A Very Super Market...

Where's Waldo?

We traveled by bus the other day to Otavalo to experience all the wonder that is the open-air market. 

Here is a brief explanation, a bit of history, some research and my two cents:    The Otavalo market is the oldest and most important Indian market in South America which  takes place every Saturday high in the Andes.  For 4,000 years, this market has served as the social and economic heartbeat of the northern highlands. Interestingly, it is Ecuador’s most popular destination after the Galapagos Islands. The otherwise quiet town wakes at dawn to a cacophony of chickens, cows and sheep and the trading of hemp, saddles, vegetables, grain, and textiles.  Bartering seems to come naturally for the many, many brightly dressed Otavalenos who have converged from near and far away. There are tourist trinkets galore, such as:  pottery, weavings, jewelry, carved wooden animals and I may or may not have seen a random AC/DC shoulder bag.  It is apparent that the expats and visitors come mainly for the authentic local atmosphere and the Indian population is here to swap livestock, provisions and local news and soccer scores.  Arriving early on Saturday affords you the sights and smells of the animal market which winds down around 8 a.m.  The busses from Quito, with throngs of salivating, fair-skinned Europeans with deep pockets and bad haircuts, arrives around 10 a.m.  I am convinced that, as a general rule, European travelers are completely content and secure in their rudeness...just an observation.

The market was completely overwhelming and our senses were on overload...it was truly hard to focus.  Not to mention that, on the bus ride into town, we passed a brightly colored, American-style playground that Eli reminded us about every five to ten seconds or so while walking from the bus stop to the market.  He was relentless.  There were so many layers to this market and just when you felt like you had seen it all there would be another layer or offshoot that had to be explored.  It was a beautiful day in the mountains complete with blue sky and big fluffy clouds adorning the volcanoes and surrounding mountain peaks.  The sun was intense and me and Eli's tender skin was taking an equatorial beating. 

We retreated to a quaint little pizza joint off a main street and decided to get some lunch.  While waiting for our pizza, Eli began eyeballing this sweet little indigenous boy.  After they sized each other up and down for a few minutes we urged Eli to ask his name.  The boy's name was Jonah (we think) and after another couple minutes of flirting, the boy disappeared into the pizza place and reappeared with something in his hand.  It was a plastic golf ball and he wanted Eli to follow him over to an open area next to us to play.  They began to throw the ball back and forth...laughing and having a good time neither one knowing what the other was saying.   Just a couple of boys communicating in the International language of innocent fun.  Eli was thrilled to have a friend.  Jonah disappeared and reappeared several more times with various items:  a skateboard, a vintage calculator of some sort and finally a ripped piece of paper...still unclear what that was about.  It didn't matter,  while Laura and I ate and watched, Eli and Jonah bonded.  It was a great lunch.

Jonah proved to be a nice diversion for Eli as it was a temporary ceasefire from the playground bombardment.  As soon as we got back to the street the ceasefire was over.  That kid does not forget!  We decided to leave the market for the playground vowing to return soon for another, more focused, attempt.  It was a short walk to the playground which actually had a name, Parque San Sebastian.  Eli had a great time at the playground, but was hampered a bit by his slippery shoes.  He would just drop to the ground intermittently as if he had just been hit by a sniper.  I stood to the side in some shade and watched local men play a pretty intense soccer game on a hard and dusty pitch.  We convinced Eli that we needed to leave (which took approximately 15-20 minutes and a dreamsicle flavored sucker) and waited for our rainbow on wheels to take us back to Cotacachi.  The bus was standing room only, but a sweet older woman gave up her seat so that Eli could sit for the ride.  I hope we were able to express to her our gratitude in our broken Spanish...a very kind and generous gesture in any language should be properly acknowledged.

Our journey should have ended there, but there was one more unkind twist to the day.  The electricity which controls the gates here at our compound is a bit schizophrenic.  You are rolling the dice on whether or not your automatic gate opener will work when you push the button.  There are two gates which permit entry to the compound:  the main entrance and the back gate.  There is no short cut between gates so if the back gate does not work then you have to walk another 1.25 miles around the compound to the main entrance.  When we arrived at our back gate, we got sucker punched.  Tired and hungry and sunburned, we accepted our defeat and began the long trek around to the main entrance. Eli fell a few more times for good measure during the hike and we ended up carrying him the rest of the way...the sniper was following us!  A couple of loud knocks and some shouting to our security guard on the other side of the entrance and we were home free.   Needless to say, it was a full day...another great day with wonderful details which we will not soon forget.