Reception in the Andes

As Caitlin and I voyaged through the highest heights of the Andes, on our way to Machu Picchu, we rode in a tiny group taxi called a collectivo (cheap, efficient and local) with a teenaged boy and a middle aged chola woman. (The indigenous women whom you often see wearing sweet hats) Miles away from any sort of development, amongst only ancient terraces and scattered llamas, the silence of our ride was broken by the catchy rhythm of a ringtone. It was not our twenty-something driver, nor the teen (conked out listening to an mp3 player) but instead the chola. Here we were some 12,000 feet up and she was not only on a cellphone but getting perfect reception! Whereas on Vashon, only miles from a major metropolitan American city, you are lucky to get patchy reception at best. She went on blabbering as I just grinned and stared at the passing adobe houses.