Vilcabamba is our last stop in Ecuador before breaking for the Peruvian border via Macara.
It's a beautiful small town, with a picturesque square in a valley surrounded by hills full of streams, trees and trails.
It's also home to a legion of US expats, retirees, hippies, spiritual types, conspiracy theory nutters and ex-servicemen, keen to find a quieter life away from the pace of the mothership, and a bigger bang for their buck.
We talk to Charlie, owner of Charlito's restaurant. A gentle 63 year old family man, bald, bespectacled and goateed, he chats politely about the state of the nation before offering us a full resume of his drug-taking history, involving various psychedelic experiences, which he thoroughly recommends.
Behind him, two broken noses - one with full screaming eagle/stars 'n' stripes forearm tattoo - discuss the merits of the large burritos on their plates, while polishing off two very large drinks. The most broken-nosed gives me a conspiratorial nod and a wink.
A slim Russian and his loud, dreadlocked amiga ride off on their mopeds, chased up the street by their little dog Laika.
A tall Australian swans by, nursing a very large goblet of white wine, and wishes us all a good evening.
Such is expat life in Vilcabamba. They're all slightly crazy, yet likeable and enigmatic. So it goes.
I am trying to hard to say "Buenos dias" to all the Ecuadorians I pass, speak my best Spanish, shop in their shops and eat in their restaurants, not be thought of as an expat, in spite of my Yankees baseball cap.
There is so much building work going on, so many apartments going up, so many 'English' tour guides and alternative therapies being touted. It's supposedly good for the economy, providing work for the 'locals', but it must also be alienating to them, pushing and pricing them out of their own town.
It's reminiscent of Cornwall's grockles and emmets today, the gentrification of London, the Welsh second home boom of the '80s (remember "Come home to a real fire - buy a second home in Wales" on Not The Nine O'Clock News?) and of course the notorious expat Brits in Benidorm.
Groups of grey-haired Kens and Barbies clustered together on the verandah of the Soul Flower café won't endear themselves to, or build bridges toward, an otherwise friendly country like Ecuador.
And so it is on this thoughtful note we are leaving yet another country in which we have had fabulous times, seen incredible things, met many, many excellent people of all stripes and persuasions, and we will miss it.
If anything poignant can be said of a country which is blessed with something of everything - bustling town and laid-back country, rugged coast line, sandy beaches, humid jungles, snowy mountains and an almost unfair amount of wildlife, it is possibly that Ecuador doesn't have a USP, unlike sexy Brazil, proud Colombia, outlaw Argentina. It just has it all.
If you want to experience a tasting menu for South America, come to Ecuador.
