From Andes to Ocean: A Poetic Day in Puerto López, Ecuador

🕔 05:00–07:00 | Quito at Dawn – Closing the Window, Opening the Journey

I woke shivering, the chill creeping under the blanket.
From the second-floor room of Casa Gangotena,
the morning greeted me with the sound of cathedral bells echoing through the fog.
Outside, the city’s rooftops were buried under a dense, milky mist—
a fog so thick it felt like the sky itself had lost its shape.

Heavy slate-blue clouds filled the heavens,
mirroring the cold air of the Andean dawn.

I made a cup of cinnamon ginger tea,
adding a generous spoonful of honey.
The sharp warmth of the ginger and the soft sweetness of honey
blended perfectly with the icy gray of the morning.
Each sip felt like a breath in fog.

The mist reflected on the windowpane—
so opaque it looked like a cloud had come to rest outside.
It was strangely meditative,
as if the dawn air itself had a pulse.

A private SUV I had booked in advance pulled up quietly.
I packed a light bag and stepped into the vehicle.

Outside the window, the city passed by in slow motion—
a quiet breath beneath a sky painted entirely in gray.

🕖 07:00–09:00 | From Quito to Guayaquil – Silence Above the Clouds

At Mariscal Sucre International Airport,
I sat quietly in the VIP lounge,
savoring papaya yogurt and a warm cup of honey milk tea.
Outside, the sky was still heavy with morning gray.

Soon, the airplane rumbled onto the runway—
the wheels jolting lightly as we picked up speed.
The ground slipped away,
and we began to rise, slowly, steadily, into the sky.

Above the clouds, everything turned quiet.
The plane floated through the air like a thought in meditation.
I leaned toward the window.

Far below, towns shrank into scattered dots,
mountains faded into shadows,
and the forest of Mashpi became nothing more than a memory—
a deep green sigh drifting out of sight.

The temperature outside neared zero.
Aside from the occasional gentle turbulence,
the flight felt like a still moment suspended in sky.

About forty minutes later, we descended into Guayaquil.
Even from inside the airport,
I could sense it—
a shift in the air.
The sea’s moisture kissed my skin.
This land was alive.

🕘 09:00–11:00 | Arrival in Guayaquil – The Sea Begins to Breathe

As I stepped onto the ground at José Joaquín de Olmedo Airport,
a wave of thick, humid heat rose to meet my face—
a dizzying warmth that clung to my skin and hair like steam.

My pre-booked private car was already waiting,
its icy air-conditioning pouring out like a fridge opened on a summer day.
I slipped inside, grateful.

We began the long drive toward the Pacific coast,
heading northwest along Highway E15.
Outside the window, the landscape blurred with motion.
The city slowly gave way to open road.

And then—
far ahead, a line began to appear.
The horizon.
The edge of land and sea.

It was coming closer.

🕚 11:00–13:00 | Toward the Coast – From Green to Blue

Leaving the city behind,
the road became a tunnel of life.
Light green mangoes hung heavy from the trees,
and banana palms swayed softly under the sun.

The heat climbed to 29°C.
Warm, invisible breath slipped through the slightly cracked window,
a whisper of the rising day.

Above us, the sky turned a clear and brilliant blue,
with only a thread or two of cloud—barely visible, barely there.
The wind picked up its song,
carrying with it the sharp, salty scent of the sea—
rich, alive, and relentless.

Inside the car, a bamboo flute melody played quietly,
like the kind of music you’d hear in a seaside café.
The driver said nothing,
just kept the air conditioner humming,
keeping us cool as we sped toward the coast.

And then—
the ocean appeared.

Stretching endlessly to the horizon,
its silver surface shimmered under the sunlight,
waves dancing like diamonds in motion.

Far off, dolphins leapt from the sea—
their graceful arcs slicing through sky and spray—
and my chest tightened with something I couldn't name.
Wonder, maybe. Or just the beginning of awe.

🕐 13:00–15:00 | Arrival in Puerto López – When the Ocean Speaks

At last, the Pacific opened wide before me—
a vast, endless blue just beyond the window.
The air was 30°C, thick with sea mist,
every breath rich with the living scent of the ocean.

“We’ve arrived at Tanusas Retreat & Spa,”
the driver said gently, unloading my light luggage
and walking me to the entrance.

Bamboo lanterns lit the path to my private villa,
and just beyond it,
the waves lapped quietly against the shore—
so close I could almost reach them.

Inside, I slipped off my shoes.
The wooden floor underfoot was smooth and cool,
like stepping into a quiet breath of nature.

A staff member greeted me with a welcome drink—
chilled coconut juice,
ice cubes floating on top,
and delicate pieces of green grape sliced into the glass.

The silky texture of coconut,
the refreshing burst of grape,
and the ocean breeze at my back—
they all blended together
into something quietly perfect.

🕒 15:00–17:00 | Breathing Again Beneath the Sun

From the terrace of my room,
the ocean stretched wide and clear,
its waves shimmering softly like breath in sunlight.

I stepped into the small outdoor pool,
wearing oversized, dark sunglasses,
and watched the sea shimmer in the afternoon heat.

There was no shade now—
no canopy of forest overhead.
The sun stood directly above me,
its rays cutting straight down
onto the beads of sweat forming on my forehead.

It felt like the sun was moving through me,
merging with the undulating, transparent water below,
as if I were dissolving into the ocean’s pulse.

I closed my eyes,
and listened—
to the slow, powerful whisper of waves,
like the earth itself breathing.

🕔 17:00–19:00 | Sunset Walk – Between Stillness and Motion

After leaving the pool and taking a quick shower,
I began walking along the beach of Puerto López.

The sand was warm, like soft desert grains underfoot,
and the sea foam that kissed my ankles
carried both heat and coolness—
a gentle contradiction that felt just right.

Children rolled and laughed in the surf,
letting the waves drench them in joy.
Overhead, seabirds soared with wide wings,
while others circled the fishing boats,
searching for scraps in the quiet rhythm of evening.

Between the fishermen cleaning their nets
and the birds loitering on the decks,
life continued in motion—calm, unhurried, alive.

Unlike the hushed power of the Mashpi jungle,
this was a different kind of peace—
one that shimmered and stretched endlessly
over sunlit waves,
whispering the origin of all things
again and again.

🕖 19:00–21:00 | Seaside Dinner – The Taste of Life

I arrived at a seaside restaurant near Tanusas
for a slow, evening tasting course.

The first things to fill the table
were a glass of crisp white wine
and the gentle sound of waves embracing the sand—
soft, rhythmic, and alive.

The meal began with mackerel ceviche,
dressed in yuzu sauce and citrus oil—
light, bright, and perfectly tart.
Next came steamed octopus,
rainbow-colored clams,
and a seafood platter of lobsters so large and red
they looked like they had come straight from a dream.

The risotto was rich with herbs
and dotted with yellow, red, and green vegetables,
each bite a burst of both earth and sea.

The octopus was perfectly chewy,
the lobster tender and dripping with sweet juice—
melting away the fatigue of long flights
as if it had never existed.

Even after eating more than enough,
there was still plenty left.
I asked them to wrap it to go.

They packed it neatly—
in eco-friendly wrapping made of part wood, part paper,
charming and humble, like the meal itself.

The restaurant was calm,
not crowded,
and through the wide-open windows,
I watched the sun set.

It melted down the horizon
like lava flowing at the equator,
turning the sea crimson.
I held my breath.
Let it go.
And held it again.
Again.

🕘 21:00–23:00 | Night on the Balcony – Sinking into the Sound of Waves

I walked toward the balcony,
the window stretching wall to wall.
When I slid it open,
a rush of cool ocean air swept in,
and the dark blue waves
seemed to breathe right into the room.

Above them, stars were scattered like salt across the sky—
so dense, it felt as if they might fall straight into the sea.
The moon was different.
Soft, translucent yellow,
it glowed gently, quietly, like it didn’t want to wake anyone.

I turned on just one lamp—
a warm, dim light by the bed.
And the waves—
they poured in through the glass,
spilling across the ceiling,
breaking into light,
gathering again,
spilling once more.

I opened a box of chocolate I’d bought as a souvenir.
Inside: a creamy filling made of grapefruit and yuzu,
cool and citrusy,
melting like butter on my tongue.

So did my heart.
Melted, in rhythm with the sound of waves.

As I slipped under the blanket and closed my eyes,
the ocean’s moisture touched my forehead,
traced the backs of my hands,
and slowly—
flowed into my chest.