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.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
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!
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