What do I do now?



Now that I had a place to live, the time came for me to figure out how to use my time here. I still wanted to help teach early childhood music somewhere (which is what I came here for in the first place); I just didn't know where. The quest was on, and I set about asking friendly shopkeepers (and they were ALL friendly!) for advice on where to go. I was directed to a local preschool, but I never once was able to connect with the person in charge. One nearby village permitted only the shaman to teach music to young children. Another and then another lead, and nothing was materializing. I soon realized that perhaps this was not what I was supposed to be doing here.

Merri Scott (owner of El Meson) is a very intuitive woman, and she picked right up on my frustration and introduced me to Lucia, a former employee of hers who now works for an NGO funded by the government of Italy. This non-profit (with a ridiculously long acronym I can't remember) funds indigenous arts throughout the world, especially big on funding projects in South America and Africa. Lucia, who spoke no English but was beyond patient with my questions, was most excited that I actually wanted to help. It was with her that I was able to travel to the outlying villages and extend a hand to the incredible people I met there. I hesitate to say "help" because in truth, I was not much help at all. I watched, experimented, copied as best as I could, and loved every minute of it (but sad to say, I really, honestly was almost no help at all!)

As I mentioned previously, Ecuador is full of guild towns. Lucia first took me to a ceramics village called Tunibamba where 7-8 women and 1 man spent one day every week working together in a community workshop with one window and one door and a big kiln outside that was broken for lack of funds to repair it. They were all smiles, loved to crack jokes with each other AND with me when they realized that I spoke enough Spanish to almost understand them. And when they didn't want me to understand them, they switched to their native Quechua, which Lucia didn't even understand. I was given the task of polishing the ceramics (air-dried clay since the kiln was broken). Again, I was little help but I enjoyed my time with them very much.



Another day Lucia and I went way up in the mountains to a town called Morlan in the province of Intag where a small group of women make the traditional fedoras (and occasionally an Indiana Jones hat for the tourists like me).

See a photo of Lucia at the far right.






Nervous about the altitude, I prepared by fasting
prior to the trip (and it was a long bus ride to get there!). For this reason or simply the fact that I was adjusted by then, I had no problems with the altitude. The most interesting thing about this village is that every single woman in the entire place is named Maria. Lucia got a kick out of telling me that it has taken her years to get them all straight, but she calls them all by their middle names: Maria Delores, Maria Elena, Maria Laura, Maria Josefina, etc. Interestingly, however, they call themselves simply Maria. So the Marias taught me how to make hats, and of course I had to buy one for myself before I left. They cackle as they work and were more timid with me than any of the other places I visited during my stay. I don't imagine that many gringos make it up their way. It was as remote a place as I've ever been.

Lucia had a series of meetings as well as supplies to purchase in Quito, so I did not get to spend nearly enough time with her as I would have liked, but I will always be grateful for the opportunity to tag along with her. This was an experience of a lifetime.