Banos

Great view, right?
Since the refurbishing of the train, El Nariz had become even more touristy and bureaucratically laden. For instance, the ticket office was a joke. Arriving at 7:30 am I waited, in a line of 1, until nearly 8 am for three different clerks, standing right in front of me talking to one another, to finally print a ticket. It seems they have a new computer system that hasn't been completely worked out yet. I asked three times if I would miss the train.
No, no. Almost finished.
They had to run out and call the conductor to hold the train for me. Nine nationals boarded the train during my processing. It's hard to say if it would have been more frustrating or less to understand none of what they were saying.
After the ride I had a wait until the next bus to Riobamba. I saw a cafe the night before that looked nice so I stopped in for second breakfast. A small crew that appeared to be mom, dad and a cook ran a counter with clean linen draped wooden tables composing a well decorated dining area. I saw some big plates coming out so I ordered the chicken soup and a coffee. I got a cup of hot water and a jar of Nescafe.
This is a country that exports coffee. The locals, however, do not imbibe this.
Mom ran to the market for something, so I took my coffee next door to an internet cafe and logged in to check for info on my companeras' whereabouts.
Hostal name and directions in hand, I returned for my delicious chicken broth and leg soup. The gentleman from the table of four next to me got up to leave and thanked the owners, introducing himself as a coffee shop owner from Guayaquil and handing them a business card along with an offer of export grade coffee, with a gesture to the Nescafe containers.
That's why they had laughed at my expression, though I'd encountered it before, when I received this.
There is no bus station in this town. The buses gather, conveniently, at the foot of my hostal. Speaking with the driver, his bus was leaving in twenty minutes. He assured me that I had plenty of time to buy some bread and snacks before departure.
Walking out of the panderia, the bus rounded the corner on the way out of town. Ten minutes early. I started running, but stopped at the corner. A taxi driver, viewing the scene, directed me up a few blocks for another bus that doesn't stop in the town center. Five minutes uphill jog and we were on our way.

Another beautiful countryside drive.

The bus was nearly empty so I sprawled in the back, reading and listening to Spanish grammar on my mp3.

random roadside church : founded 1534?

I was in Riobamba within a couple of hours, but had to take a cab from the small central station to a smaller east side location that ran to Banos.
I didn't want to miss the bus, so I kept a keen eye on her.
Banos was swarming. It was Good Friday on Semana Santa so, much like the U.S., it was a madhouse.

church fashioned from volcanic rock in city center

I strolled around for some time, enjoying the active street scenes of the town before meeting the girls.

We didn't have arrange a meeting, so I showed up at the hostal, in the far corner of the town, and met their congenial hosts, a family that informed me that mi companeras were out, and that although the lodging was booked for the weekend, I was welcome to leave my bag and come and go as I please. They had a few computers available for internet access and a pool and hot tub that I could sit by, but would cost $2.00 to use. I walked around for a while, but returned to see if my would-be dinner companions were ready. J3 met me by the door and supper was on.
During my brief tour of their arrangements and our walk around town I was caught up on girls weekend out plans. They decided to go for a jungle tour tomorrow, and had reserved one as a result of hours of exploring the local tour operators that nearly plagued all of the shop spaces of the city's streets. The product of their exhaustive search was based upon the alleged veracity of the salesman, and especially the claim that the provided lunch was no mere sandwich, but an entire meal. Laced through the description of the ambiguous plan was the assertion that the tour included: river canoeing, jungle hiking, a waterfall, possible swimming, alligators, monkeys and naked indigenous people, presumably Quechans.
I harbor a reticence for such tours, based on their touristic design, but after my brother Rob and I had an excellent experience in the Amazon, despite such concerns, others non-withstanding, and my general lack of any other plan, it sounded like a perfect time to spend with my fellow soon-to-be doctors, most of whom I may never encounter again.
Still, I had no place to stay, so while two of my companions were on their way to a massage parlor, I checked in with every adjacent hostal to find a place. Everybody was full. Semana Santa. Biggest holiday of the year. Just before we reached their appointment, I found a bed in a dorm at this place: http://www.hosteltrail.com/plantasyblanco/.
Despite their English webpage, which I looked at for the first time now, I didn't hear any English.
While my friends got a rubdown, I walked around to see the action at the church.

Plantos y Blancos was perfectly fine. I was in the upper bunk of a four-bed room. One of the four had just checked in from Switzerland, the other two were out, and I didn't see them until about 4:30 am, coming in from either the rooftop forum that lasted as long as the willing or one of the numerous clubs catering to the visitors that supported the town.
I had a nice jog around the town in the morning. I saw the hot springs the town is famous for - lined up for blocks already at 6am, several opulent resorts that could not support themselves (one most notably advertising a dinosaur park), an immense graveyard, and returned for a quick shower before breakfast on the roof of the girls' hostal.
Our driver was waiting for us by the time breakfast was done. It was clear that my friends had omitted some key details during our discussion the previous night. We would be gone for the entire day and I needed to wear boots and carry a swimsuit, which I ran back to grab as the others were finding suitable water bottles.
We were on our way.

Me too.

First stop: Monkey rescue!

our guide introducing us to a monkey found at 6 mo. old, abandoned from mother

This monkey had lived here for years. He had been without a mother since that time and for over a year was very attached to his adopted mother, a lab-cocker spaniel at the refuge. After he felt grown, he began protecting her from any strangers. Now he is five and very friendly.

There are five different monkey breeds housing in the refuge currently.

Many are not shy: they're our cousins, right? And they've been here for a long time.

I had been in this park for ten minutes, eye to the viewfinder, when this nonsense started.

He was just like a small child that might come up and grab your pants to stand, but started climbing instead. This guy was happy to stay. I was hoping he would pick the bugs out of my hair, but he just sat there, hamming for the camera.

And I wouldn't argue. They house all sorts of displaced primates, including several with birth defects or injuries that can't survive on their own. It's sort of sad to see at first, but very nice when they're interacting in this playscape resort.

Everybody knows, but not everybody is ready for this one-on-one interaction.

Well, turtles love it too. I guess.

These little monkeys jumped from head to head of this group.

Three at once!

Monkeytown eventually ended, in chaos, and we headed out to the river.

Very peaceful. We were on the outskirts of the Amazon basin, and it was very relaxing, with just a few rapids to traverse.

We didn't have to cross any bridges. But we wanted to. We were explorers, and they looked dangerous.

But we also came to a nice spot to hang out, after several hundred stairs, and look out on the rivers.

We could see both the Pastaza and Puyo rivers.

And, there was a giant swing and blowdarts to play with!