The weekend after we took on Cotapaxi, we had planned a trip to a city called Otavalo. Otavalo is an indigenous town about 3 hours away known for its unbelievable artesian market held every Saturday (actually the largest in all of South America). I was extremely excited about this trip as I had already fallen in love with all of the handicrafts, tapestries, artwork, and jewelry I had seen since I have been here. However I soon found out that the things I would buy at the Otavalo market would end up meaning absolutely nothing to me compared to everything else I was going to be able to experience.
I had assumed, as had everyone else in the group, that we were going to be staying in a hostel or hotel, just like we would be for most of the other trips. Well, I couldn’t have been more wrong. Instead, we were going to be breaking up into groups and staying in indigenous pueblos in the huts of native families. My mouth definitely hit the floor when I found out, and I knew it was going to be an experience unlike any I had ever imagined.
When we arrived in Otavalo, we all split up into our groups and headed to our pueblos. The pueblo I lived in was called Tunibamba and it was love at first sight. Rolling down the dirt roads (in the back of a pick-up truck might I add), we were all speechless as we took in the vivid green fields, beautiful flowers, countless trees, and fresh air, none of which are found in busy bustling Quito.
We were dropped off in groups of three at different huts in different corners of the pueblo where we met our families. However when Sarah, Jenni, and I arrived at our new home, our family was no where to be found. We threw our bags down on our beds and decided to do some exploring. After venturing past the chicken coup, the pen full of “cuy” (guinea pig) –turns out it’s quite the delicacy there–, the giant bird cage, and through the garden, we finally found our mom working away over dirty laundry.
Her name was Digna and she stole my heart right away with her huge smile and even bigger embrace. She was so unbelievably sweet and so welcoming to us. I will never forget the time we spent talking with her over dinner about everything from her favorite food (of course, guinea pig) to everyday life in Tunibamba. We even shared languages, we teaching her some English, her teaching us some Quichua, the native language of the indigenous people of Ecuador. As corny as it may sound, it really felt incredible to be able to come together in that way, both of different native tongues, united by our second language of Spanish. It was such a neat experience.
As if our time with Digna wasn’t amazing enough, the weekend was full of plenty of other fun activities as well. We of course spent some time at the market (fortunately not enough time to do too much damage to my wallet) and were able to visit local shops of artisans and watch as they crafted their beautiful tapestries and carved their intricate wood sculptures. We hiked to a nearby lake, took a boat out on a volcano-formed Laguna, even went to a festival of native music, dancing, and games, all of which they of course wanted the gringos to join in on. We were even lucky enough to attend the wedding reception of the newest Tunibamba Mr. and Mrs. (which, by the way, didn’t lose steam until 8 the next morning).
Out of all that I was able to experience, as always I have to say that the most amazing part was the people I met during my time there. Whether it was over dinner with Digna or while exploring Tunibamba, every single person we encountered had such a way about them, a beauty that was indescribable but that you absolutely could not ignore. I was so moved by the way the people in the village live their lives, and it really made me give the way I live mine some thought as well. Every single brick in each hut, every bite of food they ate, every piece of clothing they wore, was made and shared within Tunibamba. There was just something so incredibly beautiful to me in the community they shared with each other.
On our last morning as we were packing to leave, Digna came into our room to say goodbye. We all sat down to wait for the truck that was going to pick us up when she pulled three bracelets she had made from her pocket. She put one on each of our wrists, asking that we always wear them and always remember.
I will never forget Digna and my time in Tunibamba, and every time I look at my wrist I feel so lucky to have shared in their community, even if only for 3 incredible days.
