Marvelous Modes of Transportation

I love the chaos of bus travel in foreign countries. In Ecuador, for example, they do not appear to believe in bus stops, though they do have 1 major bus terminal per BIG city. In lieu of marked bus stops, you simply stand on the street and wave down a bus headed in the direction you wish to travel….

Rachel and I left Quito early this morning. We headed to Sasquisili, a tiny villiage in the heart of Ecuador. The town is known for its bustling Thursday morning market. We asked our bus driver to drop us off in the villiage when we boarded the bus in Quito, as with the lack of established bus stops, us non-natives have no way of knowing when we have reached our destination. Rachel was sound asleep at the time I noticed the driver motioning for us to get off. I was a bit concerned because the driver appeared to be ejecting us in the middle of no where. Rachel and I got off as instructed, though. We stared blankly at each other for a couple minutes until a nice Ecuadorian man in a pick up truck drove up to us an offered us a ride to the villiage. He ushered us into the back of his truck where we stood for the next 15 minutes, bouncing and bobbling along with each and every rock and pothole on the unpaved road. It was quite the experience, although it must have been an equally interesting experience for the natives who witnessed a truck of gringo girls bouncing, bumping, and thumping into town.

After a quick lunch in the market, we caught a bus to Zimbahua, where we hoped to hire a driver to get us to Quilotoa where we planned to spend the night. On the bus, a 22 year old kid who spoke no English whatsoever offered to drive us himself. Rachel and I agreed and ended up in a car with him, his father, and his younger sister en route to a fiesta of drunk Ecuadorians. Who knew?

On another note, the countryside in the Quilotoa region of Ecuador is gorgeous. Lush, rolling green hills, cow pastures, and pines decorate the region. The villiagers all dress in native attire. Women, for example, don forest green top hats with a solo peacock feather in the back, brightly colored wool ponchos, black velvet skirts with small flowers embroidered around the hem, pale earth-toned knee socks, and black, close-toed shoes. Most women wear their hair in a thick, single black braid and wrap a florescent, multicolored ribbon around it.

Our 22 year old personal chauffeur who I couldn´t help but notice was reading a driver´s ed manual on the bus next to me did manage to get us to a hostal. The hostal is cold, and barren. There is no better way to say it. I immediately changed into thermals, a fleece, my winter jacket, a winter ski cap, and mittens, yet I could still see my breath as I spoke. You know you´re in for trouble when you arrive at a lodge and your bed is hidden under 4 wool blankets and an electric blanket…