Always an uncertain time on a tour when you pick up new members. Our new travelling companions are all women and seem to be nice, friendly, fit, and enthusiastic. We welcomed them into our little team and moved out again.
We boarded a rather crowded bus to begin our north Andes excursion. Getting out of Quito was an exercise in great patience, but Pablo kept everything light and upbeat, and our driver, David, was skilled. The scenery changed abruptly from Quito's urban pace to rustic and green urual fields. The mountains continued to be majestic. But then began a rather repetitive series of visits to small towns to marvel at their colonial central squares or large markets. By the time the afternoon drew to a close, we were starting to grow bored of it. We visited a wonderful weaving establishment supervised by an old master called Miguel and in San Antonio a wood carving shop where the artisan tried to hustle his wares. All that, plus the markets in Otavallo, became a cynical exercise to separate us from our money. Then, our evening accommodation at a lovely looking hacienda in Ibarra became disappointing: no hot water despite being assured there would be, and a very average dinner drowned out by loud music of a beauty pageant made me wish for an early end to this day. On a positive note, we dined with Michael and Gayle at a table for four and enjoyed their company: we seem to be getting very close to these lovely people from Vancouver.
We boarded a rather crowded bus to begin our north Andes excursion. Getting out of Quito was an exercise in great patience, but Pablo kept everything light and upbeat, and our driver, David, was skilled. The scenery changed abruptly from Quito's urban pace to rustic and green urual fields. The mountains continued to be majestic. But then began a rather repetitive series of visits to small towns to marvel at their colonial central squares or large markets. By the time the afternoon drew to a close, we were starting to grow bored of it. We visited a wonderful weaving establishment supervised by an old master called Miguel and in San Antonio a wood carving shop where the artisan tried to hustle his wares. All that, plus the markets in Otavallo, became a cynical exercise to separate us from our money. Then, our evening accommodation at a lovely looking hacienda in Ibarra became disappointing: no hot water despite being assured there would be, and a very average dinner drowned out by loud music of a beauty pageant made me wish for an early end to this day. On a positive note, we dined with Michael and Gayle at a table for four and enjoyed their company: we seem to be getting very close to these lovely people from Vancouver. 
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