By Sarah Masker
Foreign Correspondent
I’m a big fan of serendipity and spontaneity, and this past weekend’s trip to Cuenca just reinforced how rewarding unplanned adventures can be. Six friends and I took advantage of our three-day weekend and visited the third-largest city in Ecuador, and I think it might have been the best weekend so far of all my time abroad.
Of course, getting to Cuenca wasn’t that much fun. Flying is a popular option, but my group chose to be economical and take the overnight bus, which meant 10 hours of trying to sleep on an Ecuadorian bus on Ecuadorian highways – aka 10 hours of fun. I spent all 10 hours in that dozy half-asleep state where I don’t even realize I’m asleep until someone wakes me up. I was in that state when I noticed an odd burning smell that steadily grew stronger over the hours, but I’m the girl whose only bad car experience involved smashing the windshield with a goose; I didn’t realize the treat we were in for.
Around 3:20 a.m., BAM! We blew a tire, which caused a delay as the driver tried to remedy the situation. Luckily my friend Colleen found it entertaining and made up some song about “poppin’ tires on the way to Cuenca.” It was nice to hang out with someone who has the same name as my sister, because I could say things like, “Really, Colleen?” and “Colleen, what are you doing?” It felt so natural. Eventually the wheels on the bus went round and round once again, and we made our way to Cuenca.
Cuenca is absolutely beautiful. It features archaeological sites, colonial buildings influenced by the Spanish, the largest cathedral in Ecuador, and four rivers that are part of the Amazon watershed. I wondered what exactly we would do on our trip, since we hadn’t made any official plans, but simply walking around the city’s historical district was enough. We took a double-decker bus tour and then proceeded to get irritated with the guide when he said things in Spanish, then English. By the half-way point we were so sick of listening to the same information twice, we had to ask him to stop it with the English.
My favorite thing about Cuenca was the architecture. The city’s historic district strongly reminded me of Alcalá de Henares, Spain, where I studied over the summer. It was nice to be back among narrow cobblestone streets, flowered balconies, and quaint plazas every couple of blocks.
After living in Quito for the past two months, constantly worried that I was going to be robbed, I was surprised by how safe I felt in Cuenca. Maybe that was only because it reminded me of Spain, or maybe it had something to do with feeling like a pretty empty city. The Ecuador soccer team was playing Chile the day we arrived, which meant every Ecuadorian in the country was glued to his own television set or getting plastered in the neighborhood bar.
Furthermore, everyone we met was incredibly nice; when the waiter took too long with my breakfast, he brought me fresh strawberry-papaya juice and then took 10 percent off our check.
On our last day in Cuenca, we visited a craft market and spent more money than we should have…there was a lot of lending and borrowing going on that last night at dinner. On the walk back to the bus station, we passed a pharmacy and ended up lamenting not having enough money to buy sleeping pills for our 10 hour bus ride. After going through that special torture twice in three days, I know now that the wiser choice would have been to spring for that plane ticket.
A lot of children boarded the bus with us, prompting one of my friends to remark, “Put them with the cargo!” We really were not looking forward to any whimpering or shrieking while we tried to get some sleep. Maybe the kids understood what would happen if they upset seven gringos, because they kept quiet the whole trip. We arrived back in Quito at 6:30 on Sunday morning, groggy, grumpy, and oh-so excited about the homework we’d been putting off.
Even though we faced a few bumps in the road, and that burning tire of course, our trip to Cuenca was a success. I got to spend a weekend with some amazing people, and now whenever people stare I can sing the song my friend Peter wrote about me and pretend I don’t notice: “You’re not the only one; there are other blondes in this city. You’re not the only one.” Such talent. Plus, they taught me to knit, so I can come back to the States with a collection of bumpy scarves. Scarves, friends, memories…what more could I want?