Otaval-OMG Sweaters!

Using Quito as a launching point, we made our way to Otavalo, North of the capital. The draw to this small town is it’s market which runs on Saturdays and is the oldest and largest in Ecuador. While historically an opportunity for locals to hawk their products, produce, and livestock, the growing tourist interest in the event has swelled the market with stall after stall of souvenirs for sale.
Otavalo is nestled in a valley amongst cliffs and ridges, alongside Lago San Pedro and in the shadow of the nearby volcanoes Imbabura and Cotacachi. It is a beautiful landscape, although the elevation gives the weather a brisk bite – it was very similar to mid-autumn in Toronto. We spent our first day in town (Friday) enjoying our quant B&B and walking around the town. A smaller market is always present in the central square but we wanted to wait until the main event the next day before we made purchases, so we (read: Robyn) were able to quiet our pangs of retail hunger and hold off. As the day drew near to a close we were able to visit a local artesian named Miguel who was a master weaver and had been practicing his back-strap loom technique for over 60 years. We went to watch him work and he took us through the process of making one of his intricate weavings from wool collection, darning, threading, setting the loom and ultimately weaving. His work takes a vast amount of time, concentration, strength, and he still manages to inject massive amounts of pride. He had an ongoing friendship with our B&B owner and she told us that his mission is to continue the dying traditions of weaving textiles and we were honoured that he was willing to share with us. Sitting with him for the ninety minutes we did was a mesmerizing, meditative experience and a highlight of our trip as a whole. We eventually toured his shop/gallery and were able to purchase one of his pieces, which will be hung in our (eventual) house with reverence.
Saturday greeted us with sunshine and, after a hearty breakfast full of shopping fuel, we ventured back into the streets. The market had trebled in size and now cut off many of the streets surrounding the central plaza. Cars were diverted and visitors, both local and international, were encouraged to enter the labyrinth of kiosks which were all displaying their wares and fares. The most popular items, both in supply and demand, were clothing and accessories woven from Alpaca fibre. Imagine Merino wool except twice as thick and you get a picture of this luxurious material. Robyn and I each bought sweaters and we also bought a blanket, which we’ve since used a few times. We also bought heavy hand- made wool sweaters which will come in handy during the upcoming Canadian winter. The market was also a great place to people-watch and I was fascinated by the indigenous people, who both tended and frequented the booths, wearing their traditional garb: men wore straw sandals and white trousers with dark tunics and a black felt hat; the women wore ornate dresses and gold necklaces which were used to signify status through the size and number of beads. The tourists, especially nearer the end of Saturday and Sunday, were decked out in their newly-purchased sweaters, proudly displaying their new plumage which declared to everyone around that they were definitely not local (this is a strange behavioural phenomenon amongst the traveller genus). Obviously Robyn and I were amongst this group.
We shopped and watched for most of the day and then enjoyed an afternoon of lounging as the clouds rolled in later on and never left. We retired satisfied with our plundering and slept soundly knowing we had a sufficient load of souvenirs to add to our collection. Sunday we boarded the bus again for the necessary return to Quito en route to Banos, which has to be the most unfortunately named town in South America.