Upscale Markets. Way, Way Up.
The higher you climb in the Andes, the more bargains you'll find. The scenery's pretty good, too.

By K.C. Summers
Washington Post Staff Writer
Sunday, April 13, 2008

Haciendas and Indian crafts markets. It sounded like a good way for two women to see Ecuador.

We had it all figured out. We would fly to the capital, Quito, drive a couple of hours north and spend a week traveling south through the Andes, taking in as many of the country's indigenous markets as we could. If we planned it right, we could hit one every day of the week. Along the way, we'd stay at converted haciendas -- historic estates that now offer paying guests a taste of the high life, literally and figuratively.

During our week in the mountains, Adele and I knew we'd find great crafts and luxury trappings at bargain prices. What we didn't expect was how quickly our focus would become blurred by everything else Ecuador's Sierra region has to offer. Quito, our jumping-off point, distracted us immediately with its historic architecture and vibrant urban scene. The stunning beauty of Cotopaxi National Park drew us away from the markets and onto hiking trails and horses. The preserved colonial city of Cuenca instantly won our hearts, and we spent two days exploring its cobbled streets. And throughout the week, we caught tantalizing glimpses of an indigenous culture rich in tradition and rituals.

Let's just say we got a lot more than we bargained for.

* * *

For such a small country (about the size of Colorado), Ecuador is remarkably diverse. Tucked between Colombia and Peru on South America's west coast, it's probably best known as the gateway to the Galapagos Islands. But it has three other ecosystems: the Amazon, the Pacific coast and the Andes, or Sierra, each with its own distinct climate, terrain and culture.

It was the Andes that captured our attention. Running half the length of the country, the mountains are home to a dramatic avenue of volcanoes (including Cotopaxi, the highest active volcano in the world), deep valleys, lakes and farmland, not to mention the grand old haciendas we hoped to stay in.

The haciendas, also called hosterias, were established during the country's Spanish colonization, when they were awarded as land grants by the king. As the estates flourished, their wealthy owners incorporated ornate tile work, terra cotta roofs, archways, verandas, murals and central courtyards into their designs. After the land reforms of the 1960s many of the haciendas were broken up, refurbished and turned into inns, some with spas and activities such as horseback riding, mountain biking and hiking. Popular with Ecuadorans, they're just beginning to be discovered by Americans.

We were psyched, but the trip presented a few challenges. Getting around seemed problematic, since the country has no comprehensive train system, and neither of us relished driving the mountain roads. We solved that one by hiring cars and drivers through our innkeepers. It would be pricey, but we'd save so much on market finds . . . .

I also spent way too much time trying to match up haciendas with markets, many of which are open only one or two days a week. Turns out Ecuador has so many shop ops there's no need to be compulsive about it. The stuff practically finds you.

We were a little worried about communicating. English isn't spoken widely, and neither of us speaks Spanish, but we tried. Oh, did we try. Maybe it was my rapidly atrophying brain, maybe it was the altitude, but I moronically kept defaulting to French, and Adele to Italian; interestingly, while French didn't work at all, Italian was easily understood. Adele became our official trip interpreter.

The Trail of Wares

Tip No. 1 for the Andes-bound: Heed the altitude warnings. Quito is the second-highest capital in the world at 9,200 feet, and we had even greater elevations in store. Getting out of bed that first morning and walking five feet to the bathroom, I found I'd turned into a senior citizen overnight, wheezing with the exertion of putting one foot in front of the other. And that was with medication.

That didn't keep us from exploring the city, a delectable mix of seedy and trendy (New Town) and a maze of colonial-era cathedrals, plazas and museums (Old Town). Of course, we immediately sniffed out the semi-obscure artisans' craft center beneath the San Francisco Cathedral and scooped up gorgeous woven scarves, colorful tagua nut jewelry, Amazonian pottery and folk art crucifixes. Yikes, my first store and I'd already blown $190. I might as well have been in Old Town Alexandria, but consoled myself with the knowledge that this was a fair-trade co-op that supported the indigenous community.

We found treasures that were far more affordable the next day at Otavalo, an hour and a half north via the Pan-American Highway, the region's main north-south route. The largest and most important market in the country, if not the continent, it draws visitors every day of the week, but Saturday's the biggie. We had arranged for a driver from Hacienda Cusin, our lodging for the next two days, to pick us up in Quito early in the morning, and Angel appeared right on time. Two hours later, after dumping our bags at Cusin, we stepped into the Plaza de los Ponchos.

It was dizzying. And paralyzing. Picture an entire town taken over by market stalls: block after block of textiles, jewelry, masks, leather goods, hats, paintings, ceramics, food, clothing and more . . . with Andean pipe music playing, vendors shouting, shoppers pushing, produce smelling. All we could do was plunge in. I memorized: ¿Cuánto cuesta? (How much?) ¿Tomará menos? (Will you take less?) And the completely ineffectual Sólo curioso, gracias. (Just looking, thanks.)

We strolled, we pointed, we bargained. Two subtly dyed cotton scarves for $12 seemed plenty cheap to me, but it was a thrill to get them for $10, and the young Andean woman selling them looked happy, too. By the end of the afternoon, I'd accumulated six tagua and seed necklaces ($30), two delicately embroidered baby dresses ($8), two straw-and-leather handbags ($28) and -- my best deal by far -- an enormous multicolored woven tablecloth for $10.

Tip No. 2: Bring lots of tote bags to carry your stuff home.

Far from the gringofest we'd expected, Otavalo was a window onto indigenous culture. It was impossible not to admire the style of the Otavaleños as we made our way around town. They make up 20 percent of the population, and their pride and prosperity are apparent. Their costumes are so distinctive: embroidered white blouses, skirts, layers of gold beads and shawls for the women; long braids, slacks and ponchos for the men. Tiny variations on these themes -- the addition of a fedora, the way a shawl is draped, the fastening on a ponytail -- say everything about where you're from.

The Heights of Luxury

Settling in at the Hacienda Cusin that afternoon, we caught our breath and looked around. Wow. Built in the 17th century and artfully restored over the past decade, the walled estate is a haven of whitewashed buildings, 10 acres of perennial gardens and its own stables. Guest rooms are furnished with rustic antiques, colonial art and regional textiles, and most have fireplaces, which the staff comes in and lights each evening. And all against the dramatic backdrop of the Imbabura volcano.

We wandered into a garden party on the grounds, where a group of vacationing Quiteños was watching a dance troupe perform. Lucy Mehler, a native Ecuadoran sporting pearls, lots of silver jewelry and stylish black capris, said she and her city friends come here once a year to relax in the countryside. Her pride was palpable. "My husband is a hotelier, and we've lived around the world," she said. "We could have picked anywhere to retire. We chose Ecuador."

We ate dinner by firelight that night: quinoa soup with herbs and corn, mushroom tart, chicken and vegetables from the hacienda's garden. Even better: the Chilean wine at $2.50 a glass.

No electricity till 3 p.m., the staff announced the next morning. No problem: We hired a driver and set out for the nearby towns of Agato, San Antonio and Cotacachi for, respectively, textiles, woodcarvings and leather. At the home and workshop of a local weaver, an elderly woman demonstrated the craft for us. She spoke no English, but we didn't need words to comprehend the complexity of her task as she combed the rough wool and turned it into yarn. Then we took the obligatory turn through the shop, where, inspired by the grace of the indigenous women I'd been observing, I bought a black shawl for $45. So worth it.

We hit the jackpot again in Cotacachi, a town with more leather stores than I have ever seen in one place. Adele scored a black jacket for $60, her great find of the trip. I might have bought a purse or two, I forget.

We had no money left for woodcarvings, so it was back to the hacienda for tea. Except there was no electricity for hot water, so we really had no choice but to head to the bar for Chilean red. There, as night descended, we played a fierce game of Scrabble by candlelight. Adele trounced me. I blame the altitude.

Our plan of using drivers was working out well -- it certainly eliminated any fears we may have had about safety -- and it was a scenic three-hour drive down the Pan American Highway the next morning to our new digs, Hosteria La Cienega.

La Cienega was a different kind of "wow." Built in the mid-1600s around a central courtyard, it had a much more formal feel than Cusin, with waiters and bellmen lined up in a stiff little receiving line when we arrived. You didn't exactly want to kick your shoes off in the salon, which was furnished with velvet sofas, a piano, lavish flower arrangements and oil paintings of distinguished-looking people. But what a setting, with views of the spectacular Cotopaxi volcano. We had to see that thing up close. We arranged for Segundo, from the hotel staff, to drive us to Cotopaxi National Park, with the 19,347-foot volcano at its heart.

In the car, there was a collective "oooh!" as we glimpsed the symmetrical, snowy top of the volcano, glowing red from the afternoon sun. Driving up winding roads through the clouds, we parked at 13,500 feet and set out on foot.

While Adele trotted up the mountain like a gazelle, I plodded along with leaden feet, my lungs burning. Did you know high altitude can even make your ears hurt? I glared at two Brits skipping past on their way down. "It's great at the top!" one called out cheerily.

Segundo looked at me with concern. "You're a smoker?" he asked.

Sheesh, no. I'm just out of shape. But it was also the altitude: 15,255 feet when we finally stopped. The big revelation: It was snowing up there, despite the year-round springtime temperatures in the valley. As the Brit said, worth the climb.

There was another natural landmark in the area that we had to see: Quilatoa, an emerald-green lake set in the crater of a volcano. So the next morning, after a pass through the hectic Latacunga market (we stocked up on bananas and citrus fruit), we set out with Segundo again. The plan: We would hike the mile or so down the steep crater to the lake, then ride horses back for the tough uphill climb.

I was happy just with the drive to the lake, over switchbacks and hairpin turns, with panoramic views of the valley below. The green velvet mountains were, amazingly, cultivated as farmland, dotted with bright spots of blue, orange, red and shocking pink: the ponchos of the Indians working in the fields.

In the village of Tigua, we made another find: an artists' co-op selling the town's signature naive paintings on stretched sheepskin canvases, with startlingly fresh religious and agricultural imagery. I bought a fanciful deathbed scene for $95 -- a bargain, trust me -- and another of the crater lake where I'd soon be hiking, illustrated lavishly with condors and llamas.

There were more paintings on display at the trailhead, where indigenous women had set out their wares. They beseeched us with soft, pleading voices. "Amiga, amiga! Laguna, Cotopaxi, condors!" We promised to buy on our way back. And after hiking down the steep incline, kayaking on the pristine lake (how is it possible to get lost in a crater lake? but we did) and riding horses back to the top, we did just that.

Hitting My Limit

Cuenca is widely considered the most beautiful city in Ecuador. The World Heritage Site, with its narrow cobblestone streets and sea of terra cotta roofs, is home to two great cathedrals, a wealth of colonial architecture, world-class museums, markets, sophisticated restaurants and shops. But I'll always remember it for the Mansion Alcazar.

That's where we wrapped up our trip -- not at a hacienda, but an elegant boutique hotel, housed in an 1870s mansion built around a tiled central courtyard and furnished with antiques and Oriental rugs. Our room, with rose-petal-strewn beds and an ornate marble bath, was so far above our usual as to be laughable -- but here, it cost about the same as a flophouse in New York.

We visited lots of museums and cathedrals during our two days in Cuenca, I swear. But we also hit the markets. I hated to admit it, but I was slowing down. I bought a bar of "Come to Me! Come to Me!" soap just for the lurid packaging but mostly indulged in some prime people-watching: a young Indian woman in an indigo velvet skirt trying on a snappy red fedora, guys hawking rat poison and toilet paper, a weathered indigenous woman with a basket on her back sharing the sidewalk with a miniskirted teen in a tight T-shirt decorated with rhinestones that spelled out "Little Angel."

We walked and walked. At a place called 106 Artisans, we found three entire floors packed with vendors, but I didn't buy a thing. I was marketed out. Must have been the altitude.