This and That from Here and There: The last hurrah

Mom, Aunt Beth and I left Ipiales on Monday morning, July 17, to travel to Quito. Our plan was to visit the artisan market and have a quick bite of supper before heading to the airport for their late-ish flights back to the USA.

Leaving our room at Jorge and Ligia's free of any evidence of our presence

Evidence of last night's "quake"

We're not sure what happened, but all of a sudden, this little portion of floor in the entryway of Jorge and Ligia's buckled, breaking tiles and leaving others lifted up to serve as tripping hazards. Everyone thought there must have been some sort of earth tremor, but it doesn't seem like that was the case. Perhaps just an old house settling vigorously?

Up until now, we had had only brilliantly sunny days. This day was rainy and especially cold, making it some easier to depart.

The immigration office on the Colombian side of the border

To cross the border, you must stamp out of one country and into the other, so depending on the line length, it can take a while. However, we were through customs in fairly short order and on a bus to Quito in good time. Thanks to Andrés and Milena for taking us. Being in a privately owned vehicle always saves us a little time.

(Side note: You only have to go through customs if you are traveling with a passport. Those of us who have Ecuadorian residence do not have to stamp into Colombia unless we plan to travel farther than Pasto, which is about two hours from Ipiales.)

Sra. Ligia had given us fruit to take along with us on the bus - apples, pears and granadillas. Partway down the road, I proffered the fruit bag to my traveling partners, selecting a granadilla for myself. Looking at my fruit from the outside, both Mom and Aunt Beth manifested curiosity, having never seen such a beast before. "They're really good," I told them and opened mine up so they could have a look inside. I actually thought my dear mother might become sick. Apparently she had never seen such a disgusting sight in all her life! It became quite a source of amusement for Aunt Beth and me, though we certainly did not go out of our way to torment my poor maternal unit since we did not want her to go beyond verbal and facial expression of her revulsion. Needless to say, Mom chose a different class of fruit to eat.

We have no pictures of the artisan market since my guests were primarily focused on shopping, but a good time was had by all.

After we were done at the market, we met up with Rebekah Murray and headed to my favorite pizza place in Quito, Fortunato's, which, handily enough, is just a block or two from Warren and Karen McLean's.