Otavalo

I went to Otavalo two weekends ago with my ACLAS group--and what happens when 20 gringos are set loose in the biggest outdoor market in South America? Large sums of money are spent, amateur price hagglers become professionals, everyone walks away with triple the mass they carried in, and at least 2 wake up at 5 in the morning to watch set up. Yes... my friend Rachel and I were persuaded that the early dawn (pre dawn!) commotion of setting up make shift tents and booths overflowing with hammocks, table cloths, blankets, art, jewelry, ceramics and alpaca sweaters was an experience well worth losing an hour of sleep. And it was--though it was more like a silent movie as Rachel and I walked the cobblestone streets, with only the distant noise of aluminum poles clanging behind us, a cart being pushed somewhere to my right, the muted voices of sleepy children helping out their mother with the booth.
Rachel and I of course tried to pretend we fit in, convincing ourselves we were not tourists, and in fact it was our habit to go for a stroll at 5:30 in the morning with our cameras in hand. haha.

Rachel felt more uncomfortable than me I'm afraid, so walking swiftly through the central plaza, a dense forest of booths growing to maturity before our eyes, we turned down an empty street and paused. That's when we heard it--an inhuman cry that seemed preposterous in the silent ceremonies we had just left. Ah, but it was inhuman--a couple squeals and grunts later we noticed an old man, an old women, and a great big old pig making their way down an empty cross-street. They were dressed in native clothes--beautiful even in the dim light; the pig of course was naked. The woman had a rope tied around the pig's neck and was pulling from the front, the man walked in back with a small switch and was apparently responsible for the occasional shrieks punctuating the morning hush.



Rachel and I stood still under some shadows on the corner, and I admit I was slightly enthralled, singing to myself "To market, to market, to buy a fat pig..." at this relic from some bygone era come out for a walk. I told Rachel I wanted to take a picture, and would she please stand there while I hid behind her to use my camera? She admonished me to turn off my flash, and became a momentary hunting screen for my little whim. Unfortunately it is difficult to get a good picture when you are crouched behind a human screen with your camera wedged between a shoulder and an ear; this is the best photo that I got. And then I remembered my hunting screen was a vegetarian, and was becoming slightly upset as the entourage approached and the pig cries got louder. So we turned up another street and walked again through the plaza and back to our hotel...

only to return an hour and a half later--after a little nap, a little hot chocolate and a couple breakfast rolls--and shop shop shop!





























the fully blown market. Everything seemed extremely boisterous and colorful.

















I have seen graffiti like this all over Ecuador--a nice change from gang symbols in my opinion.