No Room at the Cuenca Monasterio for Me

No, there is no room at the Monasterio for me in Cuenca. In fact, there is no body at all at the monastery. This was one of those sad travel misadventures that fortunately I experienced entirely alone. I have come to Cuenca, Ecuador, one of my favorite places on Earth, to do some decompressing, some photography, do a little research for some travel articles and just have a nice break from the normal.

This time I took a bus from Guayaquil. It was late getting airline tickets so the short flight would have cost $140 round trip. I opted for the bus because it is only $8.25 each way for four hours travel time. Besides, I wanted to view the wonders of the Andes as we climbed from the sea level mangrove swamps of the Ecuadorian Pacific Coast up into the Sierras and past Ecuador's Cajas National Park.

You know, sweeping vistas.

Tumbling streams.

Llamas crossing the road.

Just stuff you don't get when soaring over head in a plane at 18,000 feet.

Anyway I am super excited because I have booked a room at the Hostal El Monasterio. This advertises itself as a higher end hostel located in an old monastery in Cuenca. History nut that I am that equals being way so cool.

I arrived at the monastery, which is in the old town district of Cuenca (El Centro). I find that the hostel is on the 6th floor.

By the way, for those unfamiliar, in Latin America the ground floor is Planta Baja. The next floor above the street is Piso Primero - 1st Floor. The Hostal El Monesterio is on the 7th floor by us Gringo's reckoning. There is an elevator, but it is not working.

Cuenca is at about 2500 meters above sea level, or more than 7500 feet. I am dragging my one pack with clothes, another with camera equipment and my laptop as well as a seperate tripod. By Piso Tercero (3rd Floor) I'm wheezing.

As I get past the 5th floor I begin to hear a TV. I come around the final set of stairs and see a security gate closed. On the other side I see:

Yep its the place. Several signs showing it is the Hostel de Monasterio. But no one here. I set down my bags and wait a minute for my lungs to stop wheezing. Then I call. I bang. I knock. I yell. There I am, one side of a security gate. On the other is nothing but a TV.

For 30 minutes I wait and make noise but no one is home at the Monasterio. Would a clerk be sleeping at 2:00 pm in the afternoon? Finally, defeated, I heft up my bags and clump down the seven flights of stairs.

To find the security gate to the building has been latched and locked. I am now trapped.

I call. I bang. I get out a plastic card from my wallet to try to jimmy the bolt latch but it is too heavy duty for that and I merely manage to shew up an otherwise worthless card. People on the street go buy, looking at me quizzically.

After another five minutes a man comes buy, a locksmith. He had closed the gate because he was working on the lock. As I stood there steaming, he calmly took a file to a large key he had with him and spent several minutes doctoring the key up. Finally he inserts the key and releases me from my prison.

And by the way, still no one at the hostel and no one can tell me if and when anyone will ever come by. The locksmith is working for the owner of the building and as far as he knows everything is closed on this Monday.

So with most of an hour now wasted and the afternoon getting on, I heft my load and stride out, Surely there is someplace in Cuenca today I can lay my head?

Because there is no room at the monastery for me.