In the departure lounge of San Cristobal, half the cast of the last four months met my eyes, from Pepe the child bartender to Judith the German biologist, and even the crippled fish man, who was always very nice when he sold me filetes. We were sweating, trying to smile. Pepe gave me vague plans about studying in Guayacil. Judith said her daughters were happy the family was moving back to Quito, so they could go to an international school. I gushed that I was excited to see the sierras.
We all wished we were in arrivals. Then our friends would be on the other side of the wall, sweating, smiling, instead of taxiing back to town for a dollar.
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