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!