The day wouldn’t be complete without a Mali walk, so off we went after lunch to investigate the route to Otavalo by foot. Quite different from our daily walks at the airport in Maple Creek most definitely.
On the way, just shortly after we took our leave, we came upon an older woman bent over to her task of getting up the steep hill with her small satchel of food. If I ever thought my life was tough, I was wondering now about the hardships of living here on the side of a mountain, and how that would compare to what I think is difficult. Of course I realize there are different types of hardships, but really, living here walking everywhere and doing manual labor for most everything would be tough. This woman had to be at least 80-85 perhaps older. She was literally shuffling up the hill barely able to lift her feet. As I came up beside her we looked at each other and smiled, hers was toothless, and said “Hola” to each other. I’m always nervous about saying anything in Spanish because then they think you can speak it, and off they go the words flying off their tongue. She said something to me which I understood might be her name, and so gave her mine. I offered to take her bag and her arm so that I could help her up the hill the short distance to her home. One of her shoes had come undone or was broken and her foot slipped out more than once as we walked the rest of the way up the hill. The whole way I thought I could hear her mutter “Gabrielle, Gabrielle, Gabrielle….”
I delivered her to her door where there was a bench. She pointed to it and I understood that she wanted to sit, so I placed her satchel down and helped her to sit. When she was settled I waved at her, upset with myself that I couldn’t remember how to say good-bye, a simple adios. She said something in Spanish ending with seniorita which made me smile. As I was leaving I could hear her say my name again, and I thought to myself, we don’t need to understand each other to help one another. It seemed such a small thing to stop and give her a hand, yet hearing her say my name as I was walking away, I thought maybe it meant more to her – the kindness of a stranger. I do know how that feels, an unexpected gesture that lifts your spirit each time you think of it.
Mali and I continued on our way until we came to the stairs that would lead down a path eventually arriving at Otavalo.
The first set of stairs…..
As I went down this very long set of stairs I realized that I would be coming back this way and have to climb back up. Definitely this would be a challenge. I stopped at the bottom to admire the beautiful paintings both on the stairs and on the wall below them. I continued walking along a beautiful cobblestone path and…..
Then I came to the next staircase.
When I turned around at the bottom of the hill which was of cobblestone structure, I was amazed at how beautiful it was to look back on the paintings going up the stairs. Then I thought, oh boy, I have to get back up that very steep hill and then the stairs. I would not want to be hauling my groceries up this hill at the end of the day. This is when it occurred to me as I made my way back, the young boy from the family I’m staying with takes this route to and from school each day. Yesterday I saw him carrying his guitar up the driveway as he arrived home after school. I have to admire him. I felt the effects of the high altitude, my lungs struggling to get a deep breath as I reached the top and made my way back. I certainly don’t need to run anymore, I just need to take this walk 3 or 4 times a week and I’ll be back in shape in no time.
Because I was curious, I decided to walk the grass path leading in the opposite direction once I got back to the first landing. It was a beautiful walk giving me quite a view of Otavalo at one point.
It’s a long way down, an amazing sight.
We made it back home, uphill all the way of course, both of us out of breath but fulfilled I think. I will sleep well tonight.
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