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.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
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.
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