Arriving at the emerald green Quilotoa lagoon, a smile crawls across my face. Being unemployed really isn’t that bad.
Getting to Quilotoa is really half the fun.
Most of the bus schedules require you to wake up early and start from Latacunga. We run to make the 8am bus to Zumbahua, paying the $2 along with the rest of the poncho-clad and fedora-with-a-peacock-feather wearing locals.
As I struggled to stay awake, an agrarian lifestyle I can’t even fathom passes me by. The foothills of the central Andes are drop dead gorgeous and it seems like I’ve been transported back in time. Terraced farm land rises up the mountains in varying shades of green, black and yellow. Surrounding them are tiny, one room, concrete houses with thatched roofs. Local women herd lots of woolie sheep, pigs and of course, llamas.