Quito, Ecuador!



On a well seasoned bus somewhere along a stretch of old highway south of Otavalo we crossed the equator.  If there was signage along the road I definitely missed it, which would have been an easy oversight amongst the consistently beautiful scenery shifting endlessly through time.  The buses in Ecuador all have a thousand stories to tell; they cruise along worn asphalt channels through the mountains every day of the week, carrying thousands of  passengers to their destinations in all directions.  I recall our bus that day was adorned with aged plush velvety curtains bleached from countless miles it spent cruising in the crisp high mountain air.  We had a travel connection ahead of us in Quito that we met on our maiden night in Guadalajara, Mexico.  At our first hostel we had met a very friendly, silver-tongued traveler named Juan Carlos.  Juan had a larger than life kind of…

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