True Adventures in Ecuador

By Julian Rubinstein

 

By the time I arrived back in Quito, the raw egg a shaman had smashed over my head in her house in Peguche was hardening into an uneven spiky gel, and like some disoriented punk rocker, I walked the streets of the Ecuadoran capital, preparing my excuses. The high altitude, I reasoned, had impaired my judgment, not to mention I’d lost my itinerary, which was at this point, a blessing, considering my journey was about to take me directly toward an erupting volcano, down the so-called river of piranhas, and into the care of a man who went into tourism at the suggestion of a tree.

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