Yet another place where I had wished for the luxury of time, so as to have a choice in lighting, ah well necessity. Pichasca is one of these towns that appears from around a sharp turn, clinging to the side of the mountain. Built where the mountainside briefly softened into something less than completely vertical, it was far enough up from the river not to flood, but not to far to irrigate or easily reach the fields on the valley floor. Though, valley is not really an accurate term, as that brings to mind more sweeping, pastoral landscapes than We travel though, but gorge would be too extreme. It is something betwixt and between, neither gentle nor unrelenting, but obviously a difficult environment to carve a living out of. This town seemed to be one of the more prosperous that we passed on this road, and it was certainly the most colorful.
I was amused by the stickers on the pole, street art everywhere.
If you ever wonder why they might want so much color on their buildings, the landscape behind this one should explain everything. This was taken in November, late spring early summer for them, gardens in full bloom, probably as green as it gets.