Exploring Nabon: The Last Great Stone Mill and “Chinita” in Wonderland

DSC_0373Laurie Paternoster and Mike Churchman in Nabon, Ecuador.

Nabon, Ecuador, is a quiet village just 70 kilometers from Cuenca, where history and fantasy meet.

High in the Andes Mountains, in a bowl surrounded by 9,000 foot peaks, Nabon offers a quiet, simple life.  A small canton of about 16,000 people, it is known as a “matriarchal village,” as most of its male inhabitants historically have left to find jobs in bigger cities, returning home after weeks or months away.

Like most Ecuadorian towns, the square is the central meeting spot fronted by a historical church. On a recent trip organized by local businesswoman Sole Riquetti de Gould, we met colorful residents, explored a historical mill and had lunch at a secluded mountaintop home that challenged the imagination.

So how historical can a grist mill get? Try 400 years! The old mill house is known for producing sweet flour that is used to make some of the best-tasting tortillas around. And it’s run by a pair of 80-somethings.

1. Las Hermanas Maldonado. 2. Power source for mill. 3. The 400-year-old millhouse.

Known as Las Hermanas Maldonado, the sisters are the last of the family that has run the mill since 1618. Like their ancestors before them, the sisters ground grains carried in from the nearby road into flour. With no direct descendants to run the mill, they worry about its future. It is the last watermill-powered stone mill in Ecuador.

For now, a lone young woman traipses the 700 meters from the main highway with loads of grain. She opens the gate from the nearby fast-running stream and urges the lumbering mill into action. Millstones come in pairs. The base stone is stationary. Above the base stone is the turning runner stone that actually does the grinding. Grain is fed by gravity from above down between the stones where it is ground. The flour exits the stones from the sides where it is gathered up and bagged.

Once again I am entranced with this country’s age. Gristmills used to grind corn, wheat, and other grains into flour and meal were a common sight in the early United States. But the first recorded North American gristmill wasn’t built until 1621, in Jamestown, Virginia. There are still operating grist mills in at least 30 states.

The sisters walk gingerly around the old millhouse, showing us where the water flows from the stream directly under the mill. They apologize for not opening the gates to show us the aging millstones at work. The sisters say they are too old now, afraid of falling or getting hurt. They take us to their nearby hacienda where we sit and visit. Soon, it is time to leave the idyllic setting and move on to our next adventure.

 

1. Mike examines the grain shoot. 2. Water turns the wheel under the millhouse. 3. An ancient wheel.

That adventure is lunch in Fantasyland. In fact, it is known as Laura’s Casa y Arte, but it might as well be known as “Chinita in Wonderland.”

The owner of Laura’s Casa, Chinita Vintimilla, is a bundle of energy.DSC_0406

Chinita Vintimilla

Five years ago, Chinita and her husband decided to leave the noise, bustle and vehicle-polluted streets of Cuenca for the peace and quiet of the Andes Mountains. There they found seven acres of green, fertile land ready to receive her vision.

That vision is a playful approach to life. Their home, shop and assorted out buildings are decorated with found objects and others lovingly handmade. Every tree boasts a secret surprise, from heavily planted wooden planters to tinkling mobiles singing in the breeze. And they are no ordinary planters and mobiles. Look closely to find miniature figures tucked among the greenery. The mobiles might be made of utensils, shock absorbers or even keys, depending on the artists’ whim.

Laura’s Casa y Arte, with two of the whimsical touches on the grounds.

And whimsical she is. Strong and seemingly serious, Chinita’s weathered face creases into smiles when visitors compliment her handiwork. “It keeps me busy” she says brightly.

Visitors are welcome in her fairyland daily from 9:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m. and 2:30 to 4:30 p.m. For $1, you can stroll throughout the property to your heart’s content. Then, there is a possibility of a delicious meal – in our case an incredibly hearty chicken soup with a variety of homemade sauces. To top it off, we enjoy luscious ice cream, with an apple fritter and chocolate sauce.

We walk through the garden, past the massive wall of nesting pigeons and under the low-hanging, flowering arch to a sitting area overlooking the mountains. From that point, we see the Chasqui tambo, or meeting point, in the distance. We hear about the Nabon area’s importance as a communications crossroads for Peruvian runners hundreds of years ago. These runners, called “chasquis,” were the messengers of the Inca Empire. Agile, highly trained and physically fit, they were in charge of carrying the quipus, messages and gifts up to 240 kilometers per day through the chasquis relay system. Quipus were devices carried by the runners and consisted of a main cord, with attached varicolored, knotted cords. They were used by the ancient Peruvians for calculating and relaying stories or information. DSC_0374.JPG

The tambo is the bump in the mountain, center of photo.

The tambo we can see in the distance is a high mountain featuring a large concave rock peak. The relay station was one of many along the South American route used for the chasquis to stop at and transfer messages to the next chasqui. There were different sizes and levels of tambos and each one was assigned a different use. The use of the tambo – such as meeting place or shelter – depended on what route it was on and who was allowed to use it, but the majority of them were just to pass the messages along.

We leave the sitting area to explore the grounds. Just beyond the lookout point is a tot-sized table set for imaginary tea time. The trees are filled with whimsical bird feeders and plant holders. Nearby, there is a door ajar, leading into a round hut. It beckons the visitor to explore. Inside are hundreds of dolls – all types, materials, colors and sizes – whose clothing, and sometimes bodies, all are handmade by Chinita. There is still more to see.

Above and below, features found at Laura’s Casa y Arte.

Outside there are rock-paved pathways, plants of every description, handmade critters tucked among the shadows and hand-carved benches strategically placed at viewpoints. Even the fencing appears artistically arranged, using rough cut wood poles at odd angles.

Finding our way back to the main house, we are struck by the assortment of iron implements tacked to the walls. Inside the randomly attached buildings, every corner is filled. Antiques are stacked high on shelves and in corners, hand-crafted keepsakes strewn across tables and inside cupboards. Old, musty books fill shelves above and racks of toys crowd shelves below. Everything is for sale.

There is a small chapel, too, its doors flung open to visitors. Inside, with space enough for a few, there is an altar and a place to pray. There are dogs and ducks and chickens and roosters vying for attention and mingling underfoot. Chinita’s home is charming. Her world is enticing. The experience is one that should not be missed.

When our eyes have taken in as much as our stomachs, it is time to go. It seems fitting that, as Chinita waves goodbye, there is a giant rainbow spreading across the sky. We found the pot of gold.

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The Real Labor Day

Labor Day will never be the same in my mind.

Having celebrated my share of three-day weekends as an expected September vacation, it was refreshing – and educational – to understand for the first time what the day is all about. In Ecuador, and throughout most of the world the recognition of workers falls on May 1. Only Canada and the United States celebrate Labor Day the first Monday in September.

Known as the International Day of the Worker, or May Day, millions of workers marched in parades worldwide. In some places, violence marred the message. But most countries, including Ecuador, celebrated the day in peace, amid passionate pleas for better working conditions, solidarity and equality in the workforce.

Interestingly, this worldwide recognition is rooted in U.S. history. Some accounts report that American union leaders were calling for a recognized “Labor Day” as early as 1882. In 1886, Chicago workers began a general strike on May 1, primarily calling for an eight-hour workday. Working conditions were deplorable at the time, with workers putting in as many as 16 hours of work a day for little pay. Three days into the strike, a bomb was thrown into the crowd and the police responded with gunfire. In the ensuing bedlam, at least eight officers and protesters were killed. Hundreds of individuals were injured. A police round-up netted hundreds of labor leaders and sympathizers, with four being executed by hanging. The bomber who instigated the riot was never identified. Known as the Haymarket Affair, the event was commemorated by leaders of The International Socialist Conference who, meeting in Paris in 1889, chose May 1 as the official Labor Day.

While that meeting kicked off the worldwide recognition of Labor Day, many states in the U.S. had already begun celebrations of their own. Oregon became the first state in the U.S. to recognize Labor Day as an official public holiday in 1887. Then U.S. President Grover Cleveland declared it an official national holiday in 1896, though many states had followed Oregon’s lead and scheduled festivities such as ticker-tape parades and carnivals.

In Cuenca, several thousand workers participated in parades in the historic city center. I was impressed with the variety of workers represented – construction workers, city employees, teachers, transportation providers, electrical workers and more. Each group was designated by their hardhats, caps or brightly colored shirts. Most carried signs or banners lambasting the country’s social security system and pointing to needed changes in Ecuador’s labor laws. After marching several blocks into Cuenca’s main square, Parque Calderon, the groups disbursed to listen to rousing speeches from a platform on the edge of the park.

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As the leader of the teachers unions spoke, my thoughts were carried back into the United States where teachers are demanding the same rights. In states like West Virginia, Oklahoma, Arizona and Kentucky, teachers are demanding higher pay, which has not kept up with inflation or comparable professional jobs. Just as important, teachers and unions are demanding a greater investment in the country’s education in general. It is appalling to see classrooms that are woefully under-equipped to prepare our students for competition in a worldwide economy. I am a bit passionate about that. In Ecuador, teacher unions are fighting for those key points as well as to protect and increase pensions for retired teachers.DSC_0592

While emotions ran high during the impassioned speeches to the crowd, there were no disturbances. To ensure a peaceful day, Ecuadorian authorities were out in full force on foot, on bicycles, in cars and on horseback.

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By mid-day, most of the crowds had dissolved, undoubtedly returning to their homes to enjoy the rest of the enforced day of rest.

Except for the “blue people,” as they are known around town. They are the legions of men and women dressed from head to toe in turquoise blue. They work day – and night – to sweep away the day’s debris and to ensure that early morning brings washed sidewalks in a town where dogs run wild, the constant attention paid to sidewalks is much appreciated.

I stopped to talk to one of the “blue people” in the park. While it was a mandated holiday announced by Ecuadorian President Lenín Moreno, the blue people were still hard at work.

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I could see she was smiling by looking at the sparkle in her eyes. I could not see the rest of her face, covered by a bandanna to prevent inhaling dust and fumes.

“Yes, it is a holiday,” she acknowledged. “But if I don’t clean the park today, who will?”

Then she pointed to a young boy playing nearby. “And because the schools are closed, I am fortunate to have my son with me today. It is a good day.”

As I walked away to enjoy my own holiday plans, I looked back. She waved, and continued sweeping.

It was a good day.