Turning 70 has probably never been better than it was for me this year. Vincent arranged through AirBnB for a weekend in Cotacachi, the leather-working center of Ecuador. The ads sounded marvelous--an Ecuadorian family looking for guests who want to experience not only the climate but the culture and cooking (all organic food) of Ecuador. If anything, they understated their welcome. Before we even got there, they had offered to make a special dinner on the 8th and bake a birthday cake. They said they were eagerly expecting us. That, too, was an understatement. We felt unbelievably dear to them before we even got there.
Vincent began celebrating on Thursday, bringing home the most beautiful flower arrangement (it has lasted until the 16th). A dozen roses, red and white, anthurium, bird-of-paradise, sunflowers, carnations, red ti plant, tall grasses, goldenrod, alstroemeria, some flowers whose stems and sepals look like carnations, but whose blossoms look like clusters of green feathers, tall papyrus leaves, and tiny white asters. I have been enjoying them immensely for a good long time. The roses don't droop!
We took a taxi from Otavalo on the Friday afternoon before, and the taxista was very as they say here--listo. It means ready, but it also means smart, practical, capable, a go-to person. We had the neighborhood--Turucu--and the general idea was that it was near a chapel. Our taxista was from Otavalo and didn't know too much about Cotacachi, but he called his dispatcher and off we went. It was different from the taxi rides you get in the U.S. (cheaper--a lot cheaper) inasmuch as when we got near the place the dispatcher told him to go, the driver stopped a couple of times and asked the oldest-looking person he could find where this family lived. Imagine trying to find someone like that in the U.S., where most people haven't the faintest idea who their neighbors are!
When we arrived, they were baking bread in a big brick oven in their courtyard. Half a dozen dogs milled around in a friendly way. One of them we took to calling the "rasta dog," because he had long, long dreadlocks hanging from his ears. The bread they had made by hand, in the old way, the children--theirs and the neighbors'--had formed the bread into shapes. They had also roasted some pork called "cuero" or leather. They were both delicious, hot and juicy. We hadn't known we were hungry before, but we polished off quite a lot of this "snack." They showed us to our room and we were delighted to discover that there were no stairs, and that our windows overlooked their sizable fruit, flower and vegetable garden, and on the other side, the volcano Cotopaxi. Hanging in front of our door and right beside (nearly IN) the garden were two comfy hammocks. Wow! we thought to ourselves, this is magnificent. I forgot to mention that the $15 per person per night included breakfast and dinner. I did mention the home cooking though.
Our hosts Patricia and Rumiñahui are both excellent cooks. She belongs to a group of women who are practicing and promoting organic gardening. We had homemade bread (from the week's baking) and fruit in the mornings (we had the choice of eggs from their flock of chickens, but preferred this). Lunches were extra ($3 each), and consisted of meat, rice, and fresh vegetables from their garden. The shrimp dinner on Saturday night was incredible. I longed to lick my fingers, but it wouldn't have been polite, I think--no one else was. I've never eaten shrimp with the shell on (it's quite messy with a lot of fingerwork involved), but I think I would have eaten these hanging upside down from a rope if I'd had to.
We met a couple from France who were staying there, very friendly. Her parents were originally from Spain, so her Spanish was excellent, and she had some English, too, which she enjoyed practicing with us. As they were leaving, they were asked to sign the wall where all the departing guests get to voice their sentiments.
Wall, you said? That's right, two whole walls of their dining room are painted with large trees. Everyone who stays has the opportunity to write what they wish, mostly very grateful wishes for the family. On the opposite wall is another tree listing the children, parents and grandparents. Each child had a nickname, from youngest to oldest: Sami (princesa), Malki (loco), Yarina (amable), Yauri (alegre). Patricia was creativa, and Rumi was soñador (dreamer). Their 19-year-old son Yauri is the artist who painted the walls and did some other very interesting and sometimes beautiful work throughout the house--portraits, dreamscapes, etc. He is very talented in my opinion, but not receiving any income from his art--he's working in Quito, but not as an artist.
We walked the roughly 3/4 mile to the town center on Saturday morning, passing many sights, both interesting and beautiful, and the inevitable wandering dogs. In this country town, we also saw many pigs, cows and horses grazing in the fields. We met the wife of an artisan we know in the leather market (Cotacachi is world-famous for its leather goods) and bought a poncho from her. At noon, we walked back. After lunch, Patricia brought a plate to an elderly gentleman who was working in their fields where they raise potatoes, habas (fava beans) and some other things. He was trying to hold a roll of barbed wire at the same time and dropped the plate upside down in the dirt. That was sad for all of us, because we had pictured his satisfaction eating that delicious food that we had just had, but the dogs who had followed us truly enjoyed it. (The bowl of soup was better protected, so he didn't have to go completely hungry.) Besides dogs, they also raise pigs, cows, horses, chickens, dogs and cats. We had fun playing with the latter. Vincent asked why the puppies were kept on the roof. Patricia's smiling reply was, they are traviésos. (Scamps.) They proved it the next day by overturning some potted plants on the patio and making a big mess.
It is amazing to us over and over to see these animals all living amicably side by side. So much for the law of the jungle. Dogs here in general don't chase chickens (or cats) or cows. They are not on leashes either. Many of them chase cars and cyclists, but many others just look placidly at passersby without barking or threatening. We don't understand why the differences exist--aggressive, barking, chasing or peaceful, calm and moderately friendly--but none of them has a leash.
On Saturday afternoon, Rumi asked if we wanted to go for a drive to see Lake Cuicocha. This was very kind of him--not in the brochure at all--and we had wanted to see it again. When we were here in 2011, it was just beautiful. It is the caldera of a dormant volcano filled with water. In some spots, you can see the (formerly hot) gases escaping in clusters of bubbles. The place he drove us to was very high above the lake, so you could see the whole thing, including the islands in the center. It seemed we were at the very top of the world, looking out at the chain of volcanoes, dormant and active, that form the backbone of Ecuador. Years ago, someone planted several small stands of pine and others of eucalyptus, which is omnipresent in this part of the country. It was so uplifting to see all the green! No billboards, no highways, no apartment blocks, office buildings, factories or stores, just lovely vistas for 360 degrees. We could see the dots in the valley that represented Otavalo, where we are currently living.
We then drove to visit family of Patricia and Rumi and from there went up the hill on a steep dirt road to find one of the puppies, who apparently had run home to his mother as soon as he realized where he was. Here we had a real treat. There was a tiny family enclave on the side of the hill by the road. We walked down to it and met a young relative and an incredibly ancient-looking couple who stood beside their house. Rumi wanted us to see how houses used to be made before Europeans came. The house owned by the couple was newer--it had a thatched roof and concrete block walls. He said that was not as warm. The other house was also thatched but made with adobe--mud with layers of bamboo, just like a cake. This one is warmer in the winter, Rumi said. The couple were gracious to let us photograph them beside their house, and their smiles were very broad when Vincent showed them the picture afterwards. Afterwards, we drove back to Cotacachi through Otavalo, listening to Vivaldi in the car (that was surreal in a way, as we most often here have heard Andean music and contemporary rock on the radio). Rumi loves classical violin. And we both love Vivaldi.
We stopped at a tiny shop in a tiny town for ice cream. The chocolate variety that I chose was very yummy. We felt replete, totally relaxed and even pampered well before the shrimp dinner. They really made every effort to celebrate my birthday, even though the day before I had been a stranger. Rumi even played his violin for my supper--"feliz cumpleaños," and everyone sang. Gratitude was my constant emotional state for this birthday.
I spent a lot of time that weekend listening to the live stream from the conference which is the culmination of the transformational nine-month course I have been taking. That was energizing and encouraging. I also decided that at 70, I am not descending the proverbial "hill," rather getting ready to make the biggest contribution I can to the world. On Friday night I began getting e-mails from all over the world wishing me a happy birthday. It had a tremendous impact on me, how many people wish me well. I realized I know hundreds of very kind people, which is a gift beyond my wildest dreams. Saturday the trickle became a torrent. I was overwhelmed with kindness. I got funny cards from a friend and from the office of Minga and a sweet one from my former sister-in-law. She had the idea of scanning and e-mailing the card, which had never occurred to me is possible.
On Sunday, Patricia asked would we like to see something very special that happens in Cotacachi only one time a year on this weekend. Of course we said yes, so we walked together to the town plaza to see Muyu Raymi, which is a féria de semillas, or festival of seeds. This has been going on since antiquity (which is why it has the indigenous name), but is growing in importance because of the need for healthier gardening, without pesticides, chemicals or GMOs. It was astonishing. That's the best I can describe it. In one corner of the plaza, they had an indigenous ceremony to offer thanks to the Creator for all the gifts of the earth--a harvest festival. But one feature is unique in my experience--people exchange their seeds. There are competitions for the various types of seeds, especially maíz, or corn. The ones that get the prizes are the most sought after. The table where they were displayed was thickly surrounded with people several layers deep.
The beauty of this festival is hard to describe--so glad Vincent took pictures. In the main square, they had laid out a traditional offering--fruits, flowers, vegetables, seeds of all kinds, laid out in a beautiful geometric pattern. An old woman chanted in Quichua (the language of indigenous Ecuadoreans, predating the Spanish by centuries), a group chanted and sang, and the old women went around the circle that had gathered to watch sprinkling water on the crowd. It was very similar to some of the ceremonies at St. Nicholas in that regard. Afterwards, groups gathered to play music, sing and dance.
We also milled around the square, looking at exhibits and seeing the incredible display of seeds lining the streets. It reminded us of Holy Week in Guatemala, when the pavements are decorated with gorgeous mosaics of seeds, dyed corn meal and flower petals. The native women (mostly) also lined the streets, sitting or squatting, talking to each other and arranging the displays.
Patricia introduced us to several of her friends, one of whom is a herbalist. She had published a small book explaining the medicinal value of many native plants, and they chatted together for quite some time while Vincent took photos. We tasted some improbable dishes (some of them involving insects) and got food for Patricia's brother and father at some of the cooking stalls. Then we walked home in leisurely fashion. She made us a nice lunch at home and after spending a bit more time in the hammocks and then the garden, learning some more about plants, we took a taxi to Otavalo.
The pace of life in Cotacachi is so tranquil, so lovely. We walked, ate, spent time playing with the kittens and viewing the garden and smelling the citrus blossoms. I felt like a happy little flower, slowly opening in the warmth of the sun. In the midst of this were beautiful meditations on the power of life to heal and renew itself. I felt my soul expanding as if it would fly. Vincent kept encouraging me to remember that I am loved. All the Facebook posts and e-mails and phone calls helped. I was pretty buoyant by the end of the evening. I really feel called to use the gifts I have been given to share the beauty of the earth and all its creatures, human and not, and to help people connect with the love and unity that is their birthright on this planet. The book Transcendent Joy is just the beginning. To live expanded, to know I have a place and a purpose, that others value me (thank you, Anne, for the reminder) as I value them, that was the real gift of this birthday, the best birthday ever. Thank you, God, thank you all..
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label love. Show all posts
Monday, August 17, 2015
Sunday, March 8, 2015
Tuesday, March 3, 2015 Compelled by Compassion
This morning we traveled with Minga's country rep to Martha Constante's house in Ibarra. When her husband retired thirty years ago from the police force, she set up her business making hand knit sweaters in her home. There are now hundreds of women who have benefited from this decision. She says she keeps thinking about retiring, but the same thing keeps her working that got her started--the women in financial need who come to her door begging for work.
They have two daughters, one of whom works with her mother in the business. Anita's degree is in engineering. They joke that she is an engineer in an international business (Martha exports to many countries in Europe and to Japan as well as the domestic and South American market. The other, Aleja, is still in school. I found myself liking this woman more and more as she described the many challenges they face--the government taxes any yarn that is made from fibers that are not natural, and then they add insult to injury by buying up all the yarn available in Ecuador and exporting it to China, according to Martha. There is also the matter of copyright. Ecuador has no copyright laws. Their designs are always being copied, and they then have to create another sweater. They make about 30 new designs per year. Materials are triple what they were 30 years ago, but they can't raise their prices that much or they'd be priced out of the market. Sometimes the profit they make on a sweater is so small, they can't do more than pay the artisans.
Martha is an organizing genius. She has a file of 1,500 names of women who have knitted in their homes in remote villages for her. (The business started with only three knitters). She wants to give as much work to as many people as she can. When orders are low, she breaks them into very small lots so that each woman can have something to eat. She has a book with everyone's name in it, how much material they have been given, what the completion date is to be, pickup date, and how much the finished sweaters weighed, as well as the number of sweaters made and the payment for each one. It is big, fat, and hand-written.
She brings the materials to each village to the supervisor she has trained, shows the supervisor how to make the design, and the supervisor takes care of getting materials to the women in her village, quality control of the finished work, and collecting them for Martha and her daughter (they both drive out to the different villages in different cars, to cover as much area as possible.) They bring them back to their home where Martha and one other woman take care of all the finishing--zippers, buttons, tags, etc.
The day we were there, a tiny woman, Guillermina, who Martha says is her oldest and shortest worker and her friend because she has worked with her the longest, brought her finished sweaters in to be weighed (they have learned to weigh the wool when they drop it off and again when the sweaters return, to avoid supplying materials which don't get knitted into sweaters for them). About three feet high, Guillermina sparkled, which is the only conceivable word to describe her. She has to be in her seventies!
Martha is really serious about giving work to women in need. She prefaces everything by saying, "This is not for my sake--this is for the women." Sometimes she doesn't have enough money for gas to get out to the villages to deliver materials and pick up sweaters. This is a big challenge for her to keep the business going.
In addition to providing work for women in need, Martha and her daughter rescue stray or injured dogs. Martha has 20 of them on her property. They are well cared for, and she tries to find homes for them all, but she cannot bear to leave them in the sorry state they were in when she found them. One little darling followed us up and downstairs. She was not in the big pens, Martha said, because she was smaller than all the others and she was afraid they would pick on her.
She has such a big heart that she can't bear to see anyone in need. In spite of the many and difficult hurdles she must get over every day, her motto and watchword is "siempre adelante." Always forward. Anita remarks that her mother is quite "terca"--stubborn, and can hardly be coaxed to rest. This occasioned a discussion about taking care of yourself as well as others so that you can continue to care for others. She knows this, but it's hard when so much need arrives on her doorstep, ringing the bell. She intends to go on doing this work as long as possible because it is so important.
When we asked for advice she would give to anyone starting a business like hers, she says you have to love the women. The challenges are huge, but the rewards are just as great when you can help them succeed in life and care for their families.
Her husband, Jorje, is in his seventies. He drove us (in a mildly terrifying fashion) up to the big lake behind Ibarra, to the new park built from the old airstrip and back to the city center for lunch. He is as cheerful and as generous as Martha. Although Martha is younger than I am, I found her very inspiring. It's important not to quit in this work, not to stop trying to make a difference. Yes, it is hard, but it is making a difference for so many people, for whom the extra few dollars mean survival. I'm inspired to keep pushing forward. You never know, you see, if you quit, whether you would have succeeded if you had just kept on for one more day. Siempre adelante, mis amigos, siempre adelante.
They have two daughters, one of whom works with her mother in the business. Anita's degree is in engineering. They joke that she is an engineer in an international business (Martha exports to many countries in Europe and to Japan as well as the domestic and South American market. The other, Aleja, is still in school. I found myself liking this woman more and more as she described the many challenges they face--the government taxes any yarn that is made from fibers that are not natural, and then they add insult to injury by buying up all the yarn available in Ecuador and exporting it to China, according to Martha. There is also the matter of copyright. Ecuador has no copyright laws. Their designs are always being copied, and they then have to create another sweater. They make about 30 new designs per year. Materials are triple what they were 30 years ago, but they can't raise their prices that much or they'd be priced out of the market. Sometimes the profit they make on a sweater is so small, they can't do more than pay the artisans.
Martha is an organizing genius. She has a file of 1,500 names of women who have knitted in their homes in remote villages for her. (The business started with only three knitters). She wants to give as much work to as many people as she can. When orders are low, she breaks them into very small lots so that each woman can have something to eat. She has a book with everyone's name in it, how much material they have been given, what the completion date is to be, pickup date, and how much the finished sweaters weighed, as well as the number of sweaters made and the payment for each one. It is big, fat, and hand-written.
She brings the materials to each village to the supervisor she has trained, shows the supervisor how to make the design, and the supervisor takes care of getting materials to the women in her village, quality control of the finished work, and collecting them for Martha and her daughter (they both drive out to the different villages in different cars, to cover as much area as possible.) They bring them back to their home where Martha and one other woman take care of all the finishing--zippers, buttons, tags, etc.
The day we were there, a tiny woman, Guillermina, who Martha says is her oldest and shortest worker and her friend because she has worked with her the longest, brought her finished sweaters in to be weighed (they have learned to weigh the wool when they drop it off and again when the sweaters return, to avoid supplying materials which don't get knitted into sweaters for them). About three feet high, Guillermina sparkled, which is the only conceivable word to describe her. She has to be in her seventies!
Martha is really serious about giving work to women in need. She prefaces everything by saying, "This is not for my sake--this is for the women." Sometimes she doesn't have enough money for gas to get out to the villages to deliver materials and pick up sweaters. This is a big challenge for her to keep the business going.
In addition to providing work for women in need, Martha and her daughter rescue stray or injured dogs. Martha has 20 of them on her property. They are well cared for, and she tries to find homes for them all, but she cannot bear to leave them in the sorry state they were in when she found them. One little darling followed us up and downstairs. She was not in the big pens, Martha said, because she was smaller than all the others and she was afraid they would pick on her.
She has such a big heart that she can't bear to see anyone in need. In spite of the many and difficult hurdles she must get over every day, her motto and watchword is "siempre adelante." Always forward. Anita remarks that her mother is quite "terca"--stubborn, and can hardly be coaxed to rest. This occasioned a discussion about taking care of yourself as well as others so that you can continue to care for others. She knows this, but it's hard when so much need arrives on her doorstep, ringing the bell. She intends to go on doing this work as long as possible because it is so important.
When we asked for advice she would give to anyone starting a business like hers, she says you have to love the women. The challenges are huge, but the rewards are just as great when you can help them succeed in life and care for their families.
Her husband, Jorje, is in his seventies. He drove us (in a mildly terrifying fashion) up to the big lake behind Ibarra, to the new park built from the old airstrip and back to the city center for lunch. He is as cheerful and as generous as Martha. Although Martha is younger than I am, I found her very inspiring. It's important not to quit in this work, not to stop trying to make a difference. Yes, it is hard, but it is making a difference for so many people, for whom the extra few dollars mean survival. I'm inspired to keep pushing forward. You never know, you see, if you quit, whether you would have succeeded if you had just kept on for one more day. Siempre adelante, mis amigos, siempre adelante.
Monday, March 2, 2015
Tuesday, Feb. 24 Pilgrims in Peguche
A morning of confusion and schedule changes. Albert and Magdalena drove us to Otavalo with their goddaughter, a cheerful woman who talked more than an hour without pausing for breath. We drove through the small town of Cayambe which is absolutely bustling with building fever. It reminds me of some of the valleys in northern California, very beautiful, mostly rural, not very far from Otavalo. I could maybe live here, I think, at least part of the year. (Very tentative statement here--not sure I could stand missing family and friends). Albert stopped so that we could try bizcochos, which were amazing with dulce de leche (like caramel). We arrived in Otavalo around noon, Albert picked up Romel, the country rep here, and dropped the three of us off in Peguche. Romel introduced us, promised to meet with us soon and left us with a charming couple who apologized because Romel had indicated we were coming on Thursday, two days later!
Carlos and Sulema, we soon discovered, are just wonderful people. We catapulted right into a full-scale interview lasting about two hours. They both speak a little English from their travels in the U.S. and Europe selling clothing and performing music. Their primary language is Kichwa, the indigenous tongue spoken by the Incas. As is typical with many indigenes, Sulema and her two daughters, indeed, all the women of the family wear indigenous dress. Carlos and his son and brother-in-law wear U.S. casual attire--t-shirts and jeans. Ironically enough, I learned that the indigenous dress of both women and men derives from Spanish costumes of two hundred years ago, when the people were still hoping to win their freedom from slavery. No one but historians knows this, of course, so the customs--and the costumes--continue.
The women's outfits consist of a long, slim white skirt with a black outer skirt split up both sides. This is supported by a woven and embroidered belt wrapped several times around the waist and tucked at the terminal end back into itself. The blouse is white, with frilly 3/4 sleeves and a ruffle around the neck. It is typically embroidered all around the neckline and both sleeves, sometimes also the ruffle. Their black hair is braided and wrapped part way around the braid is a thin, embroidered cotton ribbon. It is traditional to wear many gold chains around the neck and gold earrings. It is not real gold, of course. It was only real when gold was $35 an ounce. They wear sandals with a sling back and black felt uppers. The boys, I am told wear white sandals in the identical pattern. This outfit makes every woman look beautiful, in my honest opinion.
The work of this family centers around tie-dyeing clothing. Carlos' father is a weaver and Sulema's family has been into clothing construction for generations. The story of how they met is quite unusual. He was born in Otavalo, she in Peguche, two or three miles away. There was no chance they would meet in Ecuador. In 1994, they were both in Holland at an international fair selling Andean clothing. They met and the relationship continued to grow when they returned home. They married four years later and have been living in Peguche ever since. Carlos and she started their own business when they married, and they love what they do, love working together--in fact, Carlos' favorite part of the business (other than making sales) is the back-and-forth of creating clothing designs together.
Her favorite part is the way designing clothing engages her imagination and creativity. Their tie-dye shop is on the square in Otavalo, but most of their sales are for resale. They have some tourist business in the shop, but most of the sales from the shop are to the other vendors in the Saturday market, one of the most famous markets in South America. Their clients were mainly from the U.S. and Europe until 2009, when the Depression hit. At that time, Carlos had to work really hard to open up markets in South America. Their biggest customer currently is Chile, followed by Brazil and Argentina.
They both love the challenge of creating new designs, so they are ready and willing to create anything a client might want. They are both highly creative and very well-matched as a couple. As parents, they are admirable. Even their four dogs are chilled out. I've not heard one of them bark, and they don't cringe or jump on people the way so many others do. The day we arrived, one of their dogs was followed home by a small puppy who looked exactly like him. He was immediately adopted into the family.
Carlos told us that even though he has traveled throughout Europe, the U.S. and South America performing Andean music with a group and selling their CD's, he would not want to live anywhere else. He loves Peguche (it is a music capital), loves his work, loves having his family around him. I think he is the most thoroughly at home man I have ever met.
As soon as our interview concluded, Carlos engaged us in helping him resolve a quality control issue with the office in the U.S. After supper we all went up to his workshop to help with correcting the problem. It took about two hours, and afterwards, we fell into bed, thoroughly tired and happy. Vincent noted that of the four artisans we have interviewed so far, all four are strong couples. That either means that the family that works together stays together, or that for everything in the business to work, you really have to like being together.
Our room is small but very, very clean, and the mattress is a real one. We'll wait to find out about hot water in the morning. We feel like we've landed in a little oasis of kindness here. Symbolic of their love and their attitude are their children's names: Apawki, age 4 (son of sun and moon), Punllay, age 6 (star of the sunset) and Saya, age 16 (sweet memory). We are very excited to be here and looking forward to talking and working with them again tomorrow.
Carlos and Sulema, we soon discovered, are just wonderful people. We catapulted right into a full-scale interview lasting about two hours. They both speak a little English from their travels in the U.S. and Europe selling clothing and performing music. Their primary language is Kichwa, the indigenous tongue spoken by the Incas. As is typical with many indigenes, Sulema and her two daughters, indeed, all the women of the family wear indigenous dress. Carlos and his son and brother-in-law wear U.S. casual attire--t-shirts and jeans. Ironically enough, I learned that the indigenous dress of both women and men derives from Spanish costumes of two hundred years ago, when the people were still hoping to win their freedom from slavery. No one but historians knows this, of course, so the customs--and the costumes--continue.
The women's outfits consist of a long, slim white skirt with a black outer skirt split up both sides. This is supported by a woven and embroidered belt wrapped several times around the waist and tucked at the terminal end back into itself. The blouse is white, with frilly 3/4 sleeves and a ruffle around the neck. It is typically embroidered all around the neckline and both sleeves, sometimes also the ruffle. Their black hair is braided and wrapped part way around the braid is a thin, embroidered cotton ribbon. It is traditional to wear many gold chains around the neck and gold earrings. It is not real gold, of course. It was only real when gold was $35 an ounce. They wear sandals with a sling back and black felt uppers. The boys, I am told wear white sandals in the identical pattern. This outfit makes every woman look beautiful, in my honest opinion.
The work of this family centers around tie-dyeing clothing. Carlos' father is a weaver and Sulema's family has been into clothing construction for generations. The story of how they met is quite unusual. He was born in Otavalo, she in Peguche, two or three miles away. There was no chance they would meet in Ecuador. In 1994, they were both in Holland at an international fair selling Andean clothing. They met and the relationship continued to grow when they returned home. They married four years later and have been living in Peguche ever since. Carlos and she started their own business when they married, and they love what they do, love working together--in fact, Carlos' favorite part of the business (other than making sales) is the back-and-forth of creating clothing designs together.
Her favorite part is the way designing clothing engages her imagination and creativity. Their tie-dye shop is on the square in Otavalo, but most of their sales are for resale. They have some tourist business in the shop, but most of the sales from the shop are to the other vendors in the Saturday market, one of the most famous markets in South America. Their clients were mainly from the U.S. and Europe until 2009, when the Depression hit. At that time, Carlos had to work really hard to open up markets in South America. Their biggest customer currently is Chile, followed by Brazil and Argentina.
They both love the challenge of creating new designs, so they are ready and willing to create anything a client might want. They are both highly creative and very well-matched as a couple. As parents, they are admirable. Even their four dogs are chilled out. I've not heard one of them bark, and they don't cringe or jump on people the way so many others do. The day we arrived, one of their dogs was followed home by a small puppy who looked exactly like him. He was immediately adopted into the family.
Carlos told us that even though he has traveled throughout Europe, the U.S. and South America performing Andean music with a group and selling their CD's, he would not want to live anywhere else. He loves Peguche (it is a music capital), loves his work, loves having his family around him. I think he is the most thoroughly at home man I have ever met.
As soon as our interview concluded, Carlos engaged us in helping him resolve a quality control issue with the office in the U.S. After supper we all went up to his workshop to help with correcting the problem. It took about two hours, and afterwards, we fell into bed, thoroughly tired and happy. Vincent noted that of the four artisans we have interviewed so far, all four are strong couples. That either means that the family that works together stays together, or that for everything in the business to work, you really have to like being together.
Our room is small but very, very clean, and the mattress is a real one. We'll wait to find out about hot water in the morning. We feel like we've landed in a little oasis of kindness here. Symbolic of their love and their attitude are their children's names: Apawki, age 4 (son of sun and moon), Punllay, age 6 (star of the sunset) and Saya, age 16 (sweet memory). We are very excited to be here and looking forward to talking and working with them again tomorrow.
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