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It was as though I had just fallen asleep, myself and Leandro were back up and heading for the bus terminal at the always pleasant time of 330am. We were surprised to see another person there, a nice German girl named Anne, and together, we made the gruelling journey to Otavalo, all keen to explore the rumoured vibrancy that is the monstrous Saturday market.
Checking into a slightly overpriced hostel (though it was nice), we took to the principle markey square, following the crowds and noise. It was overwhelming and I couldn't have prepared myself for the size of it, both in the amount of things for sale and the people present (there were a fair amount of tourists). There was no real order or structure to the event (no surprises), but they were roughly grouped into food, clothing and ornaments/trinkets. The food area seemed to stretch on for ages, fruit, veg, meat (including some strange body parts for sale), livestock, juices and a whole area dedicated to a hundred different eat in/takeaway feeds.
Outside that, was the many clothing stalls and other odds/ends, ornaments, statues, jewellery, hats, belts, rugs, you name it, as well as some awesome alpaca sweaters/blankets and other goods. We must have passed the same stall a few times throughout the day, but there is no way to know where you are going. You just have to walk and get lost in the madness, whilst having a good time simultaneously, which wasn't difficult. Your eyes only have to linger on one item for more than 2 seconds before someone (whoever is closest) will approach you and pressure you to buy. If that doesn't happen, calls of "amigito", "amigito" (little friend) can be heard from all directions. I had to laugh when they said this to me, "But I am not little"? I would say in Spanish, where I would usually just get an embarrased smile in return. One of the best things about Otavalo is the local people. There is a high percentage of indigenous, and almost all of them wear a traditional dress that I am quite certain is unique to the region. Typically, women wear cute hats (bowler or other), pigtails and a white or coloured shortsleeve dress that runs all the way to their little, black rope sandals. Men go for the black bowler hat, long ponytail, white lacey button up, white pants and similar sandals to the women. They will also sometimes wear a poncho on top. For me, this was something I found really great and authentic.
I became a specialist bargain hunter during my time in Otavalo. It is another one of the more enjoyable things about markets. My starting offer was always too low for them, and after a good 10 minutes of vigorous hand gestures and rubbish spanish, both of us would walk away relatively satisfied. This became my downfall however, seeing as I became so good that I actually bought more than I normally would have. The Ecuadorian vendors had won this time....
As a consequence of my free flowing purchases, I had also paid the price with my luggage, which I was now struggling to reduce to two backpacks without much luck. The next morning saw the end of my time with Leandro, we said our goodbyes and well wishes, and myself and Anne devoured a fruit/yoghurt/oats breakfast. This was the mother of all fruit salads - 20 minutes to cut everything up and only 5 to consume. We worked up a hunger with all the peeling, chopping, de-seeding etc. After breakfast we hit a lovely walking trail along the river towards a small waterfall, passing the always common football match, farmers herding cattle and people selling various goods along the road. Lunch saw a selection of feeds from their respecitve elderly women vendors. Empanadas, chicha morada (purple corn drank), chocolate strawberries and grilled corn were all on the menu. We also indulged in a couple of sneaky David Frothlehoffs (beers), but were unaware of the Sunday curfew on alcohol. After finding out this, we tried to draw less attention to ourselves, but being the only tourists in the area, this was not easy.
We hitched a ride into town with a local family crammed into a huge truck back to the hostel, where I created a tea sure to destroy any thought of a flu. Basically I was picking whatever I could find out of the hostel garden, sprinkling various spices from the pantry and squeezing a few citrus species into a boiling pot. I like to think I did a good job though. The rest of the night was spent playing guitar songs and sing alongs, one of the best pastimes whilst on the road. The next morning would see me heading to Quito, rumoured to be "so dangerous and scary", I was keen to see what it was all about. Otavalo is unique in so many ways, it's more than just a market town, with some of the friendliest people in the world. If time was my friend I would have found myself staying alot longer. Maybe next time.
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