Monday started off slow, at least to us. I had some work to do that day, so we didn't put much on the agenda. But apparently for every other person in Ecuador, the day started off with an earthquake. We had slept right through it. We wouldn’t have even known one occurred if Alicia hadn’t texted us to see how we were doing. We were completely fine, but apparently quite sleepy.
Amazingly, the earthquake was far enough from any population centers that, despite being quite jarring to anyone who was awake, it didn’t cause any injuries or significant property damage. Ecuador owes much of its unique topography to being the meeting point of several major fault lines (the rest to the volcanoes that those fault lines created). It has experienced some pretty serious earthquakes in the recent past, but thankfully, this wasn’t one of them.
Purely coincidentally, we had been planning on visiting the local cemetery that day. It wasn't because we were having any macabre thoughts from the earthquake, it was just the thing people did in Otavalo on Mondays. Seriously. Thursdays too, apparently. The local community (particularly the indigenous members) make a mini pilgrimage twice weekly to visit the graves of their ancestors and leave trinkets and food. It was like we were living through a scene from Coco. In fact, the whole place had a very festive vibe. There wasn’t a tear in the place. Everyone was friendly and welcoming. A few people stopped to chat with us, and seemed to genuinely appreciate having a few extra people at the party.
The only other event of note that day was when Aimee’s 2 hour timer from her lingering food poisoning went off just after lunch. So we decided to head back to the hostel. Quinn wanted another pickup truck ride, but I couldn’t subject Aimee to one of those in her current state. So I sent her and Mimi back in a regular car taxi, while he and I flagged down a truck and hopped in the back. Riding in the back of a pickup bed as often used for farm supplies as humans along the near-vertical road back to our hostel was about as delightful as it sounds. The only redeeming factor was the satisfaction I took in knowing how much money this $1.50 taxi ride was saving me over taking Quinn to Disneyland. This was his jam. Of course, Disneyland had seatbelts and paved roads, but where’s the fun in that?
The next day, we went into town to ask about the intercity busses. Aimee and I felt that the kids had earned their first South American bus experience. It's a rite of passage, and they've proved their merit. We'd be heading to another city in a couple of days, and this seemed like a fun way to do it. Plus it would save a healthy chunk of our travel budget over taking another private car ride.
Our plan was to send most of our bags back with Alicia and Isaias when they came to visit us later in the week for the 4th of July. The date is meaningless in Ecuador, but our embassy closes for US holidays. That meant Alicia would have the day off. With a lightened load, we didn’t feel like it would be too crazy to take a couple of kids on a four hour bus ride. Bag theft was a potential risk, but the busses otherwise had a pretty safe reputation. And Ecuador's busses looked more like the touring coaches we see tourists taking to the Grand Canyon than the retired school busses half filled with chickens that Aimee remembered from Nicaragua.
That afternoon, I went back to Jose’s taller. He was finishing up a beautiful little charango that was a bit smaller and much more durable than the one I bought before (it was constructed from a single piece of hardwood). So I justified buying it as a travel charango. At some point in my life, having a second, slightly tinier charango might make sense. Never hurts to be prepared.
The rest of the day was spent in and around our hostel. Jose and Matilde had told us when we checked in a few days ago that they host activities for the local children every Tuesday through Thursday afternoons (seriously, this place couldn’t get any cuter). By now, I had figured out that most of the additional programming at the hostel had a slightly religious tinge to it, but I wasn’t above sending my kids to Kichwa bible camp for a few hours of quiet for Aimee and a chance for me to figure out how to play one of the two charangos I now owned.
True to form, our kids snuck off within a few minutes to pick some of the blackberries that were abundant on the property (taking a few of their new local friends with them). And also true to form, they immediately returned as soon as the camp snacks were served. Praise Jesus.
Aimee felt well enough to go out for dinner again that evening. Our kids had already filled themselves up on the Body of Christ, but Aimee and I needed some real food. As we had learned the hard way, finding decent vegetarian food would be tricky. But we figured that one of the local Asian restaurants might have some promise. We had our eye on one that looked a bit nicer than the usual chifas we saw around town (a uniquely Andean take on Chinese fast food). It was. But when Quinn--already overstuffed on camp snacks--projectile vomited his California roll across the table, none of us really had much appetite for the rest of the meal. My hope (proven correct after he woke up ravenous the next day) was that he had just eaten more than his stomach could hold. We didn't need any other food borne illnesses in the family, and thankfully our luck seemed to be holding.
By Wednesday, most of my work responsibilities were behind me (and Aimee’s functional capacity was now at 3-4 hours per day). So we could venture out for a bigger excursion. One of the more popular sites around Otavalo is the Cascada (waterfall) de Pechuge. It was a lovely (and short) hike up to a stunning waterfall. Definitely our speed at that point in the trip.
The tail end of the hike with through the on-site camping area, which included a pretty questionable park. Even Quinn (who was bombing down mountain bike trails at three years old) said at one point, “Dad, a lot things here are really dangerous.” I couldn’t have said it better myself, and thankfully we all escaped with limbs intact and free from tetanus. I still can't believe I let Mimi ride that zip line.
Thursday was the Fourth of July. No more meaningful in Ecuador than the third or the fifth, but it did mean that we got to see our friends again. They hadn’t been to Otavalo before, and it was nice to show them around for a change. We weren’t sure if they’d be able to make it, since there were some transportation industry protests planned for that day (the gasoline price had recently gone up), but they didn’t have any appreciable impact on the roads. The nice thing about Ecuadorean protests is that the relative security in the country (and still quite-low gas prices) take the edge of protests more than in places where conditions are a bit more dire (looking at you, Nicaragua).
We took our friends out to what looked to be (and absolutely was) the nicest restaurant in town. A whole page of vegetarian options! And we obviously needed to take them through Otavalo’s craft market before heading back for a lovely afternoon chatting at the hostel.
This town is fun. This town with wonderful friends makes me understand why at least two people at our hostel never moved out of their rooms. I was starting to think that there might be a third.
