Afternoon Excursions

It began with a scrabble game and a trip to the heladeria (ice-cream store, and from there, our afternoon grammar lessons disolved completely into excursions. The brilliant part about it was, that we were still studying - every where we went we spoke and listened, teased out meanings and relayed stories.

In Peguche, we descended a few steps to the weaving room of El Gran Condor where an Otavaleña demonstrated carding and spinning wool and showed us the natural plant (and insect) dyes used to color the wool. Several blocks away, we tucked into a back patio where a man showed us how to craft traditional pipes and flutes from bamboo.

In San Rafael, upslope from Laguna San Pablo, the abundant reeds that line the lakeshore provide the materials. The reeds are woven into everything from fans to mats, figurines to furniture. A grandmother sat on her mat, weaving it to the specified length using hand tools. Around her the tools and materials of her trade: reeds bundled and stacked to dry, forms for baskets, containers of dye. I took her picture at the urging of my professor, though I shouldn´t have; she turned her back on me as soon as she saw my camera.

After touring the workshop, we visited a local shaman who showed us through her garden. Walled by the ruins of an abandoned monastary, the garden was a tumble of herbs, vines and shrubs. Miniature hammocks cradled orchids that she was trying to coax into flower. As we would through the rooms of the convent, her fingers trailed over the leaves, alighting long enough to offer a name, or to pinch off a sprig and offer it to us to smell. This one is good for the heart. This for the digestion - cleans you right out. At 76 she was light footed and energetic, only her lined face revealed her age. Her energy she atributed to her vegetarian diet and daily exercise. As she explained, she hinged back onto her back, her legs tucked underneath her. And loose clothing, she added lifting her skirt to reveal a bare thigh - nothing underneath so my skin and spirit can breathe. Crazy, some might say, but her eyes shone clear and deep and her garden was a wonder.

The following afternoon found us paying homage to another divine spirit - the Cascada de Peguche whose rushing waters tumble down rocks and fill a sacred pool where locals bathe at midnight on the shortest night of the year. The trails leading to and from the waterfall were a labratory of new vocabulary: that afternoon root, moss, trunk, leaf, berry trumped infinitivo, gerundio and pronombre.

On our last afternoon, we announced that we had not yet made the acquaintance of El Lechero, an ancient and solitary tree rooted on a hilltop overlooking Otavalo and Lago San Pablo. The species name comes from the milky sap that runs in the tree´s leaves. The tree is revered for its healing powers and the tree's trunk and lower branches have been worn smooth by generations of hands. I ran my palm over the lowest branch wishing for a safe journey ahead.