Jasmine Wanders

The Montañita scene has started to get to my head, to tell the truth. There are only so many days I can spend in a beach party town without going a little crazy.

Heart racing, I run for cover as a deafening explosion sounds in the sky above. The first blast is followed by another, and another. Men lie in the street like splayed Bambis, each in a different state of decay as indifferent flames consume them.

Even with the rampant temptation this beach bum haven provides, the disciplined backpacker can survive on just $5 a day.

While searching for my own stretch of sand, I plan to think about my next blog post, my to-do list, or a number of productive things that I could be doing. Instead, the intensity of the sun fries my brain and my skin. Thinking seems impossible, so I allow my mind to remain in a dormant state.

They were stripped of all their clothes and tied up with their hands behind their backs and spears to their throat…

Maybe it wasn’t my best idea to visit Banos a couple days after its volcano reached red alert status.

Aside from dodging transvestites and trying to find a non-instant cup of coffee, Quito is a vibrant city with a million things to see and do.

The Mariscal district, which is where the majority of hostels and nightlife is, has its fair share of “opportunists” as well. An inflated number of tourists in a small radius + alcohol = fair game for your local thug.