Lessons in health, healing and Ecuadorean culture

13–16 May 2013

It seems that traditional Ecuadorean food – or Ecuadorean bugs – don’t quite agree with me. Usually I have a stomach of steel and have managed Turkey, Egypt, India and Thailand without incident. But I (and some of the other girls) woke up feeling a bit out of sorts the day after the Galapagos trip ended, which slightly curtailed the next few days’ plans.

Chris and I started a big shopping day out with some of the tour group, but after a couple of hours of shopping, a couple of racing car games in a random arcade, and a quick lunch (deep fried nachos anyone?), we headed home so I could rest (and watch classic films like Lassie from the comfort of my bed with chocolate and tea).

I braved our tours to the Otavalo Markets and Pappalacta hot springs over the following couple of days. This was largely thanks to the marvels of modern medicine, lemonade, cake and setting our own pace (it was just the two of us and our guide, Gabriel).

Each day we drove up into the mountains, over windy, rocky roads and through farmland, forests and villages. The heavy overnight mist mostly cleared by 10am, leaving sweeping views across valleys to other ranges and forests. Then it would become cloudy and dark and rain again. While the lush green of the land reminded me of England and Ireland, the basic square, concrete buildings reminded me of India.

The hills around us were pockmarked from constant mining for limestone. Locals use lime to paint their houses, preserve beans and various other everyday household needs. Colombian drug dealers use it to cut with their cocaine. Police randomly check cars and patrol the roads – particularly those near the Colombian-Ecuadorean border – to prevent limestone being illegally harvested and used.

Gabriel filled us in on some quirks of the government, including a random set of traffic lights the president had installed on the highway. He also told us that to reduce congestion on the road, people can only drive cars on certain days, and the day they can be driven depends on the last digit of their number plate (e.g. cars that have number plates ending in 1 and 2 can’t drive on Mondays). Of course, this just made rich people buy more cars with different number plates – leading to a glut of vehicles in the city (approximately four cars for every one person).

Apparently a lot of people from overseas (especially America) come to Ecuador to retire, because it’s so affordable, peaceful and friendly. Houses on the outskirts only cost around $70,000 (but you can splash out on some of the posher multi-million dollar places we passed if you’re so inclined – and rich), and renting a place will set you back $200–2000 per month. Cuenca, near Papallacta, I think is particularly popular with retirees and has great infrastructure for them.

Traditional dress varies in Ecuador depending on the region. We saw some people walking the streets wearing traditional clothes. Some men wore all white, sandals and a hat, with a long ponytail trailing down their backs. The ladies wore different shawls, with brightly coloured embroidery and fabrics, shirts and long skirts. These clothes are meant to show respect and admiration to Mother Earth.

Our trip out to the Otavalo Market trip featured a few touristy stops, including a monument at the Equator, a biscuit bakery, a shop with breathtaking views over a valley and lake, an alpaca wool shop and a music shop.

At the Equator monument, we took the obligatory happy snaps of us with one foot in the northern hemisphere and one in the southern hemisphere. We also took some photos of locals walking their sheep on leads. As you do. Gabriel showed us some funky tricks to illustrate how standing on the equator line affects your muscle strength. While we were standing on the line, Gabriel easily pulled our fingers and thumb apart, but we could resist him when we weren’t standing on the line. He could also easily pull apart our hands when we put them over our heads and interlocked our fingers. Standing off the line, we were too strong for him to separate them. Crazy. 

The biscuit factory in Bizchocho (near Cayambe) had demonstrations of locals making the traditional crescent-shaped cookie, which are an odd cross between a scone, shortbread and croissants, plain and crumbly, and would go nicely with cheese or jam and cream or chocolate. None of which we had. Chris bought a bag of biscuits for $1 and shared them among us and with a toothless old man in the street. As the man walked past us grinning, we noticed he had his own bag of biscuits.

The famous Otavalo market wasn’t as big as I expected, but we did go on a quiet day. On Saturdays the town’s streets are filled with stalls of art, jewellery, craft, household goods, animals, leather products, souvenirs and food. We spent up big and quickly at the Otavalo market, buying more art, scarves, jumpers, ornaments and a chess set, and sheltered from the rain under the stalls' eaves.

Our spending spree continued at the alpaca shop, where we bought ridiculously soft and beautifully coloured socks, gloves and scarves from the small, family-run business. We were shown the traditional production techniques – from carding and cleaning the wool to spinning, dying and weaving it. Interestingly, the wool was dyed with plants – herbs, nuts, cacti and fruits – and cochinella, an insect that lives in a white web-like coating on cacti. There are entire farms in Ecuador and Peru that grow this insect on cacti. The colours were surprisingly bright and varied, and often achieved in roundabout ways. For example, adding citrus juice to cochinella turns the red colour yellow, and adding bicarbonate to this yellow turns it purple/maroon. It amazes me how people come up with this stuff!

After a quick pit stop at a house where we were shown instruments made from all manner of things and beings, including turtles and armadillos, and shown how to make and play pan pipe flutes by an internationally renowned musician, we grabbed lunch at Cotacatchi and had a wander around the streets looking in the shops and another small market.

On the way back to Quito, a mammoth three-hour journey, Gabriel entertained us with stories about delightful local traditions. One tradition in particular made me squirm. In a village not far from Cotacatchi, natural medicine is the norm. One ‘treatment’ involves taking a guinea pig (because they apparently have very similar internal organs and layout to humans) and waving it around and over a person’s body to absorb an illness. The guinea pig is then cut open and examined to see what the illness is so it can be treated. I’m not sure I’ll be incorporating that into my natural medicine practice when I qualify in a few months’ time!

The following day's pampering at the Pappalacta hot springs was a much more subdued affair, and well-deserved respite from a hectic trip so far. I was feeling even worse and slept through most of the outward trip, which was a shame because when I woke up, we were passing more stunning countryside, with clouds and mist creeping down the lush green mountains. It was raining a little and visibility was quite poor, but in the moments it cleared, you could see the snow-capped volcanoes in the distance and the lakes at their feet.

Gabriel checked us in at the hot springs, and went off to indulge himself in some that the locals use. The springs were nestled in a small ring of hills, which were topped with cloud and mist. Cattle grazed on the hill sides, which were broken into paddocks that you could define by the different green of their grasses rather than a fence line. The gardens around the pools and café were quite pretty, with masses of orchids, fushias, bromilliads and leafy tropical plants. Little birds flitted among the flowers, their tiny wings frantically flapping to keep them aloft as they ate the nectar. It was strange being in such a tropical setting in such cold weather. 

We paddled in the different pools, immersing ourselves in the warm ones and sitting on the edges of the hot ones, our legs dangling in to keep warm while the rain cooled our backs and chests. There were only a few other people there, so it was quite quiet and peaceful. We broke from bathing for a massage that Gabriel had booked for us the day before, then had another quick dip before lunch.

Due to a rockslide, the traffic heading back (on the only road between Pappalacta and Quito) was terrible, making it another three-hour trip home. We waited 45 minutes until council workers managed to clear one lane and started guiding us through. We reached our hotel late in the afternoon, picked up some basic supplies for dinner and set up camp in our hotel room – just as Chris started to come down with whatever I had.

After a couple of weeks of being in or around Quito, just one major thing was missing from our Quito experience. Seeing the Angel of Quito up close and personal. On our last day there, we grabbed a cab into town for a quick breakfast at our usual haunt (the Magic Bean), then grabbed another cab to take us up to see her.

The Angel looms precariously over the town. It looks like she’s torn between launching into flight or rolling her great concrete self down the hill, wings and all. Despite this, she offers a feeling of protection, guidance and grace, and is a point of reference for people wandering the streets in the town below. The Angel is perched on a hill half-way between north and south Quito, although you can only really see the north from her vantage because the south is hidden by huge trees. Around her feet lies a market where locals sell more touristy paraphernalia, food and drinks, and buskers play indigenous instruments, like the pan pipes. We walked the paths around her, pointing out the buildings now familiar to us after having been in Quito for so long. Granted the views from the cable car were a lot better, but it was nice having a different perspective of the town.

With time to spare before our flight to Lima, we wandered around the town a little more before collecting our things and making our way to the airport. We checked in without problem, but as we were overdue for our usual awkward interaction with customs (having made it to and from the Galapagos without incident), it was to be expected that our names would be called over the PA in Quito airport.

Airline staff guided us from the boarding gate through a staff exit onto the tarmac below, where luggage is stored before being loaded onto planes. Luckily our flight was running 30 minutes late, which gave us enough time for them to complete the random search of my backpack and carry on bags, then go back up and through security again before boarding. (And honestly, on the quiet, the random check wasn’t actually that thorough. I could have easily smuggled through drugs or weapons or other naughty things. Especially if I’d stashed them where I kept my dirty knickers.)

A guide from our next tour collected us at Lima airport and ushered us onto a big bus full of quite loud Americans, who were part of a different group and staying at a different hotel from us. Our hotel made me think of Europe, with lots of wood paneling and sweeping staircases, and was quite dark and cool. It has two storeys and rooms that circle around a central courtyard. We checked into our room, which amusingly had twin beds (on our honeymoon no less!), freshened up and grabbed some tea before settling in for the night.

On first appearances, Lima seems a lot more developed than Quito. There are lots of KFCs, Pizza Huts and other fast food restaurants. And I mean A LOT. There are also lots of casinos, with big flashy lights and gaudy signs and names, just like in Las Vegas.

We’d miss Quito, with her beautiful European- and Asian-style buildings, police presence, Angel, mountains, changeable weather, Magic Bean, friendly people, drunks, and couples eagerly pashing and fondling each other in the street. But we were ready to experience new things and begin our Peruvian adventure.