Women Weave, Too

Tuesday 6/24/14: went to Otavalo, visited with Fanny's friends, and went to the birthday party of her niece (who is pregnant, so I think we also celebrated that). It was a rainy, cool day, and I was finally glad to have brought clothing for the cool weather I was expecting (Otavalo is cooler than San Antonio, which is cooler than Ibarra)
 
Wednesday 6/25/14: taught Fanny the wonders of Google, went to Otavalo, watched the Ecuador game, and slept like Rip Van Winkle
I woke up ready to punch whoever was playing music at 6am, only to realize it was the garbage truck (that's right, the garbage trucks play music and then everyone runs out with their garbage, despite operating on a schedule). I figured I couldn't fault them for doing their job, even if it woke me up after only a few hours of sleep. I was really happy to go to bed early and sleep in late Thursday morning (and by "late," I mean I got up around 8am, which is hilarious for anyone who knows me!).

Thursday 6/26/14: watched the US game, and went to Peguche to visit the Teran family, skyped with family

Listen. I'm in Latin America during the World Cup, so I HAVE to write about it. (If only you knew how much we talk about it! I'm actually glad because you always have something to talk about, even if it's just small talk with strangers). Well, the game started off well, but I don't know what happened the second half. It was disappointing to watch how the US played, but let's hope they step up their game when they play on Tuesday since they had enough points to advance.
 

After the game, I went to Peguche to visit the Terans. I was a little unsure of where I was going, so a man offered to take me to their house. How kind. But I really should have just trusted myself because he took me to the house of another Carmen Teran, one that was waaaay out of the way. But that's alright. I found my way to the house easily from there, but I arrived much later than I had hoped. Still, we had a nice visit. Olga, Matilde, Ruth, and I chatted in Olga's bedroom (which is also where she embroiders shirts to sell), while the soccer games played on the tv in the background. Carmen was weaving in the other room, and Olga was tracing designs onto material to embroider later. Even though they invited me for a visit, they still had to work.
 

Matilde (pictured above) asked if I wanted to learn how to weave. Even though I technically know how, I said yes, because I'm not going to pass up the opportunity to relearn how they weave. And then I watched Matilde weave rapid-fire and wished I hadn't said yes, knowing how painfully slow my weaving would be in comparison. I made sure to take note of her feet and the order in which she pressed the pedals: 1,4,2,3. And then, I wove, and I have the pictures to prove it!

At first, I made a bunch of mistakes because the warp was a little loose, and the threads on the left didn't move like they were supposed to in order to make the open shaft (where you pass the shuttle). I didn't realize this about the warp until I had made the mistakes and we had to take part of the weaving out. But at least I realized the problem so I could try to compensate.

I asked Matilde to take some pictures of me weaving, since I have nearly identical photos from 2009, when I learned to weave on the loom on the opposite wall.

And then Matilde told me I was beating the poncho too hard. Apparently, they charge more for a tighter woven poncho, and most people want to buy the cheapest item. Who knew.

But, I eventually figured out what I needed to do and got into a good rhythm. And then I realized it was rather quiet, and starting to get darker in the house. Apparently, Olga had left for church (she goes everyday except for Friday) and Carmen went to the store (but I didn't realize this until much later). I pulled my watch out of my pocket (it kept getting stuck on the threads when weaving, so I had taken it off), and was shocked to see it was nearly 6pm! I had been weaving for at least an hour without realizing it! It was wonderful to get to spend a day in the house I visited daily for a month in 2009 and get to talk more with my "work family" from before. 

 

Market Day!

Saturday 6/21/14: Market Day!!
I had a great time at the market, interviewing people, observing transactions/interactions, and even helping a guy buy some items. But this was not my day for transportation.

Here are some of the highlights from the market:

I walked past a middle aged man (at a booth on the street) showing a vendor a picture he had printed on a piece of copy paper. Intrigued, I slowed down to see an image of a knit hat that one could easily find in the Plaza. He had colored in some of the picture himself (perhaps it didn't print correctly?), and seemed to want this exact hat, not one that looked similar. He noticed me and began speaking to me in English. Darn, there goes my plan to just watch. He told me that he or a friend (that was unclear) had been here 5 or 7 years ago and bought a bunch of hats like this, and he couldn't find any like it this trip. I tried to explain that trends come and go, but he wouldn't hear it. He was convinced that this exact hat existed here somewhere, he just couldn't find it. He said he had a few more hours, and he'd keep looking. But in the meantime, he asked me if I'd help him choose a gift for a "lady." (I swear I'm not making this up. During our conversation, I wondered if English is his 2nd language. He definitely spoke with an accent (German?) and sometimes he had difficulty remembering the words he wanted. But maybe that's just because he's a professor in California, and us academic folk have a hard time carrying on normal conversations...you know, ones that don't reference things like panopticon, agency, neoliberalism, pedagogy, or the state...)

At this point, we were in front of a booth with sweaters, ponchos, blankets, scarves, and hats (basically, the usual). He decided that a poncho might be a nice gift, and asked me which kind I liked, since there were several styles. I told him the alpaca ponchos make nice gifts, since anything alpaca is so expensive in the US. He then asked me which color would be best for his lady friend. I said that was difficult to say without knowing her age and her tastes, but a neutral color would work with anything. By now, the vendors had noticed us and were trying to sell us things. They pulled down one of the ponchos and immediately begain encouraging me to try it on. The man did not speak to the vendors, but instead to me, asking how much it cost. The vendors understood enough English to answer that question, and replied. But the man looked at me, so I translated for him, while replying to the vendors that the price was high. Let me tell you, it's really interesting to carry on two conversations in two langauges simultaneously.

I asked the man how much he wanted to pay, and began negotiating a better price for him. I was still trying to convince him that he could get a better price if he bought multiple items from the same vendor. It finally clicked, and he decided that he wanted another poncho for a "young lady," and asked me what color I thought was best. I told him something brighter, maybe the blue. Immediately, the vendors told me they had other colors. And then the man said, "That's too big. Don't they have anyting smaller?" I asked what size he needed and how old the young lady was. Turns out, she's only 10! I asked the vendors for ponchos for a little girl in bright colors, and the man began producing various ponchos.

When the man finally decided on his ponchos and had negotiated a price, we noticed some hats for sale. I asked him for the picture of the hat, explaining that we could ask if they knew if anyone sold hats like this because vendors tend to know the Plaza very well. He said he had already done this, but I highly doubted that he had either the language skills to ask or understand the reply; it seemed more likely that vendors had simply replied that they didn't have that exact hat. I asked the vendors about the hat, and the man left to bring back options, while the woman finished the poncho transaction. The first round of hats weren't right, but they gave us an opportunity to better explain what the man was looking for: he wanted unlined wool hats in bright colors with a pom pom on top. We also finally got the number of hats right: 2-3 for adults and 2-3 for children (not 2-3 total, which he had originally said). At this point, I realized that the male vendor understood quite a bit of English, although he never spoke a word of it. He left to get more hats, which turned out to be basically what the man wanted. He was rather excited until they said the price was $6 per hat. I responded that that was too high, and they were willing to come down to $5. The man was disgusted, and said he saw the same thing around the corner for $1 or $2. (I wondered to myself why he hadn't bought them if he found what he wanted at a great price.) He told this to me, and then repeated it to the vendors. I began translating, but they had understood the numbers, and the rest of the sentence didn't matter. They told me there was no way to sell the hats for so cheap and began explaining all of their qualities (they're wool, they're made by hand -- which isn't likely, look how pretty they are). The man firmly stated that he didn't want them and was done shopping there, so I told the vendors that the hats were great but he was going to wait and thanked them for all of their help. Goodness, that was a lot of work, and I didn't even buy anything!


A blonde middle age woman spoke only in English as she touched everything she looked at. That's fine in the market, but be prepared for vendors to push their wares hard because lingering and touching items signals interest in purchasing something. The woman knew "Cuanto cuesta?" but only used it as a last resort, after "How much?" had failed several times. As soon as the price was uttered, she left a stall unhappy that it was too high. She didn't seem to realize that she could -- and was expected to -- haggle for a better price.

She also couldn't understand why a Cayambe woman kept following her around, trying to sell small painted picture frames and paintings and bowls to her, after she had spent 4 minutes standing and admiring them, telling her how beautiful the work was (in English). She had left the woman, telling her that right now she's just looking and didn't have enough room in her bag for everything. She expected the woman to understand this statement even though it had been entirely in English and she obviously didn't understand what the woman had told her in Spanish. It seemed obvious that this woman had not spent much time in a market such as this.

After watching this woman, I realized that many vendors probably have a poor impression of Americans. I couldn't understand why anyone would travel alone to a foreign country and not speak any of the language. It's one thing if you're in a group on a planned tour, and they take care of everything for you (I still have some issues with this because you miss so much, but I understand that we can't learn every language, so it also provides an opportunity to travel new places). It's also understandable if your language skills are shaky, but you make an effort to communicate: describe the word when you don't know it, use gestures, do something to attempt to converse. This woman, however, walked around alone and expected everyone to understand her, when she didn't make the effort to understand them. No wonder so many people around the world think Americans are selfish and rude! That really frustrated me, and I quickly decided I didn't want to observe any more of her interactions. 
As I mentioned, today wasn't my day for transportation. But since it's funny in hindsight, I'll share my stories with you:

While riding the bus from Otavalo back to San Antonio, a man old enough to be my grandfather decided to hit on me. He wanted to know my name, where I lived, and even my phone number. (The first two are normal in a friendly conversation. When you tell someone where you live, here you just say "The US" or "San Antonio," not your actual address because different towns are known for different things, and people are curious to hear what you know about their country). When I wouldn't give him the information, he tried to arrange a meeting in Otavalo on the following Saturday. I told him I wasn't interested and did my best to ignore him, even though he was sitting right next to me. In a last effort before he got off the bus, he tried to give me his phone number. Um, no thank you. Go jump off a bridge...(How do you say that in Spanish?) I've never been so happy to see someone leave before!

I think what frustrated me most about the interaction was that other people on the bus noticed and seemed uncomfortable with the man's behavior, but no one said or did anything. Even the man who walks up and down the aisle collecting the bus fare gave me a sympathetic look. In that situation, I really didn't have any power to stop him from being a jerk, but someone else could've. Lesson of the day: If you see something that you feel is wrong -- even if it's something small -- stand up for what you believe!

Later that evening, I met Andrea in Ibarra. Since she was already in Ibarra, I took the bus by myself. No big deal. I'm a big girl, I can handle this. Until the bus turns when I know it shouldn't and everyone starts getting off the bus. The bus driver turns to look at me like I'm an idiot, as I stand there uncertain what to do. I get off the bus, and cross the street with the rest of the crowd. I called Andrea to tell her what happened, and she confirmed my suspicion that I wasn't far from the mall, but I should take a taxi the rest of the way. It turns out that after 8pm or so, the buses stop running and simply drop you off on their way to the garage, rather than driving all around Ibarra. I wish I had known that ahead of time, but I'm glad I was able to figure out what to do! It turned out to be a very full day!

The weekend...more or less

Friday 6/20/14: walked with Fanny, got caught up on notes and blog, helped Fanny search for flights and learn the functions on her iPad, watched the game.
GOOOOOOOLLLLLLLL!!!!! Ecuador won!!!!

Sunday 6/22/14: spent the day with Andrea: went to Ibarra to help her pick out glasses, ate "BBQ," watched the games (I still can't believe Portugal tied the game against the US at the last minute! Ugh), and helped her choose songs for her thesis. Then, I helped Fanny buy her plane tickets to visit her daughter in Germany.
Ok, so BBQ here is not like BBQ at home (it's missing the key ingredient: the sauce!), but it's still good. I had what was basically a kabob that consisted entirely of meat (3 different sausages, chicken, and beef) with red cabbage and this pea and bean salad that is popular here. Good Lord, I'm going to eat my weight in meat while I'm here!
But it was fun to help Andrea choose songs for her thesis (and avoid writing my own notes. Oops!). After a lot of effort considering the difficulty of lyrics, tempo, accent, and lack of innuendos, we came up with this great list of 18 songs for Andrea to choose 10. And then she found the book used in Ecuador to teach middle school kids and realized that each song needed to match 1 of the 6 objectives. And just like that, we only had 3 songs. Sigh. You'd think that practically being a radio would've made me perfect for this job, but it was tough! We finally chose 9 songs before giving up and grabbing some pizza for a late dinner. Clearly, we were eating like Americans today. ;)

Monday 6/23/14: did laundry, took my pants to get fixed, went to Otavalo, Skyped with Doug and mom.

(Sorry for being brief, but I'm trying to get caught up!)

6/19: A Day Full of Lessons

Thursday 6/19/14: went to Otavalo, met up with Andrea, her mom, and sister in Ibarra at her aunt's house, then went back to her house to visit
Lessons of the day:
1) The lit is wrong: Otavalans use the word "to weave" to mean making handicrafts, not in the strict sense we use it, and practically every woman here knows how to make handicrafts.
2) Otavalan families are huge (5-9 siblings is normal), and I will never remember all of their names (sorry!), especially because multiple siblings share the same name. For example: In a family of 7, these are 4 of the sisters:
Rosa, Elena, Rosa Elena, Luzmila. Folks, please don't do this!!3) I might not be a "real/good woman" by Otavalan standards because I don't know how to make multiple types of handicrafts (but at least I can weave!).
4) It's always nice to catch up with friends. I had the best time talking with Andrea for hours!

 

Elena embroidering a shirt by hand, being a good woman

 Luzmila crocheting an Aya Huma mask

Family photo: (left to right) Huayta and her cousin Marisol stand behind Elena (the single one, not Marisol's mother) and Luzmila

How Much Is that Belt on Your Waist? Plus, A Visit to Peguche

Wednesday 6/18/14: went to Otavalo, found Carmen Teran, went to Peguche

Despite being one of the main market days, there did not seem to be many customers at the market today, so I asked Doña Rosa if this was normal. She said that some Wednesdays, there are a lot of people, and others not. For this time of year, the amount seemed normal. In July and August, there would be a lot more people, especially children, because families visit during their vacation from school. "There's no one here. But it's always like this. Some days, you sell a lot, others no. But I'm always here."

While sitting with Doña Rosa, I witnessed quite an unusual transaction: A woman bought Doña Rosa's faja (belt), the one she was wearing! She paid $25 because it was handmade; I went with Doña Rosa to 3 different stalls that sold fajas (neither of us knew they sold fajas in the market, but the women at the neighboring stall told her where to find them), and she bought one that had been made on a machine for $8. Following the picture is the full story:

A middle aged blonde woman and her teenage daughter were looking at Doña Rosa's stall. The mother seemed interested in something, but Doña Rosa couldn't figure out what it was, so she kept showing her everything. The daugther was embarrassed and walked over to talk to me. Although she spoke minimal Spanish, the mother finally communicated through gestures that she was interested in buying a faja, but hadn't been able to find any. Not knowing there were any for sale, and wanting to please her customer who was insistent that she wanted Doña Rosa's faja, she took off her belt to show it to the woman (thankfully, indigneous women wear two belts: a plain one to hold their skirt in place, and one with a design for aesthetics). At this point, the daughter moaned, "Mom, not again! I'm not a part of this!" She looked at me and said, "She's done this before. It's so embarrassing." Doña Rosa was laughing as she told the woman the faja was handmade. She was really excited, and bought the belt. She didn't even try to haggle for the price. She then noticed me talking to her daughter and asked why I was in the market. When she realized I could speak Spanish, she asked if I would find out where the belt was made. She explained to me that she's been looking everywhere for a belt, but couldn't find any. I told her they were called fajas in case she wanted to find any more. We talked a little more, and they left.

Afterward, I expressed my shock to Doña Rosa, saying that must be the first time she's ever sold something she was wearing at the time. Much to my surpise, Doña Rosa said she has actually sold her belt and cinta (hair tie) before when customers insist that they want the one she is wearing. She seemed reluctant to do so, thinking it was odd they wanted something she was wearing. She said she used to sell the beads she wears as a necklace, but she had a pile of them to sell.
Later, Doña Rosa took me to Carmen Teran's stall so I could say hello to the mother of the family I worked with last time. Carmen didn't recognize me at first, which surprised me a bit. True, it's been 5 years and I didn't spend very much time with Carmen because her Spanish isn't great, but I don't imagine that many gringas visit her house on a daily basis for a month. Anyway, she finally recognized me and said that her daughters would like to see me. Doña Rosa arranged for me (in Quichua, the language in which Carmen is more comfortable) to go with Carmen back to Peguche when she left the market around 2:30pm.

I returned to Carmen's stall around 2:15 (not wanting her to leave without me). She began to pack up her stall, and motioned for me to help her. She placed all of the hats and purses into a giant plastic sack, which I held open. Then, she took down all of the ponchos and I helped her fold them and place them in a stack before she added those to the plastic bag until it was full. She filled 2 of the large plastic bags and then tied a sheet around the rest of the ponchos. She then began to take the metal umbrella apart and placed in its bag. A pickup truck with a tall metal frame, covered in cloth on the bed pulled up. Carmen said this was our ride, and shortly, the man began carrying all of Carmen's sacks into the truck. I helped carry the umbrella, wooden pallets she used to keep her products off the ground, and the small wooden stool she used to rest. In all, it took us about 30 minutes to pack everything up. On the ride to Peguche, Carmen pointed out a house that had not been there during my last visit and said that things are different now. She asked if I remembered where we were and laughed when I said yes.

When we pulled up, she hollered to Matilde, who came running up. She looked surprised to see me, and I'm not sure if she recognized me before Carmen called me "Kati" (cot-ee). Then it was back to business; we had to unload the truck before we could visit. After carrying everything down the path past Matilde's aunt and uncle's house to the Teran's home, Carmen called for Olga to come outside. She was also surprised to see me, but she seemed happy, too. Perhaps she recognized me more quickly (odd, given that I spent most of my time with Matilde), or perhaps it's because her Spanish skills are better than her sister, and she was simply more comfortable speaking with me. We visited for a few minutes outside, while Carmen and Matilde put everything from the market away. The number of kittens, puppies, and chicks was somewhat alarming to me, as they and their parents all scrounged for food and whined for attention. Olga joked that they lived in a zoo. Their second cousin, who is approximately 8 years old, came over but kept her distance from me.

Olga then invited me into their house for a visit. The front room -- where I spent so much time working 5 years ago -- looks basically the same. We walked through the middle room, where I had helped clean ponchos, and turned left into Olga's room, where she embroiders shirts. The young girl kept her distance, sitting on Olga's bed and never speaking to me, but always watching me. Olga sat by her sewing machine, tracing a design onto fabric to be embroidered later. I sat on the other side of the sewing machine, all of us with a good view of the TV in the corner, showing the soccer game. Olga said she has watched all of the games so far, and doesn't really care who wins; she just likes the games. When Ecuador plays, however, she cheers for them. Olga translated her statement into Quichua, and Matilda agreed before leaving the room.

Olga was tracing a design onto a small piece of fabric, on top of the same green binder I remember from before that contains all of the designs she has drawn by hand. The fabric seemed awfully small, and Olga said it is for a child's shirt. Olga explained that she has to trace the designs in pencil, rather than pen, to keep the outlines from running when the shirts are washed. She wished she could use pen, since it is easier to see in the dimly lit room. She said there is a new trend in shirts that only has a small embroidered design across the center of the shirt, but she does not like that style. She prefers the style with full embroidery across the top of the front, back, and both sleeves. Thus, that is the type of shirt she generally makes.

She showed me fabric that had been embroidered by hand but not yet made into a shirt and told me she had bought it because she is as fast or good at embroidering by hand. She explained that they don't sell these shirts in the Plaza, but in a store (not sure where). Because she is so busy making shirts, she rarely helps her mother sell handicrafts in the market, but declared that her mother is there every Wednesday and Saturday, and that Matilda often helps their mother.

She told me that she and her sister had both learned to weave when they were little. Their mom had taught them. Olga, however, prefers to embroider shirts. Carmen learned to weave from Olga's "abuelos because more people knew how to weave then." She said that her aunts and uncles also weave, but that everyone generally uses electric looms now. (Judging from the sound of the machines during my entire walk through Peguche to la Pana, I'd have to agree). She said that electric looms produce textiles much faster, but generally only men use these looms because they are difficult to operate and you need to be very strong to use them. She said no one wanted to learn to weave by hand because it takes so much time. Still, products made by hand are sold at higher prices. Everyone in the market seems to know that if a customer wants a handmade poncho, they send them to Carmen Teran.

The irony is that tourists loved the cheap, handmade products found in the Plaza in Otavalo, but the demand soon overwhelemed the supply. As artisans received more money from sales, they began to switch from wooden floor looms to large electric looms, and switch from family-based operations to hired workers. This allowed them to produce more products and sell them at cheaper prices, in order to fulfill the demand of tourists. However, tourists still want handmade products, so many vendors will tell them that their products are handmade (often while admitting that their neighbors' products were made by machines). Tourists are kept in the dark as to the methods and materials of their products.

You Never You What You Might Find in the Market...Like Long Lost Contacts!

Tuesday 6/17/14: walked with Fanny, went to Otavalo, found Huayta and Doña Rosa.

Unlike last time, Fanny basically told me that we were going walking today. I agreed, but told her I couldn't walk the same distance as last time because of the altitude. Thankfully, she understood, and we walked a little slower and not quite as far. And then she made me use the exercise machines located throughout the park, like playgrounds for adults. Sigh.

I then went to the Plaza de Ponchos in Otavalo to try to make new contacts, and hopefully find some familiar faces. After failing to find Doña Rosa on Saturday, I was excited to find her daughter Huayta today. She was in a different concrete stall than I had remembered, and she had two additional kiosks made of tables and metal frames. She looked familiar, but I doubted myself, so I walked around for about 15 minutes trying to find her mother. Finally, I gave in, waited for her friend to leave, and asked if she knew a man named Michael Stuckart who is a professor in the U.S. She looked confused, asked his last name again, and shook her head. Then, she clearly remembered something and asked me if he taught English. Yes, I said, he used to teach them English to help them make sales to tourists. She finally remembered Michael, but still looked confused, so I told her that I had visited Ecuador with Michael in 2009. She asked if I had danced San Juanes with her during Inti Raymi, in traditional clothing. When I said yes, she was excited to be able to place me. She told me that they have a picture of me in traditional clothing in their house. She asked if I wanted to see her mother, and I said yes, that I had been looking for her, but I wasn't able to find her.

Huayta presented me to her mother, and we basically repeated the same conversation. They were both rather surprised to see me and hear about Michael because they hadn't heard from him in four years (since his last visit in 2010). He is a copadre for Paccha (another daughter of Doña Rosa), and they had tried to contact him three years ago when Paccha was getting married. They were certain that Michael must be dead; that was the only reason they could think of to explain his silence.  I did my best to reassure them that Michael was fine, but it was a little difficult because I didn't have many details to give them.
 Once we cleared that up, I asked about her other children, and Doña Rosa told me that the youngest, Bryan, is now 7 years old and in school. Her other son is 11. I learned that Paccha (24, nearly 25) is married, has a one and a half year old baby, and is selling artesanias in Colombia for her husband. She has been there for less than a year, and recently visited Otavalo for 15 days, but has returned to Colombia for two more years. Huayta (23, nearly 24) lives at home and helps sell in the market most days. She go married last August.
Her aunt Elena, cousin Marisol, and uncle were all making Aya Huma masks (also called "the devil" masks, that are worn by boisterous male leaders who shout and call out during Inti Raymi celebrations; see below for pictures) to get ready for Inti Raymi. The uncle was holding a mask that looked complete, and was cutting the balls of yarn on top to make fringe. Elena's mask came only to the top of the eyes when I sat down; about 40 minutes later, the main body of the mask was complete, as she busily crocheted. It was still missing the ears, nose, tongue, and fringe, but it would at least cover one's face. Marisol held a nearly complete mask. I watched as she crocheted and attached the ears, decorated the eyes with 2 colors of yarn, and then declared it was done. The cousin explained that they were for sale, and people (especially tourists) buy them for Halloween or other festivals. She said that some days, they are really popular, and other days, they are not; they never knew which kind of day it would be. The cousin had learned to crochet from her mom when she was 10 years old. I commented on how fast they were working, but they disagreed.

Elena told me that they could also crochet hats. In fact, the Aya Huma masks come in 2 styles: 1 like a hat, with the face on the back of the head, and other other, a full ski mask with a different face on the front and back. They didn't make anything else, though, despite selling ponchos, sweaters, scarves, and blankets. They confirmed what Doña Rosa had told me: plenty of women in Peguche weave, but they didn't provide me with any names.

Huayta had shown me that she decorates shirts, sewing beads around the collars of the shirts traditionally worn by Otavalan women. She said she sells them on Saturdays in the street (because the Plaza itself has limited space). She said she can't embroider, weave, or make the Aya Huma masks; she only sews designs with beads. Her aunt and cousin joked that she is not a real woman, that she is a man, because she can't make anything.

 Hat style Aya Huma

Full face mask (like a ski mask)

La Casa de Fanita

Monday 6/16/14: stayed at home, rode the bus to Ibarra by myself to meet up with Andrea.
I woke up with a terrible stomach ache that I'm blaming on all the milk I had been consuming. So, we quickly changed that. But I didn't feel like doing much, so I stayed around the house. I took the opportunity to get caught up on emails, organize my photos, and write my first blog post. I also learned how to wash my clothes here, which may not seem like a big deal, but my previous host mom would never let me do it. It was sweet that she wanted to be like my mom and do everything for me, but I felt guilty that I never helped with anything. Fanny lets me help cook (I stir pots, set the table, and occasionally make juice), wash dishes, and now, wash my own clothes. It feels nice to be able to help out and be a little more self-sufficient. She also put me to work helping clean the pool, while Marcelo mowed the yard and she watered the plants. Oh yeah, did I mention that she has a pool and hot tub? Photos below.

 The view of Fanny's yard, from my balcony

 The pool, hot tub, and game center

 Oh yeah, there are also soccer nets on the left part of the yard.