Turning 70 has probably never been better than it was for me this year. Vincent arranged through AirBnB for a weekend in Cotacachi, the leather-working center of Ecuador. The ads sounded marvelous--an Ecuadorian family looking for guests who want to experience not only the climate but the culture and cooking (all organic food) of Ecuador. If anything, they understated their welcome. Before we even got there, they had offered to make a special dinner on the 8th and bake a birthday cake. They said they were eagerly expecting us. That, too, was an understatement. We felt unbelievably dear to them before we even got there.
Vincent began celebrating on Thursday, bringing home the most beautiful flower arrangement (it has lasted until the 16th). A dozen roses, red and white, anthurium, bird-of-paradise, sunflowers, carnations, red ti plant, tall grasses, goldenrod, alstroemeria, some flowers whose stems and sepals look like carnations, but whose blossoms look like clusters of green feathers, tall papyrus leaves, and tiny white asters. I have been enjoying them immensely for a good long time. The roses don't droop!
We took a taxi from Otavalo on the Friday afternoon before, and the taxista was very as they say here--listo. It means ready, but it also means smart, practical, capable, a go-to person. We had the neighborhood--Turucu--and the general idea was that it was near a chapel. Our taxista was from Otavalo and didn't know too much about Cotacachi, but he called his dispatcher and off we went. It was different from the taxi rides you get in the U.S. (cheaper--a lot cheaper) inasmuch as when we got near the place the dispatcher told him to go, the driver stopped a couple of times and asked the oldest-looking person he could find where this family lived. Imagine trying to find someone like that in the U.S., where most people haven't the faintest idea who their neighbors are!
When we arrived, they were baking bread in a big brick oven in their courtyard. Half a dozen dogs milled around in a friendly way. One of them we took to calling the "rasta dog," because he had long, long dreadlocks hanging from his ears. The bread they had made by hand, in the old way, the children--theirs and the neighbors'--had formed the bread into shapes. They had also roasted some pork called "cuero" or leather. They were both delicious, hot and juicy. We hadn't known we were hungry before, but we polished off quite a lot of this "snack." They showed us to our room and we were delighted to discover that there were no stairs, and that our windows overlooked their sizable fruit, flower and vegetable garden, and on the other side, the volcano Cotopaxi. Hanging in front of our door and right beside (nearly IN) the garden were two comfy hammocks. Wow! we thought to ourselves, this is magnificent. I forgot to mention that the $15 per person per night included breakfast and dinner. I did mention the home cooking though.
Our hosts Patricia and Rumiñahui are both excellent cooks. She belongs to a group of women who are practicing and promoting organic gardening. We had homemade bread (from the week's baking) and fruit in the mornings (we had the choice of eggs from their flock of chickens, but preferred this). Lunches were extra ($3 each), and consisted of meat, rice, and fresh vegetables from their garden. The shrimp dinner on Saturday night was incredible. I longed to lick my fingers, but it wouldn't have been polite, I think--no one else was. I've never eaten shrimp with the shell on (it's quite messy with a lot of fingerwork involved), but I think I would have eaten these hanging upside down from a rope if I'd had to.
We met a couple from France who were staying there, very friendly. Her parents were originally from Spain, so her Spanish was excellent, and she had some English, too, which she enjoyed practicing with us. As they were leaving, they were asked to sign the wall where all the departing guests get to voice their sentiments.
Wall, you said? That's right, two whole walls of their dining room are painted with large trees. Everyone who stays has the opportunity to write what they wish, mostly very grateful wishes for the family. On the opposite wall is another tree listing the children, parents and grandparents. Each child had a nickname, from youngest to oldest: Sami (princesa), Malki (loco), Yarina (amable), Yauri (alegre). Patricia was creativa, and Rumi was soñador (dreamer). Their 19-year-old son Yauri is the artist who painted the walls and did some other very interesting and sometimes beautiful work throughout the house--portraits, dreamscapes, etc. He is very talented in my opinion, but not receiving any income from his art--he's working in Quito, but not as an artist.
We walked the roughly 3/4 mile to the town center on Saturday morning, passing many sights, both interesting and beautiful, and the inevitable wandering dogs. In this country town, we also saw many pigs, cows and horses grazing in the fields. We met the wife of an artisan we know in the leather market (Cotacachi is world-famous for its leather goods) and bought a poncho from her. At noon, we walked back. After lunch, Patricia brought a plate to an elderly gentleman who was working in their fields where they raise potatoes, habas (fava beans) and some other things. He was trying to hold a roll of barbed wire at the same time and dropped the plate upside down in the dirt. That was sad for all of us, because we had pictured his satisfaction eating that delicious food that we had just had, but the dogs who had followed us truly enjoyed it. (The bowl of soup was better protected, so he didn't have to go completely hungry.) Besides dogs, they also raise pigs, cows, horses, chickens, dogs and cats. We had fun playing with the latter. Vincent asked why the puppies were kept on the roof. Patricia's smiling reply was, they are traviésos. (Scamps.) They proved it the next day by overturning some potted plants on the patio and making a big mess.
It is amazing to us over and over to see these animals all living amicably side by side. So much for the law of the jungle. Dogs here in general don't chase chickens (or cats) or cows. They are not on leashes either. Many of them chase cars and cyclists, but many others just look placidly at passersby without barking or threatening. We don't understand why the differences exist--aggressive, barking, chasing or peaceful, calm and moderately friendly--but none of them has a leash.
On Saturday afternoon, Rumi asked if we wanted to go for a drive to see Lake Cuicocha. This was very kind of him--not in the brochure at all--and we had wanted to see it again. When we were here in 2011, it was just beautiful. It is the caldera of a dormant volcano filled with water. In some spots, you can see the (formerly hot) gases escaping in clusters of bubbles. The place he drove us to was very high above the lake, so you could see the whole thing, including the islands in the center. It seemed we were at the very top of the world, looking out at the chain of volcanoes, dormant and active, that form the backbone of Ecuador. Years ago, someone planted several small stands of pine and others of eucalyptus, which is omnipresent in this part of the country. It was so uplifting to see all the green! No billboards, no highways, no apartment blocks, office buildings, factories or stores, just lovely vistas for 360 degrees. We could see the dots in the valley that represented Otavalo, where we are currently living.
We then drove to visit family of Patricia and Rumi and from there went up the hill on a steep dirt road to find one of the puppies, who apparently had run home to his mother as soon as he realized where he was. Here we had a real treat. There was a tiny family enclave on the side of the hill by the road. We walked down to it and met a young relative and an incredibly ancient-looking couple who stood beside their house. Rumi wanted us to see how houses used to be made before Europeans came. The house owned by the couple was newer--it had a thatched roof and concrete block walls. He said that was not as warm. The other house was also thatched but made with adobe--mud with layers of bamboo, just like a cake. This one is warmer in the winter, Rumi said. The couple were gracious to let us photograph them beside their house, and their smiles were very broad when Vincent showed them the picture afterwards. Afterwards, we drove back to Cotacachi through Otavalo, listening to Vivaldi in the car (that was surreal in a way, as we most often here have heard Andean music and contemporary rock on the radio). Rumi loves classical violin. And we both love Vivaldi.
We stopped at a tiny shop in a tiny town for ice cream. The chocolate variety that I chose was very yummy. We felt replete, totally relaxed and even pampered well before the shrimp dinner. They really made every effort to celebrate my birthday, even though the day before I had been a stranger. Rumi even played his violin for my supper--"feliz cumpleaños," and everyone sang. Gratitude was my constant emotional state for this birthday.
I spent a lot of time that weekend listening to the live stream from the conference which is the culmination of the transformational nine-month course I have been taking. That was energizing and encouraging. I also decided that at 70, I am not descending the proverbial "hill," rather getting ready to make the biggest contribution I can to the world. On Friday night I began getting e-mails from all over the world wishing me a happy birthday. It had a tremendous impact on me, how many people wish me well. I realized I know hundreds of very kind people, which is a gift beyond my wildest dreams. Saturday the trickle became a torrent. I was overwhelmed with kindness. I got funny cards from a friend and from the office of Minga and a sweet one from my former sister-in-law. She had the idea of scanning and e-mailing the card, which had never occurred to me is possible.
On Sunday, Patricia asked would we like to see something very special that happens in Cotacachi only one time a year on this weekend. Of course we said yes, so we walked together to the town plaza to see Muyu Raymi, which is a féria de semillas, or festival of seeds. This has been going on since antiquity (which is why it has the indigenous name), but is growing in importance because of the need for healthier gardening, without pesticides, chemicals or GMOs. It was astonishing. That's the best I can describe it. In one corner of the plaza, they had an indigenous ceremony to offer thanks to the Creator for all the gifts of the earth--a harvest festival. But one feature is unique in my experience--people exchange their seeds. There are competitions for the various types of seeds, especially maíz, or corn. The ones that get the prizes are the most sought after. The table where they were displayed was thickly surrounded with people several layers deep.
The beauty of this festival is hard to describe--so glad Vincent took pictures. In the main square, they had laid out a traditional offering--fruits, flowers, vegetables, seeds of all kinds, laid out in a beautiful geometric pattern. An old woman chanted in Quichua (the language of indigenous Ecuadoreans, predating the Spanish by centuries), a group chanted and sang, and the old women went around the circle that had gathered to watch sprinkling water on the crowd. It was very similar to some of the ceremonies at St. Nicholas in that regard. Afterwards, groups gathered to play music, sing and dance.
We also milled around the square, looking at exhibits and seeing the incredible display of seeds lining the streets. It reminded us of Holy Week in Guatemala, when the pavements are decorated with gorgeous mosaics of seeds, dyed corn meal and flower petals. The native women (mostly) also lined the streets, sitting or squatting, talking to each other and arranging the displays.
Patricia introduced us to several of her friends, one of whom is a herbalist. She had published a small book explaining the medicinal value of many native plants, and they chatted together for quite some time while Vincent took photos. We tasted some improbable dishes (some of them involving insects) and got food for Patricia's brother and father at some of the cooking stalls. Then we walked home in leisurely fashion. She made us a nice lunch at home and after spending a bit more time in the hammocks and then the garden, learning some more about plants, we took a taxi to Otavalo.
The pace of life in Cotacachi is so tranquil, so lovely. We walked, ate, spent time playing with the kittens and viewing the garden and smelling the citrus blossoms. I felt like a happy little flower, slowly opening in the warmth of the sun. In the midst of this were beautiful meditations on the power of life to heal and renew itself. I felt my soul expanding as if it would fly. Vincent kept encouraging me to remember that I am loved. All the Facebook posts and e-mails and phone calls helped. I was pretty buoyant by the end of the evening. I really feel called to use the gifts I have been given to share the beauty of the earth and all its creatures, human and not, and to help people connect with the love and unity that is their birthright on this planet. The book Transcendent Joy is just the beginning. To live expanded, to know I have a place and a purpose, that others value me (thank you, Anne, for the reminder) as I value them, that was the real gift of this birthday, the best birthday ever. Thank you, God, thank you all..
Monday, August 17, 2015
Sunday, March 29, 2015 Santa Marianita
A beautiful, beautiful experience today. I heard the Lord say, "Open up--eyes, ears, skin--let everything in that I have for you." As I did that today, I experienced more personal freedom than I ever have before. Everything to me was beautiful, welcome, happy. I observed how others were feeling, much more than usual (usually I FEEL what others are feeling, or what they seem to be feeling). We went to the beach at San Lorenzo--quite beautiful, with similar scenery to Big Sur in California. The Rodriguez family is one we have come to love--very warm, very happy, with lots of big smiles and laughter, especially Washington, the father, and Samuel, the three-year-old son. However, the 14-year-old son and 16-year-old daughter were happy to sit together in the front seat and look over each other's shoulder at cell phone photos. Alba, a beautiful woman, mother of three, sat in the back with Samuel, me and Vincent.
There were so many things that reminded me of my childhood this day, but what happened was different from how it was back then. We would have been so worried about getting the (borrowed) car dirty and sandy and wet that we wouldn't have had a good time. We would have been fending each other off as one climbed over the other, heedless of accidental blows to the head. I would have been wishing to be anywhere else. All of this was different, because I was different. An incredible gift, to get to "do childhood over" in one day.
At San Lorenzo, the waves were quite strong with a heavy undertow, so we just got wet in the extremely pleasant water and walked about 3/4 mile along the beach. Then we drove closer to Manta (tuna fishing capital of the world, which would have enthralled my dad) and stopped at Santa Marianita, also a beautiful beach, but with much tamer waves, breaking in shallow water. So much fun to remember the many happy times in the sea, and to heal the sad ones.
When we returned today, the house was full with neighbors and friends--coming together every Sunday night--some of the family make fruit drinks and the others come to buy them. Some spoke a little English, and it was fun to try to separate truth from falsehoods as our host teased his friends, calling them, Sr. Lie, and telling us they were tourist guides. We fell for it of course, but it was all in fun, as Washington said, they were "mentiras blancas."
Going to bed tonight happy and calm, ready to return to Santo Domingo and finish the last couple of legs of our journey. Thank you everyone, for being in my life, for the immense gift it is to know you.
There were so many things that reminded me of my childhood this day, but what happened was different from how it was back then. We would have been so worried about getting the (borrowed) car dirty and sandy and wet that we wouldn't have had a good time. We would have been fending each other off as one climbed over the other, heedless of accidental blows to the head. I would have been wishing to be anywhere else. All of this was different, because I was different. An incredible gift, to get to "do childhood over" in one day.
At San Lorenzo, the waves were quite strong with a heavy undertow, so we just got wet in the extremely pleasant water and walked about 3/4 mile along the beach. Then we drove closer to Manta (tuna fishing capital of the world, which would have enthralled my dad) and stopped at Santa Marianita, also a beautiful beach, but with much tamer waves, breaking in shallow water. So much fun to remember the many happy times in the sea, and to heal the sad ones.
When we returned today, the house was full with neighbors and friends--coming together every Sunday night--some of the family make fruit drinks and the others come to buy them. Some spoke a little English, and it was fun to try to separate truth from falsehoods as our host teased his friends, calling them, Sr. Lie, and telling us they were tourist guides. We fell for it of course, but it was all in fun, as Washington said, they were "mentiras blancas."
Going to bed tonight happy and calm, ready to return to Santo Domingo and finish the last couple of legs of our journey. Thank you everyone, for being in my life, for the immense gift it is to know you.
Sunday, July 26, 2015
July 26, Strange Encounters in Cotacachi
A lot of the last week has been devoted to work--getting samples ordered and approved from a new artisan, writing bunches of e-mails and reports, new procedures and making hiring recommendations. Today we decided to not even open that Pandora's box and had a nice time thinking and wondering about future possibilities and which ones hold energy for us. It's something we haven't done often, but now are getting into it. Afterwards, we had our daily prayers and walked to town to take the bus to Cotacachi. Otavalo, where we currently live, is situated between two sleeping volcanoes--Imbabura and Cotacachi--they are the legendary "pachamamá" and " taita papá" of the indigenous Quichua people. Papá Imbabura has been sleeping for the last 8,000 years (a mere nap in geologic time); Google says mamá Cotacachi last erupted in 1955. (Other files say she is dormant.)
The day was perfect--clear blue skies with fluffy white clouds, date palms glistening in the sun. We stopped in the Plaza de San Francisco to view the market and look for our friend Cristhián. Not finding him, we stopped to talk to (and buy from) a vendor of crepes named Alfonsina. She is from the area, but ten years ago she was living in Germany and married her husband from the Netherlands. She did not know how to make crepes then, but her husband taught her the recipe. Nijnegen is one of only two places which Vincent has visited in the Netherlands. She was remarking what a small world it is. We said to ourselves, "It's even smaller than that."
On the way into the town from the bus station, we encountered a couple whom Vincent had only the day before found in a Facebook group from Cotacachi. He recognized them on the street! We had a very nice chat with them, got the name of a good immigration lawyer, walked on to the plaza and saw a woman buying crepes. She recommended them as delicious and Susanne talked with Alfonsina while Vincent talked with the gringa. She was from a small town in Ohio near Cleveland, practically next door to us. It came out she had close family from Dublin, and she'd connections in Cork as well. She also gave us the name of an immigration lawyer who could help us get a permanent resident visa. Everyone was so friendly today. We went to look for the tourist office and encountered a nice woman in a hostal who told us the office was closed on Sundays (contrary to the Lonely Planet guide's information.) Something we are hearing from every direction is that everything changes in Ecuador (particularly immigration rules), so we were not too surprised.
We stopped in a large square to listen to a local band playing lively South American tunes which we recognized. They seemed to be high school and college age, all dressed in black and swaying in time (about 30 of them). We reflected on the loss to North America of community live music, something which used to be traditional in every town on a Sunday afternoon, but now very rare, supplanted by electronically disseminated music performed by professionals. It used to be that one played an instrument and played whenever a group could assemble in the community. I suppose garage bands have taken that niche in musical ecology, but I remember listening to the bands in the park on Sundays in Riverside, California, and how much fun they were for everyone, young and old. You didn't have to be a rock-and-roller or a techno fan or a Beethoven admirer to enjoy that music. So music has gotten more specialized, more professional, and more remote from people's experience--it is "pure" now, divorced from family and friends, the private preserve of a very few. It feels sad.
By contrast, the joy of the musicians in the park was clear. Have we traded joy for perfection? A poor bargain, it seems to me.
The first couple we encountered in Cotacachi are working in an indigenous community, volunteering their time to teach young children English. We were very impressed with their respectful approach to the culture of the Quichua.
As we approached the bus station to return home, whom should we spy but Carlos and Sulema Pastillo, our friends from Peguche. It was such a delight to see them, and they were happy to see us as well. They invited us to come see them again, and we promised we would. So many kind faces today. We feel like we spent the day with friends, even though all but Carlos and Sulema were strangers. How strange, yet wonderful, are the ways of Providence!
The day was perfect--clear blue skies with fluffy white clouds, date palms glistening in the sun. We stopped in the Plaza de San Francisco to view the market and look for our friend Cristhián. Not finding him, we stopped to talk to (and buy from) a vendor of crepes named Alfonsina. She is from the area, but ten years ago she was living in Germany and married her husband from the Netherlands. She did not know how to make crepes then, but her husband taught her the recipe. Nijnegen is one of only two places which Vincent has visited in the Netherlands. She was remarking what a small world it is. We said to ourselves, "It's even smaller than that."
On the way into the town from the bus station, we encountered a couple whom Vincent had only the day before found in a Facebook group from Cotacachi. He recognized them on the street! We had a very nice chat with them, got the name of a good immigration lawyer, walked on to the plaza and saw a woman buying crepes. She recommended them as delicious and Susanne talked with Alfonsina while Vincent talked with the gringa. She was from a small town in Ohio near Cleveland, practically next door to us. It came out she had close family from Dublin, and she'd connections in Cork as well. She also gave us the name of an immigration lawyer who could help us get a permanent resident visa. Everyone was so friendly today. We went to look for the tourist office and encountered a nice woman in a hostal who told us the office was closed on Sundays (contrary to the Lonely Planet guide's information.) Something we are hearing from every direction is that everything changes in Ecuador (particularly immigration rules), so we were not too surprised.
We stopped in a large square to listen to a local band playing lively South American tunes which we recognized. They seemed to be high school and college age, all dressed in black and swaying in time (about 30 of them). We reflected on the loss to North America of community live music, something which used to be traditional in every town on a Sunday afternoon, but now very rare, supplanted by electronically disseminated music performed by professionals. It used to be that one played an instrument and played whenever a group could assemble in the community. I suppose garage bands have taken that niche in musical ecology, but I remember listening to the bands in the park on Sundays in Riverside, California, and how much fun they were for everyone, young and old. You didn't have to be a rock-and-roller or a techno fan or a Beethoven admirer to enjoy that music. So music has gotten more specialized, more professional, and more remote from people's experience--it is "pure" now, divorced from family and friends, the private preserve of a very few. It feels sad.
By contrast, the joy of the musicians in the park was clear. Have we traded joy for perfection? A poor bargain, it seems to me.
The first couple we encountered in Cotacachi are working in an indigenous community, volunteering their time to teach young children English. We were very impressed with their respectful approach to the culture of the Quichua.
As we approached the bus station to return home, whom should we spy but Carlos and Sulema Pastillo, our friends from Peguche. It was such a delight to see them, and they were happy to see us as well. They invited us to come see them again, and we promised we would. So many kind faces today. We feel like we spent the day with friends, even though all but Carlos and Sulema were strangers. How strange, yet wonderful, are the ways of Providence!
Thursday, July 16, 2015
July 16 Always Moving Forward
One of our unwitting teachers here, Martha Constante, has a motto--"siempre adelante," meaning always keep moving forward, no matter what has knocked you back. I am adopting it, too. The house sale continues on, with the stellar performance of our realtor who has in one weekend a) rewired a problematic light on our back porch, contacted the buyer's lawyer and realtor with corrected information (their inspector was incompetent), contacted ComEd to urge them to finish their three year-old pole-setting project and wrangled everyone around into the position to sign the papers and move forward on the sale. Bless you, Osh! The only remaining hurdle is the buyer's need to get a mortgage loan, and that is out of our hands completely. We simply have to trust and keep "moving forward."
We continue on with our volunteer work here, offering whatever we have to the development of fair trade here in Ecuador, even though sometimes we feel that's little enough, or not what's needed or wanted, or whatever. Or maybe it's only I who feel that way. It doesn't matter, what I have I will give, and surely there will be, in God's economy, someone who needs it. It certainly worked that way with furniture two weeks ago! We will be here until early October, doing this. Afterward, we will sell our fair trade crafts at church bazaars until Christmas, and after that, what? We don't know, but we will keep moving forward.
Trust has become a big theme for us, and I am constantly reminded how we cannot tell when events are happening around us whether they will benefit or harm us. Things that may seem to be good can just as likely turn out very badly. The opposite is also true. All we can do is offer God the precious gift of our trust and do what's in front of us with great love and attention. In the midst of all of this, there are tiny, tiny micro-events that hold so much significance, they are the seeds of the future, and we plant them mostly unconsciously. All of that said, my dear friend Charlotte used to always say, "I don't know anything else for sure, but I do know that underneath are the everlasting arms." We have been so blessed that even all this uncertainty about next steps, etc. doesn't feel threatening. We are on course, on time and on point in God's view of things. We are urged to "enjoy the ride," because it is so very short.
Today Vincent and I were remembering the first months of our friendship, when all we ignorant souls noticed was how very much we liked each other. Gratitude repeats the phrase, 27 years later. Many things have happened that tested our little boat to the utmost. For the moment we are in calm water. But I can honestly say, there's no other boat I would rather be in than ours, even during the times when I am NOT aware that God's arms are underneath us.
Just a small thing--it was really lovely that Osh did all his communicating with us via his cell phone, so I got to see once more our beautiful home and the sheltering trees in the backyard that have given us so much delight. He was showing me the temporary electric connections on our house and our two neighbors'--but what I saw was beauty and peace and the gift that our lives together have been.
Tomorrow? We will continue on.
We continue on with our volunteer work here, offering whatever we have to the development of fair trade here in Ecuador, even though sometimes we feel that's little enough, or not what's needed or wanted, or whatever. Or maybe it's only I who feel that way. It doesn't matter, what I have I will give, and surely there will be, in God's economy, someone who needs it. It certainly worked that way with furniture two weeks ago! We will be here until early October, doing this. Afterward, we will sell our fair trade crafts at church bazaars until Christmas, and after that, what? We don't know, but we will keep moving forward.
Trust has become a big theme for us, and I am constantly reminded how we cannot tell when events are happening around us whether they will benefit or harm us. Things that may seem to be good can just as likely turn out very badly. The opposite is also true. All we can do is offer God the precious gift of our trust and do what's in front of us with great love and attention. In the midst of all of this, there are tiny, tiny micro-events that hold so much significance, they are the seeds of the future, and we plant them mostly unconsciously. All of that said, my dear friend Charlotte used to always say, "I don't know anything else for sure, but I do know that underneath are the everlasting arms." We have been so blessed that even all this uncertainty about next steps, etc. doesn't feel threatening. We are on course, on time and on point in God's view of things. We are urged to "enjoy the ride," because it is so very short.
Today Vincent and I were remembering the first months of our friendship, when all we ignorant souls noticed was how very much we liked each other. Gratitude repeats the phrase, 27 years later. Many things have happened that tested our little boat to the utmost. For the moment we are in calm water. But I can honestly say, there's no other boat I would rather be in than ours, even during the times when I am NOT aware that God's arms are underneath us.
Just a small thing--it was really lovely that Osh did all his communicating with us via his cell phone, so I got to see once more our beautiful home and the sheltering trees in the backyard that have given us so much delight. He was showing me the temporary electric connections on our house and our two neighbors'--but what I saw was beauty and peace and the gift that our lives together have been.
Tomorrow? We will continue on.
Saturday, July 11, 2015
July 11, 2015 Day of Rest
We are back in Ecuador, since Monday of this week, getting re-acclimated to altitude, food, new bed, etc. I've been feeling guilty for not continuing the daily blog, but Vincent reminded me it was only I who thought it had to be every day. So here goes. The woman who rented us our last apartment kindly reserved another one for when we returned, so we are now on the second floor with a nice view of a tree-covered hill, but to me even more interesting, our neighbors' homes. These are small one or two room structures made of concrete and roofed--haphazardly--with red tile. It appears to be two related families, sharing a structure in the middle which may be latrines. Each of the families washes every other day in a concrete tub outside the shed and hangs the clean clothes on lines strung all across the yard. It looks like Buddhist prayer flags. They dress traditionally. One of them, an elderly man, was working in his garden (very overgrown) with a machete the other day. He was very expert with it.
To me it is a great pleasure to watch them. They chat and work together, a lot in the open, with chickens and dogs roaming the yard in peaceful coexistence, all seemingly oblivious to the presence of tourist hostals (longer-term hotels) all around them looking by contrast garishly modern and sleek. Ours is an older one, painted pastel pink and built in an add-on fashion very familiar to Ecuadorians. You build another floor or wing when you have the money. We adore our landlady, Lilia. She is a single mother of a sweet toddler. She works very hard, moving furniture and linens and kitchen supplies from floor to floor as required by her tenants. Once she even hung our laundry when we forgot and left it in the washer! In the old place, we had very bad internet reception at first. She kept on nagging the cable company until she got it improved, and it seems in our absence she got it fixed to work perfectly. We are very grateful, as it means we can stay in touch with "back home" better.
The week before we left, we received an offer on our house. It was much, much less than the house is actually worth, but we accepted it. The inspection was this Tuesday, while we were here, so the week before we left, we spent all of each and every day working to strip our house of our belongings. Everything we own except the car is now stored in 150 square feet. It was a delight to be able to bless our friends and neighbors with gifts of furniture and dishes. We held on to only our bed, my worktable (because it took us so long to find one that was low enough), and our two rocking chairs, one a wedding gift and the other a Christmas gift. It was wrenching for me to say goodbye to our home for the last 16 years--so many happy memories were created there, and our yard was a gift of grace in many ways for us. To eat breakfast while watching the birds and squirrels managing their own lives all around us, to see the beautiful offerings of the flowers, to enjoy the largesse of our now-grown trees, then say our prayers for the day, reminding us of the gratitude we owe to our Maker, that was heavenly. Interestingly enough, there are more birds around our backyard than we have around here, I don't know why.
We will reestablish that practice again here. Now we face into the tasks of furnishing the new office and hiring the new manager. We are not solely responsible for this--we are just the arms and legs of the people who will make the decisions, but that feels good to be helping. I personally am missing everyone, particularly my daughter and granddaughters. We had some wonderful times with them in June when we were in Illinois. We return to the U.S. in early October. Then we will jump right in to holiday sales events, selling fair trade items once more. If the sale of our house goes through, and right now we are not sure that it will, we will have to hurry up and find a place to live, at least until January 1. We don't know how that will happen, but we're on a journey without a clear destination, so we'll just have to trust in God's providence.
During our time in June, we were able to launch our new book, Transcendent Joy, which can be viewed on Amazon.com. It is a book that makes ME happy to read, so we brought a copy back here for the "down days," if there are any. Vincent suggests that I start another, writing about the artisans we have met who have touched us with their courage, grace and determination to make a better life for their children than they have had. If there is time in the next three months, I will.
We are still adjusting to and learning a different way of life. I am told (by the Ecuadorian consulate in Chicago) that jobs are very scarce. There are a lot of small business enterprises--micro, really, for many--where people combine their work with their daily chores. If the children are not in school, they play in the yard or the shop, wherever their parents are, or if they're old enough, they help. Some people do daily agricultural or cleaning work, others have small convenience stores in their homes, others are fortunate enough to have skills in producing crafts for export. The big factories are on the coast, not here, so there's no real slave labor. However, life here is much simpler, much less expensive (for us, not necessarily the ordinary citizens of Ecuador), and at a much more steady pace. When we were back in the U.S., for example, we felt literally bombarded whenever we entered a retail store or grocery--too many choices, too much pressure to buy, buy, buy. It was also very difficult to fit in visits with people we really wanted to see--either their schedule or ours was full. Not a problem here, but maybe that is because it is necessarily a smaller number of people, having arrived here only six months ago. No one expects a dishwasher or a vacuum cleaner or a car or a dryer for laundry or hot water in the kitchen sink, even though Ecuador is not a poor country. It's just not a part of the landscape, and I had no idea how much I did NOT miss those things, nor how much they complicate my life in the U.S. until now.
I was very happy to witness the regrowth of Ten Thousand Villages Evanston, which you know Vincent and I played a big part in opening. They had been in some bad straits early last year, so it was good to see the renewal of hope and energy, brought about by the staff and the new manager, Joseph. I thank him for taking such good care of "my baby." I know some of the artisans their work is benefiting, and they are grateful, too.
This afternoon, we will get ourselves unpacked and buy groceries for next week. Tomorrow we hope the sun will shine and we can do the laundry. Thank you all for your friendship and love. We are very blessed whatever country we are in because of you guys.
Love,
Susanne & Vincent
To me it is a great pleasure to watch them. They chat and work together, a lot in the open, with chickens and dogs roaming the yard in peaceful coexistence, all seemingly oblivious to the presence of tourist hostals (longer-term hotels) all around them looking by contrast garishly modern and sleek. Ours is an older one, painted pastel pink and built in an add-on fashion very familiar to Ecuadorians. You build another floor or wing when you have the money. We adore our landlady, Lilia. She is a single mother of a sweet toddler. She works very hard, moving furniture and linens and kitchen supplies from floor to floor as required by her tenants. Once she even hung our laundry when we forgot and left it in the washer! In the old place, we had very bad internet reception at first. She kept on nagging the cable company until she got it improved, and it seems in our absence she got it fixed to work perfectly. We are very grateful, as it means we can stay in touch with "back home" better.
The week before we left, we received an offer on our house. It was much, much less than the house is actually worth, but we accepted it. The inspection was this Tuesday, while we were here, so the week before we left, we spent all of each and every day working to strip our house of our belongings. Everything we own except the car is now stored in 150 square feet. It was a delight to be able to bless our friends and neighbors with gifts of furniture and dishes. We held on to only our bed, my worktable (because it took us so long to find one that was low enough), and our two rocking chairs, one a wedding gift and the other a Christmas gift. It was wrenching for me to say goodbye to our home for the last 16 years--so many happy memories were created there, and our yard was a gift of grace in many ways for us. To eat breakfast while watching the birds and squirrels managing their own lives all around us, to see the beautiful offerings of the flowers, to enjoy the largesse of our now-grown trees, then say our prayers for the day, reminding us of the gratitude we owe to our Maker, that was heavenly. Interestingly enough, there are more birds around our backyard than we have around here, I don't know why.
We will reestablish that practice again here. Now we face into the tasks of furnishing the new office and hiring the new manager. We are not solely responsible for this--we are just the arms and legs of the people who will make the decisions, but that feels good to be helping. I personally am missing everyone, particularly my daughter and granddaughters. We had some wonderful times with them in June when we were in Illinois. We return to the U.S. in early October. Then we will jump right in to holiday sales events, selling fair trade items once more. If the sale of our house goes through, and right now we are not sure that it will, we will have to hurry up and find a place to live, at least until January 1. We don't know how that will happen, but we're on a journey without a clear destination, so we'll just have to trust in God's providence.
During our time in June, we were able to launch our new book, Transcendent Joy, which can be viewed on Amazon.com. It is a book that makes ME happy to read, so we brought a copy back here for the "down days," if there are any. Vincent suggests that I start another, writing about the artisans we have met who have touched us with their courage, grace and determination to make a better life for their children than they have had. If there is time in the next three months, I will.
We are still adjusting to and learning a different way of life. I am told (by the Ecuadorian consulate in Chicago) that jobs are very scarce. There are a lot of small business enterprises--micro, really, for many--where people combine their work with their daily chores. If the children are not in school, they play in the yard or the shop, wherever their parents are, or if they're old enough, they help. Some people do daily agricultural or cleaning work, others have small convenience stores in their homes, others are fortunate enough to have skills in producing crafts for export. The big factories are on the coast, not here, so there's no real slave labor. However, life here is much simpler, much less expensive (for us, not necessarily the ordinary citizens of Ecuador), and at a much more steady pace. When we were back in the U.S., for example, we felt literally bombarded whenever we entered a retail store or grocery--too many choices, too much pressure to buy, buy, buy. It was also very difficult to fit in visits with people we really wanted to see--either their schedule or ours was full. Not a problem here, but maybe that is because it is necessarily a smaller number of people, having arrived here only six months ago. No one expects a dishwasher or a vacuum cleaner or a car or a dryer for laundry or hot water in the kitchen sink, even though Ecuador is not a poor country. It's just not a part of the landscape, and I had no idea how much I did NOT miss those things, nor how much they complicate my life in the U.S. until now.
I was very happy to witness the regrowth of Ten Thousand Villages Evanston, which you know Vincent and I played a big part in opening. They had been in some bad straits early last year, so it was good to see the renewal of hope and energy, brought about by the staff and the new manager, Joseph. I thank him for taking such good care of "my baby." I know some of the artisans their work is benefiting, and they are grateful, too.
This afternoon, we will get ourselves unpacked and buy groceries for next week. Tomorrow we hope the sun will shine and we can do the laundry. Thank you all for your friendship and love. We are very blessed whatever country we are in because of you guys.
Love,
Susanne & Vincent
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Tuesday, March 24, 2015 Coastal Character
Elizabeth got us up for breakfast and had the taxi at the door just before we were supposed to depart. She had bought the bus tickets in advance and we jumped on it just before it pulled out of the station. It was both air-conditioned and roomy. Having been hot and steamy for days, we really, REALLY appreciated it. We had Washington's phone number (our host for the next week), Elizabeth had packed some lunch, and we felt very cared for. The trip was comfortable with the usual long line of vendors hopping on at each stop, pitching their wares, one of them even doing some sort of evangelism while he was selling candy and soliciting contributions. They have a way of handing you the packaged candy or cookies or chips in what seems to be a gift and then giving their pitch at the front of the bus and coming back later asking you to pay for it. What is amazing to me is that it seems to work.
One woman earlier on in our journey had even climbed the bus to tell people she was out of money and needed a bus ticket home, and could they please help her. I couldn't see how people were responding, but this came back to mind as this gentleman was selling his "candy-sweet" gospel. This time people really did respond, and he was very grateful. It's not that we haven't seen this before. In Chicago on the Els it used to be very, very common. But Chicago put a stop to it. Here there were at least ten vendors walking through the bus with some local food at the major stops, and at least four or five at the small ones. It seems that a bus coming through town (no matter how small the bus or the town) is a major income opportunity for people. If it's not working, why does it continue?
The scenery we saw was very, very beautiful on this trip. Many banana plantations dot the route through the foothills of the Andes. As you get near the coast, the landscape changes to sand, agave and sagebrush--desert-types. Manta is a pretty big town. When we arrived, we telephoned Washington and he said he would meet us at the bus station. We waited about half an hour and then called him again. Which station are you in? he asked. Oh dear, there are TWO bus stations in Manta, and this is the station where only one bus line comes in. He had thought we would arrive in the main one. Only a few minutes later, he drove up in a car that was new in the 1980's--or earlier, we could not tell. Vincent called it a MacGyver vehicle, from the popular science show way back. However, it ran well and held seven of us at a time as we bounced and jounced over the rutted roads. There were so many things wrong with the body of this vehicle, and he starts it by jumping two wires hanging out of the dash. Vincent just laughed and laughed when Washington said we had to fasten our seat belts because the police would fine him $25 if we didn't. Vincent was thinking to himself, what about the hood that comes unlatched and flies up whenever the fancy strikes? And the doors that barely close? And the rust all around the frame that promises one day passengers in this vehicle will be dumped out onto the road? Apparently, those are not a problem in Ecuador--just unfastened seat belts.
Washington is a diminutive man--about five feet tall and 110 pounds. We knew he had been very ill for several years before we met him, and he later told us he had lost 90 pounds and then as he got better added about thirty. He showed us pictures of himself before this disease had taken its toll, and there was a short, muscular, sturdy looking fellow with a mustache looking out at us. He looks very different from the picture now. It is some type of disease similar to hepatitis, but his cells are attacking each other as if they were not part of the same organism. We knew very little of this at the time, though. His wife Alba is very beautiful, in her early 30's. They have three children, Pamela 16, Jorge 14, and Daniel 3. Pame (PAH-may) sat in the back seat of the car with me as we bounced along toward their home. We connected very well--she is the same age as my granddaughter, Amber.
Washington is a great joker and has a lively sense of humor. He enjoyed teasing us about our lack of Spanish, but it was very gentle, so we didn't feel offended. Pame had given up her room for us. Theirs is a simple home they have built themselves, always full of people--neighbors and relatives, just stopping by for a chat or a meal. Most of the homes here are built of concrete block and finished iside with plaster over the blocks. Alba cooked for us three times a day, and piled our plates with mountains of food. This first night, we could not say no. We did our best to eat what she had cooked, but honestly, a troop of soldiers carrying full gear could have feasted on what she gave each one of us. Daniel was a delight. He has a million-dollar smile, we told Washington. Daniel loves old cowboy series like Bonanza and High Chaparral, also James Bond and Johnny English. Remember these, because they will figure largely in the next week. Daniel also loves riding his mother's broom (read: horse) all around the kitchen and living room. This we learned on day one.
There was no internet access in the house, but their family owns an internet cafe three doors down, so if we were really stuck, we could go down there. We learned later that there is (somewhat spotty) internet access on the roof of their house, very close to the edge, so we went up there most times, except in the rain, which on the coast of Ecuador is torrential, and no one goes out in it if it can be helped.
There are three Bajos right in a row, Washington explained. Theirs is the last of the series. The other two are "Bajo" (under) something else. This one had the usual complement of dogs and chickens running around. Washington and Alba have a rooster and a bunch of hens, all of whom are seriously dominated by the rooster and hens from Washington's mother's and older sister's house next door. They are also raising two pigs, who get all the family's leftovers.
After dinner, Vincent went with several family members to visit Alba's family, while I tried to tune into my lessons in Washington's mother's house next door. For some reason, I couldn't connect there consistently, so I gave up and went back to the house. Vincent returned and we went to sleep in Pame's room, without noticing the large yellow mosquito net in one corner of the room. Well, I say not noticing, but it was more like having no clue what it was for. There were hooks on the walls to tie the corners to so it would be held up like a tent over the bed. Why? Well, of course, because there are mosquitoes on any southern coast, even in the U.S.--even in Evanston, where we live. However, Evanston has trucks that go around after the rains spraying pesticide fog all around. Roads here have deep potholes that fill with rain, and no amount of spraying would help. So duh, we got bitten all night, a tasty feast of thick North American and Irish blood for the local vampires. I mean, mosquitoes. By morning, we were very, very swollen and itchy in places.
One woman earlier on in our journey had even climbed the bus to tell people she was out of money and needed a bus ticket home, and could they please help her. I couldn't see how people were responding, but this came back to mind as this gentleman was selling his "candy-sweet" gospel. This time people really did respond, and he was very grateful. It's not that we haven't seen this before. In Chicago on the Els it used to be very, very common. But Chicago put a stop to it. Here there were at least ten vendors walking through the bus with some local food at the major stops, and at least four or five at the small ones. It seems that a bus coming through town (no matter how small the bus or the town) is a major income opportunity for people. If it's not working, why does it continue?
The scenery we saw was very, very beautiful on this trip. Many banana plantations dot the route through the foothills of the Andes. As you get near the coast, the landscape changes to sand, agave and sagebrush--desert-types. Manta is a pretty big town. When we arrived, we telephoned Washington and he said he would meet us at the bus station. We waited about half an hour and then called him again. Which station are you in? he asked. Oh dear, there are TWO bus stations in Manta, and this is the station where only one bus line comes in. He had thought we would arrive in the main one. Only a few minutes later, he drove up in a car that was new in the 1980's--or earlier, we could not tell. Vincent called it a MacGyver vehicle, from the popular science show way back. However, it ran well and held seven of us at a time as we bounced and jounced over the rutted roads. There were so many things wrong with the body of this vehicle, and he starts it by jumping two wires hanging out of the dash. Vincent just laughed and laughed when Washington said we had to fasten our seat belts because the police would fine him $25 if we didn't. Vincent was thinking to himself, what about the hood that comes unlatched and flies up whenever the fancy strikes? And the doors that barely close? And the rust all around the frame that promises one day passengers in this vehicle will be dumped out onto the road? Apparently, those are not a problem in Ecuador--just unfastened seat belts.
Washington is a diminutive man--about five feet tall and 110 pounds. We knew he had been very ill for several years before we met him, and he later told us he had lost 90 pounds and then as he got better added about thirty. He showed us pictures of himself before this disease had taken its toll, and there was a short, muscular, sturdy looking fellow with a mustache looking out at us. He looks very different from the picture now. It is some type of disease similar to hepatitis, but his cells are attacking each other as if they were not part of the same organism. We knew very little of this at the time, though. His wife Alba is very beautiful, in her early 30's. They have three children, Pamela 16, Jorge 14, and Daniel 3. Pame (PAH-may) sat in the back seat of the car with me as we bounced along toward their home. We connected very well--she is the same age as my granddaughter, Amber.
Washington is a great joker and has a lively sense of humor. He enjoyed teasing us about our lack of Spanish, but it was very gentle, so we didn't feel offended. Pame had given up her room for us. Theirs is a simple home they have built themselves, always full of people--neighbors and relatives, just stopping by for a chat or a meal. Most of the homes here are built of concrete block and finished iside with plaster over the blocks. Alba cooked for us three times a day, and piled our plates with mountains of food. This first night, we could not say no. We did our best to eat what she had cooked, but honestly, a troop of soldiers carrying full gear could have feasted on what she gave each one of us. Daniel was a delight. He has a million-dollar smile, we told Washington. Daniel loves old cowboy series like Bonanza and High Chaparral, also James Bond and Johnny English. Remember these, because they will figure largely in the next week. Daniel also loves riding his mother's broom (read: horse) all around the kitchen and living room. This we learned on day one.
There was no internet access in the house, but their family owns an internet cafe three doors down, so if we were really stuck, we could go down there. We learned later that there is (somewhat spotty) internet access on the roof of their house, very close to the edge, so we went up there most times, except in the rain, which on the coast of Ecuador is torrential, and no one goes out in it if it can be helped.
There are three Bajos right in a row, Washington explained. Theirs is the last of the series. The other two are "Bajo" (under) something else. This one had the usual complement of dogs and chickens running around. Washington and Alba have a rooster and a bunch of hens, all of whom are seriously dominated by the rooster and hens from Washington's mother's and older sister's house next door. They are also raising two pigs, who get all the family's leftovers.
After dinner, Vincent went with several family members to visit Alba's family, while I tried to tune into my lessons in Washington's mother's house next door. For some reason, I couldn't connect there consistently, so I gave up and went back to the house. Vincent returned and we went to sleep in Pame's room, without noticing the large yellow mosquito net in one corner of the room. Well, I say not noticing, but it was more like having no clue what it was for. There were hooks on the walls to tie the corners to so it would be held up like a tent over the bed. Why? Well, of course, because there are mosquitoes on any southern coast, even in the U.S.--even in Evanston, where we live. However, Evanston has trucks that go around after the rains spraying pesticide fog all around. Roads here have deep potholes that fill with rain, and no amount of spraying would help. So duh, we got bitten all night, a tasty feast of thick North American and Irish blood for the local vampires. I mean, mosquitoes. By morning, we were very, very swollen and itchy in places.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015 Under the Palm Tree
After breakfast this morning, Washington invited us to his workshop for the interview. His first question was why are we here? He has been working with Chris for years--Chris brought a couple of tours to see him, but he has never met Romel, the artisan rep nor even Elizabeth, the South American manager who lives the closest. Why now these gringos who come and want to ask him questions? We explained that we are trying to help the artisans sell their products better by supplying some background to the story. He seemed to accept that, and told us he had been working on carving tagua animals for most of his adult life. He showed us the illustrated wildlife book he uses to make the designs. First he chooses the tagua nut that is the right shape for the animal he wants to make.
Compared to all the other tagua carvers we have seen, Washington is a Michelangelo. His figures have a lot of detail, but more importantly, their poses are very lifelike. You almost want to back away from the miniature elephant or lion because of their imposing presentation.
At 10 am, we took a break to Skype with the U.S. They have an idea they would like us to stay for a couple of more months to finish the reorganization we have started here. We agreed to discuss it, but the internet connection was so poor that we had to postpone it until the following week.
We continued the demonstration that Washington had started in the workshop. The steps are intricate and quick. We watched the elephant taking shape under his hands with amazement. There are a couple of rotary saws he uses enclosed in a wooden box to keep chips from flying into his face. Then he has several small size electric hand drills to shape the fine details or in some cases, make holes to insert tail, ears or tusks.
After the animal was shaped, Washington brought it to his sister, Irlanda, who helps him in the work. She has a rotary sander she uses to give the animals a high polish. She uses three different grades of sandpaper and a kaolin clay and buffer to give it the final shine. Then she returned it to Washington.
He looked it over carefully for flaws, then chose a tagua nut to be the base, planed it off top and bottom, carved our names with his drill, cut the tusk piece in half and inserted the halves into the holes he had already drilled, and voila! there is our elephant. The entire process took about half an hour. We were very impressed with his skill and dexterity. His fingers seemed to us to come perilously close to the saws. He clearly knew what he was doing, and hasn't had any major accidents in all the years he's been doing this. Still, we breathed easier when he took up the drill or sander.
At lunch, Washington told us that Manta is considered the tuna capital of the world. Alba served fresh-caught tuna so perfectly cooked and seasoned, it made me want to cry for all the cans of tuna I have consumed without ever discovering what tuna really tastes like. Wow! Heavenly!
It is very hot and humid on the coast of Ecuador. This causes it to rain a lot, as all that evaporated sea water can't stay and accumulate in the air indefinitely. However . . . never in my life have I seen such rain as fell this afternoon! The water was beginning to back up toward the house, so Jorge took off his shirt and waded out into the mud of the tiny front yard with a shovel to do some civil engineering--flood relief, actually. He dug a ditch right next to the concrete slab in front of the door, lined it with bricks and rocks and the water ran off down the slight hill beside the house. It was nice and cool afterwards. It rained and rained and it was so heavy, I was sure it would stop soon, but it did not! No wonder the vegetation is sparse here--the water must wash all the seeds away before they can grow roots to hold on with. The heat is causing my ankles and legs to swell. It is scary-looking to the family, but only painful to me.
In the afternoon, Vincent made a slide show for the family, using the "007" theme. Everyone was delighted with this gift. How special it was to see their family all represented in the record of their activities in the past two days. It is something Vincent has learned how to do that blesses our hosts very much. We are both so happy to see their delighted smiles and hear their laughter.
Just before sundown we went up to the roof to check e-mail and were delighted to see several lorakeets in the scrub trees behind the house. The birds are so colorful here. The national bird is the picaflor--the hummingbird. Their emerald and scarlet are everywhere. There is a Kingdom Hall (church) right beside Washington's house, and it is beautifully kept and landscaped. It grows like a tidy mushroom right out of the jungle and waste land.
Washington has a really tiny apartment on the roof where two young Jehovah's Witnesses live. I can't imagine two people living in that space, but they came out to talk with us. They are missionaries, so every morning they go out to preach, i.e., read the Bible to neighbors in this small town. Life here is calm, proceeding at an unhurried pace. When the sun sets, we all go to the front door to watch it. Friends and relatives drop in, chat for a while, then others replace them. Alba cooks dinner and we stuff ourselves with her delicious food.
Tonight we learned what the mosquito net was for--a much more peaceful sleep this night.
Compared to all the other tagua carvers we have seen, Washington is a Michelangelo. His figures have a lot of detail, but more importantly, their poses are very lifelike. You almost want to back away from the miniature elephant or lion because of their imposing presentation.
At 10 am, we took a break to Skype with the U.S. They have an idea they would like us to stay for a couple of more months to finish the reorganization we have started here. We agreed to discuss it, but the internet connection was so poor that we had to postpone it until the following week.
We continued the demonstration that Washington had started in the workshop. The steps are intricate and quick. We watched the elephant taking shape under his hands with amazement. There are a couple of rotary saws he uses enclosed in a wooden box to keep chips from flying into his face. Then he has several small size electric hand drills to shape the fine details or in some cases, make holes to insert tail, ears or tusks.
After the animal was shaped, Washington brought it to his sister, Irlanda, who helps him in the work. She has a rotary sander she uses to give the animals a high polish. She uses three different grades of sandpaper and a kaolin clay and buffer to give it the final shine. Then she returned it to Washington.
He looked it over carefully for flaws, then chose a tagua nut to be the base, planed it off top and bottom, carved our names with his drill, cut the tusk piece in half and inserted the halves into the holes he had already drilled, and voila! there is our elephant. The entire process took about half an hour. We were very impressed with his skill and dexterity. His fingers seemed to us to come perilously close to the saws. He clearly knew what he was doing, and hasn't had any major accidents in all the years he's been doing this. Still, we breathed easier when he took up the drill or sander.
At lunch, Washington told us that Manta is considered the tuna capital of the world. Alba served fresh-caught tuna so perfectly cooked and seasoned, it made me want to cry for all the cans of tuna I have consumed without ever discovering what tuna really tastes like. Wow! Heavenly!
It is very hot and humid on the coast of Ecuador. This causes it to rain a lot, as all that evaporated sea water can't stay and accumulate in the air indefinitely. However . . . never in my life have I seen such rain as fell this afternoon! The water was beginning to back up toward the house, so Jorge took off his shirt and waded out into the mud of the tiny front yard with a shovel to do some civil engineering--flood relief, actually. He dug a ditch right next to the concrete slab in front of the door, lined it with bricks and rocks and the water ran off down the slight hill beside the house. It was nice and cool afterwards. It rained and rained and it was so heavy, I was sure it would stop soon, but it did not! No wonder the vegetation is sparse here--the water must wash all the seeds away before they can grow roots to hold on with. The heat is causing my ankles and legs to swell. It is scary-looking to the family, but only painful to me.
In the afternoon, Vincent made a slide show for the family, using the "007" theme. Everyone was delighted with this gift. How special it was to see their family all represented in the record of their activities in the past two days. It is something Vincent has learned how to do that blesses our hosts very much. We are both so happy to see their delighted smiles and hear their laughter.
Just before sundown we went up to the roof to check e-mail and were delighted to see several lorakeets in the scrub trees behind the house. The birds are so colorful here. The national bird is the picaflor--the hummingbird. Their emerald and scarlet are everywhere. There is a Kingdom Hall (church) right beside Washington's house, and it is beautifully kept and landscaped. It grows like a tidy mushroom right out of the jungle and waste land.
Washington has a really tiny apartment on the roof where two young Jehovah's Witnesses live. I can't imagine two people living in that space, but they came out to talk with us. They are missionaries, so every morning they go out to preach, i.e., read the Bible to neighbors in this small town. Life here is calm, proceeding at an unhurried pace. When the sun sets, we all go to the front door to watch it. Friends and relatives drop in, chat for a while, then others replace them. Alba cooks dinner and we stuff ourselves with her delicious food.
Tonight we learned what the mosquito net was for--a much more peaceful sleep this night.
Monday, March 23, 2015
The biggest impact of the day was receiving an e-mail from our lawyer that the buyers wanted to back out of the sale. No reasons given. We were the first to learn it. Our realtor tried to ask the buyers' realtor what was wrong, but she refused to answer. We are so worried, after having spent so much money and time, that there is another major problem with the house that we don't know about. We don't have more money for fixing the house!
We told the realtor to put the house back on the market--it's still March, and April is the critical time to be on the market. So we haven't been set back too much, if only the house is in good shape. In the meantime, we are still in Ecuador staying in people's homes, being fed well and cared for. There is still time to sell the house this spring. We're disappointed in some ways, because we still have the responsibility of caring for and paying for the house in the U.S., and all the possibility that selling the house would have represented closed. Still, it's not the end of our world. We just would like to know why they backed out!
Poor Elizabeth still has no voice, so we will have to interview her when we return. Tomorrow we head to the coast near a town called Manta. We're going to the home of a tagua carver in Bajo de la Palma (under the palm tree). Doesn't that sound romantic? I'm very familiar with the Pacific Coast of North America, but only one trip to the coast of Lima, Peru, where I learned the water is COLD! Really, really cold, due to the Humboldt Current. You also get bruised from the rocks that the heavy surf hurls at you. So I'm wondering what it's like in Ecuador.
Elizabeth is so hospitable and organized! We are very impressed with her abilities--she has a tremendous energy and a quick intelligence to sort out everything we need. We're very grateful for her and for Javier being here to host us. Tonight as we were asking about our bus trip tomorrow, we tried very hard to understand the plan, but with her laryngitis, we just couldn't make it out. So she called Romel, who translated for us what was supposed to happen in the morning. She is what they call here "lista," very smart.
We told the realtor to put the house back on the market--it's still March, and April is the critical time to be on the market. So we haven't been set back too much, if only the house is in good shape. In the meantime, we are still in Ecuador staying in people's homes, being fed well and cared for. There is still time to sell the house this spring. We're disappointed in some ways, because we still have the responsibility of caring for and paying for the house in the U.S., and all the possibility that selling the house would have represented closed. Still, it's not the end of our world. We just would like to know why they backed out!
Poor Elizabeth still has no voice, so we will have to interview her when we return. Tomorrow we head to the coast near a town called Manta. We're going to the home of a tagua carver in Bajo de la Palma (under the palm tree). Doesn't that sound romantic? I'm very familiar with the Pacific Coast of North America, but only one trip to the coast of Lima, Peru, where I learned the water is COLD! Really, really cold, due to the Humboldt Current. You also get bruised from the rocks that the heavy surf hurls at you. So I'm wondering what it's like in Ecuador.
Elizabeth is so hospitable and organized! We are very impressed with her abilities--she has a tremendous energy and a quick intelligence to sort out everything we need. We're very grateful for her and for Javier being here to host us. Tonight as we were asking about our bus trip tomorrow, we tried very hard to understand the plan, but with her laryngitis, we just couldn't make it out. So she called Romel, who translated for us what was supposed to happen in the morning. She is what they call here "lista," very smart.
Sunday, April 19, 2015
Sunday, March 22
Elizabeth and Javier were away most of the day--their shop is open 7 days a week, and also they went early to the Kingdom Hall. We played a game of Scrabble, watched a movie and just generally vegged out. We are not too eager to explore Santo Domingo because it is 90 degrees out! And incredibly humid. We did take a short walk around the block.
At noon, Judith came and prepared our lunch. We were rather astonished that she had come all the way across town just to fix lunch for us. We were really glad to see her, as we have met her several times before. She is Chris' personal assistant when he comes. She's a very warm-hearted, open person and we really enjoyed seeing her again.
We spent some time on the blog and uploading Vincent's pictures, then Javier and Elizabeth came home for supper. Poor Elizabeth lost her voice, and we couldn't understand what she whispered without Javier repeating everything she said. It would have been okay, but we we're trying to find out when to go to the bus station and which bus to take. It turned out that she had it all organized, and we just needed to follow her (like ducklings their mama) and everything was okay.
It is actually amazing how well cared for we have been on this trip, even the unexpectedly long bus trip here. We feel like we must be on the right path, because at each step, the missing pieces have fallen into place. We are hoping to find out tomorrow if the buyer's inspection of the house on Friday went well. So exciting to think that after 11 months on and off the market, it might be sold! But sobering, too, as we have to figure out what to do next--where to live and so forth. We're returning home April 19th and need to be moved out by May 1. It's do-able but daunting. Tomorrow we'll be on the coast of Ecuador near a town named Manta. We never would have dreamed we would be in this place, even back in early January. God is good.
At noon, Judith came and prepared our lunch. We were rather astonished that she had come all the way across town just to fix lunch for us. We were really glad to see her, as we have met her several times before. She is Chris' personal assistant when he comes. She's a very warm-hearted, open person and we really enjoyed seeing her again.
We spent some time on the blog and uploading Vincent's pictures, then Javier and Elizabeth came home for supper. Poor Elizabeth lost her voice, and we couldn't understand what she whispered without Javier repeating everything she said. It would have been okay, but we we're trying to find out when to go to the bus station and which bus to take. It turned out that she had it all organized, and we just needed to follow her (like ducklings their mama) and everything was okay.
It is actually amazing how well cared for we have been on this trip, even the unexpectedly long bus trip here. We feel like we must be on the right path, because at each step, the missing pieces have fallen into place. We are hoping to find out tomorrow if the buyer's inspection of the house on Friday went well. So exciting to think that after 11 months on and off the market, it might be sold! But sobering, too, as we have to figure out what to do next--where to live and so forth. We're returning home April 19th and need to be moved out by May 1. It's do-able but daunting. Tomorrow we'll be on the coast of Ecuador near a town named Manta. We never would have dreamed we would be in this place, even back in early January. God is good.
Saturday, April 18, 2015
Saturday, march 21
Elizabeth and Javier have a little shop in Santo Domingo where they sell pet food, and many other staples, like rice and corn, also convenience items like soda and water. They got up early to open the shop, and we spent the morning in their apartment, resting up from the adventures of the night before.
I had a major insight into how I function when I'm overwhelmed--I feel helpless and can't make decisions, or decide impulsively and regret it later. It is a learned response from too high expectations
of a child! I had no idea what was wrong with me, but I gained a tremendous amount from this insight. I devoted a little time to talking with my frightened inner child--"we CAN learn how to do this. We'll do it together, you're not alone." I feel 20 years younger.
In the afternoon, Elizabeth returned to make lunch for us. After lunch, she taught us how to catch the bus and we visited a real mall with a movie theater and everything. They wouldn't let Vincent into the supermarket with his backpack on, though, and there was no locker big enough for him to park it, so he waited outside while Elizabeth and I bought a few things.
We walked from there to her shop, chatted with Javier for a little while and then we caught the bus back to their apartment. When we arrived, Elizabeth realized that the keys were locked inside the apartment. She called Javier, who had not brought any keys with him to work, then her sister, who said that the family (her parents live in the apartment downstairs) was with her. Since it was a hot day, Elizabeth took us to the corner ice cream store and bought us all ice cream. Then she walked to her sister's house to get the key.
Elizabeth is a wonderful cook. Her idea of portions, however, is if it won't satisfy a lumberjack, it's not enough food. We're going to have to work on explaining that to her. So far, I have found her Spanish to be the most rapid-fire of all. And here in Santo Domingo (and I am told on the coast, too),
they don't have any s's on the end of words. That makes it very difficult for me to tease apart one word from the next, since there is no indication that the first word is at an end before the second word climbs on board.
I spent the afternoon working on the Ecuador blog. We really like Elizabeth and Javier--they are very warm and friendly, and very anxious that we should have a good time. We only have a couple of days here before we travel to the coast. Afterwards we will return to Santo Domingo and spend more time with them. I'm looking forward to it.
I had a major insight into how I function when I'm overwhelmed--I feel helpless and can't make decisions, or decide impulsively and regret it later. It is a learned response from too high expectations
of a child! I had no idea what was wrong with me, but I gained a tremendous amount from this insight. I devoted a little time to talking with my frightened inner child--"we CAN learn how to do this. We'll do it together, you're not alone." I feel 20 years younger.
In the afternoon, Elizabeth returned to make lunch for us. After lunch, she taught us how to catch the bus and we visited a real mall with a movie theater and everything. They wouldn't let Vincent into the supermarket with his backpack on, though, and there was no locker big enough for him to park it, so he waited outside while Elizabeth and I bought a few things.
We walked from there to her shop, chatted with Javier for a little while and then we caught the bus back to their apartment. When we arrived, Elizabeth realized that the keys were locked inside the apartment. She called Javier, who had not brought any keys with him to work, then her sister, who said that the family (her parents live in the apartment downstairs) was with her. Since it was a hot day, Elizabeth took us to the corner ice cream store and bought us all ice cream. Then she walked to her sister's house to get the key.
Elizabeth is a wonderful cook. Her idea of portions, however, is if it won't satisfy a lumberjack, it's not enough food. We're going to have to work on explaining that to her. So far, I have found her Spanish to be the most rapid-fire of all. And here in Santo Domingo (and I am told on the coast, too),
they don't have any s's on the end of words. That makes it very difficult for me to tease apart one word from the next, since there is no indication that the first word is at an end before the second word climbs on board.
I spent the afternoon working on the Ecuador blog. We really like Elizabeth and Javier--they are very warm and friendly, and very anxious that we should have a good time. We only have a couple of days here before we travel to the coast. Afterwards we will return to Santo Domingo and spend more time with them. I'm looking forward to it.
March 20 Adventure Travel
I've seen this concept advertised many times and always wondered who would sign up for such a thing. From this crazy day it appears that would be me.
We awoke early to finish packing for the four-hour journey to Santo Domingo, halfway between the Pacific coast and the Andes mountains. Just as we were finishing, our host knocked on our door. (No, Vincent, no, don't open the door until I have clothes on!) He'd come to say we would not be able to go to Santo Domingo today because mudslides had blocked the road between here and there. So we lingered together over bread and tea and had a nice long get-to-know-you session with Romel and Raquel, looked at wedding and baby pictures and heard stories of each other's lives and laughed about the vagaries of the Spanglish language. Romel, for example, said he never uses the English word "beach." And Elizabeth said the difference for her between bear, beer and bird was indistinguishable. She once told Romel, "I love you with all my hair." That cracked us all up.
In the midst of these pleasantries, the telephone rang. Elizabeth, our hostess in Santo Domingo, said that we should get on the bus right away, as it would take us longer to get there. Dutifully we said goodbye to our hosts and went with Romel from Otavalo by bus to Ibarra, a long wet ride. In Ibarra, Romel sought advice from the bus driver going to Quito. Which bus should we take. It was a bit like Russian roulette, with the loser not dying but taking a long, long bus ride to nowhere. So maybe Ecuadorean purgatory rather than Russian roulette. Romel assured us that he had found the shortest way to Santo Domingo avoiding the mudslides. But the driver had told him it would be five hours. That was likely true at 12:30 when we left the terminal, fifteen minutes late.
By 2:00 pm we were in Quito. Vincent found that he was without his Ecuador travel guide with the maps and so forth. So we were in the dark at 4:00 pm when we arrived in Quitumbe. There were no signs, we had never heard of the town, so Vincent asked another passenger, "Santo Domingo?" She replied, "Quitumbe." The driver had told us that Santo Domingo was the last stop, so we felt confident enough when the bus started up again, that we would know where to get off. We kept seeing a very large city either in front, behind or on the left and right of us. We always seemed to be headed toward one and then pass it to approach another. How many big cities ARE there in Ecuador, we wondered?
By six p.m., Vincent recognized that we were once again in Quito, having spent four hours circling the city!!!!!!!! He was getting worried. So he asked the other passenger again--"Santo Domingo?" Her reply was "four hours." He got excited in the way only an Irishman can. *!@?! begorra!
We watched the signs go by--we were going to pass Mitad del Mundo where we spent one of our first weeks in Ecuador. We knew that road eventually turned off toward Santo Domingo, so our hopes rose. I tried to call Romel to let him know our whereabouts and discovered after five or six repetitions that our borrowed cell phone had run out of minutes. (It took me that long to translate the rapid-fire Spanish message on the phone). I tried with my own cell and discovered that although there were four bars on the borrowed phone (and no minutes), there were none on my own phone. We were going to be arriving in a large city at 10 p.m. in the bus terminal, and no way to let our host on either end know. Or maybe we were going to be arriving somewhere else.
We are so fortunate that Elizabeth is so organized. She called me to find out where we were. Apparently we can still receive calls on this phone but not initiate any. She speaks very rapid Spanish, and I could only make out one word in three. Add to that that the cell phone sounds like one of those tin-can telephones we made when we were kids, and the signal cutting in and out in the mountains--I could barely understand and apparently could not make myself understood either--it was communication hell. So ironic that we are here to try to improve communications between here and the U.S. As if! At last we agreed that she would call Romel, (who has some English)--at least I thought we had agreed on this.
Five minutes later, a relief, Romel called. I was able to tell him--in Spanish, because he couldn't understand what I was saying in English--we would not be arriving until 10:00 p.m. as we had spent the first six hours circling Quito. What? Why? I could not explain it in either language.
Elizabeth called back to say she was going home to wait and asked us to call her when we were fifteen minutes away. The bus driver began playing movies (a--to me, though Vincent liked it) stupid Adam Sandler comedy plus "Unstoppable." No sound, no subtitles. A complete communication failure there. At least we knew we were on the way to Santo Domingo and that we would arrive at 10:00. I started trying to soothe my inner child, who was being ominously silent. No communication going on there, either. I tried to avoid eye contact with the movies, but gave up and watched the runaway train get stopped in hair-raising fashion.
At 9:30, the conductor came to tell us we would arrive in 30 minutes, and I began to call Elizabeth. We were out of range of any cell tower, still in the mountains. At 9:50, I reached her. The bus did not go into the terminal, but let us off at a street corner nearby. While I was getting off the bus with my heavy backpack, Romel called to find out where we were. I said we had just arrived, so he called Elizabeth. She called us, I told her where we were and after a deluge of (to me) incomprehensible Spanish (which did contain the words, "That's not where they usually debark passengers!"), she said she would find us, and seconds after, she appeared, our savior from the land of Babel. She called a taxi, brought us to her home, welcomed us, fed us, and explained at last the ten-hour journey. Just as they had cleaned up the first mudslide, another occurred, blocking the original southern route the bus from Ibarra had intended to take. That was the reason for our circuitous return to Quito from Quitumbe--they went back to the original route, now unblocked.
An adventure it was and shall remain, in our minds the quintessence of human vulnerability in the face of the awesome power of nature.
We awoke early to finish packing for the four-hour journey to Santo Domingo, halfway between the Pacific coast and the Andes mountains. Just as we were finishing, our host knocked on our door. (No, Vincent, no, don't open the door until I have clothes on!) He'd come to say we would not be able to go to Santo Domingo today because mudslides had blocked the road between here and there. So we lingered together over bread and tea and had a nice long get-to-know-you session with Romel and Raquel, looked at wedding and baby pictures and heard stories of each other's lives and laughed about the vagaries of the Spanglish language. Romel, for example, said he never uses the English word "beach." And Elizabeth said the difference for her between bear, beer and bird was indistinguishable. She once told Romel, "I love you with all my hair." That cracked us all up.
In the midst of these pleasantries, the telephone rang. Elizabeth, our hostess in Santo Domingo, said that we should get on the bus right away, as it would take us longer to get there. Dutifully we said goodbye to our hosts and went with Romel from Otavalo by bus to Ibarra, a long wet ride. In Ibarra, Romel sought advice from the bus driver going to Quito. Which bus should we take. It was a bit like Russian roulette, with the loser not dying but taking a long, long bus ride to nowhere. So maybe Ecuadorean purgatory rather than Russian roulette. Romel assured us that he had found the shortest way to Santo Domingo avoiding the mudslides. But the driver had told him it would be five hours. That was likely true at 12:30 when we left the terminal, fifteen minutes late.
By 2:00 pm we were in Quito. Vincent found that he was without his Ecuador travel guide with the maps and so forth. So we were in the dark at 4:00 pm when we arrived in Quitumbe. There were no signs, we had never heard of the town, so Vincent asked another passenger, "Santo Domingo?" She replied, "Quitumbe." The driver had told us that Santo Domingo was the last stop, so we felt confident enough when the bus started up again, that we would know where to get off. We kept seeing a very large city either in front, behind or on the left and right of us. We always seemed to be headed toward one and then pass it to approach another. How many big cities ARE there in Ecuador, we wondered?
By six p.m., Vincent recognized that we were once again in Quito, having spent four hours circling the city!!!!!!!! He was getting worried. So he asked the other passenger again--"Santo Domingo?" Her reply was "four hours." He got excited in the way only an Irishman can. *!@?! begorra!
We watched the signs go by--we were going to pass Mitad del Mundo where we spent one of our first weeks in Ecuador. We knew that road eventually turned off toward Santo Domingo, so our hopes rose. I tried to call Romel to let him know our whereabouts and discovered after five or six repetitions that our borrowed cell phone had run out of minutes. (It took me that long to translate the rapid-fire Spanish message on the phone). I tried with my own cell and discovered that although there were four bars on the borrowed phone (and no minutes), there were none on my own phone. We were going to be arriving in a large city at 10 p.m. in the bus terminal, and no way to let our host on either end know. Or maybe we were going to be arriving somewhere else.
We are so fortunate that Elizabeth is so organized. She called me to find out where we were. Apparently we can still receive calls on this phone but not initiate any. She speaks very rapid Spanish, and I could only make out one word in three. Add to that that the cell phone sounds like one of those tin-can telephones we made when we were kids, and the signal cutting in and out in the mountains--I could barely understand and apparently could not make myself understood either--it was communication hell. So ironic that we are here to try to improve communications between here and the U.S. As if! At last we agreed that she would call Romel, (who has some English)--at least I thought we had agreed on this.
Five minutes later, a relief, Romel called. I was able to tell him--in Spanish, because he couldn't understand what I was saying in English--we would not be arriving until 10:00 p.m. as we had spent the first six hours circling Quito. What? Why? I could not explain it in either language.
Elizabeth called back to say she was going home to wait and asked us to call her when we were fifteen minutes away. The bus driver began playing movies (a--to me, though Vincent liked it) stupid Adam Sandler comedy plus "Unstoppable." No sound, no subtitles. A complete communication failure there. At least we knew we were on the way to Santo Domingo and that we would arrive at 10:00. I started trying to soothe my inner child, who was being ominously silent. No communication going on there, either. I tried to avoid eye contact with the movies, but gave up and watched the runaway train get stopped in hair-raising fashion.
At 9:30, the conductor came to tell us we would arrive in 30 minutes, and I began to call Elizabeth. We were out of range of any cell tower, still in the mountains. At 9:50, I reached her. The bus did not go into the terminal, but let us off at a street corner nearby. While I was getting off the bus with my heavy backpack, Romel called to find out where we were. I said we had just arrived, so he called Elizabeth. She called us, I told her where we were and after a deluge of (to me) incomprehensible Spanish (which did contain the words, "That's not where they usually debark passengers!"), she said she would find us, and seconds after, she appeared, our savior from the land of Babel. She called a taxi, brought us to her home, welcomed us, fed us, and explained at last the ten-hour journey. Just as they had cleaned up the first mudslide, another occurred, blocking the original southern route the bus from Ibarra had intended to take. That was the reason for our circuitous return to Quito from Quitumbe--they went back to the original route, now unblocked.
An adventure it was and shall remain, in our minds the quintessence of human vulnerability in the face of the awesome power of nature.
Thursday, March 19 Rainy Days
The day was cloudy, and in the afternoon, the rain began. By evening, it was storming very heavily. Vincent was thinking about the descriptions he had read of the roads washing out in the rain, but he didn't say anything out loud, because he didn't want to jinx the trip tomorrow.
We were supposed to interview Gladys Males today, but our host had forgotten to arrange it. We took advantage of the situation to get a nap. For lunch, friends of Chris, Nancy and Lily arrived. Both of them young, Nancy spoke great English. She and Vincent had a great time talking about movies they had seen. Apparently, there is no movie which Lily has not seen! There was a great deal of laughter around the table as we tried to speak both English and Spanish. It was difficult to recognize the titles of some of the movies in Spanish.
In South America, the bootleg movie industry is omnipresent and pervasive. Some of them are even shot in the movie theater--you see heads at the bottom of the screen! Everywhere you go, DVD's are being sold in stalls, on tables, from the windows, literally everywhere. They cost about 80 cents each.
Much of the day was spent catching up with laundry and other odds and ends, as we leave tomorrow on a six-hour bus trip to the coast and Elizabeth, the South American manager of Minga. She has worked with Chris the longest and will have the most insight into what needs to happen to respond to all the growth of the business. Tomorrow is a long, long bus ride--we're going to bed early.
We were supposed to interview Gladys Males today, but our host had forgotten to arrange it. We took advantage of the situation to get a nap. For lunch, friends of Chris, Nancy and Lily arrived. Both of them young, Nancy spoke great English. She and Vincent had a great time talking about movies they had seen. Apparently, there is no movie which Lily has not seen! There was a great deal of laughter around the table as we tried to speak both English and Spanish. It was difficult to recognize the titles of some of the movies in Spanish.
In South America, the bootleg movie industry is omnipresent and pervasive. Some of them are even shot in the movie theater--you see heads at the bottom of the screen! Everywhere you go, DVD's are being sold in stalls, on tables, from the windows, literally everywhere. They cost about 80 cents each.
Much of the day was spent catching up with laundry and other odds and ends, as we leave tomorrow on a six-hour bus trip to the coast and Elizabeth, the South American manager of Minga. She has worked with Chris the longest and will have the most insight into what needs to happen to respond to all the growth of the business. Tomorrow is a long, long bus ride--we're going to bed early.
Wednesday March 18 Otavalo, Otra Vez (the second time in 2015)
Mia wanted to play all afternoon, 2 girls from Brazil leaving, everyone sad.
This is our last day with Aída Males. We've grown to like her very much. We took as many pictures of her products as we could in hopes that some of them may become popular in the U.S. We will be able to visit her on Saturdays when she goes to the Otavalo market. She invited us to come back before we leave. We definitely will.
This morning, her sister-in-law Graciela asked us to come over and take pictures of their new products. They have borrowed money from the bank to buy a new laser machine for cutting out and burning beautiful designs into the wood from which they make jewelry and boxes. It cost $14,000. Now they are hoping these new designs will sell well enough to cover their payments to the bank for the next three years. They made a delightful keychain for Chris with the Minga logo on it. Our hopes for them and for all the Males family are very high. They are so creative, so patient with us, so humble in their desires to get ahead. It would break my heart if they couldn't succeed in craft work.
We climbed on the bus with hearts and eyes brimming. What a beautiful visit this has been, far out in the country, hearing the rain on the roof and seeing the fog roll in each evening, hearing the laughter of this kind family, spread across the acres of ground willed them by their parents. We have truly been blessed here.
We arrived in Otavalo at the house of Romel and Raquel and their four-year-old daughter, Mia, in the early afternoon. Romel brought us to the house of Gladys Anrrango and Carlos Burga, husband and wife, who make the acrylic scarves. They have been working with Minga for a long time, and have just finished a new workshop, larger than the one we visited in 2010. It is a family owned enterprise, with brothers, sisters and cousins all working together.
We were amazed by how well the looms are maintained. Most of them were made in the 1950's and discarded from factories in the U.S. It is just incredible to me that they can keep them running so well. Most of the parts have long been discontinued, but that does not faze the Ecuadorean entrepreneur. They just machine new parts to replace the old ones and keep going. The noise is incredible--there have to be 10 or 12 machines in the one shed. Each machine uses a punch strip to create the pattern. The punch strip itself is created in the office on a machine that was dated in the 1910's or 20's. It looks really, really antique--similar to an ancient Underwood typewriter.
It was absolutely surreal to see Carlos design a pattern on the brand new computer screen, then transfer it to the punch strip machine. The punch strip will go onto a mechanical receptacle on the loom and cause it to make a complicated herringbone pattern in the cloth. Our interview was brief, but heartfelt. Carlos explained that their hope was simply to keep the business going. They want to feed and educate their kids, and this is the only way they can. Before we left, they showed us how the scarves are cut from the bolt of woven thread (there is a part with no weft which shows where to cut). Then they demonstrated how the scarves are "ironed"--laid flat between layers of thick parchment and set over a wood fire, very low. They come out with a very nice crisp finish, provided by the heat and the woodsmoke.
When we returned to Romel's house, their daughter Mia wanted to play with the newcomers all afternoon. It was not just because we were new, but this hospitable family was saying goodbye to two young women who had been staying with them for a couple of months. I think Mia wanted to replace her playmates before they left. A good day for all of us, and a lot to be written up for Minga in terms of artisan interviews. We went to bed early to be ready for the morning.
This is our last day with Aída Males. We've grown to like her very much. We took as many pictures of her products as we could in hopes that some of them may become popular in the U.S. We will be able to visit her on Saturdays when she goes to the Otavalo market. She invited us to come back before we leave. We definitely will.
This morning, her sister-in-law Graciela asked us to come over and take pictures of their new products. They have borrowed money from the bank to buy a new laser machine for cutting out and burning beautiful designs into the wood from which they make jewelry and boxes. It cost $14,000. Now they are hoping these new designs will sell well enough to cover their payments to the bank for the next three years. They made a delightful keychain for Chris with the Minga logo on it. Our hopes for them and for all the Males family are very high. They are so creative, so patient with us, so humble in their desires to get ahead. It would break my heart if they couldn't succeed in craft work.
We climbed on the bus with hearts and eyes brimming. What a beautiful visit this has been, far out in the country, hearing the rain on the roof and seeing the fog roll in each evening, hearing the laughter of this kind family, spread across the acres of ground willed them by their parents. We have truly been blessed here.
We arrived in Otavalo at the house of Romel and Raquel and their four-year-old daughter, Mia, in the early afternoon. Romel brought us to the house of Gladys Anrrango and Carlos Burga, husband and wife, who make the acrylic scarves. They have been working with Minga for a long time, and have just finished a new workshop, larger than the one we visited in 2010. It is a family owned enterprise, with brothers, sisters and cousins all working together.
We were amazed by how well the looms are maintained. Most of them were made in the 1950's and discarded from factories in the U.S. It is just incredible to me that they can keep them running so well. Most of the parts have long been discontinued, but that does not faze the Ecuadorean entrepreneur. They just machine new parts to replace the old ones and keep going. The noise is incredible--there have to be 10 or 12 machines in the one shed. Each machine uses a punch strip to create the pattern. The punch strip itself is created in the office on a machine that was dated in the 1910's or 20's. It looks really, really antique--similar to an ancient Underwood typewriter.
It was absolutely surreal to see Carlos design a pattern on the brand new computer screen, then transfer it to the punch strip machine. The punch strip will go onto a mechanical receptacle on the loom and cause it to make a complicated herringbone pattern in the cloth. Our interview was brief, but heartfelt. Carlos explained that their hope was simply to keep the business going. They want to feed and educate their kids, and this is the only way they can. Before we left, they showed us how the scarves are cut from the bolt of woven thread (there is a part with no weft which shows where to cut). Then they demonstrated how the scarves are "ironed"--laid flat between layers of thick parchment and set over a wood fire, very low. They come out with a very nice crisp finish, provided by the heat and the woodsmoke.
When we returned to Romel's house, their daughter Mia wanted to play with the newcomers all afternoon. It was not just because we were new, but this hospitable family was saying goodbye to two young women who had been staying with them for a couple of months. I think Mia wanted to replace her playmates before they left. A good day for all of us, and a lot to be written up for Minga in terms of artisan interviews. We went to bed early to be ready for the morning.
Thursday, April 2, 2015
Tuesday March 17 Hopes and Dreams
At last the report is finished! It took so much thought and careful recording to put that together that I was beginning to think we might never finish. We sent it off with a sigh of relief. It's the best work we have done so far. We just hope that it helps.
The realtor called us and said that the second counter-offer had been accepted. We are jubilant, but cautious. The buyers have until the inspection on Friday the 20th to back out, but they want us to be moved out by May 1, 12 days after we return from Ecuador.
Aída's brother has an internet cafe right here at the edge of the family compound. We were able to print out the dozen or so pages of the real estate contract, sign it and send it to the U.S. in about a half hour. The young woman who was helping us had great skill with all the machinery and programs, which would have defeated us if we had been by ourselves--and might, for all we know, have defeated anyone else. We look at youngsters like that with awe. Even the realtor wanted to know how she was able to photocopy the pages and put them into pdf format. It turns out that her daughter is the shy two-year-old niece for whom Aída is making the three-milk cake this morning.
Also this morning, we met Felipe, Aída's son, who is a tattoo artist working in Quito. He comes to see her about once a week. It seems that we are sleeping in the room he usually uses. He is quiet, and I think he is thinking, "Who are these people who have taken my room?"
After lunch, we had an appointment with Aída's brother Fernando and his wife Graciela in their home two doors down. When I met them in 2011, they were making pens with a highly decorated clay sleeve and faces on the top. These are not selling as well as they used to, and the couple is looking for products they can make in their place. This day, they are making rainsticks and sticking clay faces on them which Fernando carves. He explains he has had difficulty finding a replacement for the clay he used on the pens, and that he knows we are not buying items decorated with this clay.
They are also working on cut-out wooden earrings which he skillfully cuts out with a small table saw. Graciela sands and stains them and attaches the hooks. She also showed us some beautiful laser-cut boxes they had made, some painted, some not. They have hopes that they can continue their craft work, as it is all they know. Fernando started out with wood-carving, but the competition with the other 3,000 wood carvers was so tough that he decided to carve clay instead. He is still searching for the products that will do well and distinguish him from the other woodcarvers.
My class is tonight, so we asked Aída if we could stay here one more night, as the internet access is good, and we are tired from the last week's report, not quite ready to launch into more interviews. She seemed glad to have us, and we are very, very fond of her. This is probably the most beautiful place we have stayed so far. It is high on the hillsides surrounding the town, and all around us is very rural and peaceful. We have loved watching the fog roll up the valleys each evening and unfold like a carpet revealing the mountains hidden behind each morning. It is much cooler and more pleasant here than in Ibarra, too, which is in a valley and therefore hotter.
Truth be told, we don't quite yet want to part with Aída, and it seems she feels the same way. We find ourselves akin to her in so many ways. Our hopes and dreams are to sell our house and be able to find the new direction for our efforts, in what will be my last working years. Hers are to earn enough money to fulfill her children's dreams. On what slender legs our different worlds stand!
The realtor called us and said that the second counter-offer had been accepted. We are jubilant, but cautious. The buyers have until the inspection on Friday the 20th to back out, but they want us to be moved out by May 1, 12 days after we return from Ecuador.
Aída's brother has an internet cafe right here at the edge of the family compound. We were able to print out the dozen or so pages of the real estate contract, sign it and send it to the U.S. in about a half hour. The young woman who was helping us had great skill with all the machinery and programs, which would have defeated us if we had been by ourselves--and might, for all we know, have defeated anyone else. We look at youngsters like that with awe. Even the realtor wanted to know how she was able to photocopy the pages and put them into pdf format. It turns out that her daughter is the shy two-year-old niece for whom Aída is making the three-milk cake this morning.
Also this morning, we met Felipe, Aída's son, who is a tattoo artist working in Quito. He comes to see her about once a week. It seems that we are sleeping in the room he usually uses. He is quiet, and I think he is thinking, "Who are these people who have taken my room?"
After lunch, we had an appointment with Aída's brother Fernando and his wife Graciela in their home two doors down. When I met them in 2011, they were making pens with a highly decorated clay sleeve and faces on the top. These are not selling as well as they used to, and the couple is looking for products they can make in their place. This day, they are making rainsticks and sticking clay faces on them which Fernando carves. He explains he has had difficulty finding a replacement for the clay he used on the pens, and that he knows we are not buying items decorated with this clay.
They are also working on cut-out wooden earrings which he skillfully cuts out with a small table saw. Graciela sands and stains them and attaches the hooks. She also showed us some beautiful laser-cut boxes they had made, some painted, some not. They have hopes that they can continue their craft work, as it is all they know. Fernando started out with wood-carving, but the competition with the other 3,000 wood carvers was so tough that he decided to carve clay instead. He is still searching for the products that will do well and distinguish him from the other woodcarvers.
My class is tonight, so we asked Aída if we could stay here one more night, as the internet access is good, and we are tired from the last week's report, not quite ready to launch into more interviews. She seemed glad to have us, and we are very, very fond of her. This is probably the most beautiful place we have stayed so far. It is high on the hillsides surrounding the town, and all around us is very rural and peaceful. We have loved watching the fog roll up the valleys each evening and unfold like a carpet revealing the mountains hidden behind each morning. It is much cooler and more pleasant here than in Ibarra, too, which is in a valley and therefore hotter.
Truth be told, we don't quite yet want to part with Aída, and it seems she feels the same way. We find ourselves akin to her in so many ways. Our hopes and dreams are to sell our house and be able to find the new direction for our efforts, in what will be my last working years. Hers are to earn enough money to fulfill her children's dreams. On what slender legs our different worlds stand!
Monday, March 16
We spoke early this morning with our realtor about the counter-offer. Unusually, the other broker said they were firm on the offer and had no interest in negotiating further. He suggested another approach to us, and we told him to go ahead and try it. We'll see. It's really important to us to sell the house, in order to be free to do the next move, whatever that is.
One thought I had for Aída is making jewelry with broken china and materials like wood that don't have to be fired. So we spent some time this morning after breakfast looking at jewelry on the web. Then she showed Vincent and me the process she goes through to make the fused glass jewelry. That was awesome. We didn't know that there is a right side and a wrong side to a sheet of glass. You discover it by dripping water on both sides. The side where it runs down smooth and without ripples is the right side.
Then she takes a glass cutter and a ruler and cuts a large sheet into tiny 1/2-inch triangles, washes them in detergent and dries them in a towel. There can't be any water spots on the glass or the fusion doesn't work right, or the glass doesn't look shiny. She paints a design on one triangle, waits for the color to dry before she paints another color. After all the paint is dry, she takes a dab of super-glue and glues a clear triangle of glass on top to give the fused piece depth and sparkle. She has to be careful not to get fingerprints on the glass, because the oil from the skin is detrimental to the appearance of the fired piece. She has a very large kiln which is heated with natural gas. She does not know what she is going to do when the government raises the price of a canister of gas from $2 to $25--all the artisans who use gas are worried about this.
After the glass is fused, which takes about three days in the kiln, she has to sort the pieces so the earrings will match, sand any sharp edges which remain and attach the posts or hooks with super-glue, put them on cards and pack them for shipment so that they don't get broken. We were amazed at how much work is involved for one pair of earrings. Aída says that glass is a specialized craft. Not every customer has a love for glass--she is looking for the ones that do. She loves her work, loves to see people wearing it. Her designs are distinctive--she knows when she has made a piece, and she loves to see people adorn themselves with her work. It shows an appreciation that she treasures.
Tonight she had her friend Gustavo bring us up to the monument (the angel Gabriel in giant posture) overlooking the city to see the lights and the lake below. It was a balmy tropical evening, very clear, with just a bit of fog lifting from the lake through the valley. A fine way to close a good day.
At the end of the night, we were still working on the report, having thought of more things we should add. Maybe it will go tomorrow.
One thought I had for Aída is making jewelry with broken china and materials like wood that don't have to be fired. So we spent some time this morning after breakfast looking at jewelry on the web. Then she showed Vincent and me the process she goes through to make the fused glass jewelry. That was awesome. We didn't know that there is a right side and a wrong side to a sheet of glass. You discover it by dripping water on both sides. The side where it runs down smooth and without ripples is the right side.
Then she takes a glass cutter and a ruler and cuts a large sheet into tiny 1/2-inch triangles, washes them in detergent and dries them in a towel. There can't be any water spots on the glass or the fusion doesn't work right, or the glass doesn't look shiny. She paints a design on one triangle, waits for the color to dry before she paints another color. After all the paint is dry, she takes a dab of super-glue and glues a clear triangle of glass on top to give the fused piece depth and sparkle. She has to be careful not to get fingerprints on the glass, because the oil from the skin is detrimental to the appearance of the fired piece. She has a very large kiln which is heated with natural gas. She does not know what she is going to do when the government raises the price of a canister of gas from $2 to $25--all the artisans who use gas are worried about this.
After the glass is fused, which takes about three days in the kiln, she has to sort the pieces so the earrings will match, sand any sharp edges which remain and attach the posts or hooks with super-glue, put them on cards and pack them for shipment so that they don't get broken. We were amazed at how much work is involved for one pair of earrings. Aída says that glass is a specialized craft. Not every customer has a love for glass--she is looking for the ones that do. She loves her work, loves to see people wearing it. Her designs are distinctive--she knows when she has made a piece, and she loves to see people adorn themselves with her work. It shows an appreciation that she treasures.
Tonight she had her friend Gustavo bring us up to the monument (the angel Gabriel in giant posture) overlooking the city to see the lights and the lake below. It was a balmy tropical evening, very clear, with just a bit of fog lifting from the lake through the valley. A fine way to close a good day.
At the end of the night, we were still working on the report, having thought of more things we should add. Maybe it will go tomorrow.
Sunday, March 15 Open House, Open Heart
This morning, Anaís made breakfast for us, then she went out to join Aida and Yamani to sell soup (encebollada--delicious!) from the little booth right outside the gate of the compound. We are so amazed by this way of life. Everyone does everything they can to earn money and still they share so freely with each other and with us. Vincent had a hard time trying to pay for the soup that we bought from them.
Later he went to the town market, which is only for the weekends. Everyone had something to sell, usually made of wood, because of the kind of town it is. There are vegetables and eggs everywhere, and beautiful fruits. I was working on reports, so I stayed behind. After the day's sales, Aída was very disappointed. She had few sales on Saturday, and sold very little encebollada on Sunday. She had to give one of her daughters the bus fare to make it back to school the next day. We know how hard it is to work so hard, invest so much money in something that gives very little return sometimes. We also know how happy it is when something succeeds far beyond what we had hoped. This was one of the former times, so we could very much sympathize. We shared some sadness, then Aída shook herself and said, "Tomorrow's another day."
She came back a few hours later saying her sister had invited us to cena, which is about equivalent to an Irish tea. So we walked over a few houses and shared bread and tea with her sister, the cousins joyfully reuniting, even though they live practically next door. I talked with Aída about how it was to live with so many brothers, sisters, in-laws, cousins, nieces, nephews AND her mother all in the same compound. Someone else was nearly always in the house--a two-year-old niece needing to be watched for a while, a sister getting a haircut.
She replied that her brother, in particular, had done a lot for her son when he was a teen-ager, and she would do anything for him in return. She also said there were some that weren't that close with the others, but that after a while, people got over their differences and went back to normal. I thought about some of the long-lasting breaks in our family and also of the attitude of "tranquilo" that I saw in Quito. Many people here seem to know from family life that it's important not to take upsets too seriously and keep in mind the knowledge that we all depend on each other for our very survival. There's not much reason--or opportunity--to separate from each other when we realize that.
We called Osh about the Open House, which a lot of people had attended. He suggested we counter the offer on the house, as a lot of bargaining seems to be expected, so we told him to go ahead. We've been working very hard on the last several interviews, trying to get caught up and also trying to understand the big picture down here. Interestingly, we were up very late talking about the various issues. When I woke up the next morning, it all seemed much clearer, and we were able to finish the report on time.
We were also able to connect with our own family during the day--both Terry and Elspeth, which reminds us that we, too, have ties to places and persons dear to us. The feeling of being alone is an illusion. We are always connected, heart and mind, with those we love, so long as we keep the door open.
Later he went to the town market, which is only for the weekends. Everyone had something to sell, usually made of wood, because of the kind of town it is. There are vegetables and eggs everywhere, and beautiful fruits. I was working on reports, so I stayed behind. After the day's sales, Aída was very disappointed. She had few sales on Saturday, and sold very little encebollada on Sunday. She had to give one of her daughters the bus fare to make it back to school the next day. We know how hard it is to work so hard, invest so much money in something that gives very little return sometimes. We also know how happy it is when something succeeds far beyond what we had hoped. This was one of the former times, so we could very much sympathize. We shared some sadness, then Aída shook herself and said, "Tomorrow's another day."
She came back a few hours later saying her sister had invited us to cena, which is about equivalent to an Irish tea. So we walked over a few houses and shared bread and tea with her sister, the cousins joyfully reuniting, even though they live practically next door. I talked with Aída about how it was to live with so many brothers, sisters, in-laws, cousins, nieces, nephews AND her mother all in the same compound. Someone else was nearly always in the house--a two-year-old niece needing to be watched for a while, a sister getting a haircut.
She replied that her brother, in particular, had done a lot for her son when he was a teen-ager, and she would do anything for him in return. She also said there were some that weren't that close with the others, but that after a while, people got over their differences and went back to normal. I thought about some of the long-lasting breaks in our family and also of the attitude of "tranquilo" that I saw in Quito. Many people here seem to know from family life that it's important not to take upsets too seriously and keep in mind the knowledge that we all depend on each other for our very survival. There's not much reason--or opportunity--to separate from each other when we realize that.
We called Osh about the Open House, which a lot of people had attended. He suggested we counter the offer on the house, as a lot of bargaining seems to be expected, so we told him to go ahead. We've been working very hard on the last several interviews, trying to get caught up and also trying to understand the big picture down here. Interestingly, we were up very late talking about the various issues. When I woke up the next morning, it all seemed much clearer, and we were able to finish the report on time.
We were also able to connect with our own family during the day--both Terry and Elspeth, which reminds us that we, too, have ties to places and persons dear to us. The feeling of being alone is an illusion. We are always connected, heart and mind, with those we love, so long as we keep the door open.
Saturday March 14 Sweet Days
This was my favorite kind of day, full of surprises and serendipities. We saw there had been a missed call from the previous night from our realtor. He told us the good news that we had an offer on the house! We were very excited, but cautious, as last April another offer had fallen through at the last minute. So we called Osh and spoke to him about next steps. After breakfast, we then took the bus to Ibarra to check why the phone wouldn't charge. The agent discovered that there was a tiny break in the cable, just enough to keep current from going through. We replaced it for about $15 and then took the bus to Otavalo.
Our mission today was to find new products and meet new artisans. Also, Aída had gotten up at six to bring her jewelry and glassware to the market, and we wanted to meet her there and bring her some lunch, as she is there all day by herself. We arrived around 11 and brought her what she wanted to eat, then wandered around the market for a while.
We met two artisans who had products we were interested in and got their contact information. The last one had some really beautiful reconstituted tagua pieces. We have seen these from another artisan and even sold some to our customers, but these were really elegant, a better quality than we've ever seen. The vendor was not present, but his neighbor told us he was at lunch and would be back. So we went to lunch ourselves at our new favorite vegetarian restaurant.
It is so pleasant there, outdoors under the trees, with flowers and music all around. It takes about 20 minutes to have the food cooked, so we just took it all in, like thirsty little plants. Afterwards, we returned to the stall of the tagua jewelry maker. We were approached by a man who spoke mostly Spanish, but his brother saw that we were gringos and came over to help out with the English. They were very friendly, cooperative and outgoing. I started to explain to them that we were looking for artisans for Minga, but I started by asking if they knew what fair trade was. When they said they knew it well, Vincent stopped me telling them why we were there and asked them instead where their workshop was. Oh it's not really far--we're up above Lake San Pablo--little town called San Rafael. All the little sirens went off. We have been selling this man's products for five years! His name is Armando, and that kicked in, too--we met him in 2011 at his home in San Rafael, where he has planted a very large and beautiful garden that he told us we could come to visit at any time. His jewelry skills have improved so much that we didn't recognize him at first. It would have been embarrassing to tell him all about a client who regularly orders from him, so we left as soon as we could. We have sent the photos of the product to the U.S., so he will likely be getting an order, but we didn't want to look like dummies. We laughed at our own folly all the way down the street.
After several blocks, we looked up and saw Cristhian, the leather artisan, coming towards us. Otavalo is a really small town if we can meet two artisans with whom we are acquainted within just a few minutes of each other. It was hot today, sunny, but with a nice breeze. Altogether a delightful day, with many sweet surprises.
Our mission today was to find new products and meet new artisans. Also, Aída had gotten up at six to bring her jewelry and glassware to the market, and we wanted to meet her there and bring her some lunch, as she is there all day by herself. We arrived around 11 and brought her what she wanted to eat, then wandered around the market for a while.
We met two artisans who had products we were interested in and got their contact information. The last one had some really beautiful reconstituted tagua pieces. We have seen these from another artisan and even sold some to our customers, but these were really elegant, a better quality than we've ever seen. The vendor was not present, but his neighbor told us he was at lunch and would be back. So we went to lunch ourselves at our new favorite vegetarian restaurant.
It is so pleasant there, outdoors under the trees, with flowers and music all around. It takes about 20 minutes to have the food cooked, so we just took it all in, like thirsty little plants. Afterwards, we returned to the stall of the tagua jewelry maker. We were approached by a man who spoke mostly Spanish, but his brother saw that we were gringos and came over to help out with the English. They were very friendly, cooperative and outgoing. I started to explain to them that we were looking for artisans for Minga, but I started by asking if they knew what fair trade was. When they said they knew it well, Vincent stopped me telling them why we were there and asked them instead where their workshop was. Oh it's not really far--we're up above Lake San Pablo--little town called San Rafael. All the little sirens went off. We have been selling this man's products for five years! His name is Armando, and that kicked in, too--we met him in 2011 at his home in San Rafael, where he has planted a very large and beautiful garden that he told us we could come to visit at any time. His jewelry skills have improved so much that we didn't recognize him at first. It would have been embarrassing to tell him all about a client who regularly orders from him, so we left as soon as we could. We have sent the photos of the product to the U.S., so he will likely be getting an order, but we didn't want to look like dummies. We laughed at our own folly all the way down the street.
After several blocks, we looked up and saw Cristhian, the leather artisan, coming towards us. Otavalo is a really small town if we can meet two artisans with whom we are acquainted within just a few minutes of each other. It was hot today, sunny, but with a nice breeze. Altogether a delightful day, with many sweet surprises.
Friday 13 March Nothing Unlucky about This Day
As I said yesterday, in this town of 14,000, there are 3,000 artisans, mostly woodcarvers. One of them is our hostess' brother-in-law, Pablo. We walked down the main street with Aida until we reached Pablo's workshop, near the main highway. Pablo was carving a large statue of a priest, and he demonstrated how the arms and head would be attached later. Most of the wood is pine, as the government prohibits cutting the harder, darker woods of the rainforest, such as teak.
Afterwards, Aida showed us how to get on the bus to Ibarra. As my phone was working, but no longer charging, we went with her to the Apple store with my phone charger, which appeared to work with other phones, so the agent told us to bring the phone in tomorrow to check out why it wouldn't charge. On the way out, we encountered a friend of Aida's who was wearing a very pretty necklace-and-earrings set which Aida had made for her. We took a stunning photo of it.
When we returned we continued our interview with Aida. She showed us a newspaper article which had recently been written about her. One of the things she said in that interview is that "art is in my blood." It is true--just about everything in her house was designed or made by her. After she got married, she learned jewelry making in alpaca, copper, silver and stones. Her sales were good at first, but after dolarización (where the currency was replaced by U.S. dollars), a lot of the Latin American tourists stopped coming as things were now too expensive, so in 2000, she started making glass jewelry. Her income really helped the family and gave her a bit of independence with money, which she appreciated. She would work for a while, then use the money to construct their home here in San Antonio, then work a bit more and construct some more. After five years of this, she had completed the house to the point they could move in and finish the work while they lived there. She really loves the freedom and company of living in this house, closer to nature and the real world than she ever felt in the big city. She had a shop in Ibarra for years, but gave it up because her sales had dropped, rents had increased, and she could no longer afford it.
She still thinks of running a shop in town, but most of her income comes from the glass pieces she makes for export, or from sales in Otavalo on market days.
She showed us some photos from St. Maarten, in the Caribbean, where a French couple used to invite her to spend time with them. She was very happy on those occasions, she recalls, with a sigh and a lingering smile.
Now she is working all the time, a thing which I discovered when I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom--Aida was up and working with the tiny pieces of glass on her worktable. Her hope is to fulfill her daughters' dreams of an education. Anaís, 18, and Yamani, 22, are both in college hoping to land professional jobs, one as a dentist, the other as a film sound producer. As we saw, these things are almost out of reach for so many Ecuadoreans.
Afterwards, Aida showed us how to get on the bus to Ibarra. As my phone was working, but no longer charging, we went with her to the Apple store with my phone charger, which appeared to work with other phones, so the agent told us to bring the phone in tomorrow to check out why it wouldn't charge. On the way out, we encountered a friend of Aida's who was wearing a very pretty necklace-and-earrings set which Aida had made for her. We took a stunning photo of it.
When we returned we continued our interview with Aida. She showed us a newspaper article which had recently been written about her. One of the things she said in that interview is that "art is in my blood." It is true--just about everything in her house was designed or made by her. After she got married, she learned jewelry making in alpaca, copper, silver and stones. Her sales were good at first, but after dolarización (where the currency was replaced by U.S. dollars), a lot of the Latin American tourists stopped coming as things were now too expensive, so in 2000, she started making glass jewelry. Her income really helped the family and gave her a bit of independence with money, which she appreciated. She would work for a while, then use the money to construct their home here in San Antonio, then work a bit more and construct some more. After five years of this, she had completed the house to the point they could move in and finish the work while they lived there. She really loves the freedom and company of living in this house, closer to nature and the real world than she ever felt in the big city. She had a shop in Ibarra for years, but gave it up because her sales had dropped, rents had increased, and she could no longer afford it.
She still thinks of running a shop in town, but most of her income comes from the glass pieces she makes for export, or from sales in Otavalo on market days.
She showed us some photos from St. Maarten, in the Caribbean, where a French couple used to invite her to spend time with them. She was very happy on those occasions, she recalls, with a sigh and a lingering smile.
Now she is working all the time, a thing which I discovered when I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom--Aida was up and working with the tiny pieces of glass on her worktable. Her hope is to fulfill her daughters' dreams of an education. Anaís, 18, and Yamani, 22, are both in college hoping to land professional jobs, one as a dentist, the other as a film sound producer. As we saw, these things are almost out of reach for so many Ecuadoreans.
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Thursday, March 12 San Antonio de Ibarra
This morning, we said good-bye to the Rojas family--we had grown very fond of them. Carlos' mother explained that the young man I saw studying in the patio was also working for them while going to school. She said there were many young men (varones) like him who would love the chance to work and go to school. This one is helping his mother with living expenses while he goes to school. They employ as many people in this circumstance as they can--it is not just for us, she explained, that we do this work. Carlos and his mother both run through the compound constantly, fixing this, demonstrating that. The two of them drove us to Otavalo, where we first faxed our application ($18!!!!) then had an early lunch, picked up Romel and caught the bus first to Ibarra, then to San Antonio de Ibarra, a small community of wood artisans. San Antonio is home to about three thousand artisans, mostly in wood.
Right outside the main entrance to the town is a museum and gallery of the most famous of them all. The statues are very imposing. We rode the jolting bus up, up and up to the top of the town and stopped in front of a tall gate, where our hostess, Aida Males, was waiting for us. We walked through an extensive compound accompanied by several barking dogs, one of which was Maya, the mother of two pups. Maya turned out to belong to Aida, as she followed us into the house.
Aida specializes in glass. Early in her career, she studied architecture, and the home she now lives in she designed herself. It is spacious, although with a small footprint, and airy. It has magnificent views of the surrounding mountains and the town of Ibarra, and this night, we watched the clouds creep up the mountainsides until everything was covered except her house. We had a lovely time with her, asking her about her family and her work. Her husband died in 2014, leaving her a widow with three older children, a son, Felipe, 29, and two daughters, Yamani, 22, and Anaís, 18. Felipe is a tattoo artist who lives in Quito most of the time and visits his mother once a week. Yamani is studying odontology in university, and Anaís, sound production, also in university. One thing we learned early and well is that she is always working to care for the needs of her family.
The compound is populated by various members of Aida's family as well as her mother, who is also a widow. When her father died, the land was divided up between the siblings, and now each one has his or her own house, as well as various children and grandchildren having dwellings here. It is literally one big happy family. I asked Aida about this, and she replied that like every family, they had people who were hard to get along with and people who were very easy-going. But it is clear from the way that small children appear in various houses at different times that everyone takes care of and enjoys being with everyone else.
Her brother took charge of Felipe many times when his father was unavailable, and she is very grateful--anything this brother needs or asks for, she is happy to do--haircuts or birthday cakes are no problem.
This first night we are tired from the long journey, but we sense we have met a kindred spirit here and have been welcomed in first class style.
Right outside the main entrance to the town is a museum and gallery of the most famous of them all. The statues are very imposing. We rode the jolting bus up, up and up to the top of the town and stopped in front of a tall gate, where our hostess, Aida Males, was waiting for us. We walked through an extensive compound accompanied by several barking dogs, one of which was Maya, the mother of two pups. Maya turned out to belong to Aida, as she followed us into the house.
Aida specializes in glass. Early in her career, she studied architecture, and the home she now lives in she designed herself. It is spacious, although with a small footprint, and airy. It has magnificent views of the surrounding mountains and the town of Ibarra, and this night, we watched the clouds creep up the mountainsides until everything was covered except her house. We had a lovely time with her, asking her about her family and her work. Her husband died in 2014, leaving her a widow with three older children, a son, Felipe, 29, and two daughters, Yamani, 22, and Anaís, 18. Felipe is a tattoo artist who lives in Quito most of the time and visits his mother once a week. Yamani is studying odontology in university, and Anaís, sound production, also in university. One thing we learned early and well is that she is always working to care for the needs of her family.
The compound is populated by various members of Aida's family as well as her mother, who is also a widow. When her father died, the land was divided up between the siblings, and now each one has his or her own house, as well as various children and grandchildren having dwellings here. It is literally one big happy family. I asked Aida about this, and she replied that like every family, they had people who were hard to get along with and people who were very easy-going. But it is clear from the way that small children appear in various houses at different times that everyone takes care of and enjoys being with everyone else.
Her brother took charge of Felipe many times when his father was unavailable, and she is very grateful--anything this brother needs or asks for, she is happy to do--haircuts or birthday cakes are no problem.
This first night we are tired from the long journey, but we sense we have met a kindred spirit here and have been welcomed in first class style.
Wednesday, March 11 Puzzling Out the Knot
Most of the day was spent on the computer--first with two Skype meetings for the morning, then in the afternoon, we went to an internet cafe to print out the French Market application form. It seems clear to proceed in our accustomed direction--French Markets during the summer in Wheaton and Wilmette and church markets in the fall and early winter. We can't see farther than this summer. We're still hoping the house will sell to free us up to pursue new directions.
It is our hope also to improve communications in the enterprise for which we are volunteering. It is quite a challenge to keep everything moving smoothly when there are barriers between countries, not only of borders and governments, but of language and culture. Sometimes everyone's best efforts seem to be required to move some big rock. Sometimes, the rock--she ain't a-movin'.
It is our hope also to improve communications in the enterprise for which we are volunteering. It is quite a challenge to keep everything moving smoothly when there are barriers between countries, not only of borders and governments, but of language and culture. Sometimes everyone's best efforts seem to be required to move some big rock. Sometimes, the rock--she ain't a-movin'.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Tuesday, March 10 Cayambe Connections
We took this day for ourselves, after spending many, many days interviewing and writing reports. We were going to return to Cotacachi, but opted instead for Cayambe, a much larger and busier town, as it turns out. Cayambe is known for bizcochos--a kind of biscuit with a lot of shortening in it, very crispy and salty. So everywhere we went, we saw them advertised. We had already eaten some, so I passed. Cayambe was a bit farther afield than we have been before on our own. We had seen it driving into Otavalo and thought it was pretty. There is a lot of new construction. We found people to be very friendly there, very helpful. The city has a tourist office, where they explained our map and told us not to pay more than $3 for a ride to the tourist sites. The mountains around the town are pretty, too.
During the bus ride, we saw again how many people get on at one stop, distribute their merchandise to anyone who will accept it--a piece of gum or candy usually--then give their spiel at the front of the bus, sometimes very impassioned and go back down the aisles having guilted everyone into paying 25 to 50 cents for their piece of gum. Sometimes the people just give it back, but many people seem to reward a good performance. One lady promised to pray for everybody who would contribute to her bus fare to where she needed to go. I think it was more urgent than that sounds, but I don't yet have enough Spanish to understand the spiels.
Sometimes one person will start his or her spiel and another will get on the bus, walking through with ice creams or plastic cups full of watermelon or pineapple. The first person will wait until that one has finished to begin again. We have of course seen this in Chicago (although it is much more difficult than it used to be on the trains and impossible on the buses). It struck me again how difficult it is to earn enough money to support the family. When there are no jobs, low wages, and so many more people being born every year, the pressure is enormous.
Someone wrote about changing the economy to one of barter and sharing. Certainly there would be a different attitude toward money. I wonder what would happen? Would people only trade for the things they really need or want? Would there be as much waste? I don't know.
The application for the French Markets for the summer arrived. We will fill it out tomorrow and send it in. We've decided that we'll still be selling in fair trade markets, at least until Christmas. After that, or combined with that, we don't know.
We came back to Otavalo for a late vegetarian lunch in the patio. So pleasant there! We'll have to do it again tomorrow.
My class is tonight--I so look forward to these. I never know what new release from old pain and old patterns will come. Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage--these are constructed by the not-yet-developed minds of children. If only we can see them, we can remove them, these old imprisoning patterns. Every day I thank God for the possibility of changing my thoughts AND my reality.
During the bus ride, we saw again how many people get on at one stop, distribute their merchandise to anyone who will accept it--a piece of gum or candy usually--then give their spiel at the front of the bus, sometimes very impassioned and go back down the aisles having guilted everyone into paying 25 to 50 cents for their piece of gum. Sometimes the people just give it back, but many people seem to reward a good performance. One lady promised to pray for everybody who would contribute to her bus fare to where she needed to go. I think it was more urgent than that sounds, but I don't yet have enough Spanish to understand the spiels.
Sometimes one person will start his or her spiel and another will get on the bus, walking through with ice creams or plastic cups full of watermelon or pineapple. The first person will wait until that one has finished to begin again. We have of course seen this in Chicago (although it is much more difficult than it used to be on the trains and impossible on the buses). It struck me again how difficult it is to earn enough money to support the family. When there are no jobs, low wages, and so many more people being born every year, the pressure is enormous.
Someone wrote about changing the economy to one of barter and sharing. Certainly there would be a different attitude toward money. I wonder what would happen? Would people only trade for the things they really need or want? Would there be as much waste? I don't know.
The application for the French Markets for the summer arrived. We will fill it out tomorrow and send it in. We've decided that we'll still be selling in fair trade markets, at least until Christmas. After that, or combined with that, we don't know.
We came back to Otavalo for a late vegetarian lunch in the patio. So pleasant there! We'll have to do it again tomorrow.
My class is tonight--I so look forward to these. I never know what new release from old pain and old patterns will come. Stone walls do not a prison make, nor iron bars a cage--these are constructed by the not-yet-developed minds of children. If only we can see them, we can remove them, these old imprisoning patterns. Every day I thank God for the possibility of changing my thoughts AND my reality.
Monday, March 9
This morning we took the bus into Otavalo to continue our interview with Romel. He had said to us last time, "I doesn't have the gringo mind." Today we wanted to find out more about that. What are the invisible (to us) differences between North and south American thinking? The fish never sees the water, nor do we ever get more than a glimpse of the basic attitudes underlying our thinking.
Romel said that we from the north are driven by the clock. Here in Ecuador, where so many things northerners take for granted (punctual transport, reliable telecommunication, etc.) either don't exist or are severely compromised by events that would be considered abnormal in the north, but are a daily occurrence here, the main goal is to remain "tranquilo." In the north, where traffic jams are frequent, there is much honking and cursing and shaking of fists or fingers. Here traffic jams are just as frequent, but they are not considered a personal affront, and there is far less honking or other negative reaction. Our bus, for example was about 15 minutes late. We hurried as fast as we could, and ended up only being five minutes late. Yet we felt guilty. It hadn't fazed Romel at all. He just spent a few extra minutes in bed, for which he felt grateful, not annoyed.
I started thinking of the many other ways the clock drives us in the north. We're annoyed by lateness and feel guilty if we are the tardy ones. We always are thinking of how to fit things into the time available, instead of doing what we want to do. We think of time as money, and measure things in dollars per hour or per day. It seems normal, but what if time is given to us to DECIDE what to do with, not to fill with busy-ness? What if I decided from minute to minute what was important and I did it with conscious awareness of what I was doing? The sense of routine would be gone, and maybe I might not miss so many divine appointments. It's worth trying.
We went to lunch in a different place today, our outdoor cafe being closed on Mondays. After we got home, we worked more on the different reports. A lot of food for thought in what Romel told us.
Romel said that we from the north are driven by the clock. Here in Ecuador, where so many things northerners take for granted (punctual transport, reliable telecommunication, etc.) either don't exist or are severely compromised by events that would be considered abnormal in the north, but are a daily occurrence here, the main goal is to remain "tranquilo." In the north, where traffic jams are frequent, there is much honking and cursing and shaking of fists or fingers. Here traffic jams are just as frequent, but they are not considered a personal affront, and there is far less honking or other negative reaction. Our bus, for example was about 15 minutes late. We hurried as fast as we could, and ended up only being five minutes late. Yet we felt guilty. It hadn't fazed Romel at all. He just spent a few extra minutes in bed, for which he felt grateful, not annoyed.
I started thinking of the many other ways the clock drives us in the north. We're annoyed by lateness and feel guilty if we are the tardy ones. We always are thinking of how to fit things into the time available, instead of doing what we want to do. We think of time as money, and measure things in dollars per hour or per day. It seems normal, but what if time is given to us to DECIDE what to do with, not to fill with busy-ness? What if I decided from minute to minute what was important and I did it with conscious awareness of what I was doing? The sense of routine would be gone, and maybe I might not miss so many divine appointments. It's worth trying.
We went to lunch in a different place today, our outdoor cafe being closed on Mondays. After we got home, we worked more on the different reports. A lot of food for thought in what Romel told us.
Saturday, March 14, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015 Connecting the Dots
Tomorrow a bunch of reports are due, with four artisan interviews to type up plus the report for the (busy) week. This morning, we worked on those and sent two of the interviews. Vincent also spoke to his father and brother by phone. Later we spoke to Shoshanna as she was studying in her dorm. She got accepted for winter semester in Oaxaca next year--yay! She's decided on a double major--Spanish and English. Great for her, she is so skilled in communicating!
At noon, we celebrated International Women's Day with a teleconference including Jean Houston, Marianne Williamson and Claire Zammit--what a powerhouse trio. Jean explained that the traditional feminine role is to take care of the house and the children, and that has grown to taking care of the earth and everyone's children. A turning point in human history is upon us and women are uniquely called to step up and help it be a new beginning, rather than the end of the human story. Marianne explained that we are to shine our light, not in the places where the light is already shining, but in the darkness, and urged women to get radically involved in overturning unjust structures. Claire shared her story of transformation of her life by committing to being the best person she could envision to be. Both Vincent and I were so inspired.
Now as we are coming closer to the close of our journey, we are beginning to wonder what is next. We have certainly learned a lot about ourselves and about the struggles of so many people just to stay alive. We've also come closer to the realities of being biological creatures on this beautiful and amazing planet. We're hoping the future does not hold much big-city living!
In the evening, I spoke to our daughter, Elspeth. We ended up texting back and forth because the internet connection was so intermittent it could have been called intermit. We sense the Spirit at work in our lives, though we are not tall enough to see over-shoulder what She is working on. Family, friends, a call to action and to stay connected to everything inside us and around us--these are the bones on which flesh must be put. It is a call to the earth community of compassion, connection, reflection and concerted action.
We will stay tuned.
At noon, we celebrated International Women's Day with a teleconference including Jean Houston, Marianne Williamson and Claire Zammit--what a powerhouse trio. Jean explained that the traditional feminine role is to take care of the house and the children, and that has grown to taking care of the earth and everyone's children. A turning point in human history is upon us and women are uniquely called to step up and help it be a new beginning, rather than the end of the human story. Marianne explained that we are to shine our light, not in the places where the light is already shining, but in the darkness, and urged women to get radically involved in overturning unjust structures. Claire shared her story of transformation of her life by committing to being the best person she could envision to be. Both Vincent and I were so inspired.
Now as we are coming closer to the close of our journey, we are beginning to wonder what is next. We have certainly learned a lot about ourselves and about the struggles of so many people just to stay alive. We've also come closer to the realities of being biological creatures on this beautiful and amazing planet. We're hoping the future does not hold much big-city living!
In the evening, I spoke to our daughter, Elspeth. We ended up texting back and forth because the internet connection was so intermittent it could have been called intermit. We sense the Spirit at work in our lives, though we are not tall enough to see over-shoulder what She is working on. Family, friends, a call to action and to stay connected to everything inside us and around us--these are the bones on which flesh must be put. It is a call to the earth community of compassion, connection, reflection and concerted action.
We will stay tuned.
Thursday, March 12, 2015
Saturday, March 7, 2015 Acclimating
Right after breakfast, Carlos agreed to finish our interview with him. He is such a busy guy! I always see him running, upstairs, downstairs, through the patio. He always smiles and greets us. We were delighted to have pinned him down.
No sooner had we agreed on this, Sonita and Francis, the couple from France asked for a ride to Otavalo, so Carlos turned to us, asked, "Is it okay? I'll be back in an hour." We are learning that the key to the tranquility of Ecuador is flexibility. Of course we said yes. Of course it was more than an hour, but we had reports to write anyway.
Carlos is the third generation in the family in the hat-making business. His grandfather started it in 1923. Zoila, Carlos' mother, started working in the business at fourteen. She remembers walking to the town with her grandfather, the hats stacked on the backs of burros. That must have been a sight! She grew up, got married, and carried on the business, even through the time of her husband's desertion when Carlos was quite young. She's a strong, strong woman, and the business really grew under her leadership. In 2002, Carlos took over the administration from his mother after completing his studies in business management at the university.
Their business is thriving. Their sales grew over 50% last year and they are still growing. They make hats from straw, wool and leather in about 30 different styles each year, many of them new. Carlos was very kind to show us lots of the processes of making the hats today, although none of the workers were here on this Saturday. He remarked that it was important to keep sales going strong, not only for him and his family, but for the many other families who have income from the work. Zoila explained that they have many young workers from the surrounding area who are still in school, but working to support their mothers and siblings. They are absolutely delighted to be able to help the young men in this way.
Carlos' wife died two years ago, leaving him with two sons, Michael, 8 and Sebastián, 6. He hopes that someday they will grow up to take over the business. He also hopes that in the interim, he can find a woman to help him move the business forward. I got the sense that his wife had been very active with him in the enterprise.
The whole Rojas family is so hospitable! Sonita and Francis are clients of theirs from France--they have been here about two weeks. Carlos and his family host them every year as they pick out hats for sale in the winter months in France. Another client we met later today is Vilia, from Lithuania, who is also a customer of Carlos. When we first arrived, Zoila was very concerned that we would have the food we like (Vincent is a vegetarian and I am lactose reluctant, if not completely intolerant.) We really have felt welcome here, and a part of things if we wished to be and left to ourselves if we preferred that. They could not be kinder!
After lunch, we rode the bus to Otavalo market again, our third visit. The home office wants us to acquire some samples for them. We were astonished to realize that not everything on offer is the same all the time. Afterwards we had lunch at the American cafe and rode home to Ilumán on a very jouncy and crowded bus. Poor Vincent, with his tall self, kept hitting his head on the ceiling of the bus.
When we arrived home, it was nearly time for Francis and Sonita to go to the airport. Although they are leaving at 7 p.m. or so, they won't arrive in Strasbourg until 10:00 tomorrow night. Long journeys are so hard! We have really enjoyed getting to know them a bit through our fractured English/Spanish/German trans-language. We will miss Sonita's bright laughter and Francis' steady good will and support.
All in all, since we arrived, we have been becoming steadily more at home. Having that in place allows us to begin to allow other topics to arise, such as what we will do when we arrive home in April. I am also working on releasing the captive inner self that I have so rejected and ignored for all these years. It feels as if I may return home a different, freer person. Certainly I have taken a huge leap into the unknown just coming here where I speak the language so poorly, but I know that my work--our work here will bear fruit in bettering the lives of many artisans in the way that the universe works, so I am content. To be at home wherever you are, that is the goal.
No sooner had we agreed on this, Sonita and Francis, the couple from France asked for a ride to Otavalo, so Carlos turned to us, asked, "Is it okay? I'll be back in an hour." We are learning that the key to the tranquility of Ecuador is flexibility. Of course we said yes. Of course it was more than an hour, but we had reports to write anyway.
Carlos is the third generation in the family in the hat-making business. His grandfather started it in 1923. Zoila, Carlos' mother, started working in the business at fourteen. She remembers walking to the town with her grandfather, the hats stacked on the backs of burros. That must have been a sight! She grew up, got married, and carried on the business, even through the time of her husband's desertion when Carlos was quite young. She's a strong, strong woman, and the business really grew under her leadership. In 2002, Carlos took over the administration from his mother after completing his studies in business management at the university.
Their business is thriving. Their sales grew over 50% last year and they are still growing. They make hats from straw, wool and leather in about 30 different styles each year, many of them new. Carlos was very kind to show us lots of the processes of making the hats today, although none of the workers were here on this Saturday. He remarked that it was important to keep sales going strong, not only for him and his family, but for the many other families who have income from the work. Zoila explained that they have many young workers from the surrounding area who are still in school, but working to support their mothers and siblings. They are absolutely delighted to be able to help the young men in this way.
Carlos' wife died two years ago, leaving him with two sons, Michael, 8 and Sebastián, 6. He hopes that someday they will grow up to take over the business. He also hopes that in the interim, he can find a woman to help him move the business forward. I got the sense that his wife had been very active with him in the enterprise.
The whole Rojas family is so hospitable! Sonita and Francis are clients of theirs from France--they have been here about two weeks. Carlos and his family host them every year as they pick out hats for sale in the winter months in France. Another client we met later today is Vilia, from Lithuania, who is also a customer of Carlos. When we first arrived, Zoila was very concerned that we would have the food we like (Vincent is a vegetarian and I am lactose reluctant, if not completely intolerant.) We really have felt welcome here, and a part of things if we wished to be and left to ourselves if we preferred that. They could not be kinder!
After lunch, we rode the bus to Otavalo market again, our third visit. The home office wants us to acquire some samples for them. We were astonished to realize that not everything on offer is the same all the time. Afterwards we had lunch at the American cafe and rode home to Ilumán on a very jouncy and crowded bus. Poor Vincent, with his tall self, kept hitting his head on the ceiling of the bus.
When we arrived home, it was nearly time for Francis and Sonita to go to the airport. Although they are leaving at 7 p.m. or so, they won't arrive in Strasbourg until 10:00 tomorrow night. Long journeys are so hard! We have really enjoyed getting to know them a bit through our fractured English/Spanish/German trans-language. We will miss Sonita's bright laughter and Francis' steady good will and support.
All in all, since we arrived, we have been becoming steadily more at home. Having that in place allows us to begin to allow other topics to arise, such as what we will do when we arrive home in April. I am also working on releasing the captive inner self that I have so rejected and ignored for all these years. It feels as if I may return home a different, freer person. Certainly I have taken a huge leap into the unknown just coming here where I speak the language so poorly, but I know that my work--our work here will bear fruit in bettering the lives of many artisans in the way that the universe works, so I am content. To be at home wherever you are, that is the goal.
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
Friday, March 6, 2015 Made with Love in Ecuador
As we wake up this morning, we hurry to call Amber before she leaves for school. It is her 16th birthday today. To think this beautiful young woman with the shy smile and deep black eyes was only born 16 years ago is to boggle the elderly (mine) mind. I think we called too early, because she seemed very sleepy. We are so lucky to have both our wonderful granddaughters. I don't know how we lived without them before!
We have two appointments with artisans today, one in Ilumán, where we are staying, in the afternoon, and one in the morning in Carabuela, only two miles away. Both artisan families are making children's sweaters. We took the bus to Otavalo to meet Romel, the country rep here and then took the bus with him to Carabuela (nearly returning from where we came in the process). We crossed a giant steel overpass to get from the bus to the town across the busy divided highway. There in the middle was an inexplicable mystery. A broken (clean) toilet lay in the walkway. Romel and I had the same thought--that they had been carrying it to install in a house in the little town, dropped it and broken it and had seen no point in carrying the heavy thing any further, now that it was useless. Vincent said, "No, someone just left it behind." Alternatively, perhaps they planned to return and bombard trucks on the highway.
As we walked to the Ruiz' family home, Romel told us the history of their workshop. They had worked with another artisan family for a number of years. They were responsible for creating the designs for all the workers in that other shop. At one point, the owner of the other workshop sold or gave away all their sweater designs to other artisans. They broke away from that group and started selling their own designs themselves. They sell in the market in Otavalo on Saturdays, mostly animal hats, and most of their sweaters to Minga Imports.
Romel found them in Carabuela in 2012, a town which is known for making sweaters, by going from house to house looking for artisans who wanted to make children's sweaters. He eventually found one family who knew of the Ruiz' workshop and they established a relationship with Minga over time.
Daniel was out today, working on a minga (a community work project), so his wife Marlena met us at the door, a sweet, shy young woman of 33 years. She wanted to know why we were there, as Minga had never sent anyone to interview them before. We explained that it was a new project and that Minga was hoping to help her sell more product by using their story in marketing materials. We hope that, too, we told her.
She warmed up a lot after that, realizing, I think, that they were not in trouble, but just the opposite. She yearns for her three daughters to have good lives, and to that end, she and her husband work very hard making and selling sweaters for other children. Marlena's parents taught her to make sweaters at age 5. She married at 17, which she says shyly, "was young." She and her husband started in the trade when they married sixteen years ago. She likes designing and she also tells us, she likes "working day and night." We checked to be sure we had heard correctly. She said that right now they have a lot of orders (March is generally a busy month for fair trade producers, because that is when most of the fair trade companies order production for the Christmas season), and they sometimes work until 3 a.m. When they have a lot of orders, they engage their families to help them. When they have few, they help their families with orders.
They started with plain and striped sweaters, which are easier. Now they make a lot of complicated designs. They both like to make new designs, and in this copycat culture, that's a very good thing. It takes two days to produce a sample of a sweater in one of the new designs, and once we have seen the process, we understand why. Although the five or six parts of the sweater are made on knitting machines, they are made one by one. The design is graphed square by square in the correct colors to make the pattern. This means that every row has a different pattern of colors, and each one of the knitting hooks is counted and the yarn changed at various spots. Then the pieces are crocheted together, then with a crochet hook, they edge the bottom with scallops, the pocket opening and the outlines of the designs. In a fascinating way, the pocket is actually woven into the front of the sweater. Then the zipper and any buttons or ties are added. Marlena says that once they have made a number of the new designs it can go quicker, but still the process is incredibly labor-intensive and detailed.
She says their sweaters are made with "cariño"--love. She hopes they can sell more, so that she can take good care of her children with the extra work. I vow to sell as many as I can next Christmas.
We went back to Ilumán for lunch and afterwards met Romel to visit Joaquin and Anita de la Torre around 4 p.m. We arrived just before their four sons returned from school. Joaquin, 41, and Anita, 34, seem very content with their work. Joaquin loves the colors, loves to combine them into a pattern on the knitting machines. Anita loves the finishing, and she demonstrates finishing a sweater as we talk. It comes together like a butterfly unfolding its wings for the first time. It is just incredible to watch her hands fly while she chats and jokes with her husband.
Joaquin likes to design because he has a lot of imagination. He just finished a design with a dog on it. He says it is not the same drawing the design on paper and executing it. Each stitch in each row has to be counted. He says it's hard now to get the materials, as most of the factories don't want to make the 50% cotton/50% wool yarn their customers require. They have to special order everything. This sheds light on our morning's visit with Marlena, who says sometimes the yarn orders take longer to arrive than expected, then they have to work hard to catch up to the orders.
He also said that the factories now demand payment in advance. This was hard for them to afford, especially as orders increased. Minga is now helping them by paying the deposit for the yarn and deducting the cost of the yarn from the invoice for the finished sweaters. Right now they have a big order from Minga due in June and they are concentrating on that, not seeking orders from anyone else until this is finished. He says it is too complicated to be working on two sweater designs at once.
When they speak of the future, it is with both hope and worry. Anita says she hopes that all their kids can finish high school or college so they can have better jobs and have more life choices. Joaquin says he hopes this job never ends, as they don't know how to do any other jobs, having little education themselves. Anita started working on sweaters with her parents at age 4. Joaquin appeals to our customers, "Please buy more sweaters, as we don't have any other work and need to have money to help our families." It's not a begging or a plea for sympathy--it's the simple truth.
We leave their home wanting to help as much as we can these kind people who work so hard, sometimes till 3 a.m., just to feed themselves and their children. Surely we can find a way to sell more of them this year. Anyone for a kids' sweater house party?
We have two appointments with artisans today, one in Ilumán, where we are staying, in the afternoon, and one in the morning in Carabuela, only two miles away. Both artisan families are making children's sweaters. We took the bus to Otavalo to meet Romel, the country rep here and then took the bus with him to Carabuela (nearly returning from where we came in the process). We crossed a giant steel overpass to get from the bus to the town across the busy divided highway. There in the middle was an inexplicable mystery. A broken (clean) toilet lay in the walkway. Romel and I had the same thought--that they had been carrying it to install in a house in the little town, dropped it and broken it and had seen no point in carrying the heavy thing any further, now that it was useless. Vincent said, "No, someone just left it behind." Alternatively, perhaps they planned to return and bombard trucks on the highway.
As we walked to the Ruiz' family home, Romel told us the history of their workshop. They had worked with another artisan family for a number of years. They were responsible for creating the designs for all the workers in that other shop. At one point, the owner of the other workshop sold or gave away all their sweater designs to other artisans. They broke away from that group and started selling their own designs themselves. They sell in the market in Otavalo on Saturdays, mostly animal hats, and most of their sweaters to Minga Imports.
Romel found them in Carabuela in 2012, a town which is known for making sweaters, by going from house to house looking for artisans who wanted to make children's sweaters. He eventually found one family who knew of the Ruiz' workshop and they established a relationship with Minga over time.
Daniel was out today, working on a minga (a community work project), so his wife Marlena met us at the door, a sweet, shy young woman of 33 years. She wanted to know why we were there, as Minga had never sent anyone to interview them before. We explained that it was a new project and that Minga was hoping to help her sell more product by using their story in marketing materials. We hope that, too, we told her.
She warmed up a lot after that, realizing, I think, that they were not in trouble, but just the opposite. She yearns for her three daughters to have good lives, and to that end, she and her husband work very hard making and selling sweaters for other children. Marlena's parents taught her to make sweaters at age 5. She married at 17, which she says shyly, "was young." She and her husband started in the trade when they married sixteen years ago. She likes designing and she also tells us, she likes "working day and night." We checked to be sure we had heard correctly. She said that right now they have a lot of orders (March is generally a busy month for fair trade producers, because that is when most of the fair trade companies order production for the Christmas season), and they sometimes work until 3 a.m. When they have a lot of orders, they engage their families to help them. When they have few, they help their families with orders.
They started with plain and striped sweaters, which are easier. Now they make a lot of complicated designs. They both like to make new designs, and in this copycat culture, that's a very good thing. It takes two days to produce a sample of a sweater in one of the new designs, and once we have seen the process, we understand why. Although the five or six parts of the sweater are made on knitting machines, they are made one by one. The design is graphed square by square in the correct colors to make the pattern. This means that every row has a different pattern of colors, and each one of the knitting hooks is counted and the yarn changed at various spots. Then the pieces are crocheted together, then with a crochet hook, they edge the bottom with scallops, the pocket opening and the outlines of the designs. In a fascinating way, the pocket is actually woven into the front of the sweater. Then the zipper and any buttons or ties are added. Marlena says that once they have made a number of the new designs it can go quicker, but still the process is incredibly labor-intensive and detailed.
She says their sweaters are made with "cariño"--love. She hopes they can sell more, so that she can take good care of her children with the extra work. I vow to sell as many as I can next Christmas.
We went back to Ilumán for lunch and afterwards met Romel to visit Joaquin and Anita de la Torre around 4 p.m. We arrived just before their four sons returned from school. Joaquin, 41, and Anita, 34, seem very content with their work. Joaquin loves the colors, loves to combine them into a pattern on the knitting machines. Anita loves the finishing, and she demonstrates finishing a sweater as we talk. It comes together like a butterfly unfolding its wings for the first time. It is just incredible to watch her hands fly while she chats and jokes with her husband.
Joaquin likes to design because he has a lot of imagination. He just finished a design with a dog on it. He says it is not the same drawing the design on paper and executing it. Each stitch in each row has to be counted. He says it's hard now to get the materials, as most of the factories don't want to make the 50% cotton/50% wool yarn their customers require. They have to special order everything. This sheds light on our morning's visit with Marlena, who says sometimes the yarn orders take longer to arrive than expected, then they have to work hard to catch up to the orders.
He also said that the factories now demand payment in advance. This was hard for them to afford, especially as orders increased. Minga is now helping them by paying the deposit for the yarn and deducting the cost of the yarn from the invoice for the finished sweaters. Right now they have a big order from Minga due in June and they are concentrating on that, not seeking orders from anyone else until this is finished. He says it is too complicated to be working on two sweater designs at once.
When they speak of the future, it is with both hope and worry. Anita says she hopes that all their kids can finish high school or college so they can have better jobs and have more life choices. Joaquin says he hopes this job never ends, as they don't know how to do any other jobs, having little education themselves. Anita started working on sweaters with her parents at age 4. Joaquin appeals to our customers, "Please buy more sweaters, as we don't have any other work and need to have money to help our families." It's not a begging or a plea for sympathy--it's the simple truth.
We leave their home wanting to help as much as we can these kind people who work so hard, sometimes till 3 a.m., just to feed themselves and their children. Surely we can find a way to sell more of them this year. Anyone for a kids' sweater house party?
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