So yes, Baños was a wonderful getaway and we soaked up the scenery, soaked in the hot springs, and then got soaked on the river.

Little did we know our luck was about to change.

On our way back from Baños, we split up and took two different buses. Laurene and Freddie needed to get back to Quito to work/find work the next day so they left after lunch. But I didn’t have any pressing engagements (let’s be honest, no job prospects in sight) so I was contemplating traveling further south for a few days. After much deliberation, I ended up going back to Quito, so I took an afternoon bus with Evan, our field producer and cameraman.

We were seated in the last row of the bus on the right hand side. On the left side of the bus there was one additional row of seats further back that were directly across from the bathroom. Our bags were under our seats, and our seats backed up against the bathroom.

The 4-hour bus ride had lulled me to sleep and by the time I woke up about 30 minutes from Quito, our camera was missing. We searched frantically all around us, on the top shelf of the bus and under our neighbor’s seats. They noticed us panicking and one young couple offered to help: the girl went to talk to the bus driver, who called the police. (more…)

With Pocahontas lyrics ringing in my head- “To be safe we lose our chance of knowing – what’s around the riverbend!”- the next day we set off on a river rafting adventure.

We started the hour-long drive from Baños to the spot where we’d launch the raft. The scenery alone was worth the trip. We drove a narrow, windy, two-lane road atop a massive cliff, with only the river below us. The mountain side of the road stretched above us forever.

At times we’d pass through one-lane(!) tunnels carved through the mountain. Leave your notions of giant, modern cement tunnels at home. This tunnel was just a hole carved into a mountain, and groundwater was dripping through the tunnel in steady streams onto the cars below.

We all piled into a large raft after carrying it on our heads to the river – no one told us about that part when we signed up (or the purple leotard-like wetsuits we had to wear). Then our guide made us run and jump off a tall rock into the rushing river and swim back to shore, just to get our blood pumping. Once on the river, it was pure bliss. The scenery was straight out of National Geographic and with no one in sight for miles, we were like pioneers.

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For our holiday weekend celebrating the Battle of Pichincha when Quito won its independence (also known as Laurene’s last weekend before she started her 6-day-a-week job), a few of us fled the mean streets of Quito for some fresh air, hot springs, and adventure. And how could that be bad?

Poor Ryan was sick with what looked like the flu and wasn’t able to make it. That’s okay, because there are so many outdoor activities to enjoy in Baños that we’re all more than happy to go back. Yes, baños is the Spanish word for bathroom, but the town is named after its restorative hot springs (or baths).

We soaked in some hot springs set at the base of a volcano for a mere $3; at dusk we watched a waterfall trickle down the mountain as we lounged in the mineral pools. Then we worked up a sweat dancing at a club called Son Cubanos, where the happy hour was whenever the DJ said it was.

We came to Baños in search of an adrenaline rush -  our next mission was choosing between bungee jumping, river rafting, waterfall rappelling, horseback riding, and hiking.

Last weekend we took a trip to a little resort town called Baños, which is famous for its hot springs. It was a wonderful way to unwind after navigating the city streets of Quito, but what sticks out in my mind was the bus ride there.

Baños is nearly four hours away from Quito, and halfway through our ride two young women carrying babies boarded the bus. Our bus was already full, so they stood in the aisles. I kept waiting for someone to stand up and give them a seat, but no one budged.

Finally I couldn’t take it anymore. It was outrageous that in a bus full of people, no one would give up their seat for a young mother carrying a baby. I walked to the front of the bus and offered the women my seat. One of the women squeezed past me with her baby and sat down. A few moments later, a few people got off the bus, and the other woman (who turned out to have a second child in tow) sat down on a plastic stool crammed in the last row of seats.

The polite Westerner sitting next to the young mother offered me his seat. The mother had her arms full with the baby so her young daughter sat on my seat with me and I held on to the little girl as the bus jostled us along the bumpy road.

In my broken Spanish we tried to strike up a conversation. It hit me like a tidal wave when she said she was the same age as me – 24. Except unlike me, she had three children and had been married since she was sixteen. She was on her way to visit her husband, who is stationed in the army three hours away from her hometown. She makes the 6-hour trip every two weeks to see him. When I asked her for how much longer he will be in the army, she said, For life. (more…)