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!
Sunday, July 26, 2015
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
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