You have to throw your bags in the stow-away spaces underneath, stuffing and shoving in between various boxes of flowers, plantains and the sophisticated zippers of North Face and Osprey packs from the other extranjeros that have chosen to explore the country. After you secure a spot for your bag and turn around, fingers crossed, hoping this is not the last time you’ll see your life-crammed-into-duffel bag, its generally a chaotic scram up the steps and onto the jam-packed bus with rows the width of your waist. The nice elderly women chanting deals on empanadas, although adorable, only complicate the situation, weaving their way in and out of the maze of passengers trying to locate their assigned seat number, if they have one, which generally go in no sequential order and could range from 1 to 50 (despite there being only 25 seats on the bus). Alas, you will secure a seat eventually. For the next three to six hours you’ll either sleep, read, furrow your brows attempting to decode the peculiar Spanish translations of obscure English movies frequently starring Jean Claude Van Dam …. or you can gaze out the window and absorb the incredible vistas of the ever-changing landscape of Ecuador. Riding out of the Amazon jungle of the Oriente up into the Central Highlands of Ecuador is like nothing I’ve experienced in such a short distance. Five hours from Tena, at the confluence of two of the Amazon River’s most abundant flowing tributaries and I arrived in Banos de Agua Santa, observing the gradual interruption of evergreens and Condors on the tropical rainforest. The clouds hover everlastingly, taunting your senses (and your camera) as the peaks of numerous volcanoes move in and out of sight.
The hillsides on my bus rides through the most biodiverse country in the world
As the bus peddled along the infamous PanAmerican Highway plodding through fragile ecosystems and frail villages I pondered the irony of using this diesel-guzzling machine to make my departure from 7 weeks of work with a Rainforest Conservation Organization. Banos de Agua Santa is a quaint mountain town tucked into the valley of several hills and volcanoes, the most famous of which is Tungurahua from which the province derives its name. Among the many other legends from this small town known as the “Estrella de Ecuador” there is a compelling suite of miracles performed by the Virgen de Agua Santa, the most recent of which was the valiant act of saving the city from the eruption of Tungurahua just three years ago. The city center sits at ~2,000 m (6,000 feet), the statue of the Virgen overlooks her puebla from 3,000 m up, hiking and biking trails weave in and out of the vertical agricultural painted on the hillsides, and natural baths of healing waters heated from the voracious activity of Mother Earth underground are planted all along the periphery. Its a haven for the adventure-seekers and the nature lovers, and a place I could easily allow myself to call home someday.
The hillsides of Banos
Countries like Ecuador are great for people who like to forge their own trail. We began at a legitimate trailhead that was rumored to lead to the Mirador de Volcan at which we could capture some breathtaking views of Tunguruhua. Five hours later we had been rained on, acquired a pet dog we appropriately named Benito, slipped and slid in muddy puddles, passed several greenhouses full of babaco, trekked through farms and backyards and forests, seeing less and less friendly tourists along the way until we finally reached an unmarked, sleepy little bench in between two farms atop a hill. The bench held the words of wisdom, “Ama la Pacha Mama” (roughly, Love mother nature).
The clouds were serving their usual plate of frustrating yet beautiful thickness; I wouldn’t have known we reached our destination save for the nice beanie-clad woman hauling boxes in the cold who informed us that the volcano lay just behind us. Pacha Mama finally chose to reward the hikers for their courageous efforts, retreating the clouds for no longer than a thirty-second window of the striking ferocity of Turungahua’s snowy peaks. The descent included lots of trial and error on various trails and muddy pathways until we fell upon a picturesque little red house on the hillside where an exceptionally friendly man promptly sat us by the fire just before the rain came, served us a plate of vegetables and a Pilsener to share while unloading heaps of kind word and interesting facts about our surroundings: the tree just feet from where we sat, El Sangre de Tigre (Blood of the Tiger) seeped a red liquid which you could collect, dip your fingers in, and rub on your skin rapidly to form a cream that serves as an excellent bug repellent – I really could have used this guy in the Amazon. Although he insisted he could make the trek back to Banos in an eight minute run, he refused to let us walk back in the muddy cold. We caught a ride in the back of his father-in-law’s truck, sharing the bumpy ride with a couple other Banenos discussing the upcoming football games.
The clouds were serving their usual plate of frustrating yet beautiful thickness; I wouldn’t have known we reached our destination save for the nice beanie-clad woman hauling boxes in the cold who informed us that the volcano lay just behind us. Pacha Mama finally chose to reward the hikers for their courageous efforts, retreating the clouds for no longer than a thirty-second window of the striking ferocity of Turungahua’s snowy peaks. The descent included lots of trial and error on various trails and muddy pathways until we fell upon a picturesque little red house on the hillside where an exceptionally friendly man promptly sat us by the fire just before the rain came, served us a plate of vegetables and a Pilsener to share while unloading heaps of kind word and interesting facts about our surroundings: the tree just feet from where we sat, El Sangre de Tigre (Blood of the Tiger) seeped a red liquid which you could collect, dip your fingers in, and rub on your skin rapidly to form a cream that serves as an excellent bug repellent – I really could have used this guy in the Amazon. Although he insisted he could make the trek back to Banos in an eight minute run, he refused to let us walk back in the muddy cold. We caught a ride in the back of his father-in-law’s truck, sharing the bumpy ride with a couple other Banenos discussing the upcoming football games.
Our walking stick, my wet socks and the cozy fire Jorge shared with us.
In addition to the hiking, rafting and canyoning offered to visitors, the most famous adventure of Banos is the Ruta de las Cascadas (Route of the Waterfalls) down the highway to Puyo where thrill-seekers can visit over forty waterfalls of various sizes and styles. We hailed a public bus for $0.25 down the road and stopped off at Pailon de Diablo. The steep hike down on a well-maintained trail was adorned with wooden signs advocating the respect of nature, “Water is the wisdom of the land, the wise protect it” and “Conserve nature, protect your life”. The line of eco-friendly advertisements ended with the most powerful of phrases just before we arrived at the waterfall: “Estas preparada para una sopresa? …DIOS EXISTE!” And they were right, the astounding might of what I saw that day was most likely the best representation of a deity I’ve ever experienced. The crashing sound echoing below the rocks as I crawled under low-hanging ceilings and around cave walls was astonishing. The mist twirling around the walls of the canyon, hundreds of feet from the bottom, was unbelievable. The sight of each of the billions and billions of water droplets falling in a chaotic song of power was impossible. I think this is what they mean when they say breathtaking.
We cascaded down waterfalls on ropes, we hiked around the periphery of the city, we soaked ourselves in the refreshingly steaming, thermal waters after a cold day in the rain, we ate a host of international foods (even Pad Thai!), and we cozied up in one of the best hostels I’ve ever stayed at. 
We cascaded down waterfalls on ropes, we hiked around the periphery of the city, we soaked ourselves in the refreshingly steaming, thermal waters after a cold day in the rain, we ate a host of international foods (even Pad Thai!), and we cozied up in one of the best hostels I’ve ever stayed at. 
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