Update

From San Agustin, we traveled up to Popayan and down to Pasto on an adventurous ride that took us over unpaved mountain roads in an inconruously clean and svelt-interiored bus.  The decor and cleanliness were unfortunately not representative of the engine condition.  Somewhere on an uphill slope in a sparsely populated dry mountanous region, the engine puttered and kicked the bucket, right infront of some unlucky familys cinderblock house.  Passengers held out hope while first the driver, then his assistent, then the rest of the males onboard gradually got out, examined, ofered advice and removed a liter of suspicious yellow liquid. The family´s mule looked on, expressing little confidence, from his post in the yard . Next the young children climbed out, looking lustfully after the family´s slices of watermelon. their mothers, and finally the rest of us followed suit after a final, fruitless attempt to start the engine.  We ended up flagging down other passing buses and our company must have paid the rest of the way for all of the pasengers to get to Pasto.  The bus is probably still there being eyed by an indignant mule.
The bus we caught was, not surprisingly full, so Tom sat shotgun, I perched on a padded stool , wedged between him and the engine box.  We rode down the winding pan american, enjoying the practically floor to ceiling views of some of the most impressive mountains and deepest gorges I have seen, stained purple in the dusk.  I had to hold on tightly everytime we went around a right-hand turn to keep from teetering over.
We arrived famished, filthy and exhaused in Pasto and commenced a huricane-like storm of face-stuffing,showering and collapsing into bed.  Pasto must be the south american capital of puff pastry .  the stuff was tasty and ubiquitous.
From Pasto we continued down to Ipiales and an impressive cathedral spanning a beautiful pine treed gorge.  We were also the victims of some head-scraching petty theft.  Toothbrushes, toothpaste, a broken hat, an old t shirt, and the bottom half of my long underwear.  At least we are contributing to the oral hygene of dim witted colombian theives.  Also unfortunate- gone is the beard-trimmer.  I´m not sure how sincerely disapointed Tom is.
Quito, such a high city, though it was a bit too cloudy to enjoy any views.  What we enjoyed most was Ana Cris´ home and hospitality and her mom´s blackberry juice! Ana Cris is working for the Ecuadorian branch of Nestle, for the time being until she becomes president and fixes everythin. Poor girl was subjected to countless interviews, no not Ecuadorian politics, but how Nestle processes chocolate . . . She also took us to the actual GPS calculated 0 0 0 longitude, where I balanced an egg on the head of a nail and was filled with delight to see water going down a drain in both directions ( counterclockwise n the northern hemisphere, no swirl on the line, and clockwise in the southern.. like our respective hurricanes)  so the simpsons had it right.

Next came an afternoon of shatterng Melanies dreams where Tom had to relay the inconvenient facts to me about the Quilotoa loop we hoped to hike.  It was 200 km long.  camping in between towns was unadvisable, hostals more likely. our packs were heavy.  we aren´t exactly in shape.  It was quite cloudy.  Crushing news.  which i hadn´t quite been able to wrap my head arround in my flufly north american dreams.  This inspired a frantic 4pm friday afternoon search for some guide company to get us nto the beautiful wildnerness. quickly!  The pollution and litter and poverty of south american cities and the painfully slow, stopping every 5 km to pick up or drop off someone, progress of the bus was getting to us. me.  we were, I guess, asking to be ripped off.  silly gringos.
We ended up on a 2 day , one night trip up to , Cotopaxi national park, an impressive active volcano-  probably more impressive outside the wintry cloudy season.  We hiked up to a refuge at 4800 m- an odd head swimming experience, then went down, not to camp in the wilderness- actually they don´t really do that in Ecuador?, but to a fenced camping area with white table clothed restaurant. We had some very tasty trout and a nice experience, but couldn´t quite figure where we´d been misunderstood.  The next morning we had a beautiful walk around the park, past semi wild horses and pre inca ruins and natural springs. Then were left uncerimoniously at a gas station to flag down the next bus.  lesson learned.

We passed briefly through Riobamba and Cuenca, which while wreathed in the usual depressing pollution, half painted cinder block and corrugated steel houses (please excuse my insensitivity) both have beautifully preserved colonial centers that you stumble into with no small degree of surprise.  the new cathedral in cuenca surely rivals or surpasses most european cathedrals.  Its expansive interior is coated in carrera marble and boasts a towering massive gold columned thing around the altar.

Now we´re in Villcambamba, beautiful, idylic, lots of hikes and nature preserves, marvelling at the flowers, discussing the relative advantages of visiting cloud forests, cuzco, machu pichu.  Are we crazy not to go to Machu Pichu?  Is this really our quotidian conversation?