We were all still shaking off our hangovers on Sunday morning as we gathered at Finn’s. Everybody was belly up to the bar and spilling over every square inch to watch England get annihilated by Germany in the world cup. As we piled into Jake’s SUV the mixture of cheers and groans from opposing fans exhaled from the bar as Germany scored the goal-that-should-not-have-been. I was happy to be getting out. The sun was shining, finally. We had a case of wine, a tank of gas, and, what would be the sparsest commodity on a Sunday, motivation.
Gunning it through the cities northern portal, through Cumbaya, the valley just north of Quito, the world spread before us. We drove Read more






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