Rising High

No longer just a gateway to the Galápagos, Quito is stepping into the spotlight, attracting creatives who are rethinking the Ecuadoran capital's identity.

- Ian Volner

IN 2011, after more than a decade working and living in Paris and New York City, architect Mathieu de Genot returned to his hometown of Quito, Ecuador. At the time, the city felt quiet, remote, and more or less off the map in the eyes of the rest of the globe. "The joke we always used to make about Quito is that we're in the middle of the world, but also in the middle of nowhere," Genot told me.

Sitting 9,350 feet above sea level, Quito is the second-highest-altitude capital on the planet (the first is La Paz, Bolivia). It feels every bit as vertiginous as you'd expect: forested hillsides stand next to rampant informal development; shining glass towers jockey for space with 17th-century churches. For most of its recent history or at least since 1959, when Ecuador first declared the Galápagos Islands a national park-the seat of government has been something of an afterthought for travelers, a waypoint en route to the ecological wonderland off the coast. But Quito is stepping up as a hot spot for design, food, and more.

"People didn't really know where we were before," Genot said. "Now they're finally finding out.” The same extreme location that kept the place so isolated for so long (and that can still flummox visitors: foggy from altitude sickness, I lost my phone on the day I arrived) has also helped Quito cultivate a unique identity. "It's the mountains. It's the colors. It's the beauty you see in the folk art here," said Margara Anhalzer, who presides over a curious corner of Quito's living history as the director of