Sara here, writing from a lovely hostel in Cuenca
Our day started getting to a cooperativa to catch the bus to Cuenca. There was a bustle around the bus door getting on and the young woman in front of me suddenly turned and got back off the bus jostling me when she did so. You guessed it, when I sat down, I discovered my little kangaroo pack unzipped, my coin purse missing. I only lost about $5 plus a copy of my passport but just behind where it had been, my cell phone sat intact. It was the only time in days I haven't had my vest zipped over my kangaroo. Grateful for the small loss and the reminder to wake up at bus stations and around the airport.
Then miles and miles of incredibly beautiful mountains, farms and terraced hillside. Just wonderful. No loud music, silly slapstick movie. Many quick stops to let on kids going home from distant schools, indigenous women in bright velvet skirts. Stop at a unisex bathroom where the men were using the urinal by the wash basin while I walked by to go into a stall.
For a while we were charmed by the clouds over the mountains, then clouds under us while we were above them. Then not charmed by driving for several hours through thick fog. We were in the first seats which help Phyllis with motion sickness but also meant that I got to see through the front window and watch the driver pass old rickety trucks in dense fog on blind curves. I made a decision years ago not to sweat this stuff so I listened to good music and we arrived in Cuenca. A new adventure.
Six word story. Robber, mountains, clouds, green, safe arrival.
Phyllis' note
Bus stop in a little town south of Riobamba. Two women, both in big red skirts, full and wide, with magenta shawls, finely featured chestnut faces, black bowler hats. Beautiful.
Phew and wow!
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