Back in Boston, and freaked out (in a positive way) a street musician
My wife and I were strolling through the Quincy market last Friday evening after we landed from Germany. We heard a very able Andean (obvious from his appearance, instruments and music) street musician playing typical folk tunes on various bamboo pipes to a pre-recorded background band. His tone was excellent, as was his choice of tunes. My wife wanted to give him $5 and move on. But after she gave him him the money, he ended his tune, so I went up to say hi. I spoke Spanish, as I don't speak Quechua, which I was pretty sure was his native language (it was). He knew some English, but was relieved to be able speak Spanish for a while. He noted my Spain-Spanish immediately, but there were no real differences other than the accent.
I asked him what country he was from, and when he told me (Ecuador), I immediately guessed what village he was from. He gaped, and said he had never heard a Gringo (immediately apologized for using the term, but I said it was OK) say he had even heard of this village, much less guessing it right off the bat. I said, of course I had heard of it, since I had been there. This really blew him away, and he asked how it was that I ever found my way to his village? I explained that I had been invited by the government, and when the work part was done, they drove me out to see two villages out in the mountains that were known (locally, that is) for different reasons. The second village was known for being a local center for leather goods. I still have a suede jacket that I bought there over 20 years ago. It looked like something you might expect to be priced at $2000 on Rodeo Drive. It cost $93. The first village was known for both its artistry and its artists. Colorful Andean rugs and carpets at impossibly low prices. I was almost ashamed to be quoted $25 for a substantial hand-woven rug, and then the government people from Quito stepped in to save me from embarrassing myself by saying yes. You are expected to bargain them down from the first quote, no matter what is. So, I packed up my $18 rug, and loaded up on other such items. The so-called "indigenous people," all Quechua speakers, come down to this place every Saturday morning, and people come up from Quito with the occasional tourist bus to buy from them. They told me that this village was famous not only for the artisanal objects, but also for its numerous gifted musicians, who traveled to the four corners of the earth to play their music to appreciative audiences on street corners or small concert halls, folk music clubs, wherever they could get a gig.
If you have been to Ecuador, or if not, if you are a fan of Andean pipes music, you might have heard of the village of Otavalo. The "Otavaleños" are well known in Ecuador for their artistry, but in the Quincy Market in downtown Boston, obviously less so. So, when I immediately suspected this guy was an Otavaleño, he stopped playing to talk to me for such a long time, that my wife was getting visibly impatient. She speaks no Spanish, so she couldn't take part in the conversation, or even follow it. So I said I had to go, but he asked for my card, explained that he was into all kinds of media, etc., and I said sure. This morning, I got a notice that I had a message on Facebook, an account I practically never use, from my new Otavaleño friend. He had been granted a visa to come to the USA and do whatever, and was trying to get his musical group to come up here, too, but they had not been granted visas (yet--still trying).
I don't know if I'll ever make it back down to Ecuador again, but I'd like to. I would have gone back to Otavalo anyway if I do, but now I have an extra reason.
Just one of those trivial, unimportant, chance encounters that make travel so incredibly enriching. I still get asked why I still do a job (49 years this year!) that has me traveling to 3 or 4 or 5 countries a week. THIS is why. I wouldn't have the chance to experience anything like this with a desk job, and I live for little experiences like this.
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You tell it so well that I can see you and the musician talking while the crowd flows by. And so many coincidences!
You have woven a thread into the fantastic tapestry of your life, and by telling it to us, we are part of it too.
