Looking through the traveler's guide for South America, I came across a colored section of the top 36 things to do in South America. There were two items listed for Ecuador, one being the market in Otavalo. Landon had suggested a few days back, that this is one of the places we stay, in order to split the travel between the Ecuadorian/Colombian border and Quito.
The ride into Otavalo from the northern border showed the dramatic change of climate in only a hundred miles. On the border, we were up above 7,000 feet in a very cool and wet environment covered in green pastures, separated on the mountain sides into individual lots farmed by different families. As we crept through the Andes passes we dropped a few thousand feet and noticed the landscape change into a more arid ecosystem, which reminded me of Chiapas in northern Mexico.
The weather was still fairly cool, in the low 60's, when we came to the colored stone streets of Otavalo. Like usual, we headed into the town center to find a hotel, and struck gold 100 yards away from the market.
The market itself is put together by the Incan Indian locals who have transformed into professional artisans of unbelievable talent. The market is one square block in size, and is covered in wool clothing, quilts, stuffed animals, leather goods, paintings, sculptures, and native artwork of many different medias. The women were all dressed in traditional clothing; white embroidered blouses that puffed out on the shoulders with intricate lacing. A long skirt, usually striped with bright colors and a thick shall rapped around the waste. Many of them also had golden jewelry, of which would rap around their necks in a thin spiraling wonder. Their skin and eyes showed years of hard work, and their salesmanship was well practiced too. I ended up buying a grey wool sweater in the market, bringing a smile to the woman who had made it. Of course, she offered me a coat, a scarf and a bear for my little girl (???). So I immediately put the sweater on, fitting tight to my chest and extending to the bottom of my thumbs. I couldn't help but to smile back at here with a warm face of enjoyment.
The weather was still fairly cool, in the low 60's, when we came to the colored stone streets of Otavalo. Like usual, we headed into the town center to find a hotel, and struck gold 100 yards away from the market.
The market itself is put together by the Incan Indian locals who have transformed into professional artisans of unbelievable talent. The market is one square block in size, and is covered in wool clothing, quilts, stuffed animals, leather goods, paintings, sculptures, and native artwork of many different medias. The women were all dressed in traditional clothing; white embroidered blouses that puffed out on the shoulders with intricate lacing. A long skirt, usually striped with bright colors and a thick shall rapped around the waste. Many of them also had golden jewelry, of which would rap around their necks in a thin spiraling wonder. Their skin and eyes showed years of hard work, and their salesmanship was well practiced too. I ended up buying a grey wool sweater in the market, bringing a smile to the woman who had made it. Of course, she offered me a coat, a scarf and a bear for my little girl (???). So I immediately put the sweater on, fitting tight to my chest and extending to the bottom of my thumbs. I couldn't help but to smile back at here with a warm face of enjoyment.
The volcano peaking up above the clouds this morning from my hotel room window in Octavalo
