Our wheels cracked over the crumbling rocks as they smushed into the soft, rich soil beneath the Jeep. I pushed my nose out the window to breathe in the crisp, clean air. I pulled the soft, furry edges of my alpaca wool jacket closer to my ears. The door creaked open as I slid out into the strange, cold, and humid atmosphere.
I turned back to clutch two tiny hands in mine, as each of our kids tumbled from the car kicking pebbles at my shoes. Their eyes were wide and unblinking, staring hard into the distance. I watched them, as they took in our surroundings. Piles of jagged black rocks gave way to startling, desolate canyons and then climbed again to peaks on the other side. My husband stepped up next to us, taking our daughter by the hand. She looked up at him and said, “Dad, are we on Mars?” His eyes sparkled with laughter as he looked down at her and put his finger to her rosy nose. “No, my dear, we are still in Ecuador.”
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