RovingMind: In Search Of Panama Hats, Part II

Cuenca, Ecuador -- some 8,400 ft. in the Andes

Winding down out of the high passes in the bus, looking out over the city, I was struck first off by all the domes, shiny in the crisp, mountain air. Cuenca is a city of churches, as it turned out -- dozens of them. They seemed to be everywhere, including the central plaza area, which boasted not one but two cathedrals.

The "Old Cathedral"

Down, down our bus descended, until we entered the city proper...with the cobblestone streets, the four rivers winding through, balconies fronted with ironwork, beautiful courtyards with tended gardens within. I became a fan of the place before I even checked into the hostel! The Spanish influence seemed to be everywhere. No wonder that the city has been declared a World Cultural Heritage Site.

However, I wasn't able to connect with the inhabitants as well as I had in other countries in Latin America. Many Ecuadorians were descendants of the Incas and other early immigrants to the Andes, with a culture much more stoic and conservative than, say, neighboring Colombia. Often I couldn't break through to them, especially out in the countryside, as much as I tried.

Nor could I speak with them that well in Spanish. It seems that the accent or style I learned in Central America did not communicate briskly there. Because this was disappointing, and sometimes exasperating, I decided to concentrate on something else...to wit, my unofficial "mission" there, getting to the bottom of those Panama hats.

Hot on the trail.

As it turned out, Cuenca and its suburbs are the hat capital of Ecuador. You can this see just walking around -- colorful murals and logos adorned walls, walkways and store fronts. Indeed, los sombreros de paja toquilla, as they often call them here (hats of toquilla palm) are practically a symbol for the area.

And it's not just a male thing, by the way. To the contrary, women favor the famous headware more than the men. Many even make their own. Amazingly, using special treatments for longevity of the palm fibers, some keep them for decades, even their entire adult lives.


An Indian woman, in Sunday finest.

Now, of course, even seekers of truth get hungry. As many of you know, I make it a habit of sampling unusual or even exotic foods in the countries I visit. I consider it part of the cultural experience; how you really get your money's worth from traveling. And Ecuador was no exception.

Barbecuing cuy -- pronounced "coo-eee"

Now, exactly what is this cuy? you might be wondering...

In a real culinary twist, compared to the United States anyhow, guinea pigs have been used for food here since the time of the Incas. And probably even before that because the Incas weren't in Ecuador that long (arriving shortly before the Spaniards). I doubt that much has changed in that time as far as preparing them.

If you want real fresh, just pick one out and the woman will reach into the cage, grab one by the scruff of the neck and...well, you get the idea. The next thing you know, yours is being rotated on a stake over white, hot coals of carbón wood.

As for the result, it tastes like chicken, or squirrel, or something. Nothing exceptional, if you didn't know what it was. Rounding out the exotic foods list for this trip, I also had piranha (supposedly) down in the Upper Amazon, but that's another story. Back to the search for the sombreros.

While hat sellers abound in Cuenca itself, and a few hat makers as well, eventually I found that the wholesale production was done in the outlying pueblos. Little towns such as Biblián, and especially Sigsig, emerged as more like the real sources.

So it was back to the bus station, terminal terrestre, to use the Spanish, for a trip farther up into the mountains

The central plaza in Sigsig.

While Cuenca is sprawled out over elevations of eight-thousand-some feet, Sigsig is even higher. And I was huffing and puffing on my walks as it was. The height affected me so much that, those first days in Cuenca, I was light-headed, tired, and had to take naps every few hours.

In time I had adapted to Cuenca's elevation, but when I got off the bus in Sigsig I knew that I'd be woozy yet again. But no matter -- the quest had to go on; it could not be denied. In fact, it put a spring in my step when I heard that they fashion Habana Clásicas up there while standing on street corners. On street corners! Can you imagine?

In Sigsig, they do make them on street corners...

...and in co-ops and homes and little shops...

Townswomen wear them to community gatherings.

Sigsig seemed to have it all, as far as the hats go. And it was a pleasant, little place to boot, unfettered of souvenir stands and chain restaurants, situated between two lofty peaks.

Mainly though, I thought that I was finally there; the birthplace of the style icon itself, the place where Panamas came into being.

Then, disappointment again...I was told that, no, actually it didn't begin in Sigsig or Biblián or even in Cuenca. Rather, hat-making migrated to this region from a little town called Montecristi, near the Pacific coast. Flat-Landerville, as we call such places back in PA. La Costa, as they call it here.

Hat production had been shunted away from there decades ago, I learned, to take advantage of the numbers of skilled weavers in the highlands. Nowadays, the Cuenca area produces the most by far, but Montecristi still has the best, the superfinos. Moreover, it's where it all began.

As you can imagine, what choice did I have? After three weeks up in thin air country, I was tired of the mountains anyhow. A few days later, I returned to terminal terrestre in Cuenca and caught a slow bus for the coast.