A Good Friday in Otavalo

March 29th
Hotel Riviera del Sucre      Otavalo
 

     This entry comes now from the hostel in Otavalo.  We have been joined by my sister Susan, another sister Jacky and her 11 year-old daughter Aimee.  We are quite the family crowd now, which makes us feel a little more normal in this area of large extended families. The hostel is very pleasant, with a kitchen we can use, a small garden in which to relax and very pleasantly helpful staff. We have traded the nocturnal barking of dogs at Esperanza de Azama for the late night music and traffic of the city, but we seem to be managing OK with that.  It will seem strange to get to a place where we can find silence at night.

      It has, as usual, been a thoroughly stimulating few days here since Jacky and Aimee arrived on Thursday evening.  Alas, KLM mislaid one of their bags containing underwear, Aimee’s cuddly pets, and a bottle of Jameson’s that I was to give to Marcelo. The bag has yet to show up, but the underwear has at least been replaced. 

     On Friday morning, with all of us at Margot and Marcelo’s house (they seem to welcome anybody with open arms), we got up early to go on a field trip with my teacher companion Alvaro, and some of the students from his class.  Being Good Friday, it is a holiday weekend here, and they decided to take us to a village called Peguche which has a park with a 50 ft waterfall.  This is an ancient indigenous ceremonial site where purification rites are held in June every year. “The main legend of Peguche Waterfall, is that inside there is a cauldron of gold guarded by two black dogs and on one side of it sat the devil with a plate of sand, which is exchanged for the gold pan and daily gradually casts away the sand which, when finished takes the soul.”  We weren’t too worried about losing our souls on this day, so we, a group of 14 wandered to the local bus, which took us to Otavalo.  

 From there we walked one or two miles up the hill to the park through back streets, with the great peak of Imbabura towering overhead.  I don’t think Jacky believed me that we were climbing half way up this mountain.

     It was a real pleasure to spend time with some of the kids outside of school time.  They seem so willing to be friendly, and especially welcoming to Emma (who they already know) and Aimee. 

Any thoughts of feeling strained by climbing in the high altitude were rapidly dispelled by the sight of young Paula hiking along with her crutches.  The victim of being hit by a bus two years ago, hers is one of those remarkable stories of people who appear to thrive so well despite additional hardships.

     The park itself is a charming wooded area of eucalyptus trees with various paths that wind their way along the river up to the waterfall.  Pictures tell a better story than any description but suffice to say it was invigorating to be close to so much running water on such a beautiful day.  We spent more time reclining in the park, playing volleyball and soccer, and using up the last carioca spray can left over from Carnival in February. 

     

     We do not have many complaints about being away from home – more about that in a later entry perhaps. We did have an out of the ordinary transition from complaint to appreciation on Friday night however, after we had checked into the hotel.  Susie, Nan and I took one first floor triple room on the corner of the building, while Jacky took the youngsters into the other room.   

It all seemed very pleasant until about an hour later when the young man working the hotel came into our room and asked if he could run an electric cable out over the balcony to a group of people who had gathered outside below.  We soon discovered that the power line was to be connected to a spot light shining on the side of the building (our room in other words), and a very loud public address system through which was broadcast a mixture of much talking and slightly out-of-tune spiritual music.  We were told that this was in preparation for a parade that would pass by sometime after 9:00 in the evening.

     Still unsure about exactly what was to happen, we went out for dinner in the town (where Aimee, a Brit, ate Italian food at a Mexican restaurant in Ecuador) and returned by about 8:30, all somewhat tired.  We did see some of the preparations for the procession, a celebration of Easter in which people walk a route through town past several still-life reenactments of various scenes from the crucifixion. We went to our room, preparing for bed at an absurdly early hour for a Friday night, but that is just how we felt.  The music and talking seemed to get steadily louder, with the three of us making various jokes about being able to unplug the PA system, and wondering just what the procession would look like.

   Suddenly it seemed, the cross street right in front of our balcony was filled with hundreds of people.  We could have acted like the Pope and waved at the crowd, but fortunately we had the good sense to remain still.  Just 12 feet below us was one of the last of the crucifixion scenes being acted out – Jesus, very dead, with wounds painted on his body being attended to by his mother Mary.   

Prayers were said, chants responded to, songs were sung, and then the procession moved on down the street to the next part of the story.  Only now did we begin to realize just how big the procession was, for it took about 45 minutes for the entire procession to pass by, albeit stopping and starting quite frequently.  We had the most perfect view of people bearing crosses, carrying effigies, a coffin, and a brass band playing a mournful but moving lament.   

     As with a lot of travel experiences, the fact that this was so unexpected made it all the more incredible to watch.  I only hope that the sight of six gringos gazing down on the parade from the balcony  didn’t somehow upset the meaning of the procession.

     We did get to witness the resurrection.  After the last of the procession passed by, the small group remaining by Jesus applauded as he arose from the slab on which he had been laying, mostly uncovered in the cool air, for about an hour.

     We did sleep well that night, although the occasional Formula 1 car could be heard accelerating aggressively up the street, perhaps reassured that at least one previous visitor to the street had found a way to cheat death.