The man that said ‘cuidado’

by Susie Walker (United Kingdom (Great Britain))

I didn't expect to find Ecuador

I have always been a nervous traveller. Getting that butterfly feeling in the pit of my stomach while contemplating my fast approaching ‘vacaciones’. Always thinking about all the potential calamities that await me. Or the people ready to take advantage of the ‘extranjera’. Despite this trepidation, I have ventured out into the world a lot these last few years. This has mostly been in latin America, with Mexico being my first ‘real’ travel destination. I then ventured to Columbia, Ecuador and Peru during an 8 week backpacking trip with a friend I met while volunteering. Yet still, I had the persisting feelings of danger and mistrust. Until I met the man that said ‘cuidado’. It was while we were in Quito, the capital of Ecuador. Of all the cities in South America I visited, it was the one place I felt most on edge. This was still true by the time I had completed my travels and had been to Lima, Peru’s dangerous capital. The destination of the day was the ‘Virgin of Quito’, which was perched on top of Panecillo hill. It dominated the skyline of the city as we walked towards it from the Old Town. As per my companions preference, we traveled by foot. She led the way using trusty google maps on her mobile phone, taking us away from the touristy city centre into more ‘lugares locales’. I can’t tell you what started to feel different. Perhaps it was the slightly declining quality of the surrounding buildings. Or the noticeable increase in ’personas’ peering at us with apparent disinterest. However, the more we walked, the more I thought, ‘we shouldn’t be here’. By the time we were about a third of the way up the hill, we came to a junction. To the left was the main road that continued upwards. Straight ahead was a flight of stairs that disappeared up into the local ‘barrio’. As we stopped, I noticed a group of men heading up those stairs, exuding an aura of absolute menace. I was suddenly balancing my intuitive sense of danger against my want to not blow things out of proportion. My friend, who had her head down and was oblivious to what was unfolding suddenly declared, ‘it’s up that way!’, with her hand pointing towards the stairs. I was instantly on high alert. As she started to move, I tried unsuccessfully to get her attention to tell her of my worry. That was when we heard a man shout ‘cuidado, no pase allí!’. It took a second for my brain to make sense of the Spanish words, especially due to my high level of apprehension. At first, we were suspicious – why was this man shouting at us? I mean, he was an absolute stranger? In a world where mistrust and suspicion are wrife, we initially found his approach suspect. As he came closer, I studied his face. His expression was earnest and he was urgently urging us not to take the stairs. I enquired further in less than fluent Spanish, asking him ’porque’ and if, ‘esta lugar es peligroso?’. He immediately confirmed my suspicion that we had ventured into a dangerous area. At this stage, we decided to get a taxi the rest of the way. We were strangers in an unknown place that we now knew to be ‘peligroso’. However, despite my fear, a seed of genuine joy had been planted by this stranger’s unexpected kindness. This one selfless act had started to renew my faith in humanity. It reminded me that the world can be kind. I have no idea what might have happened. Perhaps we would have been mugged or gotten lost. Or maybe we would have been just fine. However, the final step that solidified my belief that the man’s intervention was an example of divine providence was decided not long after. Just as the taxi started moving, a pack of three wild dogs came charging out of nowhere and started chasing us aggressively. As they followed us up the hill, I was extremely happy to be in the car. In the end, all I can say is, ’thank God for the man that said ‘cuidado’.’