On the Equator lies a country called Ecuador, the first of our Group E countries. We’ve decided to leave East Timor in its rightful place under T, as Timor-Leste, so Ecuador itself kicks off our group of E countries. Ecuador is one of the world’s megadiverse countries, home to more than 1,600 bird species and thousands of different plant species.

The Galápagos Islands are home to giant tortoises. Charles Darwin visited the islands in 1835, and his observations there later helped shape his theory of evolution. Ecuador is also home to Mount Chimborazo, whose summit is the point on Earth’s surface farthest from the planet’s centre. Thanks to the Earth’s bulge at the Equator, it is also the closest point on Earth to the Sun!

Ecuador is divided into four distinct geographical regions: the Pacific Coast (La Costa), the Andean highlands (La Sierra), the Amazon rainforest (El Oriente) and the Insular region (the Galápagos Islands).

But first, as always, food!

Ecuadorian night  

On a southern winter evening, 15 Virtual Nomads gather at the Beach House to celebrate Ecuadorian cuisine with a delicious feast. We have several enthusiastic newcomers in the group, which is always wonderful. We’re pleasantly surprised by the quality of Ecuadorian cuisine — everything is delicious!

Participating Virtual Nomads are given city and/or place pseudonyms. These places have nothing to do with the participants’ actual origins.

The national dish of Ecuador is called Encebollado (on the left). It is made with tuna, red onion, yuca (cassava), cilantro, spices and sometimes potatoes. I bought some good-quality fresh tuna for this dish, and it turned out really well.

Encebollado originated in Ecuador’s coastal region and is particularly associated with Guayaquil, the country’s most populous city. Some accounts trace its origins as far back as the Valdivia culture, one of the oldest settled cultures in the Americas. However, the modern version of encebollado is closely linked to the coastal working-class food culture. An earlier version, known as picante de pescado, was made with salted fish.

Over time, encebollado has become a national symbol and was officially recognised as part of Ecuador’s Intangible Cultural Heritage in 2024. In 2015 and 2017, Guayaquil hosted the World Championship of Encebollado. The dish remains an integral part of Ecuadorian culinary tradition and cultural identity. While I am no MasterChef, my encebollado turned out to be excellent!

The other soup of the evening was prepared by my husband, Johannesburg Karelia. Locro de papas, a creamy potato soup (on the right), is associated with the Andean region, where the climate is generally cooler than along the coast. While encebollado is particularly associated with Guayaquil, locro de papas is closely linked to Quito and the northern highlands. It is rich, hearty and creamy, and Johannesburg Karelia did a wonderful job with it.

Ceviche is popular in many Central and South American countries, and Ecuador is no exception. I prepared ceviche de pescado in the Ecuadorian style, using fresh, good-quality salmon. This is not entirely traditional, but it worked perfectly! First, I let the salmon ‘cook’ in lemon and lime juice for a few hours, then mixed it with cilantro, red onion, tomatoes and a hint of orange juice, as is common in the Ecuadorian version.

My daughter, Lisboa, declared that this might be her favourite dish of all the Virtual Nomad dishes so far!

A wonderful newcomer, Fortaleza Windhoek, prepares Mote Pelado. Her son, Rotterdam, is good buddies with my son, Amsterdam, and that’s how I became friends with the wonderful Fortaleza.

Mote pelado is made from large white corn kernels that are peeled and boiled until they become soft, fluffy and starchy. Fortaleza brings the cooked corn and then mixes it on the spot with herbs, onion and garlic.

Mote pelado originates in Ecuador’s Andean highlands (La Sierra), particularly in provinces such as Azuay and Loja. It is such a lovely dish, and Fortaleza Windhoek has done a stellar job with it!

Another wonderful newbie, Iguazú Serengeti, brought homemade empanadas. Just like with Fortaleza Windhoek, our friendship grew out of our sons’ friendships. Her son, Jeju, is a good friend of my son, Amsterdam, as well as of Rotterdam. Iguazú also brings along her delightful younger son, Kauai. The empanadas were exquisite!

Seasoned Virtual Nomads Acapulco Kilimanjaro and family brought Llapingachos, thick potato cakes (pictured in the middle). The name llapingachos is said to derive from Quechua, reflecting the preparation of the potatoes by mashing them before cooking. These cakes are another highland speciality, traditionally associated with the city of Ambato, about 160 km south of Quito. They are thick, delicious and filled with cheese.

My beautiful friend Kyoto Dolomites brought curtido de cebolla y tomate, an Ecuadorian pickled salad or salsa made with red onions, tomatoes, cilantro, lime juice and salt. This accompaniment reflects the blending of Indigenous and European culinary traditions following Spanish colonisation. It is often served alongside dishes such as encebollado and is an important part of Ecuador’s coastal food culture.

Lisboa and Roma Aruba were in charge of making Bolón Verde, although Johannesburg Karelia ended up lending them a helping hand. Bolones verdes are green plantain dumplings filled with cheese (sometimes chorizo, too, but ours contained only cheese).

The process turned out to be a little more labour-intensive than expected. First, the green plantains need to be cooked until soft enough to mash into a dough. The dough is then shaped into small balls, filled with soft cheese and fried until golden.

Bolones verdes are a popular breakfast food in Ecuador and are traditionally associated with the Pacific Coast region. They certainly require a bit of effort, but the delicious result makes it worthwhile!

Then, of course, we also had dessert! My stepchild, Fez Karelia, is an excellent baker, and he prepared a Tres Leches Cake — a layered sponge cake soaked in three kinds of milk and topped with whipped cream. It was delicious!

We also held an Ecuador trivia quiz for the Virtual Nomads present. Iguazú Serengeti and her son, Kauai, emerged as our Ecuador trivia champions!

The Land of the Valdivia 

Before the arrival of the Incas, the lands of Ecuador were populated by various peoples, including the Valdivia, one of the oldest settled cultures in the Americas, famous for their pottery and the ‘Venus of Valdivia’ female figurines. Other cultures included Chorrera, Bahía, Machalilla, Quitu and Cañari.

Much of the region became part of the Inca Empire from around 1463, although some Amazonian and coastal areas resisted Inca expansion. Local peoples, especially the Cañari, fiercely resisted Inca rule. When the Spanish arrived in the 1530s, the Inca Empire was weakened by a civil war. Indigenous resistance continued, but the Spanish established control over Quito in 1534. As elsewhere on the continent, European-introduced diseases devastated Indigenous populations, while Indigenous peoples were subjected to forced labour, particularly in agriculture — a legacy whose consequences persist today.

photo: Tourism Ecuador24

Spanish rule lasted for nearly 300 years, with much of the territory administered through the Real Audiencia of Quito. In the early 19th century, Ecuador joined the wider Latin American struggle for independence. Quito saw an early uprising in 1809, while Guayaquil declared independence in 1820. Spanish forces were defeated at the Battle of Pichincha in 1822. Ecuador subsequently became part of Gran Colombia, the republic associated with Simón Bolívar, before declaring itself an independent state in 1830. In 1832, Ecuador took possession of the Galápagos Islands.

The 19th century was unstable, marked by rivalry between conservative Quito and liberal Guayaquil, and political chaos in which leaders changed frequently. Conservative Gabriel García Moreno helped unify the country in 1860, with strong support from the Catholic Church. He was assassinated during his second presidency. Liberal president Eloy Alfaro challenged the Church’s influence and was also killed, in 1912.

By the 1920s, the economy was in poor shape, and the military intervened in politics. During the Second World War, the economy began to recover, but in 1941, a territorial dispute with Peru led to armed conflict. In 1967, oil was discovered, providing a much-needed economic boost to the country.

In 1979, Jaime Roldós became Ecuador’s first democratically elected president after years of military rule. He was deeply concerned about human rights and workers’ conditions. His death in an air crash remains the subject of controversy and unanswered questions (see the documentary La muerte de Jaime Roldós, watched as part of this stop).

After his death, successive administrations came and went without resolving the country’s economic problems. Falling oil prices, agricultural setbacks and a devastating earthquake fuelled inflation and pushed the country towards the brink of bankruptcy.

In recent years, security in Ecuador has deteriorated significantly. The homicide rate increased by approximately 318% between 2013 and 2023, rising from 11 to 46 homicides per 100,000 inhabitants (source: International Monetary Fund). Ecuador faces a combination of escalating violence linked to organised crime, political and social unrest over fuel subsidy cuts, and natural disaster risks.

As of July 2026, Ecuador remains in a security crisis. President Daniel Noboa has repeatedly declared an “internal armed conflict” against organised criminal groups, most recently in June 2026.

Four books from Ecuador 

Mandíbula (Mónica Ojeda, 2018)

Mónica Ojeda has been making waves in Latin American literary circles for some time. Her name has been mentioned alongside Samanta Schweblin (whom I read for the Argentine stop) as part of the new wave of Latin American Gothic literature. I find her writing very similar to Samanta’s: immersed in grotesque, violent and edgy imagery that is sometimes sharp and brilliant, but at other times pretentious and pompous. Mónica is from Guayaquil but currently lives in Spain.

Mandíbula (Jawbone in English) is a novel somewhere between a thriller and a horror story, featuring violent, manipulative and monstrous adolescent girls — lo femenino monstruoso (the monstrous feminine). Its setting is a fashionable one: an ultra-Catholic, Opus Dei-affiliated, single-sex school for wealthy girls who fight boredom by tormenting a teacher and playing increasingly brutal and violent games. There is a lot packed into this book, even if the story itself eventually wears thin.

Annelise is a classic manipulative, self-destructive bad girl who longs for violent sex. Her best friend, Fernanda, harbours a dark childhood secret and is kidnapped by Miss Clara, the teacher the girls have been tormenting. Clara, in turn, has a morbid relationship with her dead mother. The other girls in Annelise’s circle, along with Clara, are less fully explored; their main purpose seems to be to form the royal court surrounding the psychosexual, codependent, love-hate relationship between Annelise and Fernanda. Everyone has mummy issues. There are menacing beings, real or imagined, violence, bodily fluids, obsession and moral decay.

Adolescence is presented as a danger zone, a terror zone, a no-(wo)man’s-land between childhood and adulthood: a disturbing period of sexual awakening and childhood-born sexual fantasies.

There are many interesting elements here. Ojeda creates a fascinating world of predominantly female characters who hunt and torment one another. There is no conventional coming-of-age story of first kisses and boys. These feral girls are fascinated by horror, fear, violence and obscure rituals that are partly religious, but not in any straightforwardly Catholic sense. They are also daughters of cold mothers, seemingly able to achieve freedom only by killing the mother, figuratively or literally. It is an intriguing female world: visceral, feral, dark and violent.

However, despite these interesting and sometimes fascinating elements, and some skilful writing, I did not love the book. I found it pretentious, pompous, overexplained, uneven and too long. There are moments when the story grips the reader, only to lose its hold in the book’s determination to be edgy and clever. The pages are overloaded with figures of speech, metaphors and references, as though the novel were desperately trying to be transgressive at every turn.

High concept without delivery, as my daughter Lisboa would say.

Huasipungo (Jorge Icaza, 1934)

The quintessential and most famous Ecuadorian novel is Huasipungo. First published in 1934, it was subsequently revised in 1953 and 1960. The title comes from Kichwa words meaning house (wasi) and door (punku), and refers to the small plots of land allocated to Indigenous workers on haciendas. The novel is renowned for its brutal portrayal of the exploitation of Indigenous people under the Andean hacienda system. This repressive, near-feudal system of forced labour and exploitation persisted well into the 20th century, despite reforms, until agrarian reform legislation was introduced in 1964. A landmark of social realism and Indigenous protest literature, the novel has been translated into many languages, including English, as The Villagers (in 1962).

It is an important book on many levels. I am fortunate once again to be reading in the original Spanish, with its incorporation of Indigenous words and expressions into the narrative. Injustice is rampant, and the complicity of every level of authority, from the Church to the army, only fuels the everyday cruelty: rape, exploitation, forced labour, violence and a complete lack of justice. Two central figures embody this struggle: a landowner determined to expel the huasipungueros from “his land” and an Indigenous man who bears the brunt of this exploitation.

Ultimately, what matters most about this book is what it represents, rather than its literary merits. It is a powerful testimony to abuse, colonialism, racism and the absence of social justice. It is also a reminder of the profound injustices and discrimination that persist today, rooted in greed, entrenched power structures and historical inequalities in the distribution of land and resources.

La primera vez que vi un fantasma (Solange Rodríguez Pappe, 2018)

When I started reading this book, I didn’t know it was a collection of short stories — not my favourite genre. But I was pleasantly surprised. Some of the stories are quite clever and inventive. The title (“The First Time I Saw a Ghost”) refers to different types of ghosts. Not all the ghosts in these stories are paranormal (although quite a few are).

The book mixes longer short stories with very short ones, which makes for an interesting structure. I enjoyed quite a few of the stories, but afterwards, I didn’t remember many of them (which can often happen with short story collections). Therefore, I would give it 3.5 stars. I enjoyed it much more than I expected, even if not all the stories were particularly memorable.

Solange belongs to the same wave of Ecuadorian gothic horror writers as Mónica Ojeda. I found their styles similar, but while Mónica’s writing is more [trying to be] edgy, Solange is funnier. Her writing doesn’t seem to take itself so seriously, and she isn’t afraid to experiment. I find this kind of writing more authentic and sincere, and I enjoy it more.

Solange is particularly known for her short stories, and I would like to see what she could do with a longer format. Anyway, this book was fun. It wasn’t the most memorable book I’ve read, but it was like a fun, uncanny snack.

Bruna, soroche y los tíos (Alicia Yánez Cossío, 1973)

My last book for this stop comes from Alicia Yánez Cossío, an important figure in Ecuadorian literature. Not only was she a novelist, but she was also a poet, journalist and children’s author. She was one of the first female authors to break through in a literary field dominated by men, and she is credited with opening an important window onto the lives of Ecuadorian women.

Bruna, soroche y los tíos (English translation: Bruna and Her Sisters in the Sleeping City, which is a bit misleading, as soroche refers to altitude sickness, and Bruna’s “sisters” are actually female relatives, along with a few uncles) was Alicia’s first novel. Written in the tradition of magical realism, it tells the story of Bruna, a young woman who is the last of her line and lives surrounded by older family members, most of whom are bat-crazy.

Soroche is an important element of the book, as altitude can have a significant impact on people (for example, some of Bruna’s family members experience sleep disturbances). It is a lovely book with moments of magic, but the writing is a little disjointed, which makes it harder to follow. It is still an interesting read, especially for its exploration of Ecuadorian history and the way Bruna’s family deals with its past.

Ecuadorian Film Festival

The first feature film released in Ecuador was Augusto San Miguel’s El tesoro de Atahualpa (1924). It ushered in what is often described as the golden age of Ecuadorian cinema, which was affected by the global boom in “talkies”, presenting a technical challenge for the Ecuadorian film industry. Few films were produced between 1947 and 1959, and the industry did not really find its footing until the late 1990s.

I have seen a lot of ‘world cinema’ (what a concept…), but I don’t think I had ever watched a film from Ecuador before this. I have been impressed by the quality of the films, and this has been an unexpected discovery. I have really enjoyed this stop!

While I admired the films of Sebastián Cordero, a groundbreaking director who has played a fundamentally important role in Ecuadorian cinema, I loved the films of Tania Hermida even more. My favourite was her autobiographical film En el nombre de la hija (In the Name of the Girl, 2011). Overall, this was another wonderful mini film festival and a truly unexpected discovery.

Ratas, Ratones, Rateros (Sebastián Cordero, 1999)

One cannot underestimate the importance of this film to the Ecuadorian film industry. Written and directed by Sebastián Cordero when he was only 26, Ratas, Ratones, Rateros (English title: Rodents) revolutionised Ecuadorian cinema. It became an instant hit and stayed in cinemas across the country for six months. Gritty, violent, raw and bleak, it was released during Ecuador’s 1999 financial and political crisis, one of the worst in the country’s modern history. It marked a shift away from lighter cinematic fare towards an uncompromising reflection of a society grappling with economic decline, corruption, violence and poverty. Its success demonstrated the appetite for domestic films and helped build momentum for greater support for local productions. In 2006, the government passed the Cinema Law (Ley de Cine) and established the National Film Council.

This is an impactful film populated by unlikeable characters. At its heart is the story of Ángel, a deeply corrupt and manipulative ex-convict who arrives in Quito from Guayaquil and drags his inexperienced teenage cousin Salvador into a violent underworld with seemingly no way out. The cousins are said to represent different parts of Ecuador, with Ángel embodying the chaotic Guayaquil and Salvador the more reserved Quito.

The film is not flawless, but it has an energy rooted in social frustration. Despite being full of clichés, it still feels fresh and impactful. I probably admired it more than I enjoyed or loved it, but it certainly has grit. It may not be particularly groundbreaking in its style or subject matter, and it is not hugely different from many other crime films. The female characters are also, as so often happens, one-dimensional. Nevertheless, the film has a raw, crispy energy, driven in part by its cinematography.

Crónicas (Sebastián Cordero, 2004)

With Crónicas, Sebastián has matured as a filmmaker. Released five years after Ratas, Ratones, Rateros, this is his second feature film. It is an uncomfortable film about a horrifying subject, and it requires a strong stomach to watch. Inspired by real events involving a human monster, the film takes a critical look at how the sensationalist press exploits a community in times of crisis. It is not enjoyable, but it is interesting, and it has a horrifyingly impactful ending.

The setting is one of the film’s strengths. The landscape of Babahoyo, the capital of Los Ríos Province, is fascinating to see. The complicated relationships between the (foreign) leads take up a lot of screen time, however, at the expense of the local people. The victims of some of the atrocities are little more than extras in a film about the moral corruption of the international press.

Sebastián has managed to attract international stars both behind and in front of the camera, with Guillermo del Toro and Alfonso Cuarón as producers and John Leguizamo in the lead role as the flawed TV reporter. Leonor Watling plays his sidekick (and a completely unnecessary love interest). Damián Alcázar, who plays the paedophilic serial killer, is so terrifyingly convincing that his Best Actor award at the Valladolid International Film Festival in Spain is more than justified.

Qué tan lejos (Tania Hermida, 2006)

There is something very lovely about the ópera prima of Tania Hermida, Qué tan lejos (English title: How Much Further?). It plays like a bittersweet love letter to Ecuador, showcasing landscapes from nine provinces across the country.

This road movie follows two, and eventually three, unlikely travel companions as they make their way from the capital, Quito, towards the southern city of Cuenca. What is meant to be a simple bus journey turns into something quite different when an Indigenous protest blocks traffic outside Quito.

The acting is rather amateurish, the voiceover is irritating (and unnecessary), the camerawork is handheld, and the story is a little silly. But none of this takes away from the film’s immense charm. It has a lovely energy and freshness, and it portrays the country so beautifully that Ecuador itself becomes one of the characters.

I found myself wondering what makes this film so charming despite its shortcomings. There is a certain freshness to it, a combination of crispness and everydayness. Nothing is presented as profound, philosophical or unnatural. Instead, there is a lovely sense of normality and of being on a journey — much like those real-life travel stories in which people meet and share unexpected moments along the way.

It is also an ode to an unexpected female friendship.

Alba (Ana Cristina Barragán, 2016)

There are a lot of long stares and very little dialogue in Alba. It is a slow film about a girl named Alba whose mother falls ill, forcing her to move in with her estranged father, an eccentric recovering addict. Alba is shy and isolated, and she struggles to find her place among the other children. Not much happens, and the film relies heavily on the performance of Macarena Arias, who plays Alba. For me, that is not enough to make the film interesting.

The film has received a lot of praise, not only for Macarena’s performance but also for its “beautifully understated” portrayal of isolation and terminal shyness. I could see all of this unfolding before my eyes, but I still couldn’t connect with the film. Macarena is wonderful in her role, but I didn’t get much more out of it.

En el nombre de la hija (Tania Hermida, 2011)

And then a movie I loved. 

I really liked Tania Hermida’s previous film, Qué tan lejos (2006), which I watched for this stop, and she does not disappoint with her sophomore feature, En el nombre de la hija (In the Name of the Daughter). Just as I fell in love with Thomas Vinterberg’s films during the Denmark stop, I think I have found my favourite Ecuadorian filmmaker in Tania. I loved this movie on so many levels. It is warm, compelling and insightful.

The film seems to have autobiographical elements. Set in Ecuador in the summer of 1976, it follows nine-year-old Manuela and her little brother as they spend the summer with their wealthy grandparents and three cousins. Their grandmother is a conservative Catholic, while Manuela’s parents are communist atheists. Manuela alternately connects with and distances herself from her cousins, befriends the servant’s son, discovers hidden secrets in the house and learns about life.

It is a very clever film that explores themes such as gender, social class, injustice, ethnicity and the transition from childhood innocence to a more mature understanding of the world. The ensemble of child actors is outstanding, making the film feel honest and emotionally rich. It is also beautifully filmed, with warm colours throughout.

Although the film is packed with themes, it never feels overblown or overloaded. Instead, it is a wonderfully crafted, warm and profound reflection on awakening to social justice while still inhabiting the somewhat magical world of childhood.

Mejor no hablar de ciertas cosas (Javier Andrade, 2012)

Javier Andrade was born and raised in the city of Portoviejo. He initially studied business management in Quito before going on to study filmmaking in the USA. Mejor no hablar de ciertas cosas, released internationally under the English title The Porcelain Horse, was his debut feature film.

It is an ok film, but it does not reach the same level of cinematic achievement as some of the other films in this mini film festival. In fact, it is by far my least favourite of the Ecuadorian films I watched.

This is a film that could have been made anywhere. Two middle-class brothers, a life of crime and addiction, drugs, criminals, a fallen rich girl and a path to redemption for one of the brothers. There is nothing particularly new or fresh here. The film feels amateurish and superficial. It feels light years away from Ratas, Ratones, Rateros and is, as one anonymous online critic put it, “unimpressively mediocre”.

Prometeo Deportado (Fernando Mieles, 2010) 

A plane full of Ecuadorians on their way to an unnamed European country gets stuck at the airport, where the passengers are held in a windowless area behind heavy doors. They have no idea how long they will be there. It is like a collective COVID-19 lockdown, bringing together a variety of people: a professor and philosopher, an Olympic swimmer, a sex worker, three older religious women, a magician, a beautician, and so on. An absurd little society in a snow globe, it becomes a sociological experiment in which sympathy turns into resentment and sharing gives way to anarchy.

The film plays with Ecuadorian stereotypes and cultural traits, offering a partly nostalgic, partly satirical take on the immigrant experience. The people trapped in this vacuum are rootless: they collide and collapse, but also find meaning and connection.

It is an interesting cinematic experiment and fascinating to watch. The unnamed European country becomes a menacing force of faceless control behind the closed doors, while the Ecuadorian travellers are all tourists leaving their homeland behind. There are nuances that, as a non-Ecuadorian spectator, inevitably escaped me. The film is fascinating and highly engaging, but also long and fragmented. Its surreal elements seem to have alienated some viewers, whereas I found them intriguing. The pacing felt uneven, though, and stronger editing could have made the film more consistent and cohesive.

Cuando me toque a mí (Víctor Arregui, 2008)

Death is all around in this film (English title: My Time Will Come). Dr Arturo works in a morgue, and we are introduced to dead people whose lives intertwine. We begin to think there must be some kind of connection or resolution, but ultimately, there really isn’t. The idea is interesting, but the film is full of half-developed ideas that never come together to form a cohesive whole. It has a bunch of scattered storylines that fail to connect.

The story takes place in Quito, which is depicted as dangerous and grim. Unfortunately, Manuel Calisto, who plays Dr Arturo, himself died as the result of a home robbery gone wrong.

Before watching the film, I read that it was dark and desolate, reflecting human isolation. I didn’t get any of that from the film. It is marginally better than Mejor no hablar de ciertas cosas, but it still feels like an immature, inconsistent and incoherent work.

La muerte de Jaime Roldós (Manolo Sarmiento and Lisandra I. Rivera, 2013)

Jaime Roldós was Ecuador’s first democratically elected president following the return to democracy. He won the 1979 election by a landslide, bringing an end to the country’s period of military rule. A defender of human rights, he clashed with the governments of Ronald Reagan and several Latin American dictators. During his inauguration, he spoke Quechua, and his government worked to improve living standards and support social programmes. In 1981, he died in a plane crash alongside his wife, the Defence Minister and several other people. Although the official explanation was that it was an accident, there have long been suspicions that the crash was an assassination.

The 2013 documentary La muerte de Jaime Roldós (The Death of Jaime Roldós) received more than 18 international awards and was seen by over 50,000 people in Ecuador. Since it was uploaded to YouTube in 2020, it has accumulated more than 215,000 views (as of July 2026).

This is a superb documentary, featuring interviews with many of those affected by Roldós’s death. The most touching are those with his three children. The film builds a fascinating case around the corruption and political connections linking Latin American dictatorships with the government of Ronald Reagan. At his inauguration, Reagan declared that although human rights were important, the United States would not pursue disputes with “friendly countries” simply because human rights violations might be occurring.

I also wanted to watch Con mi corazón en Yambo (2011), a documentary by María Fernanda Restrepo about the disappearance and murder of her older brothers, Santiago and Andrés Restrepo, at the hands of the Ecuadorian National Police in 1988. Unfortunately, I couldn’t access the film, but I’ll update this space with my review when I get the chance to watch it.

Next stop: Egypt