Latacunga, Ecuador - We Were the Only Gringos

Our destination as we headed south from the Quito area was the mid-sized town of Latacunga. We chose this town as a place for a layover of sorts, an interlude between our various activities and tours of the Ecuadorian countryside. When we bought tickets for the ride there, I had asked for the 11:30 a.m. bus. 

At 10:45, MK looked over the tickets, turned to me and asked, "What does 'Salida 10:50' mean?"

I grabbed the tickets back to take a look. “Holy shit, is what it means! She sold us tickets for a bus that leaves in five minutes!” 

We scrambled through the gates and to our platform, loaded our bags in the underneath compartment and, as we walked up the steps onto the bus, it started to pull away. A close call for sure. The bus was full of locals all heading to points south. We were the only Gringos. We were the only tourists.

The driver stopped the bus on various occasions in the middle of nowhere to let people off or others on. At one longer than normal stops, merchants climbed aboard to sell us fried plantains, candies, juices, and fruits. They were all very cordial about it – only one came on board at a time. Once off, the next merchant boarded to take his turn at selling his goods. The last merchant, a candy seller, first fervently proselytized us for five minutes before he walked the aisle. Maybe he thought he could charge a higher price for his candy since it came with his blessings and grace.  

We were told earlier in the trip that many of those who try to make a living hawking their wares on street corners, and here on our bus, are refugees from Venezuela. So many from that country have been caught up in the economic and political strife there that they have no choice but to leave their homeland and the hyper-inflation that has wreaked havoc on whatever wealth they had. 

We motored on. The baby in the arms of the lady next to me was fidgeting the entire way. Soon, a foul smell came from its direction. The little one shit itself. The mother didn’t seem to care or notice. In fact, it was only moments later that she began to breastfeed it. Great, I thought, just what it needs, more food. Meanwhile, the young couple in front of us were into a heavy make out sessions. Rarely did they come up for air. Get a room, I say.

We eventually arrived at Latacunga. This unfortunate place was destroyed three times since the mid 1700s by eruptions and lava flows from the nearby Cotopaxi volcano. In 2015, it was spared with the eruption that occurred then, but bore the brunt of being covered in ash and debris. 

For only a mid-sized town, the streets were teeming with people. We did our best, with our baggage in tow, not to trip or run over the hundreds of itinerant merchants selling an assortment of food and goods from their little patch of concrete meant for us walkers. We stood out among all of these locals, not only because it seemed we were the only Gringos in the entire city (we never saw another one the entire day), but because we were towing large duffel suitcases behind us. We were deep into a foreign land, strangers without a full grasp of the culture or its language. We did what we could to get by and otherwise soaked in the adventure of it all.

After we checked into our hotel (which, by the way, took a half hour of weaving in and out of human and vehicle traffic in order to get there), we ambled off to take a look around this busy little city. Near the Mercado, the crowds thickened with even more pedestrians and sidewalk merchants. Many of the merchants were Kichwa, the indigenous people from the surrounding countryside. 

One man sold lemon and limes to passing motorists. Another sold nothing more that colorful clothes pins. Still another sold simple flyswatters. One woman tried selling the single stuffed giraffe she held in her arms. Nearby were stall after stall of shoeshine stands. I mean, there were dozens of them. Could there possibly be such a high demand for shiny shoes here in Latacunga? 

Once we were inside the Mercado itself, we found a variety of food, fruits, and juices for sale. Everything was all very basic and practical - nothing here for a tourist - but that is what made it more interesting. It appeared many of the townspeople would come here to buy their basic foodstuffs or to eat their afternoon or evening meals for it all looked tasty and inexpensive.

The church off of the main square was holding a variety of services. One was a baptism for a young girl. We sat in and watched for a while hoping to also score points with the man upstairs since we will miss Sunday church services tomorrow when we head off into the rural countryside.