Adventure #1

Our hearts all sank as the car exhaled our heavy groans. I felt somehow responsible as I'd put out into the universe a desire for my sisters to experience Ecuador in a truer, more bona fide manner. And here we had it.

Initially we found a bit of humor in the devils and grim reapers at the back of the pack that were supposedly protecting the rest of the pilgrims. After crawling behind the good Christians--who were sprawled across the entire two-lane road--for nearly an hour, our patience waned. Suddenly, we heard the wailing of sirens behind us. A firetruck was barreling towards us. I began frantically looking around, trying to locate the fire that had clearly prompted the truck's rapid arrival. As I was whipping my head from side to side, craning to see out all of the windows, the truck screeched to a halt...right behind Fanny's car. Before we could put together what was happening, the firefighters were hopping down from the truck and knocking on the doors to the car. Feeling quite perplexed and somewhat alarmed, we all began to gingerly open our doors. Any hesitation and confusion I felt swiftly turned into something more thrilling when my eyes fell upon the faces and bods of these fine firefighters.

I was too flustered to ask for a photo at the time, but essentially our saviors looked like this.

Any greetings I may have offered these hombres never managed to materialize in my scrambled brain. Ana took the reigns here and asked the gentlemen why they had come hammering on our doors. Clearly there was no smoke coming out of Fanny´s car´s engine. The guapo I will liken to Rodrigo Santoro (from my favorite holiday movie, Love Actually) explained that the men had gotten a call that there were cinco mujeres looking quite distressed in a grey Oldsmobile ´89. There was nothing for them to do but to come to our rescue. De ley. I was swooning by this point. Finally, finally a good story featuring Latin men to write home about. A story that has potential to end up on the other blog.

My memory is a bit foggy, but somehow in the next minutes the following transpired:
Cass, Ana, Linds and I end up riding in the firetruck as the bomberos have promised to transport us back to Quito in their big, red, powerful firetruck. Trying to keep together an air of sophistication and composure, the four of us can't help but let out school girl giggles as the driver turns on the siren. The pilgrims part like the Red Sea for Moses and we began sailing towards Quito in style.

Bwahahaha. Jejejeje. I so wish this would have been the case, but it's merely the fiction I was writing while we were enduring the following...