Aimee was still fighting off the last remnants of her stomach bug on Friday, so I took the kids into town to run some errands. ATMs compatible with international debit cards are relatively hard to come by in Ecuador (and are non-existent in the small town we were heading next), so we went to the main bank in town to get enough money for the next week or so. I gave the kids a quick lesson in travel safety when they ask-shouted in the middle of Otavalo’s busiest street, “HOW MUCH MONEY DID YOU GET, DAD?”
But thankfully Ecuador is a pretty safe place. Nothing came of it. And all fairness to our kids, they aren’t totally naive. They knew the town was safe enough, and could probably navigate it on their own at this point.
Walking around that morning brought to mind a moment from our last day in Cotacachi, when Lucia sent Samuel to the market for some eggs. Quinn wanted to tag along, and we knew that he’d be perfectly safe with the 10 year old. Kids are given more responsibility in environments like this, and with practice, live up to the expectations.
Aimee and I definitely had to challenge ourselves to allow just the right amount of freedom for our kids to have their own growth opportunities that month. It wasn’t easy when we ourselves were out of our element, but it was definitely worth it.
Ok, I’ll figure out how to parent on my own time. We can get back to me having too much cash in my pocket. A new charango meant a new charango case.
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| This case says, “I went to South America this summer and I want you to know that.” |
There weren’t a ton of options.
Since we were in no rush, we made a stop at our favorite cafe. It was Aimee and my favorite because they had fantastic coffee and a comfortable patio we could linger in while we figured out a plan for the day. It was the kids’ favorite because the juice glasses were the size of their heads.
A belly full of fruit sugars led to a particularly spirited round of Jenga.
It was a delightfully lazy morning, but we did have a few more errands to run. We needed some envelopes to go with the five handmade greeting cards we had bought in the market. So we went to a papeleria where I knew we’d be able to buy them individually. I absolutely love how stores are set up in this part of the world. Need a piece of rope? Go to the rope shop below the owner’s apartment. It’s between the wheelbarrow shop and the wire shop, just down the street from the nail and screw shop. But most charming of all, I needed some thread to fix a button on my pants. So I went to the thread shop, where I purchased a single sewing needed with a couple feet of thread already tied to it for all of $0.10. I almost felt bad taking the owners attention for such a small sale, but he didn’t seem to mind. With errands complete, we headed back to the hostel and were pleased to see Aimee functioning at no less than 80%.
That evening, Gloria, our neighbor from North Carolina, invited us, the Swiss/French resident, Jose, and Matilde to the common area of the hostel for some homemade brownies. But as she was baking them, her gas went out. Natural gas piping (or really any reliable plumbing for that matter) doesn’t exist in Ecuador, so everyone has small propane tanks attached to each of their appliances. Tank exchange trucks run through the city at all hours of the day, so a refill is never far away. In fact, the catchy, indigenous-flavored tune the trucks played to announce their proximity had become the soundtrack of our trip. All of us were humming it constantly.
After delaying our gathering first to 7pm and then to 8pm, she eventually just threw in the towel. Brownies weren’t in the cards for that night, so we met over some chips, tea, and whatever else anyone had laying around their room. It was great to get to know the other residents a bit better. We learned that Ernesto, the Swiss/French flute playing amateur pastor, kept coming back to Ecuador to escape the highly scheduled, routine-based daily life in Switzerland. That’s per his fully Swiss wife, who joins him for a coupe of weeks every summer and told Matilde that Ernesto comes down here because he loves that there are “no rules in Ecuador.” I think that’s a bit debatable, but I’m sure compared to Swiss life, Otavalo is a veritable Wild West.
Gloria had actually suffered a mild stroke earlier that year. But the health care in northern Ecuador is good enough (as was her love for the area) that she decided to stick with her plan of full time residence. The place was filled with a decidedly quirky batch of people (as are most hostels), and we loved every bit of it.
