Baños...sucks.

So here we are, in the toilet of Ecuador...and it feels like it needs cleaning.

Which is not to say that the town is particularly dirty, nor is it crime-ridden, culturally repulsive, or frustrating in any particular Ecuadorian or South American way. The problem is, well, us.

And by us, I don't mean Ally and I. We didn't cause this, that's for sure. This situation was created by years and years of corrupting, greed-oozing tourism from the United States, Europe, and actually lots of places in Latin America. The result: a town almost entirely made up of restaurants run by ex-patriates from Europe (very few Americans living here, for some reason) and tour agencies whose entire grasp of the English language is "hello friends, would you like to rent a bike?" Not that there's anything inherently wrong with wanting to make a living if you're a local, but very few of the people running these agencies or restaurants have much more to do with Ecuador than the "100% Ecuador" signs they post or the candid, machismo-drenched photos of white, college-aged girls squatting to pee in the jungle that they find endearing enough to put in the windows of their businesses.

We're tired of the hostels, only one of which has a kitchen (there are at least 30 in the town). We're tired of being charged extra for EVERY little thing. $3 a person for breakfast that should be included. $2 a person to watch a movie in our hostel (no one ever does). $3 every time our cooking supplies get thrown out because we keep them in the kitchen only to find out that we are not allowed. $4 per person for pizza so thin you could see through it at times. $1.50 added tax to said pizza, making this the only city in South America to add any sort of tax to anything. $1 + 1 book at a book exchange full of used books discarded by travelers.

Bullshit.

This reeks of the sort of capitalist, western-whitewashing that we witnessed in San Pedro de Atacama, where all hostels were price-fixed and bargaining was rendered impossible by the fact that there were fewer beds than people in the town. There, we could camp out. Here, we must bide our time in our room that quickly fills with the acrid odor of sulfur every time the toilet is flushed and is thrown into disarray every time the cleaning staff raucously begin their daily chores (5 people for a 30-bed hostel... no wonder they charge for breakfast).

And here's the kicker: the place is gorgeous. Surrounded by beautiful green volcanic peaks, one of which is slightly active and smokes charmingly in the distance, this is as close as you get to paradise, and if you're still not convinced, walk to the 40-odd meter waterfall that dusts the city with mist. After all, it's only a 5-minute walk to the hot springs warmed by geothermal currents which reside just downstream from the falls, and it only costs $1 to get in. You couldn't even pay for lunch-tax with that.

So here we are, in the toilet of Ecuador, about which Lonely Planet and shallow, drunk study-abroad bimbos alike rave, ready and eager to get back to Quito where the food is cheap ($3 indian food to die for), the people don't expect you to spend your perceived millions on their rent-a-wreck bikes, and the air is thin enough that the smell of sulfur dissipates before it reaches your nose.

Whew. glad I got that off my chest.

Love you all,
Sam