Saturday was our last full day in Ecuador and in South America for this trip. It was a bit bittersweet to have the trip come to an end. On our last day, we visited a Caraguay Market, a very local market for fresh food, produce, and food stalls. There, we got a real taste of local blackberries that were a very interesting mix of sweet and tart. They definitely tasted like the un-sugared version of the mora (blackberry) ice cream we enjoyed at La Dulceria La Palma the other day! We also had a really deeply flavored sopa de mariscos from a prepared food vendor stall for just $2. It definitely felt like we could have been the only tourists at that market. The interesting thing about this market versus other markets we’ve visited in South America and around the world is that here, we saw endless vendors selling bags and bags of freshly picked beans. They ranged from fava to what looked like borlotti beans and white beans. I knew they were fresh because I actually saw some vendors freshly picking the beans out of pods! In addition to that, for the very first time I saw hibiscus flowers being sold fresh. Usually when I see them, they are already dried, but here, it was as thought they were freshly plucked! Hibiscus juice or “jamaica” is also very popular down here, though we never had any since we favored coffee or freshly blended juices like maracuya or tomate de arbol.

The last stop we had was at San Fernando Chocolateria in Guayaquil. It was quite touristy since it was right next door to the national chocolate museum, but here, we had a cookie brownie, a hot chocolate, and a scoop of lulo (fruit) ice cream — likely our last taste of lulo this trip. Kaia asked for chocolate, but well, we had to veto her and get lulo. She didn’t seem to mind and kept on wanting more and more bites of the lulo ice cream.

Every time we’ve had chocolate either here or in Peru, I’ve noticed that the chocolate just tastes fruitier. One of our guides told us that the chocolate here tends to be cacao plus sugar, and little else. Occasionally, they will add milk, but there are no other additives. While a lot of other chocolate manufacturers around the world will add “fat” to chocolate from things like various vegetable or palm oils, in Ecuador and Peru, the fat comes purely from the cacao butter, so the actual cacao bean itself.

After doing some further reading about Ecuadorian chocolate specifically, I learned that two different types of Ecuadorian cocoa plants are grown — National (arriba) and the CCN51 hybrid. The National/Arriba beans (“fine aroma”) beans are recognized for their fine floral flavor and fruity aromas. Ecuador produces about 63 percent of all fine Arriba chocolate in the world today. Unfortunately for us, though, Arriba beans only account for less than five percent of the entire world’s cocoa crop. So less people will be able to experience the complex flavors of Arriba cacao beans. CCN51 hybrid is a stronger plant in that it’s more resistant to disease and thus easier to grow. It also produces larger beans. Sadly, though, these beans are supposed to have a less nuanced taste. But they’re cheaper, so they make it easier for more people around the world to taste chocolate.

I should have known that there were a variety of different cacao plants in existence in the same way there are dozens and dozens of different mango, apple, and any other fruit out there. But having learned this and hearing more about chocolate from our guides, I realized that the higher level of fruitiness of the chocolate we were tasting was not just in my head. The flavor of chocolate actually is richer, deeper, and more layered here than I am used to. While I still enjoy milk chocolate I think my tastes are definitely preferring darker chocolates now in search of more flavors and nuance.

Guayaquil is an interesting city. It’s the largest city in Ecuador, both by population and size, and is considered the country’s main port and economic capital. From a tourist’s standpoint, it’s also seen as the main access point to get to the Galapagos Islands. While I was pleasantly surprised when we arrived in Quito to see that the traffic was really predictable and orderly, I was shocked how different Quito traffic was to Guayaquil’s. In Guayaquil’s, it seemed as erratic and crazy as in Lima. Cars didn’t always stop at stop signs or red lights. They rarely give way for pedestrians here. It almost felt like we were once again in a different country!

Chris described Guayaquil as feeling “gritty.” He doesn’t mean it as though it’s dirty, but he says it has a different feel to it than Quito. It’s definitely far less manicured and picturesque here. In my own mind, Guayaquil is most definitely not as clean or orderly as Quito. On a lot of the streets, it smelled like an unpleasant mix of excessive bird poop and mildew. But I suppose that adds to the “character” of Guayaquil for those who choose to stop here for a few days.

The biggest highlights to our first full day in Guayaquil yesterday were 1) the cheap crabs (six for $18!) at Mercado del Rio, 2) the iguanas at a park in the middle of the city, and 3) Dulceria La Palma.

After the very expensive crab experience I’d had in Hong Kong earlier this year, I really wasn’t ready to pay much money at all for any crabs again. Plus, I dislike cracking crabs by myself and think it should really be a group activity. But when we saw cheap crabs on the menu at Mercado del Rio along the water, Chris insisted that I get them. So it was supposed to be five crabs for $18, and somehow, I got a sixth bonus one! These weren’t as fresh as the Dungeness crab I had in Hong Kong, but it’s okay since it didn’t feel like robbery like that meal was. I mostly focused on the claws and larger legs and left the rest. Chris and Kaia also had their seafood fix via some freshly grilled fish and seafood stew.

When we got to the Parque Seminario, known for iguanas just hanging out, I was wondering when we’d come across one… and then, suddenly, there were many! And once again, my child never fails to surprise me. Kaia shocked me when she exhibited no fear of the Andean condors outside of Quito just days ago. Then, while at a park in the middle of Guayaquil known for having lots of iguanas today, she was once again unfazed seeing these scaly looking reptiles. She tried to feed and even throw leaves on them and didn’t even look the least bit scared.

Another place we visited that we all loved was Dulceria La Palma. It’s a local institution for coffee, breakfast, snacks, and sweets that originally opened in 1908, but now has several locations. We went to the original location and had coffees, a tomate de arbol (local fruit) juice, two (yes, TWO!) mora (blackberry) ice creams, and sampled a few bite sized pastries. People were constantly streaming in and out for coffee, ice cream, ham and cheese sandwiches, and massive takeout boxes of pastries and cookies.

For me, the highlight here was finally, finally having alfajores on this South America trip. I originally ordered just two to try, but we ended up ordering two more (and our kind, friendly waiter threw in a third one on the house for us!). The alfajores were small, bite sized, and topped generously with a big sprinkling of powdered sugar. The biscuits shattered on contact as they should given their buttery quality. And the insides were so funny: the bakers who prepared them simply piped on a small dollop of caramel without spreading them. They were probably thinking, “yeah… we don’t have to spread them in this sandwich cookie for you; you get the idea, so go eat it!” These little bites of alfajores really topped off this trip for me.

In the last three-ish years since we’ve been traveling with Kaia, whenever we have a big trip, whether it’s been to India, Germany, Argentina, or Ecuador and Peru, one of the first questions I get asked from colleagues is, “Is your kid coming, too?” What my colleagues aren’t aware of is the fact that we don’t have grandparents on either side who live close by to just swoop in and take care of Kaia for a week or two. We can’t just drive an hour, drop her off, and then head to the airport. We also cannot easily have the grandparents fly from their homes in San Francisco or Australia to take care of her just because we want to fly off to some fun, exotic destination sans child. On Chris’s side, there’s the obvious issue of distance. On my side, it’s an issue of distance… plus the fact that I categorically do not trust my parents, mentally or physically, to care for my child.

Traveling with a baby, or now toddler, has its challenges. It makes even the slightest things, like going through airport security, more annoying and taxing. Packing is a lot more onerous because of all the other things we have to remember to bring for her (like her potty seat or overnight pull-ups, plus all emergency supplies). Our trip is also compromised because we cannot do everything we’d like to do. The biggest case in point is that we didn’t choose a Macchu Picchu outing on this trip because of her. We’re also not going to the Galapagos Islands… since how are we going to go snorkeling with a three-year-old? But I think all that is evened out by seeing her discover and explore new things, places, tastes, and also seeing her understanding of the world increase. Her love of trains, cars, airports, and planes is clear. She is usually open to trying new foods, thus increasing the diversity of her gut biome. And she always wants to know when she’s going on a train or plane next. She’s been able to see and interact with people from literally all over the world. When we arrived in Guayaquil yesterday, she yelled that we were going to Guayaquil, “not Ecuador!” and Chris had to explain to her that Guayaquil was in Ecuador, just as Quito was. Guayaquil is a part of Ecuador!

Last night, while putting her to bed, we finished reading and she looked up at me with a sleepy smile and said, “Can you calm down me?” I giggled a little when I heard this. While the grammar was definitely wrong, I just smiled so hard at the fact that she said this and knew what she was saying. I wondered if her teachers at school ever give her a back rub or something to “calm her down” before a nap (if she actually naps, that is). Chris and I never say to her that we’re going to calm her down before bed, so it must have been her school teachers who she picked this up from. As I rubbed her back and head while she closed her eyes, I wondered when the day would come when she’d get the grammar of this sentence correct. And I knew that when that day would, in fact, come, I’d likely be sad because once again, another teeny tiny part of her toddlerhood would slip away from her… and from me.

I learned about Oswaldo Guayasamin, the famous Ecuadorian artist of Quechua and Mestizo heritage, just a few months ago while researching interesting places to visit in Quito. He grew up poor but had a knack for painting and sculpture. He made his art debut quite young, just in his late 20s, which propelled him into an exciting life in the global art world. He used his fame and art to highlight painful truths of society, such as racism, social and cultural injustices (particularly to indigenous peoples given his own background), and inequality and oppression amongst people of lower social classes. His most famous paintings depict human suffering in multiple forms. It’s clear from looking at his work that he was heavily influenced by Pablo Picasso, as there are cubist elements to a lot of his stroke work that resemble Picasso’s art. In addition to recognition for his artwork, he was also given a prize for “an entire life of work for peace” by UNESCO. He’s also likened to the Michelangelo of Latin America by a number of art historians. In 2022, three years after his passing, La Capilla del Hombre (“the chapel of man”), housing his art, opened to the public, next to the house he spent the last twenty years of his life in. Both are located in the high hills overlooking Quito (which also meant it was a trek and a lot of sweat for us to get up there!). The chapel was made to document man’s cruelty to man and also the potential of greatness within humanity. La Capilla del Hombre and Guayasamin’s house were our last stops yesterday late afternoon before ending the day and packing up to head down to Guayaquil this morning.

While in La Capilla, I wandered around and looked at his depictions of human suffering and misery. The “Mural of Misery” painted in 1969 with shades of grey and white, was particularly sobering; you could almost feel the pain of the people he was painting given their facial expressions and contortions. I also noticed that he had a number of original paintings (acrylic) and sketches that were for sale. Just for fun, I took a peek at how much they cost, and I was completely shocked: the sketches went for $25-30 USD, while the original unframed paintings cost only around $2,500-2,700 USD. It made me realize that given Guayasamin is Ecuadorian, he is ultimately seen as Latin American, or brown, in an art world that mostly values White men and their work. An original Picasso, so a similar style of painting, would likely go for hundreds of thousands, if not hundreds of millions of dollars, today. Picasso original sketches themselves sell for $15-30K+. This whole thing just seemed ridiculous to me. Guayasamin doesn’t have the same name recognition as Picasso (obviously), but I’d say that a lot of their painting style is pretty much the same and is of similar quality. But at the end of the day, that’s the difference between how the white gaze values white men’s work versus brown men’s work.

When I visit art museums during our travels, I oftentimes think back to my sophomore year of high school when I studied Advanced Placement Art History. I always remember how overwhelmed I was by the size of the art history book. Despite the fact that over half the book covered Asian, Latin American, and African art, we had to skip over those sections because as my teacher told us, “those regions won’t be covered on the A.P. exam. But you can feel free to study them on your own time.” Early on, we were taught that people of color, their histories, their stories, their art, do not matter. And it was the beginning of my “what the fuck kind of world do we live in” perspective.

Despite all that and the state of our White-valuing world, I loved visiting Guayasamin’s house and museum, and I loved learning about his life and art and how he tried to depict people who were frankly being erased from society. I’m happy that I’ve been able to discover artists like him during our travels around the world. It reminded me of when we visited Bogota, Colombia, in May 2019, and how during that trip, we stumbled upon Fernando Botero’s museum, Museo Botero. I hadn’t known about him prior to our Colombia trip, but I was so happy we found out about him and perused his museum. His style, known as Boterismo, depicts people and figures in large, exaggerated form. Some pieces are kitschy or humorous. Others are political and instigating. But I think work like Botero’s could appeal to people who don’t even think they like or care about art.

While I enjoyed seeing Guayasamin’s home and art, Kaia was a bit less interested. Chris had to do some toddler finagling while I was walking through the house, attempting to listen to our guide, and also take a closer look at his artwork. Eventually, she had to “go to jail” in her stroller, which she was not the least bit happy about. All she wanted to do was run around try to touch everything (which… would not have been good for anyone). But I suppose art museums and historical homes were not necessarily made for toddlers to roam around in. Kaia’s a bit young to understand art, history, or art history, but I hope that when she’s older that she’ll be able to develop an appreciation for all the above.