Latin America is the continent with the most murders, the deepest pain and the most intense suffering. Yet it is here that the most bloodthirsty butchers in film history are shown on every intercity bus. At first glance, this may seem a little disturbing. But once the driver becomes the executioner, the solution to the mystery is immediately clear.

The hermetically sealed partition installed in every bus between passengers and driver/executioner does not serve to protect the latter, as in aeroplanes, for example. It is a manifestation of humanity. Similar to the blindfold of the condemned, its sole purpose is to block the passengers’ view of the fate that lies ahead of them. (more…)

The famous Banos thermal spa is just two hours away by bus on the eastern side of the main Andean ridge at 1,800 metres. We approach the Amazon: green rainforest, bamboo and sugar cane conjure up a completely different world. Crowds of tourists clog up the only road there, and the hustle and bustle in the centre is a welcome change from what Andreas Altmann often called travelling in a lonely continent.

Here on the Amazon side of the Andes, the wind chops down the valley at up to 30 knots over packed thermal pools. Even Nick Jacobsen would probably find them too full for his kite fun. We opt for an empty thermal pool a little further away and relax in the warm volcanic water while the wind carries my towel away. (more…)

On the bank holidays, I travel a good 2,700 metres in altitude and ten hours by bus from the Pacific to the Andes via Ecuador’s second largest city. When changing planes at the Guayaquil terminal, I fly through tens of thousands of Ecuadorians queuing endlessly in front of the counters.

Whole armies of flying vendors storm the bus at 20 km/h past the “Prohibido Vendedores / Comida” sign. The clouds hang low over the steep slopes of the western Andes. Then we break through the top layer and the sun shines over endless high mountain valleys and volcanoes. I have an appointment here with an extremely versatile designer from Quito. (more…)

Unfortunately, my volcano fetish was somewhat neglected on the Panamericana II due to the wind enthusiasm of my fellow travellers. In Ecuador, this can now be easily corrected: out of 84 volcanoes, 25 are active, and the Rucu Pichincha, at 4,650 metres, is located right on the outskirts of Quito. Take the bus to the gondola and climb up to 3,900 metres for little money.

A high-alpine friend reported bad altitude sickness. There is no water for sale at either the valley or mountain station – and the forecast of heavy thunderstorms seems to be correct for once today. Some time ago, two climbers lost their way in the clouds around the summit. They were only found dead. (more…)

At night, Quito looks like a Christmas tree tipped over stormy mountain waves. Thousands of lights glitter over valleys and mountains. The houses cling to slopes that the TÜV would refuse to approve as water slides. The journey from the airport, at an altitude of almost 3,000 metres, to the city centre by bus and taxi takes more than an hour and a half through a huge 20 km traffic jam.

My hostel is small and beautiful and is located right between the old town and the new centre. El Cafecito serves the best home-grown highland coffee. I am the only guest for four days. The fire crackles in the fireplace. Old jazz sounds catapult me quickly into bed after 23 hours of travelling. (more…)