For the first time, literally, in months, I come to a place with decent computers, and with the ability to access them frequently enough that internet 'homework' can be taken care of, family can be spoken with, and, all that finished, blog can be written in. Maybe I can even catch up on some of the adventures that we've had earlier, adventures that were beautiful and that took us to places and introduced us to people who we will remember always. Maybe I can add pictures to some of the previous entries that I scribbled (e-scribbled?) while in Bolivia, with computers that only half-functioned. My internet 'cafe' is in a papeleria (place that sells paper and office products), my computer has a flat screen, and when there are not wailing children and ATVs in the street outside, it is a calm enough place to be. It is in Puyo, Ecuador, where for now, I'm working at an orchid garden, with a myriad of orchids flourishing in the midst of a total of some 1150 plant species on 7 hectares.

Orchid at the reserve

We left the beautiful city of Chachapoyas, in the northern highlands of Peru, heading north to enter Ecuador. I'd like to add a separate segment about Chachas, a wonderful place with gracious people, pre-Incan ruins, quaint villages, and lovely countryside.

We left Chachapoyas, heading north, having chosen the border crossing of La Balsa-Zumba, the most remote but real border crossing between the two countries. I enjoy the extremely out-of-the-way places one can experience with a few more painful hours of travel; they are vale la pena worth the pain) in rewards of solitude and authenticity, of scenery and opportunities to speak with people less accustomed to turistas.

Mototaxis: photo from San Ignacio, but rode on one in Jaen.

It was a day of quick transitions: a 3 hour bus to Bagua Grande, a one hour hop in a collectivo (shared taxi) to Jaen, and another 2.5 hour collectivo to San Ignacio, the largest town close to the border. Along the way, the scenery sank from dramatic drop-offs in the mountains near Chacas to rolling, carpeted, sunken hills near the low elevation San Ignacio. We saw flooded rice fields filled with the grain in about every stage of growth, we melted in the heat of the midday in cars with no aire acondicionado and strong, equatorial sun, we saw mototaxis (think 3-wheeled rickshaws of Asia) decorated with streamers, multicolored lights (headlights that changed colors -- really!), plastered with posters de modo, and blasting local music. We saw a papaya as big as a watermelon, and I don't mean one of those little trendy small watermelons, but a big, hunkin'15¨ long watermelon. We passed hundreds of coffee and cocoa plantations, saw coffee beans in various stages of secando (drying) on blankets, on cement pads, with people raking them, turning them, gathering them. We walked the streets in San Ignacio, and when we tried to buy a final bottle of pisco (traditional Peruvian hard liquor), we were instead talked into sampling, and then purchasing (of course) a few sips of the local liquers de cocoa y café. Delicious!

San Ignacio is the city of bosques y cafe, as their town welcome sign proclaims. Indeed there were gorgeous forests and mountains extending in every direction, in this very undeveloped area of the country. It is fascinating how far one can go on dirt roads...

In the morning, we had a 3 hour ride to the border, in another collectivo, on an entirely dirt road, this time in a station wagon with a full trunk, and four adults in the back seat, three in the front, quite uncomfortable on the bumpy ride. Here, we saw coffee, coffee, coffee, if only we could get a decent cup that was not NesCafé! The remoteness of the villages we passed astounded me, little groups of coffee growers, clustered together, like coffee beans at the end of a raeceme, in a wilderness of leaves.

La Balsa, on the border, was about 10 houses, a restaurant, and a casa de cambio (money-changing place). Ecuador is on the US dollar, so we didn't need to do that. Because we were advised to leave very early to make it to our destination, Vilcabamba, by a San Ignacian local, we woke at the crack of dawn and were at the border by shortly after 9am. Unfortunately, there was no transportation to the nearest town on the other end until 12:30, and though our guidebook indicates this town is 10 km, this did not seem to be the case. (Thanks, Lonely Planet, for forgetting this crucial info in your writeup.)

So we waited. In our hammocks.


The truck arrived. It was similar to a camion, or cargo truck style, but the back was opened up, had a roof to provide shade, and hard wooden benches. Luxury, I tell you! It creeped, it crawled, it slithered slowly, it sank into potholes and climbed up the other sides, it grumbled and griped ascending hills, it maneuvered hairpin turns skillfully, it moved like a snail but more slowly. We bumped and bounced about (no seatbelts here!), clinging to the bench in front of us, we breathed in the aire puro, felt the breeze, and the sun, felt the branches of the encroaching vegetation as we moved through this labyrinth of forest and mountain. I likened it to paying $30 to enter an amusement park, I think some people enjoy bodily self-torture in that way, as well. It took an hour and a half, and though our bums were a bit sore, it was one of my favorite rides.

Our truck.

A bus was about to pull out to Vilcabamba and we jumped off to board it. We stayed two days in this pueblo of longevity, as it is known, with its influx of ex-pats (where we did find real coffee), perfect climate, and moved on up to begin our volunteering positions.

Jameson and I parted in Loja. We booked buses to different places that departed at the same time. We embraced at the terminal, with wishes for our independent journeys. After 6 months of traveling together, of experiencing together, of growing together, we chose to learn about life on this continent solito for a little while. It was something we had dabbeled in with thoughts and conversations, but realizing separation was difficult, as we wanted to make sure we would be safe. Having a partner to travel with is not only enjoyable, but provides a thousand conveniences (most importantly, having someone watch your bag in the bus terminal when you have to pee). We have two volunteer opportunities in Ecuador in which we will alternate: one at the orchid garden (where I am now), and the other at a dry tropical forest on the coast (where he is now). We thought that this would provide us safety, companionship, purpose, and a place to lay a few roots, while growing and experiencing South America on our own.