Beachfront Properties & Real Estate In Ecuador

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Under the Ecuadorian Sun

Strolling down the streets of Quito, Ecuador, I begin to fall in love. Then, high atop a volcanic crater in the Ecuadorian highlands, while overlooking a blue and frigid lagoon, I feel myself falling deeper in love. But it’s along Guayaquil’s magnificent malecón (boardwalk) on a sultry, languid evening that I realize I’m truly in love with Ecuador.

I suppose my love affair is inevitable, as this small and spectacular country has so much to offer. But because my time in Ecuador is limited, I’m forced to choose just three incredible areas to explore: Quito, the Andean highlands, and the coastal city of Guayaquil. Maybe later, I’ll be able to experience the enigmatic Galápagos Islands; the majestic Avenida de los volcanes (Avenue of the Volcanoes); the pristine beaches of Esmeraldas; the paramó, Ecuador’s boggy, peaty prairie; the colonial city of Cuenca; and the steamy Amazon jungle.

For now, though, I’ll take what I can. As is the case with an irresistible romance or a delectable dish, the first taste just leaves me hungering for more.

QUINTESSENTIAL QUITO

Quito is like a beautiful and dignified woman. Traditional and conservative, she’s a guardian of both the pre-Columbian traditions of her Andean peoples and the Catholic traditions of her European children. And her cool weather is perfect for getting out and discovering her many charms.

As I stroll along the historic center, Ruta de las siete cruces (the Route of the Seven Crosses), and the street vendor’s market, I feel safe and welcome. Among the many beautiful churches in Latin America, la Iglesia de la Compañía has to be one of the most awe-inspiring of all. The wood carvings, the porcelain work, and the gilded altar and ceiling literally take my breath away.

I get hungry and head to Patio Andaluz for some locro, a delicious potato porridge, which is typical fare of the highlands and can be prepared in many ways. I sample an assortment of tiny empanadas, some savory, some sweet; they’re delicious and melt in my mouth.

I continue my exploration of the city by walking to the Plaza de San Francisco. From a park bench, I observe several multi-generational families. I’m moved by the love and interaction across the ages.

I get another peek into Quito’s daily life, as well as a glimpse into her colonial past, when I visit la Ronda -- a street in the Old District that is also an eclectic neighborhood of artisans, writers, and working-class folk.

Originally an alleyway connecting the outside perimeter of the city to its center, La Ronda is today a picturesque, serpentine street for pedestrians only. The houses and tiny shops that line it still have their original narrow wooden doors, which remain open during the day and allow a view of lush atrium gardens. As I greet residents who smile and wave, I hear the sound of music and laughter drifting above my head, where wrought-iron balconies are draped with geraniums and bougainvillea. It’s easy to love this little neighborhood, where every corner has a historical marker that helps peel back the layers of its complex past.

Everywhere I go in Quito, I see the Andean culture peeking through like splashes of color against an earth-toned backdrop. I hear it in the Quechuan words and lilting accent, which mix easily into the Spanish dialogue and add a sparkling note to the banter.

HIGHLAND HIDEAWAYS

Leaving Quito behind, I head for the mountains, which serve as both the backbone and the backdrop of the Andean culture. It’s hard to overstate the influence of these peaks upon the people here, who project personality traits on them and speak of them as if they were family members, using the Quechuan words for mother (mama), father (tayta), elder (rucu), and child (guagua) before the volcanoes’ names. The locals have tucked their tiny towns into the folds of the skirts of these temperamental mountains.

Florencia, my guide, asks our driver, David, to take us to Otavalo, a town with a world-famous open-air market and which serves as the administrative center for the indigenous people. Otavalo sits in the shadow of the Imbabura volcano.

The market is buzzing with activity. I pick through hand-woven wool sweaters and intricately embroidered linens. I smell the fresh herbs, fruits, and vegetables that fill the stalls. I hear the braying of goats and sheep, but I’m surprised by the squeals of guinea pigs. I ask Florencia about them, and I am told that because of their high protein content, they are staples of the Andean diet.

The highlands are full of mystery and legend. I walk over to a man who has some beautiful oil paintings. In broken Spanish, he tells me about the legends depicted in his pictures. Next to him is a huddle of alpacas. I peer into the hazel-colored eyes of one, and I’m struck by the thought that it understands this place far better than I ever will.

Next, we travel to Hacienda La Compañía, whose history dates back to before 1660. The hacienda’s owners cultivate roses, among other endeavors.

I tour their rose farm and encounter giant blooms sitting atop perfectly straight stalks that are six feet tall. Florencia explains that the Ecuadorian sun sits perfectly in the center of the sky, like a lightbulb on a ceiling, so the roses grow straight up, never needing to bend in search of sunlight. This variety is bred specifically for the Russian market, which pays a pretty penny for the roses.

I’m still thinking about the giant roses when we arrive at Parque Cóndor. The condor (whose name is derived from the Quechuan word kuntur) is a vulture with a wingspan of nearly 10 feet. I don’t usually think of vultures as majestic, but in flight, condors are majestic and incomparable. It’s no small wonder that the native peoples associated it with Inti Raimi, their sun god.

We soon arrive at Hacienda Pinsaquí, where Hector, the manager, is waiting for us. He greets each guest personally and provides a tour of this exceptional hacienda, where I find the best of both worlds. The bucolic setting, with its rustic gardens and ancient buildings, transports me to a place where time is measured by sunrises and sunsets or the phases of the moon. Yet, if I want, I can walk out of my room and connect to the world via Wi-Fi.

Instead, I stroll through the gardens and walk to the stables. Afterward, I retire to my room and snack on fruit and herbal tea, which Teresita brings me. It’s chilly, and I pull the covers over me and nestle into the bed. Soon, Teresita returns carrying two hot-water bottles for me -- they are for keeping my feet warm. She lights the woodstove, says good night, and turns out the light. Through the large windows, I can see the garden shimmering in the silvery glow of the Andean moon. Before nodding off to sleep, I decide I’ll meet the dawn on horseback, riding on the hills flanking Imbabura.

Later the next morning, we say goodbye to our gracious host and head back to Quito. But on the way, we stop in Cotacachi. Named after the volcano that overlooks it, this lovely little town produces excellent leather goods and sells them at very reasonable prices. While here, I hear about a nearby island that’s inhabited by giant guinea pigs -- a definite must-see. So David drives us to the base of the Cotacachi volcano. From there, a short but steep ride up ends at a mirador (scenic overlook) at the edge of a large crater lake that’s as still and as blue as the midnight sky and just as cold. It’s achingly beautiful. Cuicocha, island of the guinea pig (cui is the local word for guinea pig), sits in the middle of the lake. To protect the guinea pigs, the island is now off limits to everyone except forest rangers.

We continue on our journey and reach the outskirts of Quito. There, we visit the Museo de Sitio Intiñan (intiñan is the Quechuan word for middle of the earth). The museum is more like a park, with its exhibits showcasing the various cultures of Ecuador. I’m intrigued by the exhibit of the funeral rites of the Quitus, who were buried in clay pots instead of in coffins. The exhibit of the tsantsas (shrunken heads), a now-extinct custom of the Jivaro, a people of the Ecuadorian rain forest, is creepy but fascinating.

The next morning, I head out on my own and take the Quito Teleférico, a cable-car system, to a lookout station on Rucu Pichincha, where the elevation exceeds 13,000 feet. The air is light and chilly. The little shops sell té de coca, a tea made with dried coca leaves. Used for thousands of years to help with the effects of elevation, it tastes a bit like green tea, only with a hint of licorice.

I join a group that’s paired with a friendly and knowledgeable guide and make the two-hour hike to Rucu Pichincha’s crater. The experience of standing on a “living” mountain is humbling. Rucu Pichincha is an inactive volcano, but I have a slight moment of panic when I realize that I have no idea if inactive and extinct are interchangeable terms. As I head back to the lookout, I take in a stunning view of Quito.

I then return to Quito, where I want to experience the Ciclopaseo (cycle path). Every Sunday, from nine a.m. to three p.m., nearly 15 miles of city streets are closed to all but bicycle traffic. I rent a bike and ride over to the Hotel Plaza Grande in the Plaza de la Independencia. Sitting kitty-corner to the Presidential Palace, the Plaza Grande has transformed itself from a majestic turn-of-the-century structure into an opulent boutique hotel. In its café, I linger over each bite of my meal while listening to romantic music performed by a roving yet unobtrusive trio of skilled guitarists and tenors.

The music continues to play in my head as I make my way to the airport to board my flight to Guayaquil.

Guayaquil can’t be more different from its cool highlands sister, with whom it has a long-standing rivalry. It’s hot, sultry, carefree, and open. Formed by the dynamics of fire and water, it’s Ecuador’s most populous city.

Guayaquil has a fiery past -- literally. Although the city is quite ancient, it looks modern because it has been rebuilt so many times in the aftermaths of devastating fires. The city has also been shaped by its relationship to the Guayas River, a huge and powerful artery that shimmers like liquid silver at night but is muddy brown in the sunlight. For centuries, this navigable river and its prosperous port made Guayaquil a center of commerce and a target of pirates. The history of its struggle against those marauders is fascinating.

The most defining feature of Guayaquil is the malecón, a beautifully landscaped, lovingly maintained stretch along the banks of the Guayas. Even in the muggy heat of a summer day, a walk along the malecón is a treat, affording multiple opportunities to visit museums and restaurants. There are shady areas in the gorgeous gardens, whose aesthetic is accented by sculptures, monuments, and edifices that commemorate the city’s heroic past.

Around lunchtime, I visit the artisans’ market, where I meet a Lebanese-Italian named Joseph, who tells me about the waves of immigrants who have come here from China, Lebanon, Italy, and Germany. As we chat, Joseph explains that Guayaquil’s international commerce has fostered a spirit of tolerance that welcomes and integrates all newcomers. Even better, Joseph is a foodie who recommends great local restaurants to me.

Armed with information, I make plans for dinner. I feast on grilled prawns at Ristorante Riviera, where the service is extraordinary. Afterward, a nice, long, solitary stroll seems in order. It’s a sultry night, with soft breezes blowing, so I walk the malecón all the way to the Cerro Santa Ana, a historic neighborhood that only a decade ago was forgotten and decrepit. At its highest point stands a little chapel and a lighthouse. I climb the lighthouse’s spiral staircase and reach the top. The breezy lookout provides an unobstructed 360-degree view of Guayaquil. The serenity and beauty make me sigh.

The next day, I spend hours exploring the historic buildings and walking through the plazas to admire the monuments. The largest one is Plaza Centenario, a huge four-city-block expanse commemorating Guayaquil’s independence. But my favorite is the Parque Seminario, also known as the iguana park, where hundreds of friendly iguanas make their home. Once Guayaquil’s historic center, the Parque Seminario is the site of the impressive neo-Gothic-style Catedral de Guayaquil.

Guayaquil’s outstanding museums close on Mondays and Tuesdays in order to remain open on the weekends. So on Tuesday, I visit the city’s cemetery, Cementerio General Patrimonial de Guayaquil. Much about a people’s culture, history, and values can be gleaned from its burial grounds. This cemetery has more than 700,000 monuments, mausoleums, niches, and gravestones. Some of the monuments are spectacular and rival those that stand erected by the government on the plazas throughout the country. Others are museum-quality sculptures made of marble and alabaster and depict poignant scenes of hope and grief. Still others are family chapels where the ancestors of some of Guayaquil’s oldest and wealthiest families rest.

On my last night in Ecuador, friends take me to the restaurant Blu, where the nouvelle cuisine -- layered with Ecuadorian flavors and ingredients -- is remarkable. The lemon-verbena ice cream is especially wonderful, and I try to savor every last bite … and moment.

As I pack for my return to the United States, I experience a certain sadness about my impending departure from this land whose culture and environment I have been fully immersed in. But as I trek across the tarmac, my bag slung over my shoulder, I know this is just the first of many visits to Ecuador and with its hospitable, soft-spoken people. I climb the stairs of the aircraft, and as I reach the door, I look up and see Inti Raimi, the brilliant Ecuadorian sun, and I promise I will return.

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