Walking through the streets of Guyaquil is like exploring an unfinished sci-fi novel from the fifties about some distant dystopian civilisation. The buildings are either retro-futuristic monuments to shape, form and colour, or dirty, to-be-completed utilitarian monuments to purpose. The people are of all appearances and builds, with the harshly drawn features of unlikely fictional characters. For me, there were simply too many handguns around to feel comfortable, and we left as soon as we could.
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