Another day, another bus trip, this time to the UNESCO listed colonial city of Cuenca the last major city before crossing into Peru.
As with most South American towns the bus station was conveniently located 2km from the centre of town leaving all arrivals with the unenviable quandary of whether to walk the unknown mean streets into town with everything you own strapped about your body or try to persuade the taxi driver that you know the fare is not $10 but only $1. Although on this occasion I really should have asked for my $1 back as the taxi driver did not have a clue where he was going and I ended up having to direct him.
Having been dropped off as close to our hostel as the driver could find (which was nowhere near) we bumped into the two Canadians fellas from our Galapagos boat who were just on their way out of town. I expressed regret that they could not join us for a quick drink and in fact would be spending the next six hours on a sweaty bus.
Ten minutes later the four of us were in the hostel bar, all thoughts of bus tickets forgotten.
Having grown bored of the hostel bar we decided on a change of scenery, but being Sunday very little else was open except a bar opposite which we had been warned served horrible drinks and was best avoided unless your idea of a good hangover cure was looking at the toilet floor all day. We flagged down a taxi and after a lengthy moonlight tour of the city arrived at the same bar we had been opposite for the last seven hours – yes the drinks were revolting.
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