Cute Colonial Cuenca

I love it when a river cuts through a valley. And when we’re riding the winding path high up on the mountainside, we can look down at the forcefulness with which the river flows, slicing through the countryside. I love long bus rides so I can stare, wide-eyed, out into the beauty of nature as it glides by the window.

I don’t love it when people on the bus momentarily open their windows to toss trash out. What a beautiful country with rolling hills and views that can see forever, but look closer and it’s completely not taken care of. The countryside is the people’s trashcan, littered with plastic bags, bottles and everything else. How unfortunate.

We break our fasts on Monday, September 15 in Baños with cold leftover soup from the night before. It doesn’t sit well with us, but it gives us enough energy to pack up our belongings and head out to the bus station. We pass all the familiar sights. I can’t believe we’ve spent so much time here, but a place like this sucks you in.

At the bus station we buy our tickets to Riobamba on the 11am bus. As we’re waiting, we run into some friends from the night before. We pass the time joking around and plotting tourists-strike-back schemes.

On the bus, I was exhausted for no apparent reason and slept (mouth hanging wide open) the whole way. In Riobamba we walked the few blocks to the Terminal Terrestre where we met Stephan, a friendly German tourist, and bought our tickets to Cuenca.

The view was amazing. Once I got myself into a comfortable position with my gigantic bag, I could actually enjoy the ride. Baños and Riobamba had been cloudy that morning, but once we climbed above the clouds, the sun was brilliant. The nearby mountains melted into mist and everything was surrounded in a surreal haze. I nudged Nate and we exchanged wow’s and lookatthat’s!

We passed in and out of pueblos. We picked up people on the side of the road and dropped others off at certain driveways. Sometimes there were children balanced in the aisle with noisy lollipops. Sometimes there were indigenous women in thick stockings, black skirts, and black hats and wrapped in colorful shawls.

Cuenca couldn’t come fast enough. We counted down the minutes, but we were still not there! Finally we arrived at the terminal around 7pm. I don’t like arriving to a new city at night. In the taxi, the driver and I chatted it up while Nate and Stephan exchanged stories.


Hostal El Monasterio was a little bit more expensive than we expected, but it was clean with a private bathroom and a communal kitchen. And it had a spectacular view of Mercado San Francisco and the surrounding iglesias.


Everything was lit up for stellar nighttime viewing.



After setting our stuff down, we set out in search of ingredients for dinner. Very few stores were open. We got some rice and tuna from a very nice shopowner. We got some bread. And with our limited ingredients we made a tasty soup. The kitchen was supplied with cooking implements, but we quickly found out that we were not alone. Roaches came out of every crevice and shuttled themselves into view. Nate was armed with his roach-massacring spoon and protected me while I stirred the coveted stew. When it was ready, much to the chagrin of the roaches, we stole away to our room to eat our meal in peace. We popped in a movie I had picked up the day before. We had never heard of it before.

Even though I had slept all through the bus rides, I had no trouble falling asleep that night.

I woke up before the alarm on Tuesday, September 16. The prospect of free coffee propelled me out of bed. The shower was perhaps the best one I’ve had since New York! We went to the market in search of breakfast ingredients. The market was a wonderful cacophony of colors! We walked up and down the aisles past vendors with fresh produce. I got apples, bananas, and yogurt for my granola. We also got a white fruit with black seeds and tough green skin. Nate thought it tasted starchy. I thought it tasted like mango, but different.

We desayunamos overlooking the Mercado San Francisco.




We decided to give Cuenca a walkaround. Our feet led us down the cobble stone streets. Izquierda, derecho, derecha. Those were our options. I directed us towards some Inca ruins. We climbed a hill that produced a decent view, but never found those ruins.



Lunch was leftover soup, which was pretty good the second time around. I looked up the mysterious Inca ruins on my LP map and realized that I had misinterpreted it! We had gone walking in the completely opposite direction! Go figure.


It was raincoat off- and on- weather! I rolled up my pants for the finicky Cuenca puddles. We passed trendy shops, tiny restaurants boasting almuerzos, churches, supposed New York Pizza, lots of banks, a few parques, standstill traffic, pirated DVD shops and a few security guards with machine guns. But no café with WIFI. We spent hours searching for one, just one, but to no avail. Let this serve as an explanation for why you are receiving so many blog posts so late!

Dinner was undercooked and underseasoned beans (we were hungry and impatient!), rice, veggies and fresh bread. We struck up a conversation with travelers in the kitchen. I was wiped out for no good reason at all, so I fell easily asleep.


Next stop: LOJA!