Luis and the Villagers

I mentioned Luis earlier (pictured below with his brother-in-law Byron), and it must be said that without his help, my experience in Cotacachi would not have been nearly as wonderful as it was. He speaks incredibly good English for someone who has never formally studied it, and he has a strong desire to speak it perfectly. Watching his corner of the world become a tourist destination has surely not been easy, yet he confided that the only way he can survive is to become a part of it. Like Jose the vet and others who show property "on the side", he charges nothing, just lets it be known that it is customary to give a tip of "whatever you want to pay." Wow, what a concept!

It should be noted that Ecuador is on the dollar, making it far superior to other Latin countries for people like me who struggle with instant conversion of pesos or quetzales or colones. That said, your dollars will go a long way in Ecuador, which for the time being still offers the best value for staples. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you see it I guess), a number of gringo enterprises have popped up all over Ecuador that compete with locals who struggle desperately to survive in an economy that is tourist driven. The gringo prices are considerably higher of course, but they entice away the tourist dollars promising better quality and service, which is not always the case. As a result, the locals miss out.

Because of his strong desire to help the people in the outlying areas, Luis has formed a small tour guide service in addition to his other ventures, employing his brother-in-law Byron who owns a double-cab four-wheel drive truck to show people around in small groups. He knows he's competing with some large, well-funded, slick, foreign-owned tour operators, but he is far from pretentious when he says he can show you a side of the country that you would never see otherwise.

Luis' tour lasts approximately five hours and takes very small groups into the homes of indigenous artisans. Invariably, the artisans are rewarded with a sale (or two!) after they demonstrate their craft as Luis narrates in English. Many of these artisans are people Luis has known since childhood, most are old with very limited income, most speak only Quechua, and all are gracious and happy to greet Luis and his tourists and welcome them into their homes. I was lucky enough to go out with Luis and a wonderful couple from Alabama named Ashley and Tim on one of the days I was not with Lucia. Our first stop was in the village of Cara Abuela where the traditional floor mats are made. This is perhaps the most intriguing of all village names in Ecuador as it means "Grandmother's Face" in Spanish.


High on a hill in Cara Abuela overlooking a small lake, we stopped at the home of an old man whose wife had died the year before, and I saw true poverty unlike I've ever seen before. But it was clear why Luis brought us here - old Jose could no longer produce a mat every two days to collect the $3 price that it fetched, so he was without much income. At Luis' command in Quechua, Jose gave us a short demonstration in how to weave the dried reeds from the lake below into floor mats approximately 8 x 10 feet in size (he was only able to complete a short section for us); these serve as the typical indoor carpet in a Quechua home. A tremendous stack of these reeds stood drying in the sun all across the length of his home, giving the impression that he was a bit behind in his process. Ashley and I both immediately picked up on the fact that if we asked to take his picture, it was 'okay' to give him a tip. He did not make much, but it was more than he had seen in awhile according to Luis.

I hesitate to dwell too long on Jose because of the depressing situation he was in, but it was fascinating to me to see the difference in the generations of the indigenous population as the Cotacachi area has grown and begun to change from the very ancient Quechua traditions to the new world of dollars and tourists and "progress." Old Jose lives in a crumbling adobe, well over 100 years old, one room with a dirt floor, no windows and no light but for the wide doorway. Though the demonstration of mat making was held on his "patio" (a term I use very loosely), Luis insisted we take a look inside the adobe. There, amidst a single cot on one side of the room and a cooking campfire ringed with stones on the other, eight or ten guinea pigs ran all about. All different sizes, perhaps from different litters but all the same stock, these guineas are the traditional food of the old Indian. Though I was aware that the traditional diet centered around roasted guineas, I was unprepared for the sight. Luis explained that when he gets hungry, he simply throws one on the fire. (I was too mortified to ask if he bothers to kill it first.) Note: I had to adjust my camera to get enough light to photograph inside here.

It was clear that Jose had almost nothing else, not even clean water - unless it was delivered to him by a neighbor. Now too old to do much else, he produces approximately one mat per week, making his annual income around $156.

Much later in the day, I asked Luis more about Jose and if he is typical. "No," he said, "most have families that take care of them, but he had no children." And the diet? "Only the old people still eat that way. I am Quechua, and I will not eat that. It's nothing but a rat." I was relieved to hear that.


Moving on, we came to a small village of weavers (I can't recall the name). This village sits right on the lake where grow the reeds that Jose uses for his mats, so I was a bit surprised that this one was not the mat-making village instead of Cara Abuela. But after a bit of thought, it made perfect sense: the humidity in and around the lake would prevent the reeds from drying while the wind on the hill above would only aid in the process. These people have centuries of common sense at their disposal, so of course, I should have known!


The artisan family we visited here (four generations under one roof) produce beautiful shawls and belts, tightly woven, some with exotic, shiny threads that are surely imported, but plant-dyed cotton and wool from Ecuador were the most common. Surrounded by her weaver-son and her many grandchildren, the woman was happy to weave all day, stopping only to sell us a few shawls. Employing a large floor loom that looked to be handmade, the son worked on the shawls while she sat on the floor with a belt loom that was tied to her waist providing the tension.



Next up was another village that is known for its weaving but that happens to have one of the most famous instrument maker families in the country in its midst. Peguche is almost a suburb of the large market town called Otovalo and is easily accessible off the Pan-Am Highway. We happened to come along just as a little concert was underway for a group of German tourists. Though we would have asked a lot more questions if we had not been interrupting something in progress, we learned that the mandolin-type instruments on the wall are made of armadillo shells, the shakers from sheep's feet, the pan flutes come from a type of local bamboo, and the guitars are handmade right there in the taller (workshop) attached to the house. The musicians sounded great, playing Andean traditional tunes, first instrumental only but then adding vocals sung in Quechua; they offered several CDs for sale which the Germans quickly bought up. As we were leaving I noticed an array of orchids hanging from the porch - the guitar player told me that the orchids are his hobby. (He's really good at it!)


On to another village whose name escapes me, this time to visit a couple who have been weaving and spinning together for 70 years (they met at the age of 7). Take one look at them and you'll see why they were mesmerizing. LOVELY couple whose spirits filled the place and the hearts of ALL their visitors I'm quite sure.

Having always thought that alpaca wool was a product of Ecuador, I was surprised to learn that all the alpaca actually is raised exclusively in Peru. Ecuador is sheep country, and this couple has spent their entire lives shearing, carding, spinning, and weaving. Their handiwork dotted the workshop, all sorts of rugs and scarves and artistic creations. Again, how can you leave here and not support them? Ashley, Tim, and I bought at least one item each. (I can't imagine being able to afford to shop like this on any other type of tour - nor would it have ever been of benefit to the artisans themselves.) Part of the demonstration included the use of a type of cactus grown in the area used to comb the wool and soften it while it was still on the loom. I was fascinated by that bit of ingenuity, and Jose (yes, another Jose) picked up on the question. Not knowing that he spoke Spanish, I was surprised when he engaged me in conversation on the way out asking if I would like to see his small garden. He offered me beans right off the plant, and pointed to his crop of corn and quinoa to the side of the house. The smiles of this couple will forever stick with me. If nothing else had happened, I would have left Ecuador very happy.


On to Peguche Falls, an absolutely beautiful park-like setting that happens to be protected ancestral land of the Quechua. Many shamanic ceremonies have been held here over the centuries with the sound of the falls as background music. The trees are taller here, and the forest-like feel of the place was unique to this part of Ecuador. We saw school kids there looking at the flora and fauna, couples romancing, families on picnic, and a young couple brave enough to climb to the top of the falls and perch above all the rest of us like Andean gods surveying their pastoral heaven.

Clearly, this part of our little tour was a nature-lovers' dream, and it gave me a thrill to pick up on Luis' sense of pride as he showed us this beautiful spot. We learned that the waters that spring from the earth here are considered sacred, and many Quechua come here to fill up jugs for drinking. Gardens dot the few open areas as well, benefiting from the humidity and the rich humous provided by the year round magical forest biology. More carefully tended than most I saw, the caretakers were growing quite a lot of greens and berries, crops that I did not see so frequently elsewhere.

As you leave the Falls area, a group of vendors line the exit in wait for the tourists, selling bracelets, rugs, lamps, textiles, and sweet roasted corn. I caught some quinoa drying in the sun as we left, more colorful than any I had seen so I had to get a photo.

We headed into Cotacachi for lunch, met up with Tim's brother Kerry - one of my renter friends - and had a wonderful time rehashing the day. (It should be noted that the tour was not really over as all but me went up to Lake Cuicocha after lunch.) It was during our meal that I learned that Byron understood every word we had said all day (I was trying so hard to include him in Spanish!) ... he explained to me he doesn't try to speak English because he doesn't have the accent right and is unsure of his vocabulary, but that he can understand it. I have a feeling this is probably true of a lot of the Quechua people in and around Cotacacachi. They should not be underestimated!

From left: Tim, Ashley, Kerry, Luis, Byron