Punanti: The Ecuadorean Mountain Hostel

Quietly tucked between tall Ecuadorean mountains and small traditional towns sits a homely little hostel named Punanti; a place which is now one of my favourites in the world.

Several months ago, I found myself living in Bogotá, Colombia. Whilst the city will forever have my heart for various reasons (namely due to a gorgeous little morrita), the city took a lot out of me.

Nights were spent drinking cachaša in grey parks and inhaling thick clumps of air pollution, and days were spent with me wondering why exactly I couldn’t find the motivation to write or meditate. I had to leave, to re-align myself.

And that’s where Punanti comes in.

I decided to cross the border into Ecuador. A new country brought new opportunities and new places to fall in love with, along with the chance to reconnect with myself, with nature, and with the healthier side of travelling.

On the recommendation of a Couchsurfing host, I booked myself into Punanti. I’d heard great things about the hostel: not only was it located in a quiet space next to Mount Cayambe where the inhabitants of the nearest village primarily spoke Kichwa, but it offered a healthy place to detox and heal. Foreigners and locals alike travelled to the hostel to spend time in nature and with themselves, and it couldn’t have been more ideal.

I paid a local driver to take me up the rocky road to the hostel, where I was greeted by a beautiful white mountain dog and a relatively tiny husky puppy. Walking over the wooden terrace boards and heading into the heart of the hostel – the kitchen – I finally met the owner.

Antoine had come over from Switzerland many years ago and fallen in love with life in the Ecuadorean mountains. Eventually, he made the permanent move to Cayambe, starting the very hostel that I was now standing in. It seemed as though we had both made the right choice to come here.

We sat down together as he handed me a steaming bowl of healthy, hearty soup, and I helped myself to the free unlimited tea on the counter. Chatting with a full stomach and my cup of lemon verbena, surrounded by the most beautiful mountains I’d ever seen, I felt whole.

Over the next few days, I would start to feel even more at home in the hostel. Several guests came and went, but the volunteers remained. Each morning and evening we would eat together – oftentimes also sharing lunch – and it almost felt as though we had become family.

The food was on another level: Antoine was a trained chef who had spent 10 years in Michelin star restaurants and a 5* hostel, and he would take it in turns between a hired cook to create the most incredible meals.

There was always fresh bread, oftentimes fresh juice and cakes between meals, and the food could be adapted to any restrictions. I went in unable to consume lactose, tomato, nor onion, and yet they were always able to work around it and still create healthy and nourishing meals. I never went hungry.

I would spend my days with a flask of tea hiking through the mountains, wrapped up in one of the hostel’s ruanas. In the evenings I would head to the wooden attic of the hostel and meditate before sitting beside the fire and playing board games with the other residents.

Sometimes I would take a cup of oolong and chill with the llamas and chickens outside; other times I would visit the town, attending indigenous council meetings, or attempting to go rock climbing. Then, I would swathe myself up in the warm, comfy bed, feeling thoroughly taken care of.

Over the course of my stay, I shook free the remnants of Bogotá. Punanti gave me the opportunity to heal; the opportunity to come back to myself after so much time lost in the city.

The day before I left, I ate an incredible meal with my new mountain family, finished one of the hostel books I’d been reading, and sat opposite the view of Mount Cayambe with a warm cup of green tea in my hand. I caught my reflection in the window and I smiled. I had returned to myself.