Cotocachi Calling

May 10^th, 2013

     Cotocachi - the name alone conjures up romantic images of distant lands.  Last week, we had only to step outside the back door of the house to see, on a clear day at least, the peak of this magical mountain and to feel its spell cast across the valley.  Now, the mountain sits thousands of miles away, visible only in pictures, though also still deeply etched in my consciousness, along with the memories and feelings of so much else we experienced during our three months in Ecuador.  Even though we are now home, we are not done writing yet.

     Our time was always going to be limited. Alas, various circumstances meant that we had to cut short our stay be a few weeks.  The biggest change is that we were not able to follow through on the original plan to work at the school in the community of Yambiro, also close to Otavalo. Three months is still so much more than we could have enjoyed however, and the sensation of privilege at having this kind of opportunity has never really escaped us during our time here.  Now we have the opportunity to reflect and wonder perhaps about the longer lasting meaning of such an adventure in our lives.

     Our journey home was somewhat surreal. Marcelo took us to the bus on the outskirts of Otavalo.  We loaded our three giant bags (too many goodies to bring home perhaps), and I had the chance to sit up front with the driver and conductor for the 90 minute ride over the mountains to Quito.  As on our first drive up here, every moment is enthralling, either because of the phenomenal views of the mountains and valleys, or the forever beguiling scenes of people as they go about their lives.  In some respects of course, they are doing what people do the world over - traveling to work, trading, shopping, visiting friends, waiting, worrying about family, laughing or trying to fix a car broken down on the side of the road.  But to my eyes, the context is different enough that the scenes are so much more captivating than the same familiar ones at home.  The cinematic experience is enhanced somewhat by the sound of Ecuadorian and Columbian music playing on the bus - always a guaranteed mood enhancer.

The road from Otavalo to Quito

     Note to anybody trying to get to a hotel in the Centro Historico of Quito on a Sunday - Don't!  The streets are closed down to traffic, with the result that Emma and I had to lug a heavy bag through the streets to a hotel which then turned out to be overbooked and couldn't take us in.  Well, all was well in the end, not least because the amazingly helpful owner of the hotel booked us into another place (and paid for the night).  Her good nature counteracted that of a taxi driver who tried to charge us $5.00 for a 300 meter ride and who seemed completely incredulous when we refused to pay an amount that would normally have carried us almost the length of the city.  This is the short version of the story incidentally, one that involved three different taxis and yet another example of the roller coaster ride that has typified so much of our travels here in Ecuador.

     After what proved to be perhaps THE most disappointing lunch in Ecuador (we suspect the chef fell asleep, then forgot just what he had already added in the way of salt to our meals) we ventured onto the ever crowded trolly bus heading south to visit our host family from when we first stayed here.  Three months before, we arrived late on a Wednesday night at the home of Marlena and Orlando, barely able to speak Spanish and largely clueless about what the experience would bring us. Now, navigating around Quito seemed like second nature.  We knew exactly where to find a bakery to get a cake for the family, and the streets seemed comfortably familiar. Since we left at the end of February, Marlene had delivered her baby, young Nicolas, now just six weeks old.  Where entertainment previously centered around frequent games of cuarenta, Nicolas was now the center of attention.  Orlando is the happiest of Dads, and it was a treat to see such joy in the family.  I took a quick look in the room that the three of us had shared for three weeks, unable to quite believe that we had managed it. Was the bed really as hard as we remembered?  I refrained from testing it once again.  For all the discomforts of our actual sleeping arrangements, we will never forget this wonderfully kind family who made our introduction to Ecuador so delightful.  We learned about new foods, customs, and developed enthusiasm for the progress of the Ecuadorian national futbol team.  Our last meal there consisted of empanadas de platano and the cake we had brought with us - not as slimming as the diet we had previously, but a good way to bid our farewells.

 

Dinner with Jesu and family in Peguche. We first met Jesu in Maynard.

Among many reasons for choosing this ‘adventure’ was the desire to take on a challenge as a family.  Emma of course had little real choice in the matter, though perhaps we would have done things differently if her objections had been stronger.  She was understandably reluctant to come to Ecuador for more than a short holiday in the beginning, but now talks of really missing her new friends here, and of what might have been if we could stay longer.  The three of us shared a small room for three weeks with our host family in Quito, and several hotel rooms since. We have shared our best experiences, and been together to talk about the emotionally more difficult times (and there have been some of those).  We have worked together in the markets of Quito, and the classrooms of Esperanza de Azama. We have worked together on some ‘school’ activities, and also found time to separate and go our different ways at times.  On a few occasions, we have huddled together over our computer watching a movie, or, when downloading speeds permitted, episodes of the TV show Psych.  We have little way of knowing the long term impact of this trip on our family, but at least for now, there is a warm feeling of satisfaction that we have all learned a lot more about each other, and found it worthwhile (though perhaps Emma and Nan should speak for themselves).  

 

Emma and UK cousin Aimee (right) & friends.

   Having promised grandparents at home that we would never let Emma out of our sight, we have indeed let her spend time away with other people (and worried about just what would happen).  Just two evenings ago, she took a bus with three other girlfriends into Otavalo one evening as if she were walking down to Maynard. Two months ago, such a prospect would have seemed dangerous – our thirteen year old taking public transport into an Ecuadorian city accompanied by three other girls with whom she has limited communication skills. Did we worry?  Of course, but no more so than we worry back in Maynard under similar circumstances. My fears of her being led astray into some darker community were laid to rest when it transpired that what they really wanted was an ice-cream sundae (Ecuadorian style – with cheese on top).  I suspect that in the coming years, we will have bigger things to be concerned about back home.  Recent events in Boston remind us that one does not have to travel to remote locations to find dangerous situations for ones children.

     The culture of companionship between children and adults is quite different here. We can be reading, or looking at the computer, and the kids and adults will gather together with a level of comfortable contact that is unusual at home, where even a pat on the back is sometimes considered stepping over boundaries. I could be showing a group of children how to do a drawing, and feel curious hands in my hair, no doubt wondering at the different texture of curly locks (now sorely in need of a cut). Such an event would probably have to be documented at home, and involve a conversation between administration and parents as to the appropriateness of the behavior.  Our fear of improper contact has now separated us from a level of intimacy which is simply about being comfortable with one another. Such fears are well founded on the behaviors of abusive adults of course. It was refreshing however to be among people where the prevailing culture is to not let the fears limit the positive value of appropriate intimacy.  Don’t worry – I won’t be advocating strongly for any rule changes back home.