A visit to the Casa Museo Guayasamin and the neighborhood of La Floresta.
The morning dawned overcast and grey. The night before, while researching things to do over the weekend, I came across the Casa Museo Guayasamin, the prior home of Ecuador’s most famous painter. An avid collector, he opened his home as a museum after his death, showcasing not only his work but his collection of pre-Columbian ceramic, bone, and metal pieces. The front lawn boasts an enormous pine tree, under which he’s buried alongside his friend, the writer Jorge Enrique Adoum.
Just below the house, he built La Capilla del Hombre, a purpose-built museum dedicated to the people of Latin America, which now houses Guayasamín's work that reflects a history of human suffering and violence in Latin America and the world.
The house sits high up in the Bellavista neighborhood, overlooking the city. I took an Uber to the front gate and walked up an inclined walkway to the house itself. There, I was asked to wait for the tour to begin. A small group of English-speakers had gathered and the guide took us through the house, offering us a history of the man and his works.
Afterwards, I walked the grounds, admiring the house and the tree under which Guayasamin is buried. The skies had filled and a light rain began to fall.
Afterwards, I walked down to the Capilla and waited for a small group to assemble and did the tour there as well. The space was enormous, built around a central atrium that at once sucks you in and pushes the walls of the museum outwards. In the center, an eternal flame “burns” within a round red concrete pool.
Rain was starting to fall as I wrapped up my visit and I took an Uber to Pez Bela, a cevicheria that had been recommended by a friend. They were full up but found a space for me on a counter by the window. I ordered a delicious cocktail and asked the waitress what I should eat. She offered to choose for me and I let her.
Happily sated, I decided to walk down the hill through the neighborhood of La Paz to La Floresta. I had eaten a few meals in the neighborhood, but hadn’t spent much time exploring it and was excited to take a look. I had read that it was the more bohemian neighborhood, and as I wandered the streets, I admired the street art and took note of the cafes I passed.
At Ocho y Medio, an art house cinema and cafe, I took note of the schedule. They were playing Memoria that night. I asked if they were showing it later in the week but they said no; it was to be the only showing they were to do. I asked if the film was dubbed and they told me it’d be shown in English with Spanish subtitles. The day had cleared and I wasn’t sure about spending the early evening at the theater, but I had been wanting to see the film and bought a ticket.
I walked to a nearby cafe to check out the roof, but decided to return to Ocho y Medio, ordered a coffee, and sat in the glass-enclosed front to wait for the theater to open.
When it did I was surprised at how beautifully appointed it was. The seats felt new, the screen was large. Mannequins of famous characters dotted the seats, and I found myself sitting near a rendition of Captain Jack Sparrow.
The lights went down and the film unspooled before us. It’s a beautiful film, gorgeously captured. And although Tilda Swinton stars, the majority of the film is in Spanish. including a number of long monologues that serve as the backbone of the film. Even though I didn’t understand the words, I was enthralled by the film, and looked up the speeches when I returned to the loft. Surprisingly, I managed to get the jist and themes from the context and feeling the scenes conveyed. The closing shot is of the mountains of Columbia, and I smiled inwardly, marking the time between seeing them on screen and when I’d be able to see them in person, some months hence. 🇪🇨