Tourism creates more kinds of work than people may expect. It supports musicians, dancers, artists, agencies, bars, internet cafés and taxi drivers like my father.
Most people in Riobamba’s tourism sector are Mestizo rather than Indigenous. Almost all businesses are locally owned; I know only one small hotel owner who came from outside the region, from Chile.
Young people work as guides, while older residents find jobs as porters or hotel staff. Women earn more visibly through crafts and textiles. In our historically machista society, that income has helped relationships move toward greater equality, although there is still a long way to go.
When women contribute tourism income, they gain not only money but a stronger voice inside the family.
Children have more freedom because both parents often work. Young women move through public space more freely and meet people they would not otherwise encounter, sometimes even forming relationships with foreign visitors.
The city has grown rapidly. Fifteen bars opened in fewer than five years, although Western tourists rarely use them. New houses, apartments, restaurants and businesses reduce the space where children once played.
Imported goods are common, partly because some tourists distrust unfamiliar food. Others deliberately seek local products because they want to experience our culture.
Crime has risen nationally during the economic crisis, affecting visitors and residents. My father no longer drives his taxi at night because he feels unsafe.
Older people have changed little and still wear traditional hats and ponchos. Young people imitate outside styles more readily and notice how much money tourists appear to carry. This can encourage begging, opportunism and overcharging.
Visitors should bargain at the market, but even a few words of Spanish make bargaining more respectful and fair.
I do not blame tourism for every change. Economic crisis, urban growth and media also matter. But visitors influence expectations and should recognise the impression their money and behaviour create.
We welcome tourists into a place that is still relatively calm; we only ask them not to help turn that quiet life into something we no longer recognise.