Visiting Guayaquil: Center of the Fringe

“The sad truth of our current world is this: The most dangerous things in life are personal ignorance and other humans.” – Old Sean

An Ode to Sleep

There is nothing quite as important to travel as managing sleep.   Ever-altering settings and time zones along with extended trips renders most schedules moot and minutes of awareness often tick away without the stabilizing lull of unconsciousness.  Likewise, stimulus of new countries, lands and actions abound, prioritizing the experience rather than rest.

It is very, very easy to neglect sleep when traversing the planet.  Understandably so.

But all of my bad travel decisions, all of my poor missteps, mind-skips and oddly disjointed choices are usually found in the throes of sleep deprivation.

I finally left Belize where I said goodbye to my stateside friends Tim and Mel in a slight stupor.  Belize was jam-packed with activities, and the flights getting me to my next destination of Guayaquil, Ecuador foiled my deeper naps. 

My connecting flight in Panama closed the gate three minutes after I luckily boarded and when I finally reached Guayaquil, it was late in the night and I knew my mind was sputtering. 

Entering Guayaquil

Fortunately, Guayaquil allows for Ubers, meaning I didn’t have to put my wellbeing or directions in the hands of a taxi driver.  As I’ve mentioned on a-many previous posts, I have a healthy and gradually increasing distrust of taxi drivers in major cities. 

Regardless, I made it to my hostel where I was given a fairly hefty dose of security.  My room was located in a brightly-lit portion of town fairly close to the airport, but with a ten foot iron gate with razor wire and decorative spikes atop.  Past the gate was a heavy metal door, painted black and complete with further spikes.  After walking down a long, well-lit and tiled ally, I reached my room, complete with an iron-bar outer door that required two keys to unlock and a secondary wooden door that needed a fifth key.  My only window was similarly defended and shrouded with a dark maroon curtain.

Needless to say, if that’s the kind of security that a host believes you need, it’s probably wise to stay in for the night.  I later learned that Guayaquil in general has a somewhat surly and shifty reputation, though my neighborhood was considered one of the “safe” areas. 

Attempting Exploration

The following day, I arose to do some exploring, but found my routes somewhat hampered.  Guayaquil is an immense, muggy city (in both the humid temperature sense and the crime-pun sense).  The heat is profound and relief is generally only felt near the river.  But many of the simpler routes I would have used to walk around were fairly blocked by bad neighborhoods. 

There were places where the concrete was chipped into a grim mosaics, places where powerlines were being tapped illegally with thin copper cables, and zones where nonsensically graffiti slashed buildings and dog poop spawned on the sidewalk. 

That’s not to say all of Guayaquil is like this.  There are areas with wide-spanning cobbled sidewalks, old and pleasant murals and great green medians in the middle of roads.  I only mention the former because it was a struggle navigating the safest streets towards my preferred tourist destinations.  I felt on guard the vast majority of the time and Guayaquil, by and large, was a city where I watched my steps carefully. 

Standard travel protocol took place.  Swift, purposeful steps, everything in the front pocket, money and cards kept in secret pockets, reflective sunglasses to prevent eye contact, earbuds in to avoid shout-outs and decoy phone being used for navigation.  Overall, I was dressed down and tried to look as poor as possible, a stance greatly helped by my now unkempt hair and beard.

Sights Around Guayaquil

That being said, there were some additional welcome features in Guayaquil.  Like the rest of Ecuador, Guayaquil exclusively used US currency and primarily works with cash in the smaller shops (though card readers are pretty common as well).  Bizarrely, while the cash is very American, the coinage is a mixed bag.  Golden dollar coins, somewhat of a rarity in the US are the primary form of dollar-change and while dimes, nickels and quarters are sometimes spotted, Ecuador uses their very own fifty cents and five cents coins.  My pockets ended up jingling oddly after a few purchases. 

Anyway, all tourists in Guayaquil are basically funneled towards roughly the same patch of ground at one point or another: Central Guayaquil and the two Malecon walks, Malecon del Salado and Malecon 2,000.

I rolled out of bed early in the morning and tromped over to the downtown area, struggling up the rather (ironically) run-down Santa Anna Hill.  The overlooks are spectacular from that height, but Guayaquil itself isn’t much to look at in the daytime from above.  There are few green patches, endless lines of grey or tan buildings in low rolls, a scant number of plain towers and the hint of some mountains in the far distance, obscured by a color-leeching haze. 

Once I managed to get down the other side of Santa Anna Hill, things were much nicer.  Guayaquil’s famous cable car system, Aerovia, loops through the sky, with many of it’s supporting pillars and building faces brightly decorated in fantastic artworks.  The Aerovia extends for kilometers, looping across nearly all of Central Guayaquil and traversing the entire river to the city across the Rio Guayas, Duran. 

Malecon

I followed this cable line on foot until I reached the northern portion of Malecon 2,000.   Ringed in tall protective fences, this was clearly the area to hang out.  Crowds thronged the riverside and clean red bricks passed amusement park rides, restaurants, tasteful malls, noble statues, outdoor eatery stalls, thin ponds, bountiful trees, pleasant overlooks and stalwart lighthouses.  I spent most of my day walking up and down these trails, sticking close to shadows to beat the heat and enjoying myself immensely. 

The Rio Guayas, unfortunately, isn’t a very impressive river to watch.  Large, murky brown and crammed with green flotsam, I spent most of my time stealing glances at it then returning back to the shoreline.

Since I was only in Guayaquil for a short time, I thought to try my hand at climbing the notorious 444 Steps.  This is a secondary overlook of Guayaquil and that number is very exact.  The 444 Steps have each step labeled on the right side while climbing, a fairly brutal affair in Guayaquil’s rapidly enclosing humidity and heat. 

Even though the climb was a bit of a challenge, I think this might have been my favorite part of the city.  The buildings are tightly squeezed together with heaps of colors all mashed in, lots of quaint little shops scattered about and at the top, a famous blue and white lighthouse with another nice overlook of the city. 

Regardless, of my little tour, I made a point to get back to my lodgings before night fell.  I wasn’t confident about navigating the city at night and there was very little leading me to believe that Guayaquil is particularly safe.  So I wandered back home, showered off my sweat and packed for the following morning.

Reoriented

Originally, I had planned on doing a short tour around Ecuador via bus, heading up to Quito, down to Banos and Puyo and finally settling in Cuenca, where my long-term apartment was based. 

However, my energy was shattered and scrapping the bottom of the barrel each time I tried to rise.  I opted instead to head to Cuenca immediately, and recuperate there before jetting off on more explorations. 

I arrived at the bus terminal, Terminal Terrestre, in the early morning and spent a good half hour wandering around somewhat confused.  The terminal is pretty great, seeing as it’s basically a supermall with bus stops on the second and third levels, but it isn’t made intuitively.  Bus stalls and tickets booths are located on the bottom floor, tucked away behind the shops.  The busses leading which directions are somewhat difficult to sort out, and I had to stop at several stalls for directions before being sent to the ticket booth that provided me passage to Cuenca. 

I was fairly happy to be leaving Guayaquil behind.  I know lots of people in Ecuador who think very highly of the city, but I don’t personally see the appeal.  I felt hemmed in for the most part and the local culture wasn’t appealing to me. 

Crossing the Andes

The ride to Cuenca wasn’t terribly in interesting in the beginning.  A thick fog had rolled in and I could see very little of the countryside.  Before long, we were chugging our way up into the Andes Mountains  Like many long-distance mountain buses across the world, this bus was equipped with a large TV up front showing a less-than-engaging but also impossible-to-ignore film, complete with a booming mid-quality sound system. 

I spent equal amounts of time trying to ply my limited Spanish to the film and the rest of my time doing my best to ignore it. Outside the window, when the smog cleared, the truly awesome visage of the mountains came into sharp relief.  Sheer, rugged and wretchedly steep, they appeared to encompass entire valleys as isolated ecosystems.

If one is familiar with the Liberator of South America, Simon Bolivar, one is also familiar with his numerous mountain treks where he attempted lightning military strikes to toss off the disjointed Spanish governments that ruled the various portions of South America.  Those lightning strikes were notorious for attempting to hurdle through impassible mountains.  Looking at those mountains now, I was startled even a paved road could manage to find a way through.

And, to some extent, that surprise was justified.

A landslide rumbled directly in front of our bus at some point, heaping boulders moving seductively, deceptively ponderously downhill.  Our bus warbled to a stop, glinting into the fog to spot a now impassible heap of stones.  We were the first vehicle to halt, but soon more followed, piling up in a neat and narrow line while drivers, bored and curious got out of their cars and poked around the rock shelf, occasionally ducking back inside when the drizzling intensified. 

Arriving In Cuenca

It took four hours for construction vehicles to bull their way up the mountain and another forty five minutes before the road was clear once more.  As a result, I arrived in Cuenca quite late in the evening.  It would be another two days before I learned about the city, as I grew ill from something I ate after my first night.

It is at this point I find myself happy to stop.  The journey from Costa Rica, to Belize to the coasts of Ecuador and through the mountain pass has taxed me severely.  I’m perfectly happy to spend a few days mildly ill and happily in bed recuperating. 

Soon, I’ll rise and began exploring my new home for the next two months. 

Until then,

Best regards and excellent trails,

Old Sean

Written August 17th 2021

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