Ipiales, Mocoa, San Augustin

Well rested and ready to experience Colombia, we headed to see our first place of interest. A church built over a large ravine on the outskirts of Ipiales. It was magnificent, surrounded by a rushing river and waterfalls cascading out from the tops of the ravine. There were farms everywhere you could imagine and I wondered how they harvest these areas by hand on the sides of cliffs.

After the church, we'd head back to town and hopped on a bus to Macoa. The small bus whipped around the curvey road and induced nausea in all on board. Most of the ride I thought we would plunge into the tropical forest thousands of feet below. When we arrived five hours later, somewhat safe, we exited the bus to a swarm of people yelling at us in Spanish. We quickly grabbed our bags and nearly ran to the closest hotel and stayed there till morning, not wanting to tempt fate.

Macoa was our lowest elevation town and the air was thick with moisture and heat. The town had been almost decemated just the year before after a landslide rushed through town when heavy flooding dislodged troves of nearby mud. We saw no evidence of this incredible disaster that killed at least 300. After a quick walk around town and a trip to the market, we jumped on another nausiating bus to Pitalito. From there we would head to the town of San Augustin, in the bed of a small truck. We got there late afternoon but fell in love with the city almost immediately. We ventured to the market where we learned it was the town bingo night, hundreds of people were crammed, with their motorbikes, into the town square to hear the numbers. We stayed in after dark, noticing some dark characters hanging around the park near our hostel. The next morning, we woke up and hiked up to the UNESCO world heritage site just out of town. We hiked through the jungle as we came upon tombs and statues carved from volcanic rock around 2000 years ago. The statues were incredibly detailed and each one was unique, combining animalistic and human attributes. The heat got to us and we dragged ourselves back into town for some fruit from the market and water. The rest of the day we spent relaxing and catching up on all the stories from the previous week.

Although I spent another two weeks in South America, I got behind on my writing so this is it for South America. Until next time! Follow my adventures in Nepal!

Banos, Otavalo, and Tulcan

We left Chugchillan on 5 buses, 1 taxi, and a smelly 12 passenger van crammed with 17 people. After hours, we arrived in Banos, a small town on the cusp of the Andes and the Amazon. We went straight to the mercado in town and gorged ourselves on a big meal for $1.50 before finding a hostel. That evening we walked around the small town trying to accomplish everything on their '10 Best Things to Do in Banos.' We would finish the list the next day by visiting the natural hot springs next to a giant waterfall. A common system is to sit in the heat for five minutes before subjecting yourself to the cold water of the falls. Lightheaded with a little tingle to the skin you'd plunge back into the heat. We grabbed another cheap meal at the market before heading to the roof of our hostel to relax.

I laid in my bathing suit to help it dry before putting clothes back on. Little did I know I would fall asleep and wake up with my stomach redder than the meat hanging from hooks in the tepid market. That night we would find a cozy place to watch the super bowl in Spanish and listen to foreigners mock the halftime show for how flashy America has to be. The next day we headed out of Banos but not before a few more market meals, all "sin carne, por favor." We headed to the town of Otavalo, some ways north of Banos, on a bus that took eight hours. At one point we were stopped by police and shouting ensued. We couldn't understand what was happening but for some reason the driver asked for another dollar from everyone. We got off the main road and began to take a back road, stopping first to fill up on gas with our extra bus faire. For some reason, we were not able to use the main road and now the journey would take us on underdeveloped roads through the mountains of Northern Ecuador. Oh yeah, and it would take over an hour and a half longer. We got to Otavalo at night just as it had begun to rain. We walked to the center of town before checking into our hostel for the night. Otavalo is known as a market town and is home to the biggest indigenous market in South America.

We headed first to the fruit market where we stocked up on any exotic fruit we'd never tried before. Back at our hostel, we'd test tasted them all, liking most, vowing never to eat others again.

We then went to the crafts market and spent most of the rest of our day there, buying alpaca scarfs, sterling jewelry of turquoise, jade, and spondyls, and paintings of the surrounding areas.

 We had a blast haggling with the street vendors and trying our best to communicate with them in Spanish. The next morning we headed out of Otavalo to the border town of Tulcan, hoping to cross the next day. We'd heard horror stories of people waiting 4-6 hours to cross both borders in or out of Ecuador. What we didn't know was that Venezuela was having a huge exodus of people who could no longer afford food in their country after rapid inflation. This alone would inundate the border patrol and cause the whole thing to take eleven hours. Before heading to the border, we explored the cemetary in town which had one of the biggest topiary displays in the world.

Large bushes were formed into turtles, birds, human-like firgures, and monkeys surrounding large tombs and family plots. We got to the border midday on our first attempt but were told by some other Americans to go back to Tulcan and retry in the early hours of the morning; they had been there for six hours already and were still at the back of the line on the Ecuadorian side (entering Ecuador). We toiled away the rest of the day in Tulcan and returned to the border at 5:45 am after a terrifying walk in the dark, with all of our belongings, to find a taxi.

We waited on the Ecuadorian side for three hours, at one point having numbers written on our arms, before I got my stamp and went to wait outside for Moose (my friend). I saw him at the counter before he dissapeared. Panicked and standing with both our backpacks on the Colombian/Ecuadorian border, I searched the building with my eyes to find a trace of him. I really wish I had been wearing my glasses that day. After nearly 20 minutes, he reamerged telling me there was a problem before returning back inside for another ten minutes. Apparently when he had entered Ecuador via the river, they had made no record of it and the border officials were suspect of why he was not in their system.

Luckily they let him through and we walked to the Colombian side. The unfortunate thing is that there is no 'in' line or 'out' line, we are all corralled into the same line. Even though 90% of people, mostly Venezualans escaping to Peru, were heading south, we would still have to wait to enter Colombia. There was little water, no food, and no shade for most of the day, burning the tops of my feet and any other exposed skin. After eight hours on the Colombian side, we made it through, feeling like I had just hiked 25 miles in the desert. We made it into Ipiales, the border town on the Colombian side, ate a huge meal, showered, and slept like babies until late the next morning.    

Quito, Latacunga, Quilotoa, and Chugchillan

My plane landed in Quito Airport and already my heart began to race. I was slightly comforted by the wonderful customs agent before pouring out to baggage claim and patiently waiting.  I didn't wait long but in those short minutes, I envisioned the worst. What would happen if my bag had not made it here? Would I have to spend the night in the airport, trying to explain my plight to people who spoke no english? Luckily, it flipped down the turnstyle and I swooped it up and stepped out onto the street. It felt like every person there was staring at me like I had horns. I tried to hide my belongings as I turned on my GPS and reached for my phone. I needed to call an uber to take me to a hostel where I would meet a friend, but to do that I needed to find Wi Fi. I asked around and everyone kept pointing to the street. I didn't understand but I walked further into the street and was able to connect. My uber arrived but spoke no english. He drove me deep into the city and, though it was dark, I was already fascinated. The contrast in elevation was something I had never experienced before. Our road would venture up only to see a road hundreds of feet below. As we got further downtown, the buldings, squeezed in between narrow streets, reminded me of Eastern Europe. Not a soul was out on the streets that night. He pulled up to a small door that read 'hostel' and helped me when I couldn't figure out the doorbell system. Finally, I was safe inside.

The next morning I woke up feeling excited. I was finally going to get to see the city in daylight. When we stepped outside I was amazed to see so many people filling the streets. It seemed like every person in Quito was outside that day. We walked all around the city, seeing the squares, tasting the food, and familiarizing ourselves with the language. We decided to head out of Quito that day so we grabbed our bags and headed for the bus. As we bought our tickets the vendor warned us to be careful with our belongings. We entered the waiting area and right away a guy followed me in and began standing extra close. I mentioned it to my friend who put himself in between us but I was still weary of this man. Right as I was about to put everything inside my backpack, our bus came and we shuffled on. It was incredibly crowded but I held onto my backpack on the floor for dear life. The creepy guy had made his way onto the bus and was standing right next to us. At first, I thought he was trying to sexually assault me by getting extra close and pretending to fall into me, at one point even puting himself between my friend and I. Luckily at the next stop, the bus cleared out a bit, including the creeper. Unluckily, I looked down to see my camera case was open and my cell phone was gone. The theif was long gone by then and I felt sick to my stomach for not realizing it sooner. I took solace in the fact that he hadn't taken my wallet which was right under my phone, or my camera which was right under that. I shook with rage as we tried to explain to the security guard what had happened. He just shrugged at us and we got back on the bus. Men were trying to give me their seats as I got back on but I had already written off all Ecuadorians at that moment. I just wanted to go home. Our bus arrived in our next city of Latacunga, we got off but I felt terrified and weary of everyone that looked twice at me. We found a really nice hostel and left our stuff to go find a cheap replacement phone. Most people were incredibly wonderful to us and my shell began to soften a bit. If anything, I had learned a really good lesson on how horrible the scum of the earth can be and to keep my stuff in better places. I truly believe in karma and that, that creepy man must have needed it more than I did, though a part of me still hopes he gets hit by a bus.

We had a wondeful evening in Latacunga and woke up the next morning to finally go hiking along the Quilotoa volcano. We took a bus up, away from the city. As it rounded each curve, the air got thinner and the buildings dissapeared. After the pass, a massive range of mountains stretched out before us. Canyons sprung out of nowhere and fell at least 200m in contrast to the steep peaks peppered throughout. The bus would make stops at dirt roads with no buildings in sight but people would unload and begin the long walk to wherever the next house was. School children were taken to their villages in the back of pick up trucks, bouncing along the only major road. We arrived at the town of Zambahua and jumped off the bus. The locals kept telling us to stay on the bus to Quilotoa and couldn't understand that we wanted to walk there. Again, all eyes were on us as we bought some papas fritas con juevo and headed down a dirt road out of town. After a while a few young school girls caught up with us and walked behind us, giggling. We continued down the road even after people began telling us it was not possible. We had a GPS that said it was, but we're getting weary of what to expect. A car came driving the other way and we piled in, not wanting to risk it getting dark before we got to a place to camp with water. It took us all the way back to Zambahua where we hopped on the bus to Quilotoa.

Before the bus got close, we entered a thick cloud with almost no visability. The bus driver kept honking his horn to signal other drivers but we still almost barreled into the back of a small SUV. We got dropped off and began walking through the cloud into the small town above the volcano. Children were everywhere, playing games, and people went on about their daily work even with the lack of vision. Knowing what we would see, we walked up to the viewpoint, nothing. It was much harder to breathe from up here and I labored to hike up the hill. With no view, we walked back down and checked in to a nearby hostel. While grabbing a coffee later that evening, my fingers began to go numb and my head felt like a balloon. I thought I was about to pass out. Nausea took over and I looked at my friend for help. Feeling a little bit like I was going to die, we returned to our room where I dug my inhaler out and took a few puffs. Immediately I felt more normal. The high altittude would bring a tough nights sleep of struggling to breath and a lot of congestion but when we woke up in the morning, the skies were clear and we could see the entire volcano with the lake deep below. We set out to hike around the ridge even though the wind was slightly concerning. The trail was really well maintained and we were partially blocked from the wind as we curved in and out of the ridge. As we walked, the clouds crept closer and closer to the crater; by noon we were fully engulfed. It was incredible to only get small glimpses of what we were walking around. We missed the turnoff and kept making our way around the crater before realizing and turning back. With how beautiful it was, the mistake didn't matter. We spent the rest of the day weaving our way down from the rim, through small villages perched on the side of steep slopes. Children screamed hello excitedly as we passed by and ran up to ask us where we're going and give us directions. We arrived to the town of Chugchillan late in the afternoon and checked into a cute hostel just as it began to pour. We were the only ones at the hostel that night and enjoyed a private dinner, a tea in the lounge, and a wonderful breakfast before leaving town.