OTAVALO

Otavalo.
Yeah, that’s the name of the town I’m in now. Finally got my sorry ass out of the bed in Quito, consulted my ‘Lonely Planet’ guidebook - and decided to take the two hour bus ride here.
This is an Andean indigenous town which is famous all through South America for the biggest outdoor market in Ecuador. Specializing in textiles and handicrafts - but they literally sell everything you could imagine here. Why didn’t I just do this sooner, man? I mean, three weeks in Quito feeling sorry for myself is - enough.
This place Otavalo is more like what I’ve been looking for in Ecuador. It’s a place steeped in tradition. The center of Kichwa (the Andean indigenous) culture. They’re called Otavalans - and these people are for real, man. They’re not exactly what I imagined from all those National Geographic documentaries I watched on TV about the natives down in the Amazon - but…
These are Northern indigenous. They wear this type of traditional native dress. Think, like, the Orthodox Jews in New York - but better looking. The men sport white slacks, white shirts, these distinctive navy blue ponchos and white sombreros, from which underneath they feature a long braid of shiny black hair. Remember, it’s pretty chilly up in this part of the country.
One thing I notice is that indigenous people never go bald, man, I don’t know why…
And I haven't even seen one of them wearing glasses.
They’re all pretty small too, like my size or shorter, and at 5’6” I’m a midget, basically in the States.
The indigenous women, they’re pretty interesting. They’re even smaller - and they’re like little roly-polys. Not so much fat - just stout.
Strong as hell.
All day, I’ve been watching these, like, hundred year old grandmas, who couldn’t be more than, like, 4’4”, 4’ 5” - carrying these huge sacks on their backs and heads plowing straight up these mountains - like it’s nothing!
Not even breathing hard.
The dress for the women is even more elaborate - frilly white blouses with all kinds of shiny things and laces decorating them. Navy blue skirts. Navy blue shawls. A matching hat, of some sort.
These women are no joke, man.
They all have these kind of blankets around them, usually carrying their babies, and if not babies - then sacks of beans and other produce they grow up in their mountain farms!
Rugged ladies.
The market is crazy, I mean, like all open air. Not like the lame malls in Jersey. Row after row of stalls. The women sitting on the ground - displaying their wares, sweaters, blankets, bags, hats, beads - even electronics and housewares