It took some investigating at the bus station to make sure we got on the right bus.  After all, the bus ride that goes into the mountainous area takes four hours and we'd prefer getting off at the planned location when it made the final stop. :-)

At a place where we don't speak Spanish and they don't speak (much, if at all) English, it's back to sign language and basic expressions.  People were really nice and tried to help.  At times, we thought they were going to the same place as we were and tried to have us follow suit.  But there was no way to be sure, until we met a duo of sister and brother.  The sister took a look at our tickets and made a clear enough gesture to let us know we can follow them.  

They carried school backpacks and looked like they were going home for the weekend.  Turned out, their seats were right in front of us, which allowed the younger brother to peek back in between the seats from time to time.  Yes, we look very different from what they have seen in their young lives. :-)  

The way we plan our travels made sure all trips provide visual feasts.  However, a weekend spent in this remote town did something I did not realize until the day we left.  When the bus destined for city took off, I felt something wet rolling down my cheeks.  This had never happened before in my travels.  I only had it happen again when leaving a small town on top of a mountain in the Umbria area of Italy recently.