It's been a long time since I thought about this journal. The last few days have been eventful, and not in the desirable adventurous way. When I went to buy plane tickets and both my credit cards were denied, I discovered that neither company has been processing my payments properly. Resolving things like this from Ecuador is a serious pain, but I've got it mostly taken care of.

    Three days ago, I made a brief trip to Banos, one of Ecuador's biggest tourist destinations. I was attracted by the promise of seeing lava flowing down the sides of Mount Tungurahaya, one of the world's most active volcanos. Unfortunately, clouds obstructed the view for the entirety of my visit, but I still had a great time.

    The day began with breakfast and an earthquake. Earthquakes are loud. I hadn't expected that. It sounded as if the entire bowels of the earth were rumbling and grinding. The floor vibrated underneath me and the windows shook so hard that I thought the glass would fall out. It was over as soon as it began. No panic, no screaming, no collapsed buildings. Apparently earthquakes are a regular experience here. Although the owner of my hostel said that this one was among the strongest he had felt, he was pretty blase about the whole thing.

    Most people come to Banos to ride bicycles through the forested hills, but since I don't know how to ride a bike, I joined another traveler on a bus excursion to some nearby waterfalls. It was a real third-world bus experience. When the seats ran out, people kept piling on, undeterred by the prospect of standing in the narrow aisle for two hours. The winding mountain road was unpaved and, though it was a two-way road, it wasn't nearly wide enough for two vehicles. Whenever we met a bus headed the opposite direction, we pulled over to the very edge of the cliff to let it pass. The worry must have shown on my face because several passengers stopped their conversations to reassure me that it's been years since anyone has fallen over the edge. All the same, I was relieved when the bus ride was over.

    The waterfall, called the Devil's Basin, was a steep twenty-minute walk out of town. The last stretch was a rattling suspension bridge that shook with every step. Undeterred by its constant swaying, I stood on it for fifteen minutes, admiring the white water rushing into the river not far below. At the other end of the bridge was a special viewing platform only five feet from the waterfall. The sound was deafening. It was a small waterfall, but it was powerful. I would have liked to stay and watch longer, but I was getting soaked.

    The ride back was another third-world transportation experience. This time we flagged down a 12-passenger taxi van. We began as the only passengers, but every few feet, we stopped to pick up more. Not far from the watefall, we passed a bus broken down on the side of the road. I only thought the van was crowded before! Five people wedged into seats meant for three. Arms and legs stuck out everywhere, their owners invisible under the crush of bodies. Although it was raining outside, we had to open the windows for air. Surprisingly, the ride was fun. The driver turned up the salsa music as loud as it would go and the Spanish-speaking passengers shouted along with the words. Everyone laughed and sang and had a good time.

~Meredith