We were greeted warmly and encouraged to sign in by sharing demographic information through an easy-to-follow kiosk. The museum is clearly interested in knowing which countries visitors represent and whether they belong to minority populations like LGBTQ. A thoughtful touch.
Oddly, though, they didn’t seem equally interested in receiving feedback from visitors. I would’ve happily taken time at a kiosk to share everything I appreciated—and there’s quite a lot to like—along with suggestions for improving the visitor experience.
The museum features both permanent collections and temporary exhibitions. Among the permanent exhibits are:
Sala Nacional de Etnografía
Sala de Arqueología: Pumapunku, Mundos de la Memoria
Current temporary exhibits included:
Ritualidades y Espiritualidades
Textiles del Ecuador
Hacienda Azuaya y Crianza
The ethnography room made a point of stating that curators consulted with Indigenous communities to ensure respectful, culturally accurate presentations. However, I didn’t see much that distinguished it from typical ethnographic displays elsewhere. Two things in particular stood out as problematic:
1. Most artifacts lacked specific labeling. Instead of detailed descriptions, we were given vague summaries.
2. The human models—particularly those representing African-Ecuadorians and Indigenous people—were jarringly unnatural and grotesque. It felt like a missed opportunity to offer dignity through thoughtful representation.
One of the strongest parts of the museum was the exhibit on the history of Cuenca and its surrounding regions, tracing human habitation back to 9000 BCE. The timeline was well done—clear and detailed—and included bold claims I hadn’t encountered before. For example, it suggested that maize was first hybridized in the Ecuadorian Andes around 9000 BCE. I’d always understood the origins of corn to be in what is now Mexico, so this caught my attention. Similarly strong claims were made about chocolate. The museum seems to be involved in original research, but it was difficult to tell what was well-substantiated and what was speculative.
Another fascinating, if unsettling, area featured a collection of nearly 10 shrunken heads. The explanatory panels made an effort to place these artifacts in their cultural and spiritual context—ritual practices tied to restoring balance in a community. The final text noted that the practice is now banned in Ecuador. While many visitors were fascinated by the detailed preservation of the heads, I found it deeply unsettling. Several people wondered aloud, “How did they shrink the heads?” If you’re curious about that, you’ll need to ask Google or ChatGPT.
By contrast, the temporary exhibits were excellent—well-curated, rich in detail, and socially relevant. Displays addressed issues like legal and illegal adoption, gender-based violence, and addiction. These exhibitions did more than inform; they invited reflection and response.
And then there are the outdoor spaces. Stunning. A breath of fresh air—literally and figuratively. You’ll find beautifully kept gardens, paths that weave past archaeological remains, and views of Inca terraces towering above the landscape. There’s also a remarkable collection of live birds, many of them rescues. Parrots, raptors, and other native species are housed in spacious, thoughtful enclosures, offering an intimate and often moving experience of Ecuador’s biodiversity. These grounds alone are worth the visit.
In short: Museo Pumapungo is a fascinating mix of the excellent and the uneven. With more detailed labeling, improved representations in the ethnography section, and ways for visitors to share feedback, it could become a truly world-class museum. Still, I’m very glad we went.