. I distinctly remember Asha telling me, “Don’t laugh! If you travel long enough, you’ll have a shit story of your own!”
About a half block after I left Cilantro, my guts started rumbling. I didn’t think too much of it, I was about 5 blocks from my hostel and figured I would easily be able to make it back there in time. A block later and my lower guts roared again. This wasn’t you’re normal stomach movements, this was Harry in Dumb and Dumber, Trainspotting, code-fucken-red, emergency gut movements. I panicked, “Oh fuck, what do I do? Do I go back? Did that place even have a bathroom? Is there somewhere nearby I can use the bathroom? Am I going to make it?” I quenched my butt cheeks like a vice and started walking quickly as possible towards my hostel. I made it another block and a half without incident. Then my gut roared again—it’s coming and no way to stop it! “Oh my god, please, no,” I pleaded. I did the I-gotta-shit-shuffle—leaning slightly back, ass clenched, taking metered steps with straight legs, but not too big of a step lest your butt unclench—at full speed. I think at one point I had my hand on my butt, trying to physically hold the shit in.
I approached the front door to my hostel, key in hand, ready. I unlocked it flawlessly, then had to manage the step up into the door. I made it. I knew I had about 15 seconds tops before the dam broke. I waddled to the bathroom in the back, behind the kitchen. Occupied. “FUCCKKKK!” “Ok, there’s another bathroom upstairs you can make it.” I waddled to the stairs, tried to hold my breath, took a step up, success. I took another step up. I took a third step up, and a squishy farting sound erupted. The dam broke. A spurt of shit flowed into my boxer briefs. “Welp, might as well run for it now!” I booked up the stairs into the bathroom, lava dripping down my leg. I got my pants down and exploded into the toilet. I shat in ecstasy for a moment before reaching for toilet paper, only to realize there isn’t any. “Jesus-tap-dancing Christ!”
After some consideration, I washed my undies in the shower with hand soap, washed myself down, rinsed and repeated. Then I snuck back to my room, wet undies in tow, changed, took a nap, and tried to sleep it away like it never happened. Apologies for the gory detail, but this is the reality of travel… And that’s my shit story.
I had some sort of bug and felt weak and low energy the rest of the day. I made myself a simple dinner, did some writing and went to bed early.
The next day, I woke up and felt near 100%. I decided I felt well enough to go to El Cajas Parque Nacional for a hike. I made myself a big breakfast, full of healthy fat, packed a lunch of avocado and tuna fish sandwiches, and jumped in a cab to the bus station. I found the proper bus co-op, Occidental, and got a ticket for 10:20am. It tookabout an hour to get to El Cajas.
The bus let us off on the main road overlooking the entrance to the park, with mountains towering in the background. I entered the main cabin, signed in on the registrar, and looked at the trail map. There were about 10 different trails to take varying in length and difficulties, ranging from an hour and half to multiday hikes. An employee gave me a rundown of the various trails, but he spoke in Spanish and I only understood a limited amount. He dissuaded me from my first choice route #5, telling me it would be tough to complete before dark. I decided to either route #2 or #4 (whichever I found first), both of which were difficulty ‘alto’ (high) and took 5 hours or so to complete.
There’s no guides in this park, and the trails are not well marked. They also don’t have trail maps for to take with you. You have to find sparse trail markers along the way to keep you heading in the correct direction. I snapped a picture of the map in the cabin and set out.
I headed northwest around the main lake, intending to find route #2 or #4 which both intersected on the north side of the lake. After 30 minutes, I was utterly lost. I was towards the north side of the lake, and following a trail leading up a river, but it led to an impasse at a small waterfall at the top of a ridge. Following my path back down the steep grade along the river, I lost footing and almost fell backwards 10 feet downward into the rocky river bed. I grabbed onto a bunch of heather grass and it was rooted deep enough to bear my weight. Whew! There’s no one to find you if you get hurt out here.
At the flat of the river, I spotted a faint trail through heather up a steep hill. I followed that, but after 10 minutes of that, I was panting like a dog, wondering, “Who the hell would take this route?” Shortly after I saw droppings from goats and llamas, and realized it was an animal trail not a hiking trail. I eventually mounted the hill and took it downward into a scenic valley with criss-crossing mountain streams.
There’s something about hiking in crisp mountain air that really makes me crave a cigarette. “Remember how I struggled in Huaraz,” I told myself. Luckily I didn’t have any.
It was now spitting rain, and misty in the mountains and valley. I found a small ‘cave’ under an outcropping of rock and decided to stop for lunch. At lunch I found a single mapacho cigarette in my jacket pocket. “This would be really great after lunch, in this cool, clean mountain air, with the mist and all” I thought. There’s just something about that crisp mountain air. “No, no, no. I haven’t even began the mountain yet. It will be my victory dance after I complete the hike, if I complete the hike,” I agreed with myself.
Shortly after lunch, after scaling another hill and descending into another valley with a small mountain lake, I found route #2 adjacent to the south side of the lake. It was already 1:30pm and I figured I had at least 3.5 hours left, so I was going to need to hurry to get back to the cabin by dark.
I followed the trail up into a mountain to the east. After about 30 minutes hiking up the grassy base of the mountain, I was into tough terrain. Mud and rock steps were a minimum of 1.5 feet upward, with some steps almost thigh high. At points the grade was more than 70 degrees, almost straight upward, one lunging step after the other whilst grabbing onto clumps of heather to help stabilize and pull myself up.
During this time, I was glad for my yoga and kettlebell practices. The physical benefits of having stable, limber joints, and knowledge of how to properly load, press, and transfer my weight were crucial. Without these practices, I’m not sure I would have been able to manage this part of the climb, or it would have at least been much more difficult with massively increased risk of injury.
During this steep climb, I encountered two British guys that were on the bus with me. They were struggling mightily, lightheaded from the altitude. I was breathing heavily, but otherwise doing fine. I felt good about my conditioning as I trudged past them.
After another hour of demanding upward climbing later, I summited the mountain. It feels amazing to be at the top of a mountain. I completely get the high that experienced climbers get from scaling a mountain. I reveled in the amazing views, and sat and meditated for a short while, breathing deeply the refreshing mountain air.
“You know what would be great to celebrate this…,” my mind beckoned. There’s something about crisp, cool mountain air. “No, damnit. I’m not done, I still have an hour and a half back down the mountain, and then the hike to the cabin before victory is complete!”
I began the descent down the southeast face of the mountain, opposite the way I ascended. The valleys of the mountains were already getting dark, cut off from sunlight by surrounding mountains. Coming down the mountain was possibly more difficult than going up. You often had to take many steps in rapid succession, with no ability to stop due to your downward momentum. There was treacherous scree, loose rocks, and mud that gave way underfoot. Ground shifted on me causing me to fall three times during the descent. The last fall, I slid more than 15 feet downward on my ass over scree and rocks before coming to a rest, ripping up my right hand that tried to break the fall in the process.
Towards the end of the descent down the base of the mountain, the slope and scree were so severe, you’d need to basically run downward, unable to stop yourself, for 30 or more yards at a time. You’d have to enter a flow type state, placing each foot perfectly in rapid sequence. If you tripped, the resulting fall would be severe due to downward speed and momentum.
I reached the foot of the mountain and hiked 20 minutes back to the cabin, arriving at about 5:15pm. I sat down to catch my breath for a while, then headed into the cabin and got a cup of tea. I went back outside, drinking my warm tea, admiring the vista and congratulating myself on the mountain I had just climbed. Then it was time for my victory dance. There’s just something about that crisp mountain air.
I walked out to the main road to catch a bus back to Cuenca. I met a few Germans and French while waiting for the bus. They were impressed that I had completed route #2. Apparently their guidebook told them it was the most difficult day hike at El Cajas. I agreed it was certainly no easy feat. Again, my beautiful naivety led me to undertake and complete something I might not have attempted had I known the difficulty beforehand.
After the hike I was exhausted. I went out to eat then returned to the hostel to lay low and go to bed early. An American guy at my hostel I was chatting with was leaving to go on a Tinder date. He recommended I try Tinder while in South America, telling me it was a much better experience than using it back home. I laid in bed Tindering for a while, and before you know it I was chatting with several different girls from Cuenca.
The next day I met Chris at Parque Calderon at 9am for a free walking tour of Cuenca. The tour lasted about four hours going to the Catedral, a bazaar, an art museum, the Mercado, a panama hat company, and ended at Pumapungo. After the tour, Chris and I asked the guide the best place in the city to enjoy a beer and they recommended a brewery called La Compania. We headed over there, but unfortunately it opens at 5pm. We headed to a nearby café and had lunch and couple beers on the patio while people watching.
That night I had a date with Maria from Tinder. We met at Parque Calderon and walked to restaurant she liked. We had fun getting to know each other in a mix of Spanish and English over steaks and mojitos. She was an interior designer, who had just finished her last semester at University of Cuenca. She recommended some Spanish music and movies for me to check out, and I recommended music and movies for her. Afterwards, we got ice cream and walked around Cuenca before I kissed her goodnight. Overall, I thought things went well even though language was certainly a barrier at times. It was an awesome experience stepping outside my comfort zone.
After I went home, I was Tindering again and set up another lunch date with a different Maria for the following day. Maria’s abound in Cuenca! Dude was right, Tinder is the shit in South America!
The next day I met the new Maria at a café. We had coffee and lunch and again talked in a mix of Spanish and English. She worked for a travel agency in Cuenca, and was very interested in Eastern religion and yoga. We got along quite well, and it was another interesting experience of dating with the language barrier. She had to work in the afternoon, so we agreed to try and hang out again before I left Cuenca.
That afternoon I caught a bus south to Baños de Cuenca, a small city renowned for its hot springs. I spent the afternoon relaxing in a steam room, hot springs, and even did a mud bath with a bunch of locals. They were keen to have a gringo around, and had fun chatting with me in my limited Spanish. I felt amazing after I left. I wish there were hot springs in Chicago.
I got off the returning from Baños right next to the Panama hat company we had been to on the walking tour. I wandered in and after trying on some hats made my first real tourist purchase of my trip. I figured it would get a lot of use on the coast and help me prevent sunburn.
The next day Chris and Heidi moved into the hostel where I was staying. Heidi had her surgery and was having difficulty getting around the hostel they were at. We went out for an almuerzo at Canaima, a Colombian restaurant, and the traditional Colombian food was fantastic. All for $3. Almuerzos are the shit.
After lunch I headed to the bus station to look into getting a bus to Baños de Ambato, a popular mountain destination in Ecuador. I booked a ticket for the coming Monday.
After returning from the bus station, on the advice of Chris and Heidi, I decided it was finally time to have my toe looked at. It was still swollen and slightly painful more than a month after I injured it in Lima. I went to the emergency room at a Monte Sinai Hospital in Cuenca. A doctor looked at my toe, then referred me to an orthopedic specialist in another building and arranged an appointment in 20 minutes. No charge for the initial exam.
I met the specialist at his office across the street from the hospital. He examined it and agreed it didn’t look good, and sent me to have X-rays. I went downstairs to the X-ray room, paid $35, got my foot zapped, and returned to the specialist’s office with my X-ray 30 minutes later. He looked at it and couldn’t find a fracture. He agreed it was probably broken earlier and had fused, but said it looked like it fused OK from an orthopedic perspective. He said the swelling could be from an infection in the bone and wrote me two prescriptions to use if the swelling didn’t subside in another week. I paid him $30 for his services and was out the door two hours after arriving.
The whole system was swift and efficient, and the doctors were extremely professional and spoke good English. I knew Ecuador was renowned for having excellent health care and was a medical tourism destination, but I was thoroughly impressed with my experience. I paid $65 for care that was on par if not better than I would have received in the US, certainly more efficient and expeditious, yet in the US it probably would have costed me a minimum of $1000.
Strangely, after the medical exam and positive prognosis from the doctor, my toe started looking better almost immediately. The swelling subsided over the next week. It led me to wonder if it was psychosomatic, my mind was in limbo thinking it was probably broken therefore it remained swollen, but after seeing that it wasn’t broken my mind was ready to let it heal (?).
That night, Chris, Heidi, and I went out for an amazing dinner at a Thai restaurant called Boca. I had ramen with shrimp and it was one of the best meals I’ve had in South America. Highly recommended if you’re ever in Cuenca. We headed over to La Compania afterwards, and ordered grande beers of microbrew, which turned out to be liter mugs. After two litres of beer each, Chris and I were quite hammed and called it a night.
The next day we all woke up hung over and went out for an almuerzo at a Cuban restaurant. Not quite as good as Canaima or Cilantro, but still filling and a great bargain. We went and wandered some open air markets, got some coffee and ice cream, and then watched a street artist create amazing pictures with spray paint for almost an hour.
That night was Saturday. I went to dinner with Chris and Heidi. We played gin rummy while having cocktails and eating Swarma. At 9:30, I met up with Nyasha at a bar. We went bar hopping and watched some live music for a couple hours before retiring to her place.
The next day, I said bye again to Nyasha and headed back to my hostel. I packed up and said bye again to Chris and Heidi, and promised to meet them later in Ecuador after Heidi’s foot was better. I moved into an Airbnb, hosted by a French guy who had moved to Ecuador a year previously. I spent the day recovering from the past two nights of drinking while playing a small poker session. Due to my hangover, I predictably booked a small loss a poker that day, and turned in early.
I made a big breakfast the next morning, and headed to the bus station for my noon bus to Baños. Originally, I only planned to stay in Cuenca for three days, but wound up staying for 10, which speaks to the city’s charms. Lovely city and a must if you’re ever in Ecuador.
Street art from Cuenca:
