We got together our rental gear and modestly shouldered our packs, joining the throngs of mochileros in the Mariscal Region of Quito.  Bus routes were closed as the city prepared for it´s Ano Nuevo celebrations, promising lots of debauchery and the tradition of burning effigies of the old year, life size muñecas that sat languidly in front of shops and houses across the city.  For three dollars we got a taxi that took us to La Terminal, a rather terrifying mishmash of transportation services, stacked on three stories.  Stench of urine filled the air as we passed the cascade of busses and approached the entrance to the complex. Inside, single file lines weaved in zig zags through the vendor booths set up chaotically throughout and we tried to maneuver across these seemingly impenetrable lines of aggressive travelers.  Ice Axes and crampons protruded from our packs and commanded a bit of space to allow us through.  Our challenge was figuring out which bus we needed, information we neglected to acquire beforehand.  All we really knew was we were headed to Volcan Cotopaxi, sitting south of Quito some 50 odd kilometers, and we wanted to climb to the top.
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Even when we found out which bus we needed, we were still stuck, because the assistant responsible for taking tickets and packing cargo underneath wanted nothing to do with us.  As if my pale face and gringo clothes were completely invisible, he refused to acknowledge my existence.  I asked a woman waiting nearby why he wouldn´t help us and she responded simply that he´ll only let you on if he can´t fill the bus.  I tried to get more from her, curious what was wrong with me, but before I could another bus attendant offered to let us on.  We threw our bulky backpacks underneath and got on the already moving bus, standing room only…………
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Even when we found out which bus we needed, we were still stuck, because the assistant responsible for taking tickets and packing cargo underneath wanted nothing to do with us.  As if my pale face and gringo clothes were completely invisible, he refused to acknowledge my existence.  I asked a woman waiting nearby why he wouldn´t help us and she responded simply that he´ll only let you on if he can´t fill the bus.  I tried to get more from her, curious what was wrong with me, but before I could another bus attendant offered to let us on.  We threw our bulky backpacks underneath and got on the already moving bus, standing room only…………