Mindo

The weekend was fantastic. There's no way I can do it justice, but I'll try.

So for the past week, this girl named Kelly and I have been planning a trip to a small town in Ecuador called Mindo, about two and half hours to the northwest of Quito. On Friday, we all met up at La Ofelia station, everyone dressed like explorers, and boarded a bus. The ride there was absolutely breathtaking. Once we were out of Quito, the road grew narrower and hugged the mountain side, and out the window were mountains covered in green forests and open plains with grazing animals, with the occasional house sitting atop a hill. The mountains ascended into a blanket of clouds, so that when your eye followed it up, the trees turned into silhouttes, and then vanished into the sky. The sky itself was blanketed by clouds, and very quickly it began to rain. It was raining when we arrived, and we were met by the dueña of our hostel.

After buying our return tickets, we followed her into Mindo, and down a road into the darkness, on a little path that branched off. The hostel was more like two big wooden cabins, one of which had four double beds and four single beds, to fit a total of 12 people. The house was homey and comfortable, but the design was strange, with an extra room that was separate from the rest of the house, an attic with a bed, bathrooms in strange places, and a layout that gave no absolute distinction between the outside and inside. But it was wonderful!

The following day, we had a delicious breakfast prepared by the dueña of the hostel. We discovered that we were sharing the second cabin with a group of young adults from Germany who were in Ecuador on a government-sponsored, year-long volunteering excursion. After everyone had woken up and eaten, we broke up into groups and went to our different activities. As it was, all four guys unanimously wanted to go on a hike. So we took our backpacks, and after buying some food in town, set off for a hiking trail that led to a set of waterfalls. After hiking up a mountain road, we reached a group of people waiting in line for a gondola that took people across a huge valley to another mountain. There, we ran into two girls from our group, and traveled across with them. There was a sign pointing to the right for Cascada Reina, so we took it, expecting to find a waterfall soon. After walking for thirty minutes, we realized we were in for a more extensive hike than we had initially thought. We eventually reached the waterfall. We spent the rest of the day hiking back, and then traveling to other waterfalls.

The hike was beautiful. It rained off and on the whole time, and my panama hat became permanently disfigured by the humidity and rain. We all stepped into mud up to our ankles, and at every waterfall, we jumped into the river, wearing jeans and shoes. After the first one, we were all trekking around with the constant feel of water and mud in our socks and shoes. The vegetation was omnipresent and gorgeous. The hike was not like a hike through the Rockies, where there is open sky and open land. The sky was covered by clouds, and the plant life grew everywhere, with leaves bigger than I have ever seen, often creating a sort of tunnel, along the path. Sometimes trees created ceilings of leaves wide enough for the six of us to stand under. And the plant life was very different from the kind in the states. It was beautiful and lush, and there was something almost prehistoric about it.

By evening, we were trekking back into town, wet shirts, soaked pants, shoes hemorraging water. We found all the girls back at the hostel waiting for us, dropped our stuff, and went to dinner. We were starving.

By Sunday, almost everyone had run out of money. The ATM in town rejected most of our debit cards, so we had no way to get more. Everyone was exhausted, and we spent the rest of the day lounging around, waiting for our respective buses to arrive and bring us back. I was on one of the earliest buses with a friend of mine. We got back to Quito and, lacking enough money for a cab ride back, started asking around about a metrobus that could take us back. After talking to many people, and hopping on the wrong bus accidentaly, we finally found ourselves on the right bus, headed home.

A final story. The hostel that was stayed at had two buildings, but between the two of them was a third building. On Saturday morning, I noticed a white man sweeping the porch, so I approached him and began speaking to him in Spanish. We began to talk, and I soon discovered he spoke english as well. He was from Germany, and had moved to Quito thirteen years ago to work for a company. The company folded, but he loved Ecuador so much, he decided to stay and open his own company selling parts for alternative energy. He worked in Quito during the week, and every weekend drove out to Mindo. He said he loved Germany but it was different there. It was civilization and ordered. Latin America was different, and he said in Mindo, it was paradise.