Bussing It From Banos

We jumped on the 11:00 bus from Banos and began the 10 hour long ride through the mountains and to the south of Ecuador. All through the mountains and past Aluasi it was incredibly foggy so we couldn’t see much. It looked very mystical, but I was actually hoping to see more of the landscape because it’s supposed to be one of the most dramatic in Ecuador.

Once we came out of the fog we saw hundreds of small farms and women sitting in fields watching their sheep, cows, or vicunas. There are no fences and so the women have to constantly tend to their animals so they don’t wander away. Many of the animals were tied together in pairs by rope of about fifteen feet in length. I kept thinking how annoying it must be for them.

The indigenous outfits changed slightly as we went further south. The women in Quito wear dark colored fedoras, ponchos, magenta colored velvet skirts with stockings and high heels. In the south the women wear white straw hats with ribbon around the bands and dark skirts.

Along the way we also saw the looming peaks of the Andes with fog dancing around the tips and hugging the bottoms of the valleys, people selling crafts and food along the curving roads, plants struggling to survive on almost vertical endless cliffs, starving dogs stealing lunches, starving horses with ribs showing standing in fields with their heads hanging low, healthy kids playing soccer in neighborhood lots, rows of flowers growing in crops and clustered in bunches at flower markets, furniture makers selling one or two beautifully handmade doors and a table or chair in the middle of random intersections or out front of their wooden and mud homes, giant fruits that I don’t know the names of but wanted to try, coconuts on homemade bicycle carts pedaled by toothless grinning old men, dark hair braided and wrapped in ribbons, half completed concrete structures with rebar sticking out akimbo, walls with shattered glass and barbed wire lining the tops, kids wearing skinny jeans, puffy sneakers and neon tube tops, dogs sleeping in the sun, giant pigs sleeping under huge rusted trucks, old Chevy’s with cracked windshields, goats and llamas chewing on grass, donkeys tied to trees halfway up cliffs, the list goes on and on.

Besides the scenery, the bus rides in general are worthy of comment. At every little town people run alongside the bus for an opportunity to sell water, coca cola, chips, fresh fruit, nuts, or ice cream. Occasionally, the luckiest among them are allowed to hop on the bus and walk the aisle selling their wares until we reach the next little town where they hop off and catch another bus back doing the same thing. They usually give free samples to the driver as payment.

Other people jump on the bus periodically to sell other things besides food and they give long speeches about their goods that can last up to forty minutes. One man came on and stood right next to my boyfriend and I and in a booming voice began saying things like: “Ladies and gentleman, how many people among you read the Bible? How many of you care for your fellow man? Who among us here have compassion for the plight of our countrymen?” He went on like this for about 10 minutes before he finally pulled out some little glass crosses that he was selling and continued with his tirade until he managed to sell at least six or seven.

Another man displayed photos of obese people and women with breast implants while lecturing the passengers on nutrition. He passed around the photo of the fattest man in America getting married to gasps and headshakes. Finally he pulled out this beaker of black water which he said represents all the drugs and alcohol and soda and chips we eat (I tried to stuff my Doritos down by my backpack for fear he would single me out) and then he dropped two little pills into the beaker which turned it clear. Gasps of amazement were heard all throughout the bus. These magic pills are…wait for it..ginseng! It seemed like half the bus bought a bottle. I’m thinking of a new career as a gypsy peddler now that I realize most people are suckers.

When we finally arrived in Cuenca, it was dark, we were irritable, and we took a taxi to Posado del Rio which had been recommended to us. Well, we should have made reservations because it was fully booked. We went across the street to El Capitollo and they had one room left for the night and he didn’t think we would want it. We followed a small, mid 40ish nice Ecuadorian man up four flights of stairs up onto the roof and to this little hovel of a cabin like structure with six inch gaps between the door and the floor.

When he opened the door and turned on the light we saw three saggy beds, brown stained carpet, a small beat up nightstand without knobs on the drawers and an old television set sitting on a chair. We took it anyway.

I woke up with my face stinging and itching and turned on the light to find I had been bitten on my forehead and cheek by a mosquito. I couldn’t find it to kill it, but every time I turned off the light and closed my eyes there it was buzzing around my face. Eventually I slept with my head under the sheet.

The next morning, in spite of our host being the exceptionally kind and helpful and losing the budget price of $14 per night, we moved across the street, right next to Posado del Rio, into a very clean, sweet, little hotel with hardwood floors, two comfy beds, a closet and a private bathroom. It’s $2o per night and the woman who runs it is also nice, jolly, and quick to say hello. Unfortunately I never noted the name of it.