The strangest experience we had was stopping off on a tiny town known for its healers and shaman where cures are offered for a charge.  the town was so small we didn´t know we entered it from the road where the bus dropped us off but Cameron thought it was up the steep cobblestoned road.  Walking past small old stone homes, mixed with green plots of gardens near a fast flowing canal, we had no idea where we were.  A taxi driver, helpful like all the Ecuadoreans we had the fortune to meet, told us yes, the town was higher up.  No one was in the street and again I felt some trepidation. 

But we saw at the top of the hill a big sign painted on the stone: Cureander Internacionale.  I had learned that was the word for healer (cure).  We saw chickens and tame tired dogs, like all dogs we´d seen in Ecuador, but no bell.  We hollered and finally a young native man with long black hair pulled back and wearing athletic pants, denim jacket and sneakers invited us in.  The bathroom was an outhouse. The stone dwelling was not tidy, bare of furniture except a simple wooden bench and a few small wood chairs.  The stone floor on this drizzling day was damp, with small puddles formed by dripping in from the drizzle on the tile roof. Finally a native with a traditional black hat, 3 quarter length white pants and natural fiber sandals appeared.  The son introduced him as Camilo.  And the man said of himself, "Shaman."

Cameron went in for the cure and negotiated in Spanish to get 10 minutes of consultation with a little healing work for $10. (At least that´s what we thought was agree on, but it turned out differently.) He asked for the ten dollars.

The Shaman allowed me to sit on a bench nearby to watch, while he gave Cameron an unlit white candle, and what looked like a glass object, which she was told to rub along her body.  She´s been complaining about her knees, but he kept asking if she had pain in her stomach or feet.  She said no.  He lit up a cigarette and blew it past his cupped hands holding the glass object towards a lit white candle.  Then he asked for $12 to "clear her soul".  He indicated the cigarettes, a bottle of cologne and a bottle of alcohol.  Cameron said she didn´t like any of that, and asked for a recommendation for an herbal remedy.  The shaman shook his head and explained Cameron did not have to take any of those things, but Camilo would imbibe the alcohol and then spray her, which would cure her.  Basically that meant he would spit on her.  We had heard this was the traditional method of cure.

Cameron declined.  We headed back on the bus to Otavalo, enjoyed one of the best meals of our trip at the vegetarian restaurant Buena Vista, where we said at least we´d had an entertaining experience!  At our beautiful hotel, Ali Shungu, we sat by the fire with a New Yorker who climbs mountains regularly, with ropes and picks and all, and continued our new friendship with John, who used to live in Colorado, but now resides on the coast in a condo he purchased overlooking the bay.