My day started with a lovely bus ride into Otavalo on the morning of November 2. After visiting Maria and Javier just a few days before, and seeing the mountains from where they live, I was able to watch from above as the bus wound it’s way through the mountains, to the place they now lived. Somehow the scenery presents a different picture when you know someone who lives in the area, seeing it I suppose, from their eyes now.
From their new home, Maria and Javier can see the place I am now as the bus climbs the mountain, but I could not see their home from here.
It seemed to me there was an Angel also forming over the mountains guiding my way on this special day. 
The Angel a symbol there for the people of Ecuador on this occasion as they gather with loved ones who have passed…..
As always the bus ride seems to be a time of contemplation, alone with my thoughts and music playing in my ears. On this day we made many stops, picking up the indigenous peoples as they made their way to the graves of those gone before them. Carrying big pots of food to share with their family, their burdens were heavy and awkward for the journey. They boarded with smiles and good cheer though, the drivers making the necessary allowances to help them to their destination. Watching them, and as alway being the only gringo on the bus, my thoughts began to wander. It seemed to me, being invited to share this day was indeed an honour. I began to think of the many special people I have met over the last year, meeting Lucy only the day after my arrival to this country. It amazes me to find myself travelling as I do now on my own, feeling more comfortable each time I go. So many of the things I am doing now, would have been avoided back in Canada, but then in Canada it was much easier to hide in my self made bubble. Here, there is no other way, than to step out and join the world, something so incredibly difficult for me throughout my life. Here I am finding the person inside, the girl who has felt safer hidden from the world, discovering she need not hide any longer. The transition is not easy, my emotions get tangled up as I make the necessary adjustments. However it does not escape me having these new friendships is the result of finding the courage to step out.
Although I have always been quite open, trust has never been easy for me. This one thing – trust, is the thorn I find myself tangled on most days. Letting go of my fears among those I call friend here is not as easy as it should be. Slipping into familiar patterns often happens without realizing it. It occurs to me there are different levels of trust, so accepting this principle seems to offer a way to slowly change those patterns and perhaps learn to see with different eyes. It seems to me the spirits are gently steering me away from those pattered responses, so for my part, I must learn to forgive myself, but also truly understand I am not responsible for everything that goes wrong in my life. As I watch for the signs, I give thanks for lessons learned, and the opportunity to have this time to remake myself, as the real me trickles up to the surface from the depths of the cave she has been safely hidden.
Perhaps it is because on this day, there is intention to stay connected to loved ones who have passed, that makes my mind explore these thoughts. They are not my loved ones I will be visiting, but my mind and my heart wish to connect, hear the voices of my true family, as I search for understanding and truth. Opportunity is everywhere, so we must be open to possibility, rather than letting fear stop us from seeing what is not visible. So yes “Trust” is the cornerstone of my journey, learning to see it is indeed possible. The trips on the bus a constant reminder of this very idea.
I have realized so much of my anger comes from fear, my fear stems from not enough information, lack of understanding. So yes, this journey has been completely about trusting in what cannot be proven, seeing what is not visible, and knowing the heart, not the mind has the answers.
there are many people in attendance, the cemetery is not very big. And yes, I was the only white person or gringo there. It is quite common for people to openly stare at me, not just a passing glance, but really stare, something I have had to get used to after being in hiding for so long. On this day, it kind of felt like I was a neon sign, as I am sure many wondered why I was there. But I was not made to feel unwelcome, there was just curiosity on their faces as I walked with Lucy among them.
The indigenous have the land below – going down the hill 
The spanish have the top of the hill, to me the segregation is pointed….. 
The indigenous cannot have a plot up top, and for me this felt very wrong, But as an outsider, it really is not my place to speak my mind 
Most of the indigenous have very simple markers on their plots, but this one is something new, perhaps a trend for the future. 
You will notice the spanish have very elaborate plots, the stark contrast something one cannot help notice 
Fernando and Lucy, who were kind enough to allow me to join them on this special day. They are such a nice couple, a beautiful family….
On our way back up the hill, I stopped to look at the grave where a young woman was standing, something about her made me want to offer my condolences. She was standing beside her mothers grave, a woman who died too young, probably while this young woman was in her teens. When I saw the dates on the tombstone, I asked if this was her mother and, she said ‘Si”. There was much sadness around her, something I did not feel so strongly elsewhere and so I offered her my deep sympathy for the loss of her mother at such a young age, something I suppose I understood all too well. Perhaps it was this understanding which made me want to pause before going on our way.
She immediately gathered together a container of food for me to take with me, which I accepted, realizing this was her way of accepting my condolences. I felt suddenly bare, her offering meant a great deal to me and I wished I had something to give to her. I thanked her, but somehow it did not seem to be enough, and so I asked Lucy if there was something I should be offering her. She said, “no, you do not have food here today, so just a thank you is enough. You can bring something for her next year”. I wish I could explain the feelings from such an encounter, something so unexpected, but absolutely, I felt there was respect and honour shown to me that day. A day which started out with an uncomfortable encounter with Kayanna at the bus terminal (see post “Back Where I started”; November 8, 2019), was converted in just one moment with this young woman, to something very beautiful, touching my heart. The mornings discomfort something in the past, the future was being blessed with such encounters.
Note: In Otavalo, the spanish have a separate cemetery altogether, something I suppose has more to do with the general size of the city, the number of people.
