Wednesday, August 08, 2007
Visiting my aunt Laura in the Amazon
It's been at least ten years since I've visited with my aunt Laura. At 74, she is very energetic and still manages to work at her little clothing store. She's been selling clothes all her life, just like my great grandmother, my grandmother, and even my mother, at some point. The skills for selling clothes were passed from generation to generation. I still remember the words my grandmother used with her prospective customers. "Come over here my caserito (dear customer), this dress will fit your girlfriend perfectly." To the unsuspecting young guy this was like a dream, finding someone who knew what a woman likes to wear. My grandmother would put the dress right in front of him, so close as to almost trying to match his size. He would look at himself in the mirror, with the dress in front, and imagine how it will look on his wife or girlfriend. It was also about options; my grandmother would present him with all the colors of dresses, but at the end, she would say, "This is my favorite." Guys hate to decide on things like that, so she made things easier for the client. The sale was instant, to say the least. Almost 25 years later, when I went to visit with my aunt a few weeks ago, a young guy got his fiancé a dress. And my aunt used the same speech that her mother and grandmother have been using for generations, to sell a dress.
I had to return to my hometown and I had to say goodbye. Who knows if I'll see her again. I went back to the hotel were I was staying (my aunt lives in the back of her store so there was no room for me to stay at her place) I picked up my things and went back to my hometown where my brother lives. Here are a few of the pictures from that part of my trip:
Visitando a mi tía Laura en la Amazonía
Han sido por lo menos diez años desde la última vez que visite a mi tía Laura. A los 74, ella es muy energética y se arregla para trabajar en su pequeño almacén de ropa. Ella ha estado vendiendo ropa toda su vida, tal como mi bisabuela, mi abuela, e incluso mi madre, en alguna ocasión. Las habilidades para vender ropa fueron pasadas de generación en generación. Todavía recuerdo las palabras que mi abuela utilizó con sus supuestos clientes. “Viene aquí mi caserito, este vestido le cabrá a su novia perfectamente.” Para el joven incauto esto era como un sueño, encontrar a alguien que sabía lo que a una mujer le gusta vestir. Mi abuela ponía el vestido delante de él, tan cerca de su cuerpo como para comparar el tamaño. El se miraba en el espejo, con el vestido en frente, y se imaginaba cómo se miraría en su esposa o novia. También habían opciones; mi abuela le presentaría con todos los colores de vestidos, pero al final, ella diría, “éste es mi favorito.” Los hombres odian decidir en este tipo de cosas, así que lo que ella se lo facilitaba al cliente. La venta era inmediata, por no exagerar. Casi 25 años más adelante, cuando fui a visitar a mi tía hace algunas semanas, un hombre joven fue a comprar un vestido a su prometida mientras yo visitaba el almacén de mi tía. Y mi tía utilizó el mismo discurso que su madre y abuela han estado utilizando por generaciones y con mi propia cara vi como vendió ese vestido. Tuve que volver a mi ciudad natal y tuve que decir adiós. Quién sabe si la veré otra vez. Fui al hotel donde yo me hospedaba (mi tía vive en la parte posterior de su almacén y no había espacio para mi) yo tomé mis cosas y me fui de nuevo a mi ciudad natal en donde vive mi hermano. Aquí están algunos de las fotografías de esa parte de mi viaje:
It's been at least ten years since I've visited with my aunt Laura. At 74, she is very energetic and still manages to work at her little clothing store. She's been selling clothes all her life, just like my great grandmother, my grandmother, and even my mother, at some point. The skills for selling clothes were passed from generation to generation. I still remember the words my grandmother used with her prospective customers. "Come over here my caserito (dear customer), this dress will fit your girlfriend perfectly." To the unsuspecting young guy this was like a dream, finding someone who knew what a woman likes to wear. My grandmother would put the dress right in front of him, so close as to almost trying to match his size. He would look at himself in the mirror, with the dress in front, and imagine how it will look on his wife or girlfriend. It was also about options; my grandmother would present him with all the colors of dresses, but at the end, she would say, "This is my favorite." Guys hate to decide on things like that, so she made things easier for the client. The sale was instant, to say the least. Almost 25 years later, when I went to visit with my aunt a few weeks ago, a young guy got his fiancé a dress. And my aunt used the same speech that her mother and grandmother have been using for generations, to sell a dress.
I had to return to my hometown and I had to say goodbye. Who knows if I'll see her again. I went back to the hotel were I was staying (my aunt lives in the back of her store so there was no room for me to stay at her place) I picked up my things and went back to my hometown where my brother lives. Here are a few of the pictures from that part of my trip:
Visitando a mi tía Laura en la Amazonía
Han sido por lo menos diez años desde la última vez que visite a mi tía Laura. A los 74, ella es muy energética y se arregla para trabajar en su pequeño almacén de ropa. Ella ha estado vendiendo ropa toda su vida, tal como mi bisabuela, mi abuela, e incluso mi madre, en alguna ocasión. Las habilidades para vender ropa fueron pasadas de generación en generación. Todavía recuerdo las palabras que mi abuela utilizó con sus supuestos clientes. “Viene aquí mi caserito, este vestido le cabrá a su novia perfectamente.” Para el joven incauto esto era como un sueño, encontrar a alguien que sabía lo que a una mujer le gusta vestir. Mi abuela ponía el vestido delante de él, tan cerca de su cuerpo como para comparar el tamaño. El se miraba en el espejo, con el vestido en frente, y se imaginaba cómo se miraría en su esposa o novia. También habían opciones; mi abuela le presentaría con todos los colores de vestidos, pero al final, ella diría, “éste es mi favorito.” Los hombres odian decidir en este tipo de cosas, así que lo que ella se lo facilitaba al cliente. La venta era inmediata, por no exagerar. Casi 25 años más adelante, cuando fui a visitar a mi tía hace algunas semanas, un hombre joven fue a comprar un vestido a su prometida mientras yo visitaba el almacén de mi tía. Y mi tía utilizó el mismo discurso que su madre y abuela han estado utilizando por generaciones y con mi propia cara vi como vendió ese vestido. Tuve que volver a mi ciudad natal y tuve que decir adiós. Quién sabe si la veré otra vez. Fui al hotel donde yo me hospedaba (mi tía vive en la parte posterior de su almacén y no había espacio para mi) yo tomé mis cosas y me fui de nuevo a mi ciudad natal en donde vive mi hermano. Aquí están algunos de las fotografías de esa parte de mi viaje:
Monday, August 06, 2007
Fishing for Trout in the Ecuadorian Andes.
Wow! What an experience. My trip to the East Coast ended because of a schedule conflict. I was feeling down for not completing the St. John's section in Canada. Well, I guess I'll complete this section some other time. Instead, I decided to go to Ecuador and visit some of my relatives. I wasn't expecting to do anything exiting, just having coffee and enjoy a chat with my brother and my three 85+ year-old aunts. My cousin Mauricio talked to me into a trip high into the Andes for trout fishing. What started like a casual conversation ended up as the highlight of my trip to Ecuador. Sunday night Mauricio (I was named after him) prepared the fishing gear, including a Zodiac-like inflatable boat with an Evinrude motor, boots, rubber pants, jackets, and food. The next day we headed to the mountains and drove up to about 4,000 meters/snm (snm - sobre el nivel de mar). Needless to say, this is an altitude at which most Americans are not used to. My body was not up to the task and I got a bit dizzy while we gained altitude. Once I started rowing, all the discomfort went away and my body heat came back, right on time for some of the most spectacular fishing I've ever done in my life.
I came to live in the United States almost 20 years ago, just when I was about 21 years old. I was wondering how in the world I missed all this beauty. I guess at that time I was busy studying and I never gave me the chance to visit these beautiful parts of Ecuador. It seems though that today was the right time to go and fish. I got to appreciate the serenity of the water, the silence of this distance lake, and the visual treat of colorful plants and orchids growing along the shoreline. After begging my cousin for mercy, he took over the rowing and at he same time he showed me how to fly fish. He gave me the black small fly-fishing rod and an impromptu 101 class on fly fishing. Mauricio was really enjoying our chat about fishing. Suddenly, our talk turned to a little story about how our pasts are connected. Mauricio tells me the story about how he learned to fish. “When I was about 7, your dad Temistocles (Timy for short) used to take me fishing everywhere in El Puyo (A Town in the Ecuadorian Amazon)," he tells me. "Just the way your dad taught me fishing; now I'm teaching you." It shocked me for a minute. The last time I saw my dad was when I was 4 - 1/2 years old. Then my dad went to work in the United States and soon after he died in a factory accident in New Jersey. Although people tell me I did go fishing with my father a few times, I don't remember it. I thanked my cousin for this, and after his short chat we started fishing like crazy. We got 40(I got only 5 ) trout but we had to release 13 because they were too young. At around noon we stopped for a short lunch with bologna sandwiches, pop, and toasted corn, an Andean delicacy. Here are some of the pictures from that part of the trip:
Wow! What an experience. My trip to the East Coast ended because of a schedule conflict. I was feeling down for not completing the St. John's section in Canada. Well, I guess I'll complete this section some other time. Instead, I decided to go to Ecuador and visit some of my relatives. I wasn't expecting to do anything exiting, just having coffee and enjoy a chat with my brother and my three 85+ year-old aunts. My cousin Mauricio talked to me into a trip high into the Andes for trout fishing. What started like a casual conversation ended up as the highlight of my trip to Ecuador. Sunday night Mauricio (I was named after him) prepared the fishing gear, including a Zodiac-like inflatable boat with an Evinrude motor, boots, rubber pants, jackets, and food. The next day we headed to the mountains and drove up to about 4,000 meters/snm (snm - sobre el nivel de mar). Needless to say, this is an altitude at which most Americans are not used to. My body was not up to the task and I got a bit dizzy while we gained altitude. Once I started rowing, all the discomfort went away and my body heat came back, right on time for some of the most spectacular fishing I've ever done in my life.
I came to live in the United States almost 20 years ago, just when I was about 21 years old. I was wondering how in the world I missed all this beauty. I guess at that time I was busy studying and I never gave me the chance to visit these beautiful parts of Ecuador. It seems though that today was the right time to go and fish. I got to appreciate the serenity of the water, the silence of this distance lake, and the visual treat of colorful plants and orchids growing along the shoreline. After begging my cousin for mercy, he took over the rowing and at he same time he showed me how to fly fish. He gave me the black small fly-fishing rod and an impromptu 101 class on fly fishing. Mauricio was really enjoying our chat about fishing. Suddenly, our talk turned to a little story about how our pasts are connected. Mauricio tells me the story about how he learned to fish. “When I was about 7, your dad Temistocles (Timy for short) used to take me fishing everywhere in El Puyo (A Town in the Ecuadorian Amazon)," he tells me. "Just the way your dad taught me fishing; now I'm teaching you." It shocked me for a minute. The last time I saw my dad was when I was 4 - 1/2 years old. Then my dad went to work in the United States and soon after he died in a factory accident in New Jersey. Although people tell me I did go fishing with my father a few times, I don't remember it. I thanked my cousin for this, and after his short chat we started fishing like crazy. We got 40(I got only 5 ) trout but we had to release 13 because they were too young. At around noon we stopped for a short lunch with bologna sandwiches, pop, and toasted corn, an Andean delicacy. Here are some of the pictures from that part of the trip:
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