I was a mad hatter in Ecuador. But, no Panama Hat though.

Up until my Ecuador trip became real, which is when I started doing my homework about that country, I had no idea that the Panama Hat has its origins in Ecuador. A Panama Hat is really an Ecuadorian Hat.  Things, profound and mundane, that we find out every day!

As tempting it was, I didn't buy myself one of those Panama Hats. They simply do not mesh with the person that I think I am. Furthermore, most movie portrayals of characters with Panama Hats are of sleazy men :)

I did get a hat though. I was waiting at Mitad del Mundo for the tour to Pululahua, the volcanic crater, and walked in and out the stores there.  In one was a young woman, who seemed to have a lot more indigenous blood in her, though perhaps not entirely indigenous.  Her economic well being depends on tourists like me spending money, I thought to myself.

She offered me a Panama Hat to try on and I smiled my negation. She then pointed to a stack of felt hats.

"Mucho calor" I said, hoping my Spanish was correct.  Plus, I already have a felt hat at home that I don't use because, well, it just doesn't fit my persona.

She showed me another set, and said "you can roll this and pack into your bag."

I liked that one--not because it could be rolled up, but because I could see myself wearing that even in Eugene during the summer.

"How much?"

She flashed thrice the five fingers on one hand to mean fifteen dollars. I knew I was expected to bargain and pay a lower price.  At the same time, I knew that any additional dollar or two would mean a lot more to her than to me.  But, then, when in Rome, do as Romans do!  So, I showed my ten fingers and then three more. She agreed.

I had a new hat.

I have another summer hat at home. But, my favorite of all is a hat that I no longer have.  In 1994, when visiting the Amish areas in Pennsylvania, I fell in love with those Amish hats and bought one for myself. There practically wasn't a day that I did not wear that in Bakersfield, where the Sun was merciless.  I would have had it for a lot longer if not for that fateful day when my daughter rushed into the car and jumped on to the car seat.  The seat on which I had temporarily rested my Amish hat. I heard the hat being crushed.

I hope this hat will survive a lot longer than the few months that Amish hat did.

As I walked around with this new sunscreen on my head, I was watching people and listening to their conversations if they were in English. I heard one woman say "there are so many cultures all around." To which a man replied, "imagine how multicultural all of us will be as more and more people marry across cultures in America."

I couldn't resist the temptation.  "Where in America are you folks from?"  It looked like a husband and wife with their three children, the oldest looking like a pre-teen.

"From Pennsylvania. Lancaster. Amish country, you know."

"Oh, I love that part of the country. I was there many years ago, and bought myself an Amish hat.  I am from Oregon."

"We drove up to Crater Lake. Every summer we take our kids all over."

I looked at the eldest and said "hey, you owe your parents big time."

The dad jabbed his son and said "see, you owe us when you get older."

"Can you adopt me into your family and take me on your trips as well?" I joked with them.

While the parents laughed, the kids looked at me, perhaps wondering what to make of this brown-skinned guy with a local hat, but talking American, and yet with a strange accent.  Or maybe they thought this is how people from Oregon are!