As I flew into Quito and gazed at the long built up area under the drizzling grey curtain, I wondered briefly why I had moved on from the life and vitality of Bolivia. Mostly it was to visit the Galapagos, but after that I did not know. In my heart I was wanting to be home again, in my own cottage and to see old friends. At the airport I phoned a hostel recommended to me by a traveller I met in Lima en route. When I got to the Secret Garden hostel it was friendly, lively and bussling with other travellers. The restaurant on the roof top had wonderful views of the city, yet I could not settle. After one night I decided I needed my own space for a while. First however, as it
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