Casma

Sunday, September 28th, 2008

Day 91 on The Big Trip. “Ruins on Bikes”

Two messy bikes charge 5k to a museum and 1600BC ruins. We are passed by trucks and motorized rickshaws that beep to let us know they’re there. I’m beginning to think horns are at least as necessary as headlights for driving in South America. The ruins aren’t what we hoped for, but it was nice to get some useful exercise in after all of the lazy traveling we’ve done! (See the Vlog entry for this trip by clicking THIS!) Sit on this bus. Sit in this taxi. Sit on this minibus. Sit down. Walk around town. It’s just not enough. Where are my mountains? Where’s Patagonia?

Don’t get me wrong, I’m loving this trip. I’ve never experienced such different cultures or this type of not belonging. Growing up I didn’t belong because I was in a different math class than everyone else. Or I didn’t belong because I didn’t like basketball like everyone else. But here I don’t belong because my hair is not black and my skin is not dark. It’s a very different kind of not belonging where instead of not being looked at, you’re looked at. Instead of not being talked to, you’re hollered at! It’s actually growing on me as a form of not belonging!

Back to Casma, though! In Casma, this small little town we met a man named Peter who enjoyed talking with us in English as much as his capacity would allow, and of course Español. He also helped us a lot. He drove us all over town to meet his friends and sister in order to find us any two shabby bikes that we could use for cheap to get to the ruins the next morning. Before we hop a 7-hour bus to Lima!

Thank you, Peter! That’s Casma in a nutshell. What else? We stayed at Hostel Gregori. Not expensive; not bad. The bus trip to Lima was, well, long. It featured a stop for lunch and stranding us in the dessert for an hour or so while they fixed a flat tire and we wished it was actually made of ice cream, rolling around and swimming in this lovely neopolitan! It also included a double feature of the horrible Steven Seagal movie “Belly of the Beast”. That means it played twice in a row. It was really frustrating to not be able to turn off the volume or the video. What a busride!

In Lima, we walk to find a place to eat, passing Pizza Hut? KFC? McDonald’s? Are we really in Peru? We ate at a restaurant named Beirut, which offered comida arabe (Arabic food) as well as your usual American restaurant dishes. Odd! The speakers there only blasted Britney Spears’ songs. To our dismay! And sense of humor!

At our hostel, like the hostel we tried before, we find that there are only dormitories available. Oh well! Nighty-night!

Trujillo

Friday, September 26th, 2008

Day 89 on The Big Trip. “Fish for the Road”

Picture taken at 7:00 am sharp. Fish is scaled and gutted in the road by the market place by a helpful man. We return to the guest kitchen at Hostal Naylamp to filete and fry the fish! Fish ‘n bread for breakfast is good. I am tired after breakfast and so I listen to my body and nap for what feels like half of forever.

We pack and get a second breakfast before catching a small bus to Trujillo where we’re supposed to watch our bags very closely. No problems. Thank you! In the very colonial city of Trujillo we find a nice hostel named Hostel Colonial to splurge on. The cheapest matrimonial room here is 65 soles. Divide by three (3) for US$. We realize that there really isn’t anything that seems worth exploring in the neighboring towns or neighboring ruins of Trujillo, so we decide to hunker down in our hostel and the city.

Good news for hunkerers: Hostal Colonial has TV’s with CNN with the US presidential debate tonight! Buy water, juice, breads, and snacks in town, all for under 8 soles! Also, don't forget to keep abreast of our trip via the The Big Trip Vlog (video log)! The Trujillo vlog post is now up and running!


This sounds pretty good. Although Obama didn’t “hit it out of the park” with his closing statement, I am glad that he hadn’t forgotten what he or the moderator said every 10 seconds. I was appalled by the commentaries afterwards. According to one prominent conservative radio host, being condescending to another presidential candidate is a sign of strength and knowledge? And acknowledging when someone else is right in a competition is a show of weakness or naivete? Time to turn off the tube!

Tomorrow we go to Casma via Chambote!

Huanchaco 1

Wednesday, September 24th, 2008

Day 87 on The Big Trip. “To the Beach”

I’m very excited to be in Huanchaco. I like it better than Chiclayo. And from what we heard and saw of Trujillo, it’s definitely the safer more relaxing alternative. It’s Oceanside. Superb dinner of filleted fish and chips. Calming. Inviting. Thank you, Peru.

Thursday, September 25th, 2008

Day 88 on The Big Trip. “On the Beach”

Daytime in Huanchaco. Breakfast on second floor of hostel. I had panqueque de azugar y limon, tostados con marmelada, y chocolate caliente con leche. Walked the town, up to a church, around the beach, around the town, along the beach, through a market, and my how the time flies. What was lunch? Oh yeah, we made eggs for lunch, I think. This town is a time-straw. It sucks up your fruit juicy time. We made a lot of soup for dinner and ate it with breads. We fail to get to bed early as planned. It’s a big day tomorrow. What’s gonna happen?!?!?!?!

Tucume and Lambayeque

Tuesday, September 23rd, 2008

Day 86 on The Big Trip. “Museums and Peruseums”

Today we have a plan to check out three different locations around Chiclayo. One hour to get to Lord Sipan’s upside down fetal positioned burial remains, 20 minutes later at a museum, and one last hour from there should bring us to the peruseum of pyramids and a panorama of standing artifacts. That’s the plan, anyways. We’re about to go get in motion!

The time is now 6:07pm. We’re back at our hostel after going to museums and archaeological sites with miradors via minibuses and motorized rickshaws. We didn’t make all three destinations, but we did get to two of them. Namely, we went to Lambayeque and Túcume.

Lambayeque had a three- or four-story museum that featured history and recovered artifacts from the Lord of Sipán. The museum itself was shaped to represent the pyramids. It’s amazing how you can tell the social and cultural traits of the persons buried based on how and with what they are buried.

Túcume showcased ongoing excavations and the elemental and temporal effects on ancient civilizations. It’s interesting how what was once the urban center could now be easily mistaken for any other patch of dirt. Similarly, the burial grounds could just be yet another mound of sand eroding.

So far in Peru, the niceties have been the people. For every one person that tries to slightly overcharge us (e.g. 30 cents, $3) there is at least one other person looking out for us and taking an extra step to keep us on our feet.

The first case of this came when heading to Túcume from Lambayeque. We were looking for a ride and knew that it should be cheap, so we asked a juice stand owner. As we are doing so, a motorized rickshaw operator offered to bring us there and drive us right to the road that it’s on and bring us back for 30 nueve soles (3 nueve soles = US$1). This is way more than its worth and by the way, rickshaws go much slower than minibuses – or combis as they call them - or buses! The ride we wanted was more along the lines of three to six nueve soles a piece, or one to two US dollars. The juice stand owner not only talked with us and guided us on what to get for a ride and where, but he also 1) left his stand to walk us to the corner where he hailed us a combi and 2) told the persistent rickshaw operator to stop trying to rip off tourists! You can’t beat that kind of hospitality!

The final case of the day was on the ride back from Túcume. We were the second and third passengers to catch a combi (minibus) from Túcume all the way back to Chiclayo. It’s about an hour drive and since we had paid about 3 ½ nueve soles a piece for our added transportations to Túcume, we expected something like 3 soles for the direct route back. The combi packs full of people in these small, closely packed seats and my knees stick out into the smaller aisle. When the money and passenger collector motions for our fee, we hand him a 10 soles bill since we weren’t sure what the charge would be except below 10 soles. He shuffles his change and hands me a 5 soles coin, which I give back to Alisa who is keeping our soles. We both give a look to one another signifying that this is better than we thought! 2 ½ soles each is cheaper than 3, so we’re happy. Meanwhile, two girls sitting a row two centimeters ahead of us must have observed this transaction because 20 minutes later or so they both turn to us and say that it’s two soles to Chiclayo. The man overcharged us. Alisa hops on that wagon and tells the man he owes us one sole. He runs over the transaction out loud with us, knowing full well what he had done, and was not argumentative in giving us our change due. What a helpful pair of women they were!

But wait! They ask us where we’re going and when we tell them we’re staying near the Plaza de Armas, they say they’re getting off at the same stop. We join them and they 1) tell Alisa to hold her bag in front of her as she walks and 2) hail us a taxi, making sure he’ll charge us the right amount! Thanks again!

So, we’re off to a good start in Peru! Now to head to Trujillo’s neighboring town of Chanchaco or something with c’s, h's, and c-h’s! Huanchaco! That's it!

Chiclayo, Peru

Monday, September 22st, 2008

Day 85 on The Big Trip. “Peru!”

Not too much to say about today. We got up early. We left Ecuador. We made it to Peru! We were on buses for more than 12 hours today.

Highlights of the day:

1. I crossed the border illegally, but not on purpose. I was not given my receipt for the immigration form upon entering Ecuador in Quito. That’s why I was given “heck” when trying to leave Ecuador. They tried to charge me $10 for filling out the same form – that would have been free two weeks ago – and the receipt – that wasn’t my fault for not receiving. Thankfully, Alisa is a master pouter. She pouted away, telling the immigration officer sympathy facts like, “But this is his first trip, look how empty his passport is,” and “He never loses anything, he couldn’t have lost it,” and “Ten dollars is so much!” Finally, the Por favor, señor’s must have gotten to him, because he broke the rules and let me pass illegally by giving me some receipt that belonged to who-knows-whom!

2. Making it to Peru. It doesn’t matter that the majority of Peru that we’ve seen today was from behind glazed windows; we’ve been there. We saw pink flowers and multiple-act play’s layers of hills, each a different solid shade of blue shifting beyond the fields. Peru’s coast contains a dazzling amount of sand that stretches to the horizon from the highway. I’m glad the bus didn’t break down there. And now, upon entering Piura and catching yet another bus (this one 3 hours rather than 8 hours) to Chiclayo, the difference between Ecuador and Peru thus far seems to be summarized as “engaging”. There are cars, taxis, and motorized rickshaws buzzing everywhere, a totally different currency, and thus far a seemingly approachable population!

3. Having something to eat in a restaurant. After munching on bread pieces and having water all day, eating at Restaurant El ROMAno was nice, even though everything I got was salty and fried and left me sprinting back to the hostel for more water!

Loja to Peru

Sunday, September 21st, 2008

Day 84 on The Big Trip. “It’s Electric!” or “It’s eclectic!” or "Drink it up?!"

Today was unexpected. As our last day in Loja and as our last day in Ecuador, we expected today to be for errands and to flow unobstructed.

The first hurdle in the obstacle course was an electrical outage for an entire sector that included our hostel. This meant nonexistence for the following things: internet, hot shower, hot water at all, lights in our room. For a $13/night room this is unacceptable, especially since we paid $13 each instead of $5 each next door for the exact amenities that are now lacking! This meant a day of on-and-off speaking with the receptionist, trying to bargain, and asking for her boss who she claimed – and maybe rightfully so – was in Vilcabamba, traveling.

Settlement: $13 for both of us and we can return to use the internet for the day as soon as the electricity returns. As it turns out, the electricity was gone from 9am until just past 5pm.

The second and most difficult gauntlet – definitely the crux - in our obstacle course was laundry service.

Laundry Part I: Our morning was spent searching the town of Loja for a laundry service that was open on Sunday. Worse yet, we needed same-day service. It’s hard enough to find businesses that are open for the necessity of food, so how can we expect to find this luxury available? There must be at least one. We finally find a place that is called “La Profesional Lavanderia: Experiencia y Responsibilidad”. There’s a hitch, though. The owner is not there – not available. The person who works in the same area that is negotiating with us refuses to divulge such excellent information as the price per kilo or any price range at all. But, somehow she can tell us that the clothes will be done by 7pm. It’s about noon when all of this happens. We know that they might have tricks up their sleaves, but what choice do we have? Our clothes are dirty and we’re going to Peru tomorrow on an 8-hour bus ride and would like not to melt the bus with our own fumes.

Laundry Part II: We pay $12, an obscene amount for the few kilos of clothes we had to have washed. For contrast, in Cuenca it was 80 cents/kilo, which is fair. At Izhcayluma hostel in Vilcabamba, an expensive place, they charged $1.50/kilo. Thus, when we found out it was $12, we knew we were being ripped off to begin with. When we get our clothes back, clean and folded, we don’t get all of them and some of them aren’t in the same condition they once were as far as integrity of cloth goes. One of my four shirts for the trip is missing, as is one of my socks, the twin of which is shredded at the toe. Thinking we’d been robbed again, we return to the place of all of the businesses to find the woman we had actually handed our clothes to. Our goal is to (1) get some of the $12 back because it’s unfair in the first place, (2) get money back for the damaged and lost sock pair, and (3) get my shirt back.

Settlement Part I: We got my shirt back. We didn’t get any money back. Before the “professional” woman arrived with our shirt, the woman we originally dealt with told us that it was our fault and our responsibility for our things. Upon arriving, the arguments were on. The “professional” woman told us that if we had as many problems as we did in Ecuador, maybe we shouldn’t come to Ecuador. And then she insulted our dirty clothes and us. All the while, the woman we dealt with originally was laughing.

The only things I said during the entire fiasco where the washer woman avoided eye contact with me were the following: “No lo creo.” = I don’t believe this; “Como se dice ‘If you came to my country I would not treat you like this’?” = How do you say…; and “Escuche” = listen. All to no avail!

Settlement Part II: We left and talked our way back to our hostel in disbelief, anxious to leave the country of Ecuador. To make ourselves feel better we watched the first part of the animation film WALL-E.

End of obstacle course! We made it! Tomorrow is Peru and I’m excited to add some more flavors to my experiences and passport.

Back to Loja

Saturday, September 20th, 2008

Day 83 on The Big Trip. "Uh-ohhh" and "Let's go" day!

I don’t feel well. My symptoms include fever, soar throat, enough phlegm for the entire frog population along the Nile, and heavy breathing. So after a limit-of-one-crepe and a limitless-bread breakfast at Izhcayluma hostel, I rest while Alisa and our friends head to town for fun and inquiry regarding nate-aid.

As it turns out, seeing the doctor at the hospital in town is free. We go to see him and he diagnoses me with fluid in the lungs and prescribes three sets of pills. The pills cost me $15, but at least the doctor’s visit was free this time! Apparently I should have gone to the hospital in Baños rather than having him come to my hostel room!

We rediscover other friends (British cat named Danny & co.) eating in Vilcabamba and decide it’s about time for lunch. So we drop ourselves in the plaza for a good soup and second plate. Then it’s time to leave. We need to return to Loja to book our bus trip to Peru 24 hours in advance. So we go back to the hostel, pack up our stuff [including our dank (stinky and wet) clothes], and share a cab with Becky and Olivier into town. They hang out with us while we wait for our minibus back to Loja. The minibus is intermediate in both price and trip duration between the bus and the taxi colectivo. This suits us and finally it picks us up. We put our bags in the back of the minibus and catch two near-back seats for the 1¼-hour ride back.

Arriving back in Loja, we are tired. Still, we must find the bus agency that brings us to Peru without switching buses at the border, etc. Tickets are bought and we go get a hostel. This time, we try the Hostel Acapulco, immediately next door to the Hostel Londres where we stayed last time in Loja. The room costs $13 but includes free hot and cold water (for refills, tea, etc.) and wireless internet. The room itself smells of poor choice in bathroom air freshener and is quite small. However, the extras seem worth it since we need to update our blogs, so we bank on it and start typing.

Besides dinner that night, our day was henceforth pretty uneventful. But oftentimes such are traveling days!

As a postnote to this entry, I'd like to say that reading comments on these posts and getting e-mails has been a nice breath of fresh air, even if traveling is going splendidly. At times I've been sick, at other times mini-robbed, at other times on a peak from hiking or jazzed from a great meal! No matter, the comments are great and I'm so glad to stay in touch with everyone so far away! Much love from south of the ecuator!

Vilcabamba 2

Friday, September 19th, 2008

Day 82 on The Big Trip.

Vilcabamba: 5.4 ***. This town has a plaza that often has a trumpet-based band playing by the church and a pace that tastes like molasses. I hope you like molasses!

It’s no wonder that many expats retire here. The land is cheap. Moreover, the land is gorgeous. The town itself welcomes guests and has a relaxing stride. The streets are wide and you can walk without fearing for your belongings or your priorities for the day. Your main problem with this town might be that you forget what day it is or how long you’ve spent there. For example, we went to Vilcabamba just to check it out and stay only one night. We get there, love our hammocked hostel and how at ease you can be here, hear of the relaxing hiking all around us and can’t help but decide that we should stay one more night!

The Rendez-Vous hostel price includes breakfast. Better than most included breakfasts that we’ve experienced, it’s delivered to the table just outside of your room.

After breakfast we move our stuff to a different hostel named Hostel Izhcayluma since Rendez-Vous has been booked for Friday night. The only reason we can move to this hostel is because our two friends have offered up their room and made a deal with the hostel such that instead of two people paying $20 each for the room with one large bed and bunk beds, it’s OK for four people to pay $11 each.

So we meet up with Olivie and Becky at Izhcayluma and prepare for our hike to “El Palto” cascadas. It’s supposed to be a six-hour hike there and back. We begin by taking a truck from the hostel 2km out of town to the trailhead. From there we enjoy shaded hiking on the sunny day and then open pastures and cloud forests, which finally lead us to a more traveled path up to the falls.

Upon arriving, the 15-meter waterfall is not as I expected. First of all, it’s not in the sun as I incorrectly assumed. Secondly, you can’t swim at the base of it as I had interpreted from pictures taken here and posted at hostels we looked into but did not choose to stay at. And last but not least, the water is much colder than I thought. I thought it would be cool on a hot day, but not freezing! Consequently, we gave the waterfall water a good minute at most. It was a nice shaded spot to stop and eat lunch, though. And we did! Lunch consisted of bread, carrots, mandarins, avocados, and water.
Satisfied and ready to head back, we pack up to go. Heading back is nice because it’s easier and it only took us two hours on the way there. Soon into our hike it started drizzling. Dark, unhappy clouds jump over the hillsides and sneak-attack us. Suddenly it’s raining. Olivie and Becky tell Alisa and me that we should go ahead and they’ll meet us at the trailhead shelter. So, in true fashion, we start running. And in response, the rain turns to downpour with lightning and thunder. We run by the cows and bulls and continue running with the water bottles and pack, which is evermore soaked. Our clothes also become heavy on us. Sometimes we run, sometimes we slide down these steep paths once made of sand, now mudstreams! We make it to the shelter in a good 40 minutes. I am more feverish than I was when the day of hiking began. Maybe my “normal” fever might be something I should keep an eye on, I think.

Our friends catch up with us at the shelter and we call a cab to bring us back to town and then to the hostel. At the hostel, we shower and head to dinner there since the hostel’s restaurant received good reviews from the Lonely Planet and I wasn’t feeling psyched about heading back into town with the obvious fever (as opposed to an undercover or leashed fever).

Our day of hiking and plan-changing culminated in lots of games of cards at our hostel. We played UNO, Egyptian ratscrew, hearts, and many times at that! Even though I don’t feel that great, I’ve certainly been worse, and this was a great day!

Vilcabamba

Thursday, September 18th, 2008

Day 81 on The Big Trip. Time for fun!

Cuenca: 5.5 ***. This town has a marketplace surrounded by hostels and comfortable streets lined with panaderías and little stores.

Walking around is comfortable, and I actually slept the best thus far at the Hostel Londres, which is tied for cheapest place on this trip.

Loja to Vilcabamba – taxi colectivo var.: 5.3***. Splurging for US$1.50 each on a taxi colectivo to Vilcabamba for a 45 minute-ride without extra stops or extra passengers, as opposed to a US$1 for a 1½-hour bus seat with lots of stops and lots of passengers earns its worth.

After perusing Vilcabamba’s quiet streets and waving inhabitants, we decided on Rendez-Vous, a US$11 hostel with US$4/dia WIFI service, nice beds, desayuno incluyo (breakfast included), and so on. We also get a hammock! Excitement! Relaxation! That’s the name of this town, actually: relaxation. We’re going online for a tad here and then back into town (since our hostel is 9 blocks from the main plaza square) for a bite to eat.

As it turns out, there is the Festival de Saint Vilcabamba going on tonight with la vaca loca (crazy cow). This involves huge speakers set up just outside the church at the main plaza in town blasting music you might recognize at times. It then turns into a boy running around with a cow that you could have designed and made in Tech-Ed in school except this cow is rigged with fireworks that trigger one another when finished! The boy wearing the cow suit runs all over the plaza and chases other kids and runs very close to innocent observers such as we are!

What a great surprise! We also make friends with two people who ate next to us while we wrote in our journals for lunch and we join teams to go for a walk and later for dinner. Then it’s back to Rendez-Vous for a good night’s sleep for me while Alisa uses the internet until the wee hours of 3am.

Loja

Wednesday, September 17th, 2008

Forenote: Perhaps more pictures will be added later or I will be sad that you haven't been able to see all that we've seen! We just have to find good internet first!

Day [1(June)+31(July)+31(August)+17(September)]= Day 80 on The Big Trip.

Cuenca: 5.5 ***. This town has a marketplace surrounded by hostels and comfortable streets lined with panaderías and little stores.

So we stayed in Cuenca for a day and it treated us well. Getting a feel for the layout of a city is not always a fun process, but it is when you like what you have found. We learned where the different markets were and what we might want to get from each; we learned where the panaderías put themselves and we found the hottest, most bustling of them all along with the quietest and coldest! They both had great breads! We got to watch the city or garbage disposal company employees work tirelessly through the night with orange suits and miraculous efficiency through teamwork from six stories above, every other light on the street making them larger than life.

The only real downside for visitors and street vendors in the mercado San Francisco was the weather. Rain and drizzles took turns forcing visitors inside and vendors to put plastic sheets over their clothes-for-sale. Luckily, we were able to make our first long walk out and back before the first drizzle began on this two-day weather-tease-saga.

Cuenca to Loja: 5.4 II. A six-hour bus ride for US$7 is worth it for Loja and beyond (See Peru, Bolivia, Paraguay, Argentina, Chile). Enough said.

Alisa and I were lucky enough to grab the first two seats, which allowed us to put our bags on the floor in front of us, stretch out our legs and enjoy the ride. This is opposed to sitting with our heavy bags on our laps and legs the entire ride and dealing with the passengers in front of us. The scenario we experienced was far more comfortable.

Now in Loja for a night and a morning, we like it so far. We have enjoyed its streets and the people here. Cuenca and Loja have both been happy comfy places for us.

Our plan right now is this: 1) Go to a mirador in Loja for a great view tomorrow morning, 2) catch a taxi colectivo (for US$1.20, 45 minutes) to Vilcabamba and stay there for the rest of the day and then the night and then some of the day, 3) head back to Loja for the rest of that day and the night, 4) wake up early (e.g. 7am) to catch a bus (US$8, 8 hour) that will bring us to Peru’s border and across to a town.

Note to self: remember to do a video log (vlog) tomorrow in Loja before leaving for Vilcabamba. I have to get this thing started! Also, I hope to find a hostel with internet in Vilcabamba because the place here in Loja does not have internet and I haven’t posted since partway through Baños! Yikes!

Cuenca

Tuesday, September 16th, 2008

Forenote: More pictures will perhaps be added later if they haven't dissolved by the time we find decent internet.

In Cuenca:
Breakfast of champions and recovery patients. We decide on leaving tomorrow. We walk a lot to get familiarized with this nice cozy town of Cuenca whose streets are easily navigable and whose shops are varied unlike (cough: Baños) some others we’ve been to. We get ingredients for lunch just like we did for breakfast. We get ingredients for dinner, including an American film, lots of baked goods, a green pepper, and a new Colombian film without subtitles that should help improve my Spanish or I’m going to ride a log standing up over the largest waterfall in Bolivia.

Breaking Blog News: I want to start a vlog (video log) to go with my blog. It will have segments ranging anywhere from 8 to 90 seconds in duration and may possibly contain such awesome information as the following: a view from where we are; live footage of us saying what day of the big trip we’re on; something uninteresting about the weather; something interesting about our activities. Stay tuned! There will be a link that you can check!

We have such a great view out of the sixth floor of this hostel that we keep returning to take pictures off of the terrace even though it has been on and off rain the entire day! Why is it raining so much on this nice towncityvillage?

The president of Ecuador will be here on Thursday to give a speech. We will be listening elsewhere instead to people in Vilcabamba who have learned how to live longer than almost any other concentrated population in the world.

The two highlights of the day were as follows: running into our two friends who are living somewhere mysterious in California; running into two boys playing futból on the sidewalk at night and joining in for an awesome 30-second whooping, yelling, “Vamos! Venga, venga!” The latter occurred on our way back to the hostel with a 5-litre container of water and a little red caboose Gatorade.

To Cuenca!

Monday, September 15th, 2008

Forenote: Pictures will be added later due to -- hold on, there's a Slow Internet Error I need to fix...

Leaving Baños for Cuenca:

Baños – 5.4 ****. This tourist valley town welcomes you in with its sugar cane and taffy and would love to send you out on adventures like rafting, four-wheeling or dune-buggying around Ecuador for the day. You won’t be pickpocketed on the street, but you might lose some money on eating in pizza, lasagna, and spaghetti restaurants – the first since you’ve hit the road. And, for the more frugal adventurer there is plenty of hiking and cheaper panaderías and the marketplace with identical meals at each stall.

Baños to Riobamba – bus var.: 5.5. While Riobamba doesn’t have much to speak of, this is really a stopping point on the way south to the likes of Cuenca, Loja, or some Incan ruins. As long as you keep your things in sight (e.g. on your lap) you will be fine. Packed lunch is optional; meals may be had as you drive this hour thanks to vendors who hop on the bus and run the isles, all singing their own version of Row, Row, Row Your Boat to the tune of their fruits or fried foods.

Riobamba to Cuenca – bus var.: 5.5 II. This trip is Baños to Riobamba times six. It’s six hours as long, six times as scenic and there are six times as many people coming and going, passengers and vendors alike. The best view is out the right window when you see clouds washing up over all of the waves of hills that are far away past valley towns beneath your curving mountain road.

We get to Cuenca (which I will grade once we’re done with it) and catch a cheap taxi to the mercado San Francisco (San Francisco market). We’re tired after a long day of bus rides (See: 11am-7pm) but our legs really need some stretching. Hiking up the six flights of stairs to reach our Hostel el Monasterio that overlooks the market takes our breath away, but we still need to fetch us some dinner to cook in the hostels kitchen. This involves walking around much of the charming city after the sun has retired. No problem! We go from street store to street store. Many are closed, many are not helpful because they don’t know where to find what we want, but we manage to scrape together ingredients bit by bit. Eventually we get enough and remember we still have a packet with which to fashion a soup, so we head back to find that our hostel kitchen has some extra guerilla chefs: cockroaches. We have big roaches, small roaches, quick roaches, and even undercover roaches. Luckily, they stay out of our pots, so we’re fine. I just smoosh ‘em when they enc-roach upon our stovetop or countertop.

We take our dinner and enjoy it while watching the movie Final Days starring Mark Wahlburg. It’s not a satisfying movie at all, but we finished it.

Beddybye!

To Cuenca!

Monday, September 15th, 2008

Forenote: Pictures will be added later due to -- hold on, there's a Slow Internet Error I need to fix...

Leaving Baños for Cuenca:

Baños – 5.4 ****. This tourist valley town welcomes you in with its sugar cane and taffy and would love to send you out on adventures like rafting, four-wheeling or dune-buggying around Ecuador for the day. You won’t be pickpocketed on the street, but you might lose some money on eating in pizza, lasagna, and spaghetti restaurants – the first since you’ve hit the road. And, for the more frugal adventurer there is plenty of hiking, cheaper panaderías, and the marketplace with identical meals at each stall.

Baños to Riobamba – bus var.: 5.5. While Riobamba doesn’t have much to speak of, this is really a stopping point on the way south to the likes of Cuenca, Loja, or some Incan ruins. As long as you keep your things in sight (e.g. on your lap) you will be fine. Packed lunch is optional; meals may be had as you drive this hour thanks to vendors who hop on the bus and run the isles, all singing their own version of Row, Row, Row Your Boat to the tune of their fruits or fried foods.

Riobamba to Cuenca – bus var.: 5.5 II. This trip is Baños to Riobamba times six. It’s six hours as long, six times as scenic and there are six times as many people coming and going, passengers and vendors alike. The best view is out the right window when you see clouds washing up over all of the waves of hills that are far away past valley towns beneath your curving mountain road.

We get to Cuenca (which I will grade once we’re done with it) and catch a cheap taxi to the mercado San Francisco (San Francisco market). We’re tired after a long day of bus rides (See: 11am-7pm) but our legs really need some stretching. Hiking up the six flights of stairs to reach our Hostel el Monasterio that overlooks the market takes our breath away, but we still need to fetch us some dinner to cook in the hostels kitchen. This involves walking around much of the charming city after the sun has retired. No problem! We go from street store to street store. Many are closed, many are not helpful because they don’t know where to find what we want, but we manage to scrape together ingredients bit by bit. Eventually we get enough and remember we still have a packet with which to fashion a soup, so we head back to find that our hostel kitchen has some extra guerilla chefs: cockroaches. We have big roaches, small roaches, quick roaches, and even undercover roaches. Luckily, they stay out of our pots, so we’re fine. I just smoosh ‘em when they enc-roach upon our stovetop or countertop.

We take our dinner and enjoy it while watching the movie Final Days starring Mark Wahlburg. It’s not a satisfying movie at all, but we finished it.

Beddybye!

Baños Day 3

Sunday, September 14th, 2008.

Forenote: Pictures will be added later due to internet that should have been upgraded in the Jurassic Period or before 400 A.D.

Baños, Day 3:
Alisa is asleep. I’m awake in bed. In the bathroom. In bed. Repeat and add water – lots of it.

Guest writer: Nathan Conroy’s mind.

We’re supposed to leave for Cuenca today, but I can’t go to Cuenca if I’m feeling like this and am so dependent on a bathroom that I can hardly stand to be 10 feet away at any given time. And if I do not need the bathroom, I need a bed…something’s not right here. Something’s amiss. If this doesn’t turn around soon, it might mean worse than missing a trip to Cuenca. Well, I’ll just keep hydrating and resting until Alisa wakes up. I wonder what time it is. What time could it be? It’s still dark out. Bathroom. I can’t believe with all of my movement that I haven’t wrestled Alisa from her sleep yet. Oh yeah: she has ear plugs.

Alisa wakes up. I rest some more. I curl up and tell her I think I need some attention – some medical attention. She goes to the front desk of the hostel and returns to the room with news that the doctor is on his way. The doctor arrives with his locked, silver case that could be for fishing, drug deals, dj-ing, or apparently for being a doctor in Baños. He opens it and takes out his stethoscope. I’m examined. Rather, my ankles are viewed and touched, my mouth is opened, and my stomach and intestines region is listened to. I’m also quizzed and ace it. What’s my age? 23. Bam! Next?

Then it’s his turn to tell me things. I have Salmonella poisoning and it’s serious. I’m at Stage 3 dehydration. I ask Alisa to ask him how many stages of dehydration there are. He says three. I’m going to need an IV in my arm that pumps 3 litres – 3 litres – 3 litres – of syrum into my arm, requiring me to lie in bed for the rest of my life. Today, at least.

If I need to go to the bathroom, I need to take the bag of syrum with me and keep it above my head. This is easier if someone else does it for me. Hi, Alisa! Haha. Luckily there’s a hook in the bathroom from which the bag of syrum can hang. And even I can place it there. I feel weak and tired.

The doctor says I have arms like Michael Phelps. I bent the first needle that he tried to put into my vein. As I used to break all of the needles my parents bought for their turntable back in the good old days, I see a pattern emerging. The doctor keeps apologizing because this is the first time this has ever happened to him and it seems to have struck an embarrassed note in his song. This seems funny to me, though: I’m the one that broke the needle, not him! Imagine my parents saying sorry to little three-year-old me every time I smiled and broke their expensive turntable needle and ruined their chances to listen to good music, which they sometimes opted for over a good meal!

The needle’s documents seem legitimate, according to the customs for my second vein. The fluids start coming. The doctor adds a few shots of antibiotics in with the syrum and my conversion into a fish tank pharmacy has begun.

Most of the day involves being checked on by the nurse and Alisa. The highlights of the day were watching Wall-E with Alisa in bed, which she bought for $1.50, and getting better at the end of the day, in time to walk up to the roof and help Alisa make a nice soup of all of the ingredients that I’m actually allowed to eat. I think dirt is on that list?

I felt like I was 90 today, looking out the same window all day, seeing details change but not for me. It was very strange and I don’t think I liked it much.

Back on my feet now with a supermarket of pills in my pocket divided into mealtimes, I’m sure I’ll be better in no time. And hey – Alisa’s feeling good, too. She’s beating some other travelers into oblivion in the card game known to some as “What’s the name of this? We can call it Royal Snap,” but known to Alisa and other card sharks as Egyptian Ratscrew.

I can’t wait to leave the room tomorrow for Cuenca!

Baños Day 2

Saturday, September 13th, 2008

Forenote: Pictures will be added later due to internet that is holding on by a mere thread of hope itself.

Baños Day 2:
The alarm goes off. The thermal baths open at 4:30 in the morning and apparently it gets crowded soon, especially on a Saturday. Given that school in many non-South American parts has started and the tourist rush has eased, we still think it wise to wake up early. Wise it was, too. The pool is already a happening when we arrive. There are a bunch of thermal baths – or pools, each a different temperature. There’s a cold pool, a warm pool, and a blazing hot pool. The only differences between these baths and baths anywhere else that I’ve been to is that they are fed by the waterfall that is rushing down maybe 30 vertical meters of rock immediately beside the hottest of the baths. The top of the fall marks the rim of the hills that surround the town of Baños.

We take a few pictures. Maybe this is an excuse to get back into the baths. We’ve been here for over an hour!

We’re exhausted and nap. Rather, I’m exhausted and I nap. Alisa goes off for walks, coffee, and pictures: some of the markets; some of the church; some of the hostel, which we leave when I wake to revisit the church. We read (en español) tales of how people were saved from remarkable incidents by their last-minute shows of faith. Content with some more activity and sightseeing for the day, we return to the hostel roof and take a few pictures from there since the view is expansive and inviting. The nice thing about the views of this city seems to me to be that they all are close enough to see where things are and what’s happening yet far enough away to end up giving you a better sense for the layout and mini-grandeur of the city.

I’m starting to not feel well and cannot remain long outside of the hostel for fear of needing the privacy and the facilities thereof. We sit in a pieu in the church before leaving and walking more. There are a bunch of trips like this around town. Finally, we make a run for it to dinner. Luckily my tummy (shouldn’t it be called stummy?) is patient enough for a romanticesque dinner. We each get a soup that we desire and share lasagna. It would have been nicer if things arrived sooner. However, Alisa noticed something about a lot of restaurants in Baños: the people working there often have to leave the restaurant to go to the market for certain ingredients, of course readily available, and locally-farmed. Plus, as long as (ala) my stummy is OK, I’m happy to fill the time with laughs and bubbling conversation.

This marks the end of the day for us.

Baños Day 1

Friday, September 12th, 2008

Forenote: pictures will be added later due to slow-as-glass internet in much of Ecuador!

Baños Day 1:
We wake up and rest and drink lots of water after having two dinners the night before, each with Chilean wine. Today we’re tired and reflective. We sit on the roof of the hostel for a few hours, writing and catching up with people and news and blogs online. We catch a bite to eat at Cafe Hood, a very touristy and colorful restaurant.

We eat lunch in the market. It’s good. After being tired from all of the activities and energy exhausted by traveling in supremely non-touristy areas, we simply hang out. In fact, we hang out so much so that we cannot bear it any longer; we strike out for the hills. Passing by a school, we turn into the trail that leads us to the cross on the hill. It’s a bellavista. We take pictures. Ok, we took a few.

Thinking our hiking is over since the sun is playing a pre-bedtime game of peekaboo with the clouds and horizon, we start down. We remain sweaty but on the way back down we hike up another trail for 500 meters for another view as the sun sets the table for the moon. It looks like the sun’s layover in Baños for the day is over and it finally caught its flight westward. Snap-satisfied, we hike down.

We get sandwiches for dinner because they are much cheaper than pizza. The sandwiches are great sandwiches from a great bakery (panadería). As far as we can judge, the man who runs it bent the rules by making us sandwiches at this time of night. For a topitoffer (dessert), we get una torta queso y una torta naranja (one slice of cheesecake and one slice of orange cake). They’re both delicious.

We retreat for dreamtime.

Saquisili and Banos 1

Thursday, September 11, 2008

It's goodbye to Chugchilán day. We wake up early in order to go with a group from the two hostels to Saquisilí for the Thursday market. The night prior we realized that with the market today and the first class adventure hiking of yesterday, we must have seen the best of the Quilotoa Loop and so after backtracking to Saquisilí near Latacunga, which is the start of the loop, it would not be worth our while to then go all the way around the loop. Zumbahua offered hiking but we’ve done better; Tigua and Pujili had markets on Saturday and Sunday respectively, but we didn’t want to stay that long; and one day to do the entire loop and then make it south to Baños was far too much bumpybussing for one day. So, we decided to go to Baños from Saquisilí via Latacunga y Ambato. So goodbye, Chugchilán. Thanks for everything!

Here is the short synapsis of the day with difficulty and quality grades and brief descriptions!

Chugchilán to Sequisilí – truck variation: 5.4 ***. The three-hour trip may include blankets and cushions to go with the bumps and the dust, or it may not. What it definitely does include is a three-hour goodbye to the Quilotoa Loop with wind rushing through your hair, an unobstructed view of the valleys and canyons, and you can take it seated or standing up!

Sequisilí – Thursday var.: 5.4 **. The closest town to the beginning of the Quilotoa Loop brings out all the goodies on Thursday. Plant your belongings in a hostel and wander around the market, picking up cheap yummy snacks on the market sidelines. There are a few market options including an animal market.

Alisa and I made it a quick stop but still enjoyed it, using it as an errand to pick up the following niceties: a hat, and an alpaca scarf and sweater. These were all on our to-pick-up list thanks to the chills we got at high elevations in Chugchilán.

Sequisilí to Latacunga – bus var.: 5.5. This half-an-hour-long trip is practically necessary in order to leave the Quilotoa Loop for the more southern Baños or the more northern Quito. Watch your belongings as per usual, but you should be fine.

Latacunga bus terminal: 5.6 R. It’s an easy terminal as long as your belongings are well spoken for.

Definition: Bus terminal rats. There are many bus terminal rats. Rink rats are people who hang out at hockey rinks a lot, running around, banging on the boards, and playing games and eating hockey rink food. They occasionally play hockey themselves. Bus terminal rats, at least in Latacunga, are the vultures of bus terminals. They often fall in the category of males in their late teens, or early twenties. Their time is spent eyeing females and gringos, talking, and occasionally following gringos on their buses to scalp what they can.

At Latacunga bus terminal, we arrive only to realize that I left the small guitar at the hostel in Saquisilí. We decide upon the cheapest solution: I stay with the bags at the terminal while Alisa takes a bus back to Saquisilí, grabs my gift-guitar, and takes a bus to Latacunga. All in all it should take about an hour total. While waiting, I notice all of these bus terminal rats, many of whom stare at me, laugh with other rats, and even go above the stairway to the balcony surrounding the busy part of the terminal, where they invariably were eyeing my bags and Alisa’s bags, which were sitting next to me on the bench. Thank goodness I had the forethought that even though I’d be sitting in place, having all these bags could be a problem by making me a target. So before Alisa left, we used her chain and lock to chain and lock all of the bags together. Bus terminal rats would definitely be able to notice this from a bird’s eye view. They did, I’m sure.

Latacunga to Ambato – bus var.: See Sequisilí to Latacunga.

Ambato to Baños – bus var.: 5.5 *. Quite an uneventful bus ride wherein the scenery involves passing a lot of car repair shops and car parts shops, amongst some others.

We’re in Baños now and have already taken a walk, talked with dad, who's birthday it is today, and had two consecutive dinners of pizza and good Chilean wine – not to be redundant (See: two dinners; good Chilean) - and are having a blast in this much-relaxed town that boasts taffy and thermal baths. I think we’ll stay here for a bit! Banos, it appears, is not the toilet of Ecuador!

Laguna del Quilotoa

September 10th, 2008.

Chugchilán to Laguna del Quilotoa: 5.11+ X II ***. This sustained climb to the massive volcanic crater lake town of Quilotoa is unmarked and rewards you with a view at every turn you make, whether it’s the right turn or not. Ask everyone you come across if you’re going the right way, and be very aware of dogs, especially in packs. Expect to take 4-6 hours. Traveling in groups with bigs sticks is best.

Luckily breakfast is included here at Mama Hilda’s hostel. We take full advantage of that fact and get up at 7:15am to do so. Showers still come first. We enjoy the fruit bowl, the coffee and hot chocolate options, and the biscuits with a half-wheel of cheese.

After a bit of grub we are asked by one of the people we dined with the night before if she and her possé can join us for the hike up to la Laguna del Quilotoa. We say sure and now there are a bunch of us trying to figure out how to get the trek started; we have directions after the first footbridge but thanks to Lonely Planet we don’t know how to get there. Eventually a man from the hostel says he will get someone to show us. So our new possé and we split ways to prepare for the intense hike. Alisa and I try to hurry in our packing and take the fast and light approach: no bags. We pocket the camera, three energy bars each, and a water bottle each. We put on our warmest coats for the trek, knowing that at times the sun will ask us to take it off.

Mama Hilda herself waved us goodbye. There are six of us now including the guide, if you will. One of us was handed a stick by the hostel owners for fending off dogs, which are supposed to be a potential problem at one point where we go onto the highway. Highway equals single lane unpaved road used most. The guide shows us where to go and hikes with us for a bunch. He seems young, but it’s hard to tell; As of now I have no gauge with which to decipher age. He tells me that he can do the trip up to Quilotoa in 1.5 hours, and back in an hour. Since he’s been friendly and helpful, we each give him a dollar, all dollar coins. An aside: I do enjoy having coins for one dollar and for fifty cents. Larger coins are harder to misplace and feel more substantial, too.

So we have practically concluded the first part of the journey: the descent. Luckily for this, I am armed with my D’ascent shoes by 5.10. They’re light and have sticky rubber on the bottom. This combination is a precursor for agility and confidence with regards to steep slopes, up or down. A few more winding sand paths and we are at the first and major footbridge (puente) and begin our ascent. Already our new possé and us are showing differences. Although we both take occasional pictures, our smaller group of two hikes faster. We saw this coming, and shared all of the directions the guide had given us with the possé. The guide gave us better directions than the possé because we hiked up alongside him, whereas they were back 20 feet or so. It looks like the two groups will split for the ascent. We’re not even an hour in to this hike and the gap is growing.

As we near the top of the first climb, we look back and see that the two of them that are either dating or married have stopped, probably talking about whether or not they want to turn back and catch a bus or attempt to keep going. We can’t wait for this, so we head onwards and upwards! The view gets better and better as more of the scenery opens up and we crest the partially grass-covered sand hills.

Now we turn right, right? Sure! It’s the large path. We see sheep and flowers and a line of trees on the horizon. Looking back are warped chessboards of hills. The rooks are real, the kings are wearing ponchos and carrying hoes and the castles have rocks holding down the metal roofs. Also, there are so many games going on, it’s hard to tell who’s winning and who’s in what game. It’s all jumbled up and beautiful. We press on.

The path widens for side-by-side walking. We talk more now and the incline eases. Then doesn’t. We stop briefly as a kid runs partway up to us from his farmland atop our first major climb and yells a question of destination. We tell him the laguna and he says that we’re going the right way. He turns and runs back to his family and donkey and planting to do as we whip out the camera for a quick panorama. And continue.

Soon we will arrive in the even smaller town of Guayama. We see a church and huts and colored single-story houses with nothing doors. A man standing behind a tree from our perspective leans out more as we approach and we ask for directions. He tells us and we trust. On our left is an empty paved rectangle with netless basketball hoops on either side. I have yet to see anyone play basketball. We have enjoyed watching a few games of volleyball though (See: Chugchilán, Latacunga).

We walk up and pass by doors of green buildings with little students and little desks inside. The ones who notice us pass by poke their heads out. Soon many heads poke out. And before we know it, there is a group amassing before us, just before we pass the schools by. We stop and chat. They all want a picture and they want money for it! We say no money. Yes. No. Ok, just take our picture then! We do and as we’re setting up to take it, kids come streaming in, running even as I click the button. Cameratime! It’s lunchtime, too, and they all don’t seem to care as much about that as about us. Alisa keeps telling them they should go eat. Some even come with their pans from the lunchline to talk with us. They’re really cute and we say goodbye a few times before heading off with a man assumedly from the town who is sharing part of our journey and conversation.

When we part ways, we take a picture or two. And then meet upon another who seconds the directions of the first, adding that if we went where he went we’d get an excellent view. Qué? We already have excellent views! Thanks, but we’re moving on! Down a canyon we go. And whomsoever goes down must come back up! This happens a few times and our legs get a little tired. We stop and sit on some dirt pile to snack and hydrate and take a few pictures.
Relatively rested, we put one foot in front of the other and make it atop one of the last canyon crossings, right? The trail peters out at a hut, so we backtrack a tad and take the other option we saw at the top of the last canyon. This also peters out at a hut. Qué hacemos? (What do we do?) We see someone in bright orange clothing in between these paths further up than the first hut-end. We march offtrail to reach this person who is accompanied perhaps by her mother and a horse. She points us straight ahead and tells us we should bend back left, even though the highest pointy green shape that we’ve been aiming at all along is further right still. Thanks and goodbye. Then her dog scares us, rearing on its hind legs. She comes up to where we had walked ten feet and tsss-es it away.

We take a breath and hike on through a wide patch of flowers and tall grass. I run ahead and snap a photo or two, as the valleys and canyons open their mouths below the grasslands we’re on now.

We find the trail off to the left and rejoin it, thankful to be back on track. We’re hiking left and up, and around gardens. Suddenly we hear barking - lots of barking. Alisa and I turn to see three dogs charging from a distance up towards us. As wickedly steep as it is here, the dogs seem more than able to make quick work of it. I’ve already yelled, “Run!” several times, each increasingly frantic and emphatic. We run and crest a small bump, running more sideways than up, and gain a downhill where I pass Alisa. Nearing the bottom of this gain soon enough, I expect to find Alisa past me already, but she is not. The dogs are upon us. The noise of the dogs and the fact that there is not one, not two, but three of these dogs is glaringly obvious. Alisa isn’t past me because she has already swiveled to see where they are and to try to make sure they don’t get any closer. What follows are many heartbeats with little oxygen. If Beethoven’s 32nd concerto had a baseline, my heart was on it! We yelled. We held our only weapons (See: Sigg water bottles) high and occasionally waved as if to strike. At first, the dark-haired dog that snarled the most and was the leader in proximity for the entirety of this land-strike kept a distance of say 20 feet. The other two dogs tried swirling around us more in order, I believe, to begin a triangle of trouble. Oh no no says Alisa and I. I stay put, waving my white bottle high and clear, but not in peace, and keep telling Alisa to walk backwards behind me. She does so uphill, as we’re cresting again. Tired and forced to feed on adrenaline, we make slow progress. Uphill, not away from the dogs, whose owners are long forgotten, whose fangs show evermore, glimmering with the meaning of dark clouds, and become less and less timid as this charades of how much pain can I inflict continues. And continue it does. In walking forwards when possible, Alisa points out a pile of rocks. I take one as I sidestep by the pile, and now raise this in my right hand, left hand with Sigg. This doesn’t change much at all. The dog soon gets as close as three feet away. And stops, dead still. As do I, now more serious. In my head I’ve been thinking if one should really attack me, I should strike it and try to stay on my feet since there are three dogs, each with appetite. All the while, hoping Alisa will run with all the oxygen she can find. But as the dog stops, I notice its mouth closer than I’d like it to be and can only think, “Rabies. Did I get the shot?” I don’t know if it saw this seriousness, the casualty of human cognition, but I was able to slowly walk away backwards, Alisa behind me, now not saying anything. As we crest again – yes, again – I turn away from the barks that aren’t quite in our ear canals now and say to Alisa, “Out of sight, out of mind, right? Come on; we have to keep going. Come on!” We charge – no, march – up silky steep sand. I feel like we were in the back of a truck for band practice in a driveby shooting, unable to march away. Our breathing is audible. The dogs grow quieter. The fiasco seems over but we’re still paranoid and ready to be at the lake or in a bus.

We gain a whole lot of elevation and consider ourselves safe by a pine forest, the second forest since before we came upon Guayama. Here we take a picture - one more picture between the incident with the dogs and us. Coming around the forest, we see a group of non-local hikers coming down, maybe one hundred meters ahead. Our eyes sigh a blink of relief. We slowly do our part to meet them. They are mostly middle-aged people who speak French. We warn them of the three dogs, but their group easily numbers one dozen, half of them with a pair of poles; good news for them. Our good news is that the hike to the lake shouldn’t be more than an hour from where we’re standing and there are no dogs. Although this hope box of words doesn’t quicken our pace, it does lighten our minds which heretoaft carried bags of wet concrete. Now that we don’t need that extra weight, maybe the roads on the Quilotoa Loop can use it!

The temperature falls, one drop at a time. I put my jacket back on. The sand path grows wider and we can see that the top must be close. I hesitate and drop the rock that I’ve been carrying, jogging the rest of the way to the top, peeling the camera out of its long sock as I go. My mouth opens and the scene is amazing. We are on the broken glass rim of the volcanic crater lake, far above the hazel blue lake itself, darkened by the searing clouds above us. Somehow the air is full of energy and whirs through us, nearly lifting us back to Chugchilán. We are happy at the site and arrival, but exhausted and ready to be warmed and secured in a bus, a hostel, a dining room – anywhere.But first! Quick, take pictures of this amazing lake and the trail on the rim, high above! If you look down into the lake from the rim, there are actually beaches and huts and some people there even now in this windstorm! Now, we know that the town of Quilotoa is one quarter of the way around the rim, but we don’t know which direction. Guessing right-hand, we past three more major sand areas, as told in reverse by Lonely Planet, which for some reason only gives directions from the lake to Chugchilán. Maybe the easy way is the most commonly preferred way? Thankfully, we guessed right-correctly.

We come upon two little kids who accept some water from each of us and agree on a price of 75 cents to take us to the town of Quilotoa and show us where we can catch the bus back to Chugchilán, which leaves at 2:00pm. Apparently we made good time because this trip that easily takes 4-6 hours we completed in three.

Looking for the bus to Chugchilán, we ask one that goes to Latacunga – not for us! - where we can find such a bus! The driver inside points and we continue down the town road and more people direct us to wait at a hostel for the bus to Chugchilán. We gladly hike there and wait inside for over an hour. Catching the bus is wonderful. We almost hitchhiked instead since it was offered, but the bus was right behind the truck so there was no reason to. Back at our hostel, we rest and write and muster patience for dinner, still hours away! All of this, of course, is accompanied by recounting our ridiculous adventure today with all of its surprises.

I think we'll have a love for hiking and a fear of dogs for quite some time to come!