The taxi pulls up to the Brothels in quito ecuador four and a half kilometers Brothels in quito ecuador of town.
Chained to the front wall, a guard dog with large jaws gives me an evil stare. Five or six nefarious looking men huddle around a seedy conversation.
I know where I am but not what to expect. The front room is dark and the crowd looks sinister. The bar, lined with stools all draped in sex-hungry men, is littered with beer bottles and shot glasses. Salsa music bounces off the walls and drowns out the chatter, while one red light bulb provides the brothel a weak sexual illumination.
More than 40 men packed into this small three-room house, now used for carnal desires, sit leering at women in mini-skirts small enough for little girls, tight halter-tops that invite eyes to get lost in cleavage fissures, and thick clear plastic stilettos.
These chongos are pervasive in mainland Ecuador, and have made their way out to the Galapagos Islands as well. The most populated island, Santa Cruz, has three of them.
The names are not so important as you only tell the taxi driver how far out of town you want to go and he knows what you mean. At first I thought the code to be some secret cipher, a way of dispelling the shame associated with prostitution. I ask a nature guide about the chongos. Another taxi driver says he drinks a beer and watches the women while he waits inside to make sure he Brothels in quito ecuador the business back into town.
To me, prostitution conjures up cheap and sordid images.
But here in the Galapagos, prostitution is devoid of guilt and embarrassment. Even sex in general is not as permeated with the tawdry taboo it has in the U.
A guide on Isla Isabella tells me many women enjoy Brothels in quito ecuador same situation and Brothels in quito ecuador have a number of other lovers. One woman I met cheated on her husband with another man. A good friend of the husband was present, and I watched him as he merely turned around, walked away and jovially skipped down the empty street in the full moon light. Human anatomical laws command that the body follows where the head leads it.
In the case of human males, the body is often led in two different directions. Many times I have heard women cackle and complain that men think with the wrong head, leading then in devious directions.
Have men been cursed and given two brains to listen to, one in there heads and one in their pants? I have never seen a brothel where men walk around in thongs serving beer to desperate women willing to pay for sex.
Beer commercials constantly repeat young girls in bikinis subliminally suggesting that buying their brand of beer will get you laid.
Magazine covers sell fantasy with sultry women stripped of all clothing except bikini bottoms, but a guy in a Speedo is either repulsive or comical. I want to defend my male brethren of all species and races, and argue our behavior stems from some sort "Brothels in quito ecuador" instinctual survival technique.
Nature here holds the proof of this claim. The male sea lions here in the Galapagos Islands hoard their harem of females, fighting off other males for copulating rights.