Why Cuenca doesn’t need Uber

Every now and then, someone says what Cuenca really needs is Uber. Seatbelts buried in upholstery, meters that people say spin like slot machines, drivers who watch soap operas while shifting gears. Yes, taxis here can sometimes test your patience. And so the argument goes: a Silicon Valley bandaid would kiss everything better.

But the other day I found myself sharing a crowded restaurant table with a young Ecuadorian man who, by his crisp white shirt, cuffed sleeves, and wristwatch, I immediately intuited was a lawyer. His name was Raphael, and sure enough on cross examination it transpired that he worked as an attorney at municipal headquarters. Over bowls of locro de papa, I asked him about Cuenca and Uber and why not.

Raphael didn’t dismiss the idea out of hand. Under Ecuador’s constitution of 2008, he said, Uber isn’t exactly illegal, because people do have the right to move around, and they do have the right to start a business.

The main problem is that the legal framework has two halves. The Central Bank of Ecuador would have to regulate the payments, and the city would have to regulate the passenger pickups and vehicle licensing. Until both are in place, Uber lives in a gray zone.

Then he smiled and added, “And don’t forget, the taxi cooperatives are very powerful politically.”

Which gets to the heart of it. A taxi in Cuenca isn’t just a car with a roof light. It is a major investment. Drivers pay dearly for permits, inspections, cooperative dues, and above all that thick coat of municipal yellow paint. Everyone jokes that half the cost of a taxi is the paint itself, and there is some truth in that. It may look cheerful, but it is expensive, and it is a badge of belonging.

That yellow isn’t just decoration, it is a signal that you have paid your dues and joined the system. Uber cars would not carry those costs, yet they would compete directly for fares. Imagine spending years paying off your license, cooperative fees, and paint job, only to see your cousin’s unpainted Hyundai undercut you with an app. No wonder the men in yellow are swift to lobby city hall when competition rears its head.

And each city has its own rules. In Loja, for instance, taxis signal availability with colored lights: red on the roof means free, and green means occupied. It looks backwards to a newcomer. Everywhere else green means “available.” But in Loja it seems to work and no one is confused except for visiting columnists from Cuenca.

That little quirk is a reminder that Ecuador’s transport rules are written city by city, not by some international playbook. Uber may look neat and standardized, but the reality on the ground is patchwork.

Now, one argument I often hear is that Uber’s five-star rating system “keeps everyone honest.” Tap a couple of stars and the bad apples disappear. What many expats don’t realize is that Cuenca already has a complaint system for taxis, just not one on your phone.

If you have a problem, you can write down the taxi number, painted in huge black figures on the roof and also on the sides, and take it to the cooperative office or the municipal transit department. There is paperwork, yes, and no emojis or stars, but drivers can and do face fines or suspension if they don’t have working seat belts.

In other words, accountability does not vanish into the cloud, but finds itself in a filing cabinet somewhere near Parque Industrial. Different system, different culture.

Of course, some argue that Cuenca’s real transportation issue isn’t taxis at all, but parking. Drive your own car into El Centro and you will spend half an hour hunting for a legal spot at an extortionate price, if you find one at all. Many locals, it seems, just give up and keep their cars in the neighborhoods or go and shop at the malls with free parking lots and dine out on KFC at patios de comidas.

Whether this is a true civic problem or just an expat gripe is up for debate, but it does raise a question: if people with money to spend are avoiding downtown because of parking problems, that cannot be good news for restaurants, bars, and small businesses trying to keep the lights on.

But adding Uber does not solve that. More cars for hire only add to the congestion. Narrow colonial streets and delivery trucks stopped at the side of the road already turn the historic center into a moving jigsaw puzzle. The real solutions are public ones: better enforcement, maybe apps like Azutaxi that work more smoothly, and investments in the Tranvia which is wonderful, but leaves large areas of the city unserved.

And then there is culture. Some expats complain that taxi drivers pry. Where are you from? How many children do you have? How much rent do you pay? To a North American ear, it sounds nosy. To an Ecuadorian ear, it sounds more like normal conversation.

Charlie used to use Azutaxi a lot, but these days he mostly knows exactly where to find taxis heading in the right direction and when they are likely to pass. Many of the drivers know him too, or at least already know enough of his life story that there’s no need to repeat it. A wave and a nod are often all it takes. That sort of familiarity may not be high-tech, but it seems to work.

So yes, taxis here do have flaws. But as Raphael reminded me, Uber isn’t being blocked because nobody’s thought of it. It is because law, politics, and community all say: proceed carefully. Cuenca does not need a foreign app to fix its streets or its parking issues. Cuenca necesita soluciones de la casa.