The Uncharted Psychedelic Culture of Ecuador
In this exclusive interview, we journey into the vibrant and largely untold story of Ecuador’s psychedelic landscape with Gabriel Valarezo Matheus. From the misty heights of the Andes to the dense heart of the Amazon, Ecuador holds a deep and living connection to plant medicine, ceremony, and spiritual exploration.
This feature centers on the lived experience of a multidisciplinary creative and lifelong explorer who has spent the past decade immersed in psychedelic traditions across the globe — with Ecuador as his soul’s compass. With roots in both ancestral wisdom and contemporary culture, his perspective offers a raw, unfiltered look at the intersection of psychedelics, art, community, and transformation.
In our conversation, we uncover the hidden potential of Ecuador as a hub for psychedelic culture, explore profound encounters with the Shuar people and their ceremonial use of Ayahuasca, and reflect on the power of music, myth, and spirit in shaping expanded states of consciousness. Discover how Ecuador is becoming one of the most compelling frontiers in the global psychedelic movement.
4 Questions We Ask Every Guest
1. What does the term “psychedelic” mean in your community? If there’s an equivalent word or phrase your community members use to describe the “psychedelic” experience please share and explain. How do psychedelics impact your community, hometown and country?
I take the meaning of the word psychedelic super literally: mind-revealing.
Curiosity is the heartbeat of my community. Growing up in the art world, we’ve always been drawn to what lies beyond the sunset, beyond the seen. Once you catch a glimpse of the other side, the questions only multiply. Oh look, a spirit! Giants, demigods, animals, insects, aliens, crazy fractals… who are they? Are they echoes of something ancient, projections of the mind, or messengers from places we don’t have names for yet? And then there’s my favorite part, the sound: waves bending, colors humming, the invisible becoming music. The way deep states of consciousness sync with sound is something else; frequencies stop being just vibrations and start feeling like guides, like stories, like doors.
In our circles, we stick to the classic terms: Tripping or Ceremony.
The impact of psychedelics on my community is profound. Lately, we gather in Guápulo, a neighborhood steeped in history. The old architecture clings to the side of a mountain, with a massive cemetery at its heart. Its mystic energy so thick you can almost touch it. From this vantage point, you can see the road where the Spanish conquerors first arrived in Quito. The weight of time here is palpable. We brew San Pedro tea, curate a playlist, slice up fresh watermelon, crack open some sparkling water, and take the plunge whether with acid or other psychedelics. These sessions aren’t just trips; they’re portals. Group meditations in these states become something else entirely: waves of energy syncing, a collective deep dive into the unknown.For my artist friends, psychedelics expand creativity, deepen their connection to the divine, and offer a mirror to better understand their journey. It’s less about escape, more about exploration: of self, of art, of the infinite.
2. What’s happening in your country in regards to psychedelics that the rest of the world doesn’t know?
Ecuador is seriously the most underrated place in the world when it comes to psychedelic culture. Yeah, that little country between Colombia and Peru has so much hidden magic. In one day, you can hit the Pacific Ocean, hike through the Andes, and end up in the jungle… It's like nature’s own theme park. And don’t even get me started on the Galápagos Islands - the enchanted archipelago - where you can find magic mushrooms and trip in one of the most breathtaking places on Earth.
Sure, there are a few downsides. It’s more expensive than Colombia and Peru, and security's been a bit shaky with the cartels taking over parts of the coast. It’s said that Ecuador is now a major hub for shipping drugs worldwide. But, honestly, beyond that, the traditions and shamans here are as real as it gets. There’s a new generation of young visionaries keeping the mystery alive, and they’re nothing short of incredible. I like to call them the “superleague.”
Take my friend Satya Durán, for example. She’s the daughter of a famous Argentine musician and leads Bufo ceremonies in the most beautiful way. Her voice? Honestly, it feels like it was made for ceremony. Then there’s Gabo, a firekeeper running Kambo ceremonies in this insane spot near downtown Quito. The dude’s got the eyes of a jaguar, pure spiritual strength! An absolute indigenous warrior.
Then there’s Ilario, a true elder in the Amazon, and his son. Ilario is a deeply respected leader in the Shuar community, known for his wisdom and connection with the jungle. I recently went to my first Ayahuasca ceremony with them, and it was the most intense, transformative experience I’ve ever had. This man embodies the deep roots of tradition and the power of the plants.
Then there's Milena and her husband working with San Pedro, the Andean cousin of Peyote. Their place in the Andes is like something out of a dream, and her singing makes everything even more magical.
And if you're into solo trips, Ecuador has some of the most mind-blowing spots for LSD or mushrooms. You’ve got famous places like the Llanganates and the Cueva de los Tayos. Jon Hopkins even has three tracks on his Music for Psychedelic Therapy album named after the Tayos Caves… it's that mystical. There's also this town known for people living crazy long lives, and it’s rumored that the secret is in the water… and maybe the mushrooms? But I won’t reveal the name. If you’re planning to visit Ecuador, hit me up, and I’ll share the secret.
If you’re a psychonaut and haven’t been to Ecuador, you’re definitely missing out!
3. Where do you see the psychedelic revival going in the future?
The psychedelic revival is exciting, but it can’t be hijacked by billionaires pushing the narrative that the "valid" set and setting is in a clinic under supervision. Sorry, Christian Angermeyer, your intentions might be good, but come on! Your own story is about tripping with your friends on an island. It’s a bit hypocritical to now sell on the idea that - the way - to truly experience psychedelics is under controlled, clinical conditions.
The future of psychedelics? It’s not some sanitized, corporate-approved version of “healing.” It’s not about pushing them into controlled, sterile spaces where they’re treated like medical products. No, the real potential is way wilder than that. Psychedelics should never be a tool to patch up what’s “broken” in us… they should be a force that shatters the whole damn idea of what we’re even capable of. The healing we talk about now has become a repetitive cycle: one treatment after another, but no true transformation. We’re told we need to be “fixed” again and again, but that’s just us being stuck in a loop. Psychedelics aren’t a crutch, they’re a launch pad: a means of leaping into a new version of ourselves, where “healing” becomes irrelevant because we stop seeing ourselves as something that needs fixing.
This isn’t just personal growth. It’s a culture shift. It’s about reprogramming the collective brain and smashing the walls of a world that thrives on conformity. We’ve been force-fed the same narrative over and over: that we need to fit in, that we need to play by the rules. But psychedelics? They open doors that don’t even look like doors anymore. They explode these narrow definitions of who we are and what we should be.
The future won’t be about “setting” and “setting” alone. It’ll be about wild intersections: sports with psychedelics, politics with psychedelics, hell, even architecture. Can you imagine a city designed by people whose brains have been expanded by a deep journey within? Or athletes whose mental performance reaches new levels because they’ve learned to play not just with their bodies, but with their minds too? We’ve only begun to see how psychedelics can fuel creativity and innovation in every domain. They are not some niche, spiritual getaway: they are the starting point for a society that refuses to think inside the box.
Psychedelics need to be the bridge, not the fence. The path to integration is not through isolation but through connecting psychedelics with everyday life. They should seep into the fabric of society, from the boardroom to the streets, from art galleries to city councils. We’re in an era where everything’s been compartmentalized and segregated; psychedelics should smash all those silos.
Uncharted territories aren’t for the timid. They’re for the insane. The ones willing to throw out what’s familiar and walk right off the edge. So let’s get real: imagine if politics wasn’t driven by ego, but by an expanded sense of empathy and interconnectedness. Psychedelics could be the toolkit for visionaries… Athletes who run faster because they’ve learned to expand time, politicians who think with empathy as their compass, designers who build not just with their hands, but with their souls. These are the uncharted realms, the places where psychedelics should thrive—not locked away in therapists’ offices, but on the cutting edge of culture itself.
The truth is: we need to stop pretending that psychedelics are some “secret” thing. They’re not just for the fringe anymore; they should be as common as talking about your morning coffee or your gym routine. It’s not about being “special” or unique because you’ve tripped; it’s about being human in a new way. Demystify the taboo.
Smash the narrative that psychedelics are reserved only for those who've "earned" them, or for so-called drug addicts, spiritual seekers, wanderers, or the broken ones searching for healing. It's time to break down the walls that confine psychedelics to certain labels. They're not just for the rebellious outcasts, the counter-culture crowd, or those seeking a quick fix to their pain. They’re not a privilege reserved for the enlightened few or the disillusioned masses.Psychedelics belong to everyone: the curious creatives, the scientists, the athletes, the builders, the leaders, the dreamers, the skeptics, and even those who think they have it all figured out. They transcend the labels we put on them. In fact, they are the antithesis of those boxes we’re conditioned to fit into.
If we’re going to unlock their full power, we need to make it part of the conversation, not just a one-off revelation in a dark corner of the internet. Psychedelics aren’t a one-off experience, they’re a cultural movement waiting to happen.
4. How does the work you do contribute to the psychedelic revival and into the future?
We’re in the primordial soup of the psychedelic renaissance, still swirling, still forming, still defining what’s possible. And before I even thought about stepping up to the mic, I knew I had to walk the path myself; boots on the ground, eyes wide open. So I did. Over the past decade, I’ve gone deep, from the Amazon jungle to the Andes and Himalayan peaks, from the heart of Africa to the chaos and calm of India. This has been less of a "trip" and more of an odyssey: an unfiltered, visceral dive into the mystery.
I’ve shared this journey in raw form, not as some guru handing down wisdom, but as someone throwing a stone into the water just to see where the ripples go. And the ripples have spread. Friends, followers, strangers turned kindred spirits drawn in by curiosity, by a spark they didn’t know they had until they saw the fire. Some have stepped onto this path because of something I said, something I showed, or just because they saw me living it. That’s the real psychedelic chain reaction, it´s energy is contagious.
So what’s next? Curation. Experience. Bringing the underground above ground, but keeping it sacred. I’m setting the stage for immersive, authentic retreats. I’m weaving this vision into creative fields, from fashion to music to sports, because psychedelics don’t belong in a box, they belong everywhere.
And then there’s the bigger fight. The law. The right to reconnect with nature without the fear of a courtroom. The decriminalization of ancestral medicines in Ecuador is slowly slowly calling me, and I’m listening. Because it’s not enough to explore, we have to protect, to legitimize, to ensure that future generations don’t have to whisper about these experiences in the dark.
We’re not just reviving psychedelics; we will be hopefully rewriting the entire script.
Personalized Questions Curated for Our Guests
5. You’re working on a documentary about psychedelics in South America. You’re Ecuadorian, and you spent time with an Ecuadorian, indigenous tribe- the Shuar. Tell us a little bit about that.
I had heard from artist friends that the Shuar were the real deal. No frills, no Instagram aesthetics, no curated mysticism. Just raw, unfiltered connection to something ancient. So, of course, I had to see for myself.
It's quite a long journey from the capital, an 8 hours drive. The timing of our arrival couldn’t have been better. They were just about to prepare the brew, and we got to be part of it, hands in the process, watching the alchemy unfold. The setting? Perched on a hill, overlooking a river that snaked into the horizon, with the jungle stretching out like an endless, breathing entity.
Little did I know that the brew was about to wreck me.
At first sip, I was skeptical. Ayahuasca is usually like drinking liquid regret: bitter, earthy, a taste that sticks with you. But this? Strangely plain. Deceptively smooth. And that was the trap. Because what followed was the most intense psychedelic experience of my life.
The Shuar have a warrior legacy, and let’s just say, you don’t drink their brew unless you’re ready. Physically, it was brutal. I wasn’t just purging: I was excavating. It felt like my entrails were being turned inside out, like I was bargaining with existence itself. And then came the moment of truth.
As a man, there’s something unthinkable about being brought to your knees. But there I was, kneeling before the great mystery, fighting my own resistance. The first knee hit the ground, and my mind race: was this surrender? Was this defeat? My ego flared, grasping for control. But when the second knee dropped… relief. I shattered, and in the best way possible. And because the universe loves theatrics, at that exact moment, a thunderbolt ripped through the sky. Cinematic perfection.
I felt that it was my initiation. The anaconda loosened its grip, the jaguar in me awoke. I felt it instantly: stronger, sharper, like I had been reconstructed from the inside out. When I returned to the room, I was new.
Then came the final challenge: the shaman called for those who wanted a second round. Normally, I’m the first in line. But for the first time ever, I knew I had been given exactly what I needed. No more, no less.
That was over a year ago, and I’m still integrating it. Because here’s the thing: This isn’t some quick-fix, weekend-warrior experience. The medicine assigns you homework, and you don’t get to come back until you’ve finished it. Sometimes that takes months. Sometimes years.
And that’s the beauty of it.
6. You worked with ayahuasca while spending time with the Shuar. I understand you had an interesting vision of a large snake? Share some of that story and tell us how the Shuar interpreted that.
At first, nothing happened. Nothing at all.
I sat there, waiting, expecting the familiar waves of Ayahuasca to start rolling in. But there was nothing—just silence, just me. Minutes passed. Then more. Doubt started creeping in. Maybe this brew isn’t working. Maybe this whole trip was for nothing.
I felt that quiet disappointment settle in. After all, I had come a long way. Deep in the jungle, seeking something… and now, nothing? I sighed, let go of the expectation, and decided to just sit with whatever was.
And then, the Taita stood up.
He walked over, carrying an instrument three strings, something like a violin. He sat down, poised, and plucked a single note and boom! It was like someone flipped a switch inside me.
I felt it vibrate through my entire body, down to the bones. Then, he began to sing. The melody wove through the air, ancient, raw, alive. And that’s when it happened.
The Ayahuasca didn’t just activate, it erupted.
A force surged through me, fast and overwhelming. My whole body felt tight, compressed, like an invisible coil was wrapping around me. The song, his song, was about the anaconda. And in that instant, I wasn’t just hearing it. I was in it.
The snake had me.
Its presence was undeniable: coiling around me, squeezing. I could feel it inside and out, pressing against my organs, constricting my breath. It wasn’t metaphorical. It was real. It was happening. Pain. Immense. Unrelenting.
I wasn’t sure if I was purging or just unraveling. Every instinct screamed fight! But there was no fighting this. This was bigger, older, untouchable. The anaconda wasn’t an enemy, it was a force of nature, and I was at its mercy.
And for a moment, I truly believed I was going to die.
But the song kept going.
Somewhere in the chaos, I realized: This isn’t taking my life, it’s showing me something. The grip wasn’t punishment. It was a lesson. The anaconda wasn’t here to kill me. It was here to strip me down. To teach. To test.
I don’t remember how long it lasted. Time stopped existing. The sound had called it. The sound had shaped the journey.
To be honest, I didn’t ask the Taita about the significance of the Anaconda for them. The ceremony was long and intense, and by sunrise came the cleansing. Ilario passed an egg and some plants over my body, then cracked the egg into a glass to read it. Crazy enough, he picked up on a small issue I’d been having—a lingering stomach pain from the past week. Then came the Temazcal, another powerful experience. So, I can’t say I fully understand what the Anaconda represents in their cosmovision. But the Shuar have a fascinating mythology, and I highly recommend reading about Tsunki.
As for the serpent itself, the Amazon has its own ancient mythology—Sachamama, the primordial spirit, older than time itself. That’s a story worth diving into.
7. The Shuar are a unique people. They are known for their shrunken heads. They believe they capture the soul of an enemy, and trap it inside the shrunken head. What do the Shuar think about outsiders coming to do ayahuasca with them? Did you have anything to fear?
The Shuar are a diverse people, with different communities and varying degrees of connection to their ancestral ways—even among themselves. When it comes to the Shuar, your experience depends on who you’re with. In this case, we arrived at a place where my friend Satya had strong ties, and we were welcomed like family.
Naze, Ilario’s son, put it in a way that stuck with me: ‘There’s folklore, and then there’s tradition.’ For example: Just because they in particular are no longer dressing like their ancestors doesn’t mean they’ve lost their roots. They are Shuar by blood, by spirit, by the way they live; even as they navigate the modern world.
But yeah, the warrior spirit is undeniable… You feel it in every moment of the ceremony. This was, without a doubt, the most intense experience I’ve ever had.I grew up spending a lot of time in the Amazon because of my father’s work, and I can tell you this: the jungle and its people are both incredibly strong and incredibly kind. If you come with respect, clear intentions, and a real sense of where you're going, you'll be fine. That said, having the right connection—a guide who truly knows the land and its people—makes all the difference.
8. The paper, Cultural Context and the Beneficial Applications of Ayahuasca, states “...ayahuasca and the psychoactive states that it induces are highly fundamental to many indigenous groups, such as the Shuar, who uphold that the ayahuasca experience is actually true reality, while regular life is the illusion.” This is quite interesting considering the recent buzz about mankind living in a simulation. What did you learn about the Shuar cosmology?
Yes, I can relate to that in a way… The experience felt like diving into the algorithm of life itself. It carried a depth and clarity that made our default reality seem almost like a stripped-down version… something surface-level in comparison. It wasn’t just more real; it was more intricate, more vast, as if I had tuned into a layer of existence we rarely access: a direct encounter with something ancient, raw, and undeniably true.
Maybe it’s just me, but after ceremonies like this, I retreat inward. I don’t talk much for days. There’s too much to process, too much beauty and power in silence. I always skip the group integration moments; they feel unnecessary. In this case, there wasn’t even one, which only reassured me that I was exactly where I needed to be.
This particular ceremony was the strongest I’ve ever had. Shocking, overwhelming. It left me in silence for days. I was only there for two nights, so I didn’t spend time talking, I didn’t need to. It was all energy, no words.
Later, though, curiosity led me to read about Tsunki: the water spirit of the Shuar. Tsunki is more than myth; he is the guardian of sacred wisdom, the keeper of rivers and lakes, the source of a shaman’s healing power. Water carries memory, transformation, knowledge that runs deeper than language. And somehow, reading about him after the ceremony felt like an unspoken confirmation, as if the experience had already introduced us, long before I found his name.
Gabriel Valarezo Matheus
Turning passion into profession, I’ve built a dynamic career at the intersection of sports, lifestyle, and culture, collaborating with global icons like Nike, adidas, Wieden+Kennedy, Mercedes-Benz, Jägermeister, Nintendo, etc.
A lifelong explorer, I’ve traveled to over 90 countries, drawing energy from music and direction from spiritual discovery.
I’m currently working on a project to channel a decade of psychedelic exploration into a documentary—crafted with a distinct artistic vision. Teaming up with a filmmaker specialized in music videos, we’re blending cinematic storytelling with a bold, avant-garde aesthetic to create something immersive, visceral, and visually striking. The goal? To break conventions and connect with a new generation through an experience that feels as mind-expanding as the subject itself.
At the same time, I’m writing The Zenith of Self: a deep dive into self-mastery and human potential, exploring the edges of consciousness and the art of becoming.
My work has been featured in Forbes Magazine, Nike Global Channels, TimeOut Magazine, Playground Magazine, Copa90, and beyond.
