…I always knew time fly’s when you´re having fun- but when youre giving presentations every week; working on secondary applications; and trying to sure up a scholarship proposal; time fly´s faster than fun has ever seen.
I´m rushing this last post in the final minutes of the internet café at Santa Maria being open- but I wanted to share my last tangible English feelings of the trip with those I care about most, before I finally get to see them in what has been too long.
As I prepare to board a plane back to the states tomorrow, I´m overwhelmed with feelings. This past day has been spent full of sad yet humbling goodbyes, and the next days upon my return will include a joy and excitement I´ve spent the last 3 months building up. In all, I´m nowhere near ready to leave- Ecuador has become my home, my life, and treated in a way that I hope my volunteer work and determination can atleast repay in the slightest- but I´m ready for the challenges and “real life” that awaits to which I can apply the lessons, certainty, and motivation that I´ve found here on the other side of the equator.
Whether or not people think I am the same, or think ive changed immensely, all I can hope for above all other aspirations, is that they find in me the happiness, possibilities, and hope, that I´ve found this world has to offer.
Hasta Pronto; y espero que todo sea bien
andrés blanco
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Monday, August 16, 2010
cumpleaños, selva y despedidas
Today was a sad day. Actually, not extremely sad or anything; but in terms of sentimental feelings and things that “change our lives”, today, the family here in Tumbaco had to say good bye to my “hermano,” Ajay, and although I can’t say I’ll miss him in comparison to things like: home, ice cream, English, or having a dependable internet connection/ any dependable way to keep in touch with those I care about- I’d be lying if I said he wasn’t going to be missed. Nevertheless, hopping in the car with Elsa and Jorge after dropping him off at el aeropuerto Mariscal Sucre, life here in Ecuador continued on. At first with a some-what odd silence as the concept of returning to the three of us sunk in; but not for long, as Elsa received a phone call from her sister in Quito, and we went off into the afternoon visiting family, drinking café, and barely making it back home through the pouring rain that left Tumbaco looking more like a lake, than the pueblo it usually is.
It’s crazy to think that Ajay’s six week stay here has already come to an end, but as we parted ways, said our goodbyes, and promised to keep in touch, I realized it’s even crazier to think about how it’s been 9 weeks since I last saw the airport here. Without delving into a reflective monologue about how much I feel I’ve grown and matured, I can only hope that over the next three weeks I’m able to continue to enjoy my time here as much as I have the past two months, and ensure that the next time I visit the airport, it’s with no doubt in my mind that my journey here was worth it and that I’ve made a change in the lives of those around me anywhere near as great as they’ve made in mine.
In the past week since I last had a chance to update my blog, life here has been full of excitement. Ok, ok, again, excitement probably isn’t the best way to describe everything that has gone on since we last touched base, but since I have finally finished with imputing all data into my computer for my research, have plotted the growth of the children in comparison to the WHO standards, and will now only need to interpret the results, excitement, relief, and a bit of exhaustion, are really all I feel.
Along the lines of excitement though, last weekend was spent in the Amazon jungle. Saturday morning we woke up early to meet one of Jorge’s workers who kindly ensured we boarded the right bus, and as we waited for about an hour or so, we were quickly brought up to date about the local soccer clubs, animals to keep an eye out for in the jungle, and learned just about everything about Jorge’s jardinero (gardening) business. The bus ride was hot, crowded, and about 5 hours long- at least until the first stop. Since we hopped on mid-trip in Tumbaco, instead of starting out Quito, I spent the first hour or so standing, reading a book Caity’s brother gave me, and listening to the pleas of people who would come on and off the bus trying to sell anything from candy to DVDs (which, by the way, I´ve now seen Inception, Shrek 3 & 4, and a discovery channel collection on “the Universe”). When we finally descended to sea level, the humidity greeted us warmly. Within the first steps off the bus I was already sweating profusely, and the noises, smells, and brightly painted stores encompassed a livelihood and dynamic that I hadn’t seen since visiting Moroccan marketplaces last fall. In between catching our next bus to the dock closest to “Liana Lodge” (the best/ best bargain for travelers according to Juan Fernando- the Duran’s son who runs a tour business) Ajay and I delved into the local gastronomy, ultimately picking a traditional restaurant to satisfy our hunger after Ajay turned down my numerous offers to try the local street vendors grilling skewers of, well, for lack of certainty, miscellaneous meats and vegetables. After another bus ride, this one a little shorter, we arrived at a small stop in the middle of dense greenery. Immediately we were greeted by a shoe-less indigenous guide, who woke up as a result of our bus driver honking and speeding off down the unpaved road as soon as we stepped out the door.
In short, our journey was much briefer than I think either of us wanted. We only spent the night in jungle after getting a call that we were direly needed in the clinic Monday, but even with only a little less than 24 hours amongst canopies of trees, canoeing tributaries of the Amazon river and turning 22 to the singing of exotic birds and monkeys shouting, the jungle was everything my imagination anticipated and more. One of the interesting things about Liana lodge, other than the whole, no electricity, tri-lingual staff, and 4-star hotel service, is that it is only part of a larger project designed to protect the rain forest and increase indigenous involvement in the tourist industry. As such, associated with the lodge is an immense animal reserve that’s home to animals I’d only seen from watching Jungle Book; as you can imagine, it was any easy choice to decide what we’d fill our precious time pursuing. Since we made it to the lodge just before night fall, the first evening was spent relaxing around the communal fire and drinking an array of fresh juices and Pilsner.
Once we got back to our pitch black lodge, I ended up having to take the bed closest to the giant spider web due to Ajay´s fear of arachnids. Somehow the roosters around our cabana were louder than at home, and I probably slept less than normal, but with the pressure of enjoying every second we had, when the sun was finally out, we sped through breakfast and threw on knee-high rubber boots to explore the jungle. With the help of a guide who pointed out everything from termite burrows to meter long snakes, we slithered through the jungle, reaching a look out that, although was a bit laughable in comparison to Cotopaxi, gave an amazing view of the extensively flat and never ending reaches of green vegetation that spread out from the river we rode to reach the lodge, and faded into an indeterminable haze of clouds and tree-tops at the horizon. Following a short rest, we headed down to the wildlife reserve. Below I’ve included some pictures of my favorite animals there.
Being short on time we quickly left the reserve running back through the jungle and catching a canoe towards to the lodge. All of the haste was worth it, considering that we made it to the bus on time, but since we reached the stop about an hour before the bus (running on Ecuadorian time…), it’s hard to say that the running part was entirely necessary. Looking back on it, we spent as much time on the bus as in the jungle, but even the few short hours there were a great way to start being 22.
The week in the clinic was spent preparing for a dentistry brigade that would be visiting from the United States. In all, this process involved doing inventory, once again reviewing the translations of the hundreds of pieces of dental equipment that would accompany the group, and basically following whatever demands the staff could think of. The hectic nature of this kind of grueling work was alleviated a bit when I came home Monday night to a chocolate mousse cake that Elsa had baked for me; which, after eating some of the most delicious crepes I’d ever had the pleasure to taste (garlic shrimp with a gravy that deserved to be found in a professional cook book somewhere), was the perfect way to end the meal.
After singing happy birthday to me in English with Spanish verses at the end to wish me many more years, I made a wish, blew out the candles, and enjoyed the rest of the night with my make shift family. It goes without saying, that even though I went to bed full, that I night I missed home, my real family, and my friends, a little more than the usual.
The rest of the week, as I began to explain and then got side tracked thinking about chocolate cake, was mainly full of working in the clinic. Other than a 7.2 earthquake that I’m pretty sure didn’t even occur (well, ok, it did occur, but it was so deep in the earth, and significantly far away that it only shook the chandeliers a little bit), until Thursday and Friday when the dental crew arrived, I basically spent every waking minute entering data into my computer and trying to sneak left over pieces of my birthday cake. Sharing the clinic with the group of dentists was a fun, and interesting experience. I’d never really felt any sort of special intrigue toward dentistry, but after watching hundreds of teeth extractions, in the very least I gained a newfound appreciation for the profession, and at times though it might be kind of fun; yet, now that I’ve had more than a day to think about it, it’s nothing compared to the way I feel about medicine.
But speaking of medicine, the rest of this week is probably going to be a bit more action packed than the last. This Thursday I will be leading my final group meeting for the High Blood Pressure Support group, and hopefully, by covering the topics of exercise and diet a little more in depth, I can leave the group with the motivation to change their lives in a tangible, productive way. Included in this though, means that I have to once again experience what it feels like to be a telemarketer and make another few hundred calls or so over the next two days… It’ll be alright though, one thing I’ve learned since being here is that no matter how arduous, or difficult it may be to try and make a difference, no matter how insignificant the consequent change may seem, it’s still a change that wouldn’t have existed otherwise.
I hope that the final days of summer treat you all well, and before I go start working on my presentation, I also want to send a special thanks to all of you who have made a change in my life and given me the motivation to continue on this path. hasta luego
drew
It’s crazy to think that Ajay’s six week stay here has already come to an end, but as we parted ways, said our goodbyes, and promised to keep in touch, I realized it’s even crazier to think about how it’s been 9 weeks since I last saw the airport here. Without delving into a reflective monologue about how much I feel I’ve grown and matured, I can only hope that over the next three weeks I’m able to continue to enjoy my time here as much as I have the past two months, and ensure that the next time I visit the airport, it’s with no doubt in my mind that my journey here was worth it and that I’ve made a change in the lives of those around me anywhere near as great as they’ve made in mine.
In the past week since I last had a chance to update my blog, life here has been full of excitement. Ok, ok, again, excitement probably isn’t the best way to describe everything that has gone on since we last touched base, but since I have finally finished with imputing all data into my computer for my research, have plotted the growth of the children in comparison to the WHO standards, and will now only need to interpret the results, excitement, relief, and a bit of exhaustion, are really all I feel.
Along the lines of excitement though, last weekend was spent in the Amazon jungle. Saturday morning we woke up early to meet one of Jorge’s workers who kindly ensured we boarded the right bus, and as we waited for about an hour or so, we were quickly brought up to date about the local soccer clubs, animals to keep an eye out for in the jungle, and learned just about everything about Jorge’s jardinero (gardening) business. The bus ride was hot, crowded, and about 5 hours long- at least until the first stop. Since we hopped on mid-trip in Tumbaco, instead of starting out Quito, I spent the first hour or so standing, reading a book Caity’s brother gave me, and listening to the pleas of people who would come on and off the bus trying to sell anything from candy to DVDs (which, by the way, I´ve now seen Inception, Shrek 3 & 4, and a discovery channel collection on “the Universe”). When we finally descended to sea level, the humidity greeted us warmly. Within the first steps off the bus I was already sweating profusely, and the noises, smells, and brightly painted stores encompassed a livelihood and dynamic that I hadn’t seen since visiting Moroccan marketplaces last fall. In between catching our next bus to the dock closest to “Liana Lodge” (the best/ best bargain for travelers according to Juan Fernando- the Duran’s son who runs a tour business) Ajay and I delved into the local gastronomy, ultimately picking a traditional restaurant to satisfy our hunger after Ajay turned down my numerous offers to try the local street vendors grilling skewers of, well, for lack of certainty, miscellaneous meats and vegetables. After another bus ride, this one a little shorter, we arrived at a small stop in the middle of dense greenery. Immediately we were greeted by a shoe-less indigenous guide, who woke up as a result of our bus driver honking and speeding off down the unpaved road as soon as we stepped out the door.
In short, our journey was much briefer than I think either of us wanted. We only spent the night in jungle after getting a call that we were direly needed in the clinic Monday, but even with only a little less than 24 hours amongst canopies of trees, canoeing tributaries of the Amazon river and turning 22 to the singing of exotic birds and monkeys shouting, the jungle was everything my imagination anticipated and more. One of the interesting things about Liana lodge, other than the whole, no electricity, tri-lingual staff, and 4-star hotel service, is that it is only part of a larger project designed to protect the rain forest and increase indigenous involvement in the tourist industry. As such, associated with the lodge is an immense animal reserve that’s home to animals I’d only seen from watching Jungle Book; as you can imagine, it was any easy choice to decide what we’d fill our precious time pursuing. Since we made it to the lodge just before night fall, the first evening was spent relaxing around the communal fire and drinking an array of fresh juices and Pilsner.
Once we got back to our pitch black lodge, I ended up having to take the bed closest to the giant spider web due to Ajay´s fear of arachnids. Somehow the roosters around our cabana were louder than at home, and I probably slept less than normal, but with the pressure of enjoying every second we had, when the sun was finally out, we sped through breakfast and threw on knee-high rubber boots to explore the jungle. With the help of a guide who pointed out everything from termite burrows to meter long snakes, we slithered through the jungle, reaching a look out that, although was a bit laughable in comparison to Cotopaxi, gave an amazing view of the extensively flat and never ending reaches of green vegetation that spread out from the river we rode to reach the lodge, and faded into an indeterminable haze of clouds and tree-tops at the horizon. Following a short rest, we headed down to the wildlife reserve. Below I’ve included some pictures of my favorite animals there.
Being short on time we quickly left the reserve running back through the jungle and catching a canoe towards to the lodge. All of the haste was worth it, considering that we made it to the bus on time, but since we reached the stop about an hour before the bus (running on Ecuadorian time…), it’s hard to say that the running part was entirely necessary. Looking back on it, we spent as much time on the bus as in the jungle, but even the few short hours there were a great way to start being 22.
The week in the clinic was spent preparing for a dentistry brigade that would be visiting from the United States. In all, this process involved doing inventory, once again reviewing the translations of the hundreds of pieces of dental equipment that would accompany the group, and basically following whatever demands the staff could think of. The hectic nature of this kind of grueling work was alleviated a bit when I came home Monday night to a chocolate mousse cake that Elsa had baked for me; which, after eating some of the most delicious crepes I’d ever had the pleasure to taste (garlic shrimp with a gravy that deserved to be found in a professional cook book somewhere), was the perfect way to end the meal.
After singing happy birthday to me in English with Spanish verses at the end to wish me many more years, I made a wish, blew out the candles, and enjoyed the rest of the night with my make shift family. It goes without saying, that even though I went to bed full, that I night I missed home, my real family, and my friends, a little more than the usual.
The rest of the week, as I began to explain and then got side tracked thinking about chocolate cake, was mainly full of working in the clinic. Other than a 7.2 earthquake that I’m pretty sure didn’t even occur (well, ok, it did occur, but it was so deep in the earth, and significantly far away that it only shook the chandeliers a little bit), until Thursday and Friday when the dental crew arrived, I basically spent every waking minute entering data into my computer and trying to sneak left over pieces of my birthday cake. Sharing the clinic with the group of dentists was a fun, and interesting experience. I’d never really felt any sort of special intrigue toward dentistry, but after watching hundreds of teeth extractions, in the very least I gained a newfound appreciation for the profession, and at times though it might be kind of fun; yet, now that I’ve had more than a day to think about it, it’s nothing compared to the way I feel about medicine.
But speaking of medicine, the rest of this week is probably going to be a bit more action packed than the last. This Thursday I will be leading my final group meeting for the High Blood Pressure Support group, and hopefully, by covering the topics of exercise and diet a little more in depth, I can leave the group with the motivation to change their lives in a tangible, productive way. Included in this though, means that I have to once again experience what it feels like to be a telemarketer and make another few hundred calls or so over the next two days… It’ll be alright though, one thing I’ve learned since being here is that no matter how arduous, or difficult it may be to try and make a difference, no matter how insignificant the consequent change may seem, it’s still a change that wouldn’t have existed otherwise.
I hope that the final days of summer treat you all well, and before I go start working on my presentation, I also want to send a special thanks to all of you who have made a change in my life and given me the motivation to continue on this path. hasta luego
drew
Tuesday, August 10, 2010
written last week...
Well, with two days left of being 21 all I can say is that the past year has been the best of my life. Not only have I been blessed to the point that I’ve traveled to more than a handful of countries; somehow convinced the woman of my dreams to spend the rest of our lives together; and been able to do so without any major setbacks; the combination of all these things has set a foundation, and a certainty in my life that is incomparable. Even though I still find it hard to sleep between rooster crows and honking car horns, in terms of professions, and jobs, and all that good stuff, I think I’ve found something that I could potentially do for the rest of my life- and with the aforementioned foundation- all the ambiguity of med schools or future plans seem conquerable as long as I continue to follow my heart and dreams.
Since I last wrote, I’ve been through probably the most dangerous experience of my life, (also the most tiring), been extremely elated to have overcome this challenge, and if possible in spite of hours of tireless work, even content as I’ve undertaken the challenge that brought me here: my thesis research.
To put the strenuousness of my past weekend into context I’ll stray away from my usual exaggerative descriptions and only give a concise timeline of the preparation, the events, and the facts of the endeavor. To begin, Saturday morning, Ajay and I got up at 5 a.m. After hopping on a bus into Quito, we headed toward the center of town where the tour agency was. Running on American time opposed to Ecuadorian, we showed up at the arranged meeting time of 8 a.m.; only later to wait until our guides arrived at a little past 9. After getting fitted with all sorts of snow equipment, boots, crampons, and a backpack to throw it all into, we hit the road by 11; Ajay and I rode in a jeep with three of our guides, while 6 other foreigners that were accompanying us and another guide tagged along in a separate car. With two stops- one for gas and café, and one to buy food for our meals- the trip to Cotopaxi national park took about 3 hours. By 3 p.m. we were in the parking lot.
At this point, we were an hour and a half hike away from the “refugio”- a.k.a. the shelter where anyone crazy enough to attempt an ascent at the mountain rests between hiking the dirt road to reach there, and throwing on their snow gear. With about 50 pounds of gear we traversed the path; which, thanks to Cotopaxi’s volcanic tendencies consisted of a mixture of dirt, dust, and ash, that under your feet was about as easy to walk through as beach sand. When we reached the safe-haven, the whole “altitude factor” became obvious; at this point we were at 4,800+ meters above sea level- or about 16,000 feet. After a quick lunch of chicken and rice (yum!) we threw on our snow gear and learned the technicalities of climbing on glacial ice. The only downside I found to this form of climbing compared to traditional hiking is that you’re weighed down by about three times as much clothes as normal, and the addition of footwear as sturdy as moonboots with metal teethed cleats, makes your legs feel like they’re waking up out of a coma. As one annoyingly loud American who over-used the word “dude” put it, “one pound on your feet, is like carrying three pounds on your back;” and I’m pretty sure the boots and all other feet equipment had to have weighed at least 5 pounds. Long story short, it became increasingly hard to dredge uphill as the lessons in ice-picking and rope tying carried on.
Following the intro, we ate again. As the weekend went on the food got increasingly worse, but the hunger your body gets from rolling around in the snow and fighting for oxygen is surprisingly undeniable- even if all they serve is pasta and boxed wine.
Soon, it was time for bed. I would say it was time to sleep, but since we headed to our bunks around 7 p.m. and I maybe got 15 minutes of sleep before we got up at 12:30, it would be a lie to say otherwise. I tossed and turned for the 5 and a half hours of “rest” only able to hear the occasional snore, or cough over my pounding heart beat and throbbing headache- for the first time in my life, I think I began to get altitude sickness…
Regardless, I didn’t come all that way for nothing. When the guides phone alarm finally went off, I jumped out of bed, threw on my gear, and tried to drink as much water as I could while still saving some for the ascent. It was pitch black outside when we began to climb, and within two hours of hiking, we reached snow and began the real deal. We were split into sets of 2 gringos and a guide, blindly strapped up our crampons in the dark and took a few deep breaths to even sequester the minimal amount of oxygen.
Before I go any further, a little word of advice: if a guide asks you if you’re doing alright it’s safe to say something like “Sí estoy bien” or, “Sí, sí, no pasa nada;” but when he asks if you’re “Super bien”- say NO. Immediately, without hesitation, do anything you can to convince the guy that you’re as mediocre as possible- otherwise you might end up in the boat I found myself in.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, the guide who questioned me as to whether I was feeling good had previously made plans to lead a tour on another mountain range at 11 a.m. that morning- two hours away from Cotopaxi. So as I strapped into the safety line with my now friend through shared suffering, Kevin (a 4-year NCAA track runner), and the guide who was in a rush, I had very little knowledge of what was coming next.
Within thirty minutes we had passed every other three-some of hikers in our group. By 5:20 a.m. – 3 hours and thirty five minutes later- we made it to the summit. Everything in between is lost in a haze of physical exhaustion and oxygen deprivation.
For the three or so hours that we trekked to the top we passed, not only every other hiking group that had left the refugio, some beginning as early as two hours before us, but caves, narrow snow-covered plank like walkways, and magnificent ice formations sculpted by the temperamental hands of freezing wind and gravity.
We beat the sunrise to the summit. In the darkness, our head-lamps lit the view of the monstrous crater that calls 19,000 feet its home. Looking into to it, I developed an entirely new sensation and definition of human insignificance compared to the power of nature. This feeling was immediately accentuated by the numbness that crawled from my finger tips, up my hands, and over every inch of exposed skin that peaked from under my ski mask. Although less frozen parts of me craved to stay put until the sunrise came, gusting wind, a now frozen set of under-shirts, gloves, and scarf, and a pair of legs that were more than ready to move down-hill, easily convinced me that my time had been sufficient atop the world’s second-tallest active volcano.
The path down wasn’t nearly as easy as I anticipated. I’ve neglected to mention that the ascent was the most teasing, arduous battle I’ve encountered in my life. Around every bend and after every unbelievably steep incline, there waited another, rising ceaselessly, with an incredulous steepness that taunted the legs I could no longer feel to even dare to continue.
Thus, on the way back, it wasn’t any less challenging to maintain control, footing, and a focused mind; and really, given the fatigue amassed on the path the first time, it was probably more dangerous to move down than it was to climb. But like everything else this day encompassed for me- I somehow managed to carry on, redefining my personal limits of capability. Not to mention that the accomplishment and adrenaline rush of finally reaching a point where there were no more huge climbs and only horizon to be seen made anything seem possible. So we headed down the same path in reverse, following the lead of Kevin but truly led by our guide and his words of motivation to carry on- fueled by his previous arrangements. In the end, by the time we reached the limit between snow and dirt our guide ran off downhill, leaving us to stroll back to the refugio at our own pace, only looking back time and again to see other groups still attempting to reach the summit off in the distance as the sun slowly climbed in tandem.
Ajay, sadly, didn’t make it to the top. Luck being as it was, his partner ended up falling ill at only a few hundred meters past the snow line, and although this distance is only an estimation and I’m not sure how far he actually made it, to this day he still says that “Cotopaxi wasn’t that bad;” which, based on my experience, can only mean that he didn’t make it too far…
...So I guess I got a little more long winded that I anticipated there, but looking back, Cotopaxi was a great experience and sort of deserved a post dedicated to it. Since overcoming the challenge I have finally completed data collection and coding for my thesis and will soon being analysis (the LONG part of the research…); but for now, we´re off to the jungle. I´ve included a link to my facebook photos from Cotopaxi, and as always, hope everyone reading this is doing well.
Pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2051490&id=1073280085&l=e4f2b1173d
Since I last wrote, I’ve been through probably the most dangerous experience of my life, (also the most tiring), been extremely elated to have overcome this challenge, and if possible in spite of hours of tireless work, even content as I’ve undertaken the challenge that brought me here: my thesis research.
To put the strenuousness of my past weekend into context I’ll stray away from my usual exaggerative descriptions and only give a concise timeline of the preparation, the events, and the facts of the endeavor. To begin, Saturday morning, Ajay and I got up at 5 a.m. After hopping on a bus into Quito, we headed toward the center of town where the tour agency was. Running on American time opposed to Ecuadorian, we showed up at the arranged meeting time of 8 a.m.; only later to wait until our guides arrived at a little past 9. After getting fitted with all sorts of snow equipment, boots, crampons, and a backpack to throw it all into, we hit the road by 11; Ajay and I rode in a jeep with three of our guides, while 6 other foreigners that were accompanying us and another guide tagged along in a separate car. With two stops- one for gas and café, and one to buy food for our meals- the trip to Cotopaxi national park took about 3 hours. By 3 p.m. we were in the parking lot.
At this point, we were an hour and a half hike away from the “refugio”- a.k.a. the shelter where anyone crazy enough to attempt an ascent at the mountain rests between hiking the dirt road to reach there, and throwing on their snow gear. With about 50 pounds of gear we traversed the path; which, thanks to Cotopaxi’s volcanic tendencies consisted of a mixture of dirt, dust, and ash, that under your feet was about as easy to walk through as beach sand. When we reached the safe-haven, the whole “altitude factor” became obvious; at this point we were at 4,800+ meters above sea level- or about 16,000 feet. After a quick lunch of chicken and rice (yum!) we threw on our snow gear and learned the technicalities of climbing on glacial ice. The only downside I found to this form of climbing compared to traditional hiking is that you’re weighed down by about three times as much clothes as normal, and the addition of footwear as sturdy as moonboots with metal teethed cleats, makes your legs feel like they’re waking up out of a coma. As one annoyingly loud American who over-used the word “dude” put it, “one pound on your feet, is like carrying three pounds on your back;” and I’m pretty sure the boots and all other feet equipment had to have weighed at least 5 pounds. Long story short, it became increasingly hard to dredge uphill as the lessons in ice-picking and rope tying carried on.
Following the intro, we ate again. As the weekend went on the food got increasingly worse, but the hunger your body gets from rolling around in the snow and fighting for oxygen is surprisingly undeniable- even if all they serve is pasta and boxed wine.
Soon, it was time for bed. I would say it was time to sleep, but since we headed to our bunks around 7 p.m. and I maybe got 15 minutes of sleep before we got up at 12:30, it would be a lie to say otherwise. I tossed and turned for the 5 and a half hours of “rest” only able to hear the occasional snore, or cough over my pounding heart beat and throbbing headache- for the first time in my life, I think I began to get altitude sickness…
Regardless, I didn’t come all that way for nothing. When the guides phone alarm finally went off, I jumped out of bed, threw on my gear, and tried to drink as much water as I could while still saving some for the ascent. It was pitch black outside when we began to climb, and within two hours of hiking, we reached snow and began the real deal. We were split into sets of 2 gringos and a guide, blindly strapped up our crampons in the dark and took a few deep breaths to even sequester the minimal amount of oxygen.
Before I go any further, a little word of advice: if a guide asks you if you’re doing alright it’s safe to say something like “Sí estoy bien” or, “Sí, sí, no pasa nada;” but when he asks if you’re “Super bien”- say NO. Immediately, without hesitation, do anything you can to convince the guy that you’re as mediocre as possible- otherwise you might end up in the boat I found myself in.
Unbeknownst to me at the time, the guide who questioned me as to whether I was feeling good had previously made plans to lead a tour on another mountain range at 11 a.m. that morning- two hours away from Cotopaxi. So as I strapped into the safety line with my now friend through shared suffering, Kevin (a 4-year NCAA track runner), and the guide who was in a rush, I had very little knowledge of what was coming next.
Within thirty minutes we had passed every other three-some of hikers in our group. By 5:20 a.m. – 3 hours and thirty five minutes later- we made it to the summit. Everything in between is lost in a haze of physical exhaustion and oxygen deprivation.
For the three or so hours that we trekked to the top we passed, not only every other hiking group that had left the refugio, some beginning as early as two hours before us, but caves, narrow snow-covered plank like walkways, and magnificent ice formations sculpted by the temperamental hands of freezing wind and gravity.
We beat the sunrise to the summit. In the darkness, our head-lamps lit the view of the monstrous crater that calls 19,000 feet its home. Looking into to it, I developed an entirely new sensation and definition of human insignificance compared to the power of nature. This feeling was immediately accentuated by the numbness that crawled from my finger tips, up my hands, and over every inch of exposed skin that peaked from under my ski mask. Although less frozen parts of me craved to stay put until the sunrise came, gusting wind, a now frozen set of under-shirts, gloves, and scarf, and a pair of legs that were more than ready to move down-hill, easily convinced me that my time had been sufficient atop the world’s second-tallest active volcano.
The path down wasn’t nearly as easy as I anticipated. I’ve neglected to mention that the ascent was the most teasing, arduous battle I’ve encountered in my life. Around every bend and after every unbelievably steep incline, there waited another, rising ceaselessly, with an incredulous steepness that taunted the legs I could no longer feel to even dare to continue.
Thus, on the way back, it wasn’t any less challenging to maintain control, footing, and a focused mind; and really, given the fatigue amassed on the path the first time, it was probably more dangerous to move down than it was to climb. But like everything else this day encompassed for me- I somehow managed to carry on, redefining my personal limits of capability. Not to mention that the accomplishment and adrenaline rush of finally reaching a point where there were no more huge climbs and only horizon to be seen made anything seem possible. So we headed down the same path in reverse, following the lead of Kevin but truly led by our guide and his words of motivation to carry on- fueled by his previous arrangements. In the end, by the time we reached the limit between snow and dirt our guide ran off downhill, leaving us to stroll back to the refugio at our own pace, only looking back time and again to see other groups still attempting to reach the summit off in the distance as the sun slowly climbed in tandem.
Ajay, sadly, didn’t make it to the top. Luck being as it was, his partner ended up falling ill at only a few hundred meters past the snow line, and although this distance is only an estimation and I’m not sure how far he actually made it, to this day he still says that “Cotopaxi wasn’t that bad;” which, based on my experience, can only mean that he didn’t make it too far…
...So I guess I got a little more long winded that I anticipated there, but looking back, Cotopaxi was a great experience and sort of deserved a post dedicated to it. Since overcoming the challenge I have finally completed data collection and coding for my thesis and will soon being analysis (the LONG part of the research…); but for now, we´re off to the jungle. I´ve included a link to my facebook photos from Cotopaxi, and as always, hope everyone reading this is doing well.
Pictures: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2051490&id=1073280085&l=e4f2b1173d
Friday, July 30, 2010
end of July
For the most part, my last week of July has been tedious, full of work, and a little tiring. But above all this, it´s been very rewarding to finally be able to start what I came here for- my project on the health of the children using the clinic. In these beginning stage, I´ve been exposed to the wonders of paper medical records.
Not just paper medical records- paper medical records in a non-profit clinic. 7000 records down and a couple more thousand to go, all i can say is I am extremely grateful that in a few days I should finally be done with the scouring, and hopefully be able to computerize the information I have found. The only thing the 6 years worth of records have in common, is that, like i previously mentioned, they’re all "paper."
Starting with the first record ever made at the clinic and continuing through the history of patients, I immediately noticed the progression of medical record style. The centro medico originally started out with lined paper that had "historia" across the top. From there, in about a year or so, it appears as though they transitioned to a more formal record style with actual spaces to fill out information concerning the visit and/or the patients, and in 2008 I guess that either funds were low or there was a paper shortage, because for about 4 months, every of record was recorded on anything from scrap paper cut into post-it sized squares, to ripped out pages of magazines. In all, the entire experience of medical record revision has given me a brief exposure to the history of the clinic, accentuating how far the community has come, and how great the potential it still has to improve.
This weekend, to relax and give my paper-cut fingers a break, I´ve decided to wear-out my legs a little bit instead. Ajay and I are going to be waking up early tomorrow, hopping on the first bus to Quito, and meeting a climbing group that will then depart for Cotopaxi National Park. With a little luck, lots of sunscreen, and the help of the guide & included snacks, we´ll hopefully be on top of the 19,000+ mountain by Sunday afternoon.
According to this description on a web-site i came across while researching what we´re getting into, it sounds like it may even be a “religious” experience:
"Cotopaxi was also once worshiped by Ecuador’s ancient civilizations, thought to be the bringer of rain and prosperous crops; and the top of Cotopaxi was considered to be where God resided."
We´ll see what the world’s second tallest volcano has to offer…
Wish me luck!
Not just paper medical records- paper medical records in a non-profit clinic. 7000 records down and a couple more thousand to go, all i can say is I am extremely grateful that in a few days I should finally be done with the scouring, and hopefully be able to computerize the information I have found. The only thing the 6 years worth of records have in common, is that, like i previously mentioned, they’re all "paper."
Starting with the first record ever made at the clinic and continuing through the history of patients, I immediately noticed the progression of medical record style. The centro medico originally started out with lined paper that had "historia" across the top. From there, in about a year or so, it appears as though they transitioned to a more formal record style with actual spaces to fill out information concerning the visit and/or the patients, and in 2008 I guess that either funds were low or there was a paper shortage, because for about 4 months, every of record was recorded on anything from scrap paper cut into post-it sized squares, to ripped out pages of magazines. In all, the entire experience of medical record revision has given me a brief exposure to the history of the clinic, accentuating how far the community has come, and how great the potential it still has to improve.
This weekend, to relax and give my paper-cut fingers a break, I´ve decided to wear-out my legs a little bit instead. Ajay and I are going to be waking up early tomorrow, hopping on the first bus to Quito, and meeting a climbing group that will then depart for Cotopaxi National Park. With a little luck, lots of sunscreen, and the help of the guide & included snacks, we´ll hopefully be on top of the 19,000+ mountain by Sunday afternoon.
According to this description on a web-site i came across while researching what we´re getting into, it sounds like it may even be a “religious” experience:
"Cotopaxi was also once worshiped by Ecuador’s ancient civilizations, thought to be the bringer of rain and prosperous crops; and the top of Cotopaxi was considered to be where God resided."
We´ll see what the world’s second tallest volcano has to offer…
Wish me luck!
pictures
BAÑOS
the whole gang going horse back riding
just "the men" preparing for canyoning
...I went first- probably because i was this serious about things
a shot from another angle
the real waterfall (the yellow speck is Ajay- just to give you an idea of how far of a drop it was)
accomplished
BLOOD PRESSURE AWARENESS
my post outside the clinic
pretending to know what i´m doing...
the start of the presentation
answering questions
the whole gang going horse back riding
just "the men" preparing for canyoning
...I went first- probably because i was this serious about things
a shot from another angle
the real waterfall (the yellow speck is Ajay- just to give you an idea of how far of a drop it was)
accomplished
BLOOD PRESSURE AWARENESS
my post outside the clinic
pretending to know what i´m doing...
the start of the presentation
answering questions
Sunday, July 25, 2010
La reunión
With the end of Blood Pressure awareness month approaching; come last week, I had to change my customary schedule from taking blood pressure in the morning and finalizing the proposal of my Child Growth Standard project in the afternoons (which involved having what I thought was decent Spanish, continually corrected by my advising crew here at the clinic; Jennyfer and Paola.). Instead, I began to work primarily on my support group presentations in the afternoon after continuing my publicizing of the meeting in the morning.
Being able to spend the mornings taking blood pressure was surprisingly fulfilling. Not only did I become a pro at quickly being able to find arterial pulses and work the sphygmomanometer, more than anything, the patient interaction was humbling and rewarding. The majority of the patients I tended to were either waiting for a family member to be seen by the doc, or were passing by the clinic and figured they had little to lose when the word “free” was involved. The range of victims was immense. From small children that were fascinated by stethoscopes, to teenagers, to adults, to even small indigenous women that reminded me of my nana; I was able to interact, practice my awkward banter, and genuinely become acquainted with the community in a manner I couldn’t have ever anticipated. The sincerity of each person I had the pleasure to meet (which up to this point has been over 110) made the early mornings worth it; however, as fun as it was, with July 22nd approaching, I had to shift my focus to the reason why I was even able to meet them…the support group meeting.
In reality, I pictured the presentation to be a bit less time consuming than it ended up being. After practicing my basic explanation of hypertension, its risks, suggestions for healthier pressure, and answering any questions, I felt that I would easily be able to conceptualize my knowledge into a presentation that would last an hour or so. But, after realizing this knowledge only covered about 5 minutes of information, I knew I had a bit of preparation before Thursday.
So I jumped right into the topic of “la hypertension.” Fliers, pamphlets, information sheets- I read any and everything I could get my hands on in which ever of the two languages I’ve had running through my brain the past 6 weeks. For hours on end, I tried to synthesize the information, hoping to find an interesting and interactive way to present the info, finally realizing that the good old friend of mine, power point, would be able to provide the information in the most visually appealing and straightforward manner.
With the help of Dr. Andrade and the ideas catalyzed by what I gathered from talking with the patients regarding their knowledge over blood pressure, I set out to work on the presentation with the intention to motivate people to actually make changes in their lives. After looking at the lists for the past support group meetings it looked like something was missing- there was basically an entirely new group every time, and it sounded like the meetings were more lectures than providing support. Most of all, I wanted to give people a reason to come back to the August meeting.
Before anything though, I knew it was necessary to set forth a foundation of learning before delving into any advanced topics or lifestyle changes. As one gentleman was telling me after discussing his abnormally high blood pressure, although he had been taking medication for the past two years (well, at least saying he was taking medication; I’ve found even those with prescriptions usually don’t have the means to buy the expensive pills, often resorting to sporadically taking them, or reducing the suggested dosages to a point of inefficacy…), I was the first “medico” that had ever explained to him anything more than that he had two numbers of a greater value than they should be. Therefore, afternoon after afternoon I worked on setting forth a logical way to present the information necessary to truly understand what blood pressure is; my outline went through the most basic development possible: The importance of blood; the circulatory system; why we have blood pressure; what our blood pressures mean; and then the risk & development of hypertension.
Slide after slide, and animation after animation I attempted to make the presentation as interesting as possible, in addition to also encompassing themes and diction that I wouldn’t slip up on, or make a fool of myself trying to pronounce (“asesino silencioso” is pretty hard to wrap your tongue around when you’re half way through an hour long presentation…).
But then came the fun part, or at least the part that didn’t involve deadly pathologies of the disease or anything. Opposed to leaving the group with a dismal feeling about their maladies I tried to present reasonable and easy ways to change their lives- suggestions of sorts- that including things from dietary changes, exercises, how to lose weight, and lifestyle changes. Another thing I was excited to test, was the follow-through of the group. To give them as much incentive as monetarily possible (considering monetarily I couldn’t offer a thing) I decided to make a calendar hand out for each person that came to the meeting. Included on this were spaces for keeping track of dietary consumption, whether they did any form of exercises, and spots for specific goals that we would fill out during the presentation. Hopefully, with a little push, I could try to increase participation in the meeting, and more than anything, give people a hard copy of something to motivate them to change, and continue, healthier lives day after day.
Then finally the day of the presentation came. I had made my phone calls, practiced my presentation a few times, and had my hand outs printed off; by the time 5 pm rolled around I felt exceptionally prepared.
Ok, not really; I’d say I felt fairly prepared- ready to give the presentation and all, but a little nervous about forgetting all of my Spanish while standing alone in front of the group. Regardless, the moment the first members of the group made their way into the waiting room, I realized my nerves were misplaced, and that really, other than the possibility of being a little humiliated if I forgot how to pronounce a word or two, I had nothing to lose.
In all, 16 people ended up attending the support group meeting. From the first slide to the last, I scanned the audience and could tell that in the very least, I had their attention. Although, honestly, I was a bit nervous to begin with Dr. Andrade, Paola, Jennyfer, and the other volunteers all watching, it was actually relieving to see their supportive glances as the presentation went on. When all was finished- the most gratifying part came to see the smiles and appreciation on everyones faces; at first it caught me off guard, but every person who had come to the meeting went out of their way to introduce themselves, say thank you, and make the whole past month feel like it was worth it.
Since the support group, things have been relaxing. I decided to stick around Tumbaco opposed to go out and cram something into the weekend, and as I sit writing this, relaxed, content, and just having finished and submitted my medical school application, I feel more at ease than I did soaking in warm mineral baths.
The next week will probably be a little more laid back than the past, but if I’ve learned anything here, you’ve got to roll with what life brings you opposed to being set in any expectations. So for now, I’ll just keep carrying on, and hope that everyone at home- family, friends, fiancé, and all- are doing the same.
Buenas noches,
drew
Being able to spend the mornings taking blood pressure was surprisingly fulfilling. Not only did I become a pro at quickly being able to find arterial pulses and work the sphygmomanometer, more than anything, the patient interaction was humbling and rewarding. The majority of the patients I tended to were either waiting for a family member to be seen by the doc, or were passing by the clinic and figured they had little to lose when the word “free” was involved. The range of victims was immense. From small children that were fascinated by stethoscopes, to teenagers, to adults, to even small indigenous women that reminded me of my nana; I was able to interact, practice my awkward banter, and genuinely become acquainted with the community in a manner I couldn’t have ever anticipated. The sincerity of each person I had the pleasure to meet (which up to this point has been over 110) made the early mornings worth it; however, as fun as it was, with July 22nd approaching, I had to shift my focus to the reason why I was even able to meet them…the support group meeting.
In reality, I pictured the presentation to be a bit less time consuming than it ended up being. After practicing my basic explanation of hypertension, its risks, suggestions for healthier pressure, and answering any questions, I felt that I would easily be able to conceptualize my knowledge into a presentation that would last an hour or so. But, after realizing this knowledge only covered about 5 minutes of information, I knew I had a bit of preparation before Thursday.
So I jumped right into the topic of “la hypertension.” Fliers, pamphlets, information sheets- I read any and everything I could get my hands on in which ever of the two languages I’ve had running through my brain the past 6 weeks. For hours on end, I tried to synthesize the information, hoping to find an interesting and interactive way to present the info, finally realizing that the good old friend of mine, power point, would be able to provide the information in the most visually appealing and straightforward manner.
With the help of Dr. Andrade and the ideas catalyzed by what I gathered from talking with the patients regarding their knowledge over blood pressure, I set out to work on the presentation with the intention to motivate people to actually make changes in their lives. After looking at the lists for the past support group meetings it looked like something was missing- there was basically an entirely new group every time, and it sounded like the meetings were more lectures than providing support. Most of all, I wanted to give people a reason to come back to the August meeting.
Before anything though, I knew it was necessary to set forth a foundation of learning before delving into any advanced topics or lifestyle changes. As one gentleman was telling me after discussing his abnormally high blood pressure, although he had been taking medication for the past two years (well, at least saying he was taking medication; I’ve found even those with prescriptions usually don’t have the means to buy the expensive pills, often resorting to sporadically taking them, or reducing the suggested dosages to a point of inefficacy…), I was the first “medico” that had ever explained to him anything more than that he had two numbers of a greater value than they should be. Therefore, afternoon after afternoon I worked on setting forth a logical way to present the information necessary to truly understand what blood pressure is; my outline went through the most basic development possible: The importance of blood; the circulatory system; why we have blood pressure; what our blood pressures mean; and then the risk & development of hypertension.
Slide after slide, and animation after animation I attempted to make the presentation as interesting as possible, in addition to also encompassing themes and diction that I wouldn’t slip up on, or make a fool of myself trying to pronounce (“asesino silencioso” is pretty hard to wrap your tongue around when you’re half way through an hour long presentation…).
But then came the fun part, or at least the part that didn’t involve deadly pathologies of the disease or anything. Opposed to leaving the group with a dismal feeling about their maladies I tried to present reasonable and easy ways to change their lives- suggestions of sorts- that including things from dietary changes, exercises, how to lose weight, and lifestyle changes. Another thing I was excited to test, was the follow-through of the group. To give them as much incentive as monetarily possible (considering monetarily I couldn’t offer a thing) I decided to make a calendar hand out for each person that came to the meeting. Included on this were spaces for keeping track of dietary consumption, whether they did any form of exercises, and spots for specific goals that we would fill out during the presentation. Hopefully, with a little push, I could try to increase participation in the meeting, and more than anything, give people a hard copy of something to motivate them to change, and continue, healthier lives day after day.
Then finally the day of the presentation came. I had made my phone calls, practiced my presentation a few times, and had my hand outs printed off; by the time 5 pm rolled around I felt exceptionally prepared.
Ok, not really; I’d say I felt fairly prepared- ready to give the presentation and all, but a little nervous about forgetting all of my Spanish while standing alone in front of the group. Regardless, the moment the first members of the group made their way into the waiting room, I realized my nerves were misplaced, and that really, other than the possibility of being a little humiliated if I forgot how to pronounce a word or two, I had nothing to lose.
In all, 16 people ended up attending the support group meeting. From the first slide to the last, I scanned the audience and could tell that in the very least, I had their attention. Although, honestly, I was a bit nervous to begin with Dr. Andrade, Paola, Jennyfer, and the other volunteers all watching, it was actually relieving to see their supportive glances as the presentation went on. When all was finished- the most gratifying part came to see the smiles and appreciation on everyones faces; at first it caught me off guard, but every person who had come to the meeting went out of their way to introduce themselves, say thank you, and make the whole past month feel like it was worth it.
Since the support group, things have been relaxing. I decided to stick around Tumbaco opposed to go out and cram something into the weekend, and as I sit writing this, relaxed, content, and just having finished and submitted my medical school application, I feel more at ease than I did soaking in warm mineral baths.
The next week will probably be a little more laid back than the past, but if I’ve learned anything here, you’ve got to roll with what life brings you opposed to being set in any expectations. So for now, I’ll just keep carrying on, and hope that everyone at home- family, friends, fiancé, and all- are doing the same.
Buenas noches,
drew
Hace una semana
Wow- it’s been too long.
The past two weeks have flown by in a sense- at least in the sense that you get after tirelessly trying to accomplish something and then finally getting a chance to look up. The majority of the past 15 or so days have been spent focusing on Blood Pressure…
But before I get into describing “business” though, I can’t go any further without mentioning the reason why I was unable to update my blog last weekend; sadly, I decided to relax a little bit…
Since I arrived in Ecuador I’ve heard from almost any person I end up talking to about possible tourist destinations that “Baños” is a must see place. I know, I know, all of you out there with any background in Spanish are probably thinking that this must have been some sort of joke, or that I would’ve definitely already visited the baño, but to clarify, Baños is a small pueblo about 4 hours away from Quito known for its thermal baths and incomparable scenery. At the foot of an active volcano (don’t worry Moms & GrandMary, not too active) the city serves as home to a fairly small population of people devoted to tourist activities, and a pretty constant flow of visitors from all over the world. In fact, other than the section of Quito known as “gringolandia,” I hadn’t seen such a concentration of toe-headed short-wearing persons since I left the states.
We decided to take off for Baños Friday afternoon in a mix of excitement to begin the weekend and acceptance that waking up at 5am the next day to compensate for the bus ride wouldn’t exactly fit under the “relaxing” agenda. Ajay and I left work following a patient-filled morning, headed home, packed backpacks. Then hit the road to Quito. After making a pit-stop to grab some schwarma before leaving the city, we hopped in a cab to the bus terminal in the Southern valley. Oddly reminiscent of the University of Denver campus, the metro area of Quito is confined to the only space available atop the 9,350 ft mountain it rests on- an area only a mile or two wide, but tens of miles long.
Normally, it isn’t a problem to journey through the city, but because of this characteristically narrow design, when going from the Northern valley of Tumbaco to the Southern terminal in Quitumbe, you are basically traveling the longest distance possible through the urban landscape. Throw in the most viscous traffic you can imagine, and to traverse this distance of under 15 kilometers takes a little more than an hour and forty minutes.
Not knowing this at the time, we set off for the bus station around 5 pm; arrived at the terminal in time for the 7 o’clock bus to Baños, and then made it into town with about a sitcom to spare before midnight. The ride, in general wasn’t extremely memorable due to the darkness that hid anything worth seeing, but one thing that has been getting to me lately is the fact that no matter where you go, disparity is undeniably present. Whether it’s driving by house after house constructed only of a mixture of grey concrete and dilapidated wood, or being asked by a 4 year old boy in tattered clothes if you would please buy some of the candy he’s managed to procure; 5 pieces for 25 cents, or 10 for 50. At every stop we'd pick up a new group of children trying to make a living, and at every stop I'd get the same sad feeling in my heart. I find myself overwhelmed by a mix of feelings, mainly describable as disheartened at first glance, but humbled and grateful for the opportunities I’ve been blessed with after. And more than anything, I can't help but feel motivated to continue the work that I’m doing, motivated to help improve these situations in any way possible.
When we arrived in Baños we decided to head to our hostel and get a full night rest in lieu of the adventures and action packed day that was in our plans. In short, the hostel was more accommodating and welcoming than money could pay for. Run by a Kiwi couple that decided to move permanently from New Zealand to Baños after working as tour guides, the eco-friendly “resort” of sorts, involved a free (and extremely delicious - not a common combination) breakfast buffet consisting of fresh fruit, granola, and home-made bread. Also, due to the connections the staff had, we were able to easily acquire numbers and information of reliable tour companies; which, Saturday, included a “manly” adventure to go canyon-ing, and later, a horseback ride up the mountain juxtapose to the volcano. In Baños we met up Regina and Ben (two other volunteers from the clinic), and as part of the compromise Regina proposed to Ben, as a way to convince him the “thermal spa” town would be more interesting than the jungle, was that Ajay and I would do sufficient adventurous, guy activities. So, along these lines, we three men decided that the best outlet to enjoy our escape from estrogen would be to rappel down cliffs next to raging waterfalls; a.k.a. go “canyon-ing.”
The guide did a great job of explaining the logistics of the reverse mountain climbing, and as I descended down four different waterfalls, even in spite of the extremely slippery rocks and water splashing in my face, I had a pretty good time. I'll throw in a few pictures to give a more visual idea about what the experience looked like when my internet connection isn't so slow, but even then, they hardly will do justice to how fun it was.
The final waterfall was a leap of faith. About 140 feet vertical drop, the last plunge involved about 5 meters of rappelling down a sheet of water, and then jumping off the rock ledge into a graceful descent alongside the falls.
After drying off and getting some food, we picked up Regina from the hostel and the four of us volunteers rode rented horses through the town, up a scenic path that wound alongside a ravine, and into the mountains of the Andes. The scenery was unlike any other I’d experienced before. Even growing up in Colorado didn’t prepare me for the awesomeness of the landscape; protruding mountain tops jutted out from either side of the river, rising above my line of sight and surpassing the blanket of clouds that enveloped the evening. A distinct and vibrant emerald green, flourishing with plant life I never even knew existed, these mountain tops redefined the power of nature for me. And as we continued to trot through the valley, although the ultimate goal of seeing the volcano Tungurahua was unfulfilled due to the prominence of the aforementioned cloud-cover, I felt a peace that only the sounds of the meandering stream could even begin define.
The next day, believe it or not, I slept in past 6:15 a.m. That’s not to say that I didn’t have a little help (in addition to being tired from all the adventuring, a night spent out trying the local sugar cane alcohol until the point that we ended up singing Hotel California at a karaoke bar might have contributed…), but it was refreshing to get up after the sun for a change. Following breakfast we packed our bags and headed to the name-sake thermal baths. My companions didn’t feel that they were necessarily warm enough or up to par with what they were expecting, but I found it hard to complain looking up from the semi-steaming pool and seeing the jungle covered peaks that surrounded us as we sat neck deep in water. In fact, with the 6 hours of buses that followed, my body was thankful to have had any sort of time devoted to its relaxation. We made it home safely, and even though Ajay lost his credit card in the process, other than stiff feet, legs, back, and a sore neck after the bus ride, I’d say the weekend was a success. In the very least, it allowed me to approach the upcoming week with a little more enthusiasm and vigor- which upon reflection, I'm really glad I had.
The past two weeks have flown by in a sense- at least in the sense that you get after tirelessly trying to accomplish something and then finally getting a chance to look up. The majority of the past 15 or so days have been spent focusing on Blood Pressure…
But before I get into describing “business” though, I can’t go any further without mentioning the reason why I was unable to update my blog last weekend; sadly, I decided to relax a little bit…
Since I arrived in Ecuador I’ve heard from almost any person I end up talking to about possible tourist destinations that “Baños” is a must see place. I know, I know, all of you out there with any background in Spanish are probably thinking that this must have been some sort of joke, or that I would’ve definitely already visited the baño, but to clarify, Baños is a small pueblo about 4 hours away from Quito known for its thermal baths and incomparable scenery. At the foot of an active volcano (don’t worry Moms & GrandMary, not too active) the city serves as home to a fairly small population of people devoted to tourist activities, and a pretty constant flow of visitors from all over the world. In fact, other than the section of Quito known as “gringolandia,” I hadn’t seen such a concentration of toe-headed short-wearing persons since I left the states.
We decided to take off for Baños Friday afternoon in a mix of excitement to begin the weekend and acceptance that waking up at 5am the next day to compensate for the bus ride wouldn’t exactly fit under the “relaxing” agenda. Ajay and I left work following a patient-filled morning, headed home, packed backpacks. Then hit the road to Quito. After making a pit-stop to grab some schwarma before leaving the city, we hopped in a cab to the bus terminal in the Southern valley. Oddly reminiscent of the University of Denver campus, the metro area of Quito is confined to the only space available atop the 9,350 ft mountain it rests on- an area only a mile or two wide, but tens of miles long.
Normally, it isn’t a problem to journey through the city, but because of this characteristically narrow design, when going from the Northern valley of Tumbaco to the Southern terminal in Quitumbe, you are basically traveling the longest distance possible through the urban landscape. Throw in the most viscous traffic you can imagine, and to traverse this distance of under 15 kilometers takes a little more than an hour and forty minutes.
Not knowing this at the time, we set off for the bus station around 5 pm; arrived at the terminal in time for the 7 o’clock bus to Baños, and then made it into town with about a sitcom to spare before midnight. The ride, in general wasn’t extremely memorable due to the darkness that hid anything worth seeing, but one thing that has been getting to me lately is the fact that no matter where you go, disparity is undeniably present. Whether it’s driving by house after house constructed only of a mixture of grey concrete and dilapidated wood, or being asked by a 4 year old boy in tattered clothes if you would please buy some of the candy he’s managed to procure; 5 pieces for 25 cents, or 10 for 50. At every stop we'd pick up a new group of children trying to make a living, and at every stop I'd get the same sad feeling in my heart. I find myself overwhelmed by a mix of feelings, mainly describable as disheartened at first glance, but humbled and grateful for the opportunities I’ve been blessed with after. And more than anything, I can't help but feel motivated to continue the work that I’m doing, motivated to help improve these situations in any way possible.
When we arrived in Baños we decided to head to our hostel and get a full night rest in lieu of the adventures and action packed day that was in our plans. In short, the hostel was more accommodating and welcoming than money could pay for. Run by a Kiwi couple that decided to move permanently from New Zealand to Baños after working as tour guides, the eco-friendly “resort” of sorts, involved a free (and extremely delicious - not a common combination) breakfast buffet consisting of fresh fruit, granola, and home-made bread. Also, due to the connections the staff had, we were able to easily acquire numbers and information of reliable tour companies; which, Saturday, included a “manly” adventure to go canyon-ing, and later, a horseback ride up the mountain juxtapose to the volcano. In Baños we met up Regina and Ben (two other volunteers from the clinic), and as part of the compromise Regina proposed to Ben, as a way to convince him the “thermal spa” town would be more interesting than the jungle, was that Ajay and I would do sufficient adventurous, guy activities. So, along these lines, we three men decided that the best outlet to enjoy our escape from estrogen would be to rappel down cliffs next to raging waterfalls; a.k.a. go “canyon-ing.”
The guide did a great job of explaining the logistics of the reverse mountain climbing, and as I descended down four different waterfalls, even in spite of the extremely slippery rocks and water splashing in my face, I had a pretty good time. I'll throw in a few pictures to give a more visual idea about what the experience looked like when my internet connection isn't so slow, but even then, they hardly will do justice to how fun it was.
The final waterfall was a leap of faith. About 140 feet vertical drop, the last plunge involved about 5 meters of rappelling down a sheet of water, and then jumping off the rock ledge into a graceful descent alongside the falls.
After drying off and getting some food, we picked up Regina from the hostel and the four of us volunteers rode rented horses through the town, up a scenic path that wound alongside a ravine, and into the mountains of the Andes. The scenery was unlike any other I’d experienced before. Even growing up in Colorado didn’t prepare me for the awesomeness of the landscape; protruding mountain tops jutted out from either side of the river, rising above my line of sight and surpassing the blanket of clouds that enveloped the evening. A distinct and vibrant emerald green, flourishing with plant life I never even knew existed, these mountain tops redefined the power of nature for me. And as we continued to trot through the valley, although the ultimate goal of seeing the volcano Tungurahua was unfulfilled due to the prominence of the aforementioned cloud-cover, I felt a peace that only the sounds of the meandering stream could even begin define.
The next day, believe it or not, I slept in past 6:15 a.m. That’s not to say that I didn’t have a little help (in addition to being tired from all the adventuring, a night spent out trying the local sugar cane alcohol until the point that we ended up singing Hotel California at a karaoke bar might have contributed…), but it was refreshing to get up after the sun for a change. Following breakfast we packed our bags and headed to the name-sake thermal baths. My companions didn’t feel that they were necessarily warm enough or up to par with what they were expecting, but I found it hard to complain looking up from the semi-steaming pool and seeing the jungle covered peaks that surrounded us as we sat neck deep in water. In fact, with the 6 hours of buses that followed, my body was thankful to have had any sort of time devoted to its relaxation. We made it home safely, and even though Ajay lost his credit card in the process, other than stiff feet, legs, back, and a sore neck after the bus ride, I’d say the weekend was a success. In the very least, it allowed me to approach the upcoming week with a little more enthusiasm and vigor- which upon reflection, I'm really glad I had.
Monday, July 12, 2010
1/3 of the way down
So this week, in light of the need to finish my med school personal statement (that, now that my baby/ best writer I know has looked over, has a bit of correcting to do before I even begin to feel that its ready to show anyone else) I figure I´ll let some pictures do the talking.
Tuesday through Friday, I came down with an intestinal infection. Stereotypical, I know, but luckily my friends/ doctors at the medical clinic were able to run all sorts of exams, ultimately giving me some antibiotics that have since gotten me out of bed. As a result, I was able to visit Otavalo this Saturday with Evelyn Falck, her friend, Lucha, and my new room mate Ajay.
Which, by the way, this past Tuesday we received a new addition to our family; Ajay Premkumar, a recent graduate of Emory University who will be working at the clinic for the rest of July and into August. We´ve already formed a friendship from the start, and it seems like I´m gonna have a pretty good time here with someone to travel with, or at least someone to deflect the dogs.
Otavalo is a small pueblo an hour or so outside of Quito devoted to selling artisan crafts and local foods above other things.
(spices)
(Ajay getting swindled)
(comida)
Basically, it was a pretty amazing place.
After the market we headed to a town that I will not even subject to my poor spelling skills, but it started with a "C." Here we ran into some friends of Ajay´s (really, a family that´s children were having their education provided by Ajay´s favorite professor back in the states- the same one that recommended the program to him)
In all, it was a pretty exciting weekend full of amazing scenery, great food while watching the Final at Elsa and Jorge´s friends house, and transitioning back into not being horribly sick.
(scenery)
(lake in a volcano crater)
(sangria and snacks- viva españa!)
I´ll keep you up to date in the coming weeks, but hope that the U.S. is treating you all very well
hasta pronto
drew
Tuesday through Friday, I came down with an intestinal infection. Stereotypical, I know, but luckily my friends/ doctors at the medical clinic were able to run all sorts of exams, ultimately giving me some antibiotics that have since gotten me out of bed. As a result, I was able to visit Otavalo this Saturday with Evelyn Falck, her friend, Lucha, and my new room mate Ajay.
Which, by the way, this past Tuesday we received a new addition to our family; Ajay Premkumar, a recent graduate of Emory University who will be working at the clinic for the rest of July and into August. We´ve already formed a friendship from the start, and it seems like I´m gonna have a pretty good time here with someone to travel with, or at least someone to deflect the dogs.
Otavalo is a small pueblo an hour or so outside of Quito devoted to selling artisan crafts and local foods above other things.
(spices)
(Ajay getting swindled)
(comida)
Basically, it was a pretty amazing place.
After the market we headed to a town that I will not even subject to my poor spelling skills, but it started with a "C." Here we ran into some friends of Ajay´s (really, a family that´s children were having their education provided by Ajay´s favorite professor back in the states- the same one that recommended the program to him)
In all, it was a pretty exciting weekend full of amazing scenery, great food while watching the Final at Elsa and Jorge´s friends house, and transitioning back into not being horribly sick.
(scenery)
(lake in a volcano crater)
(sangria and snacks- viva españa!)
I´ll keep you up to date in the coming weeks, but hope that the U.S. is treating you all very well
hasta pronto
drew
Monday, July 5, 2010
mixed feelings
As I sit in the living room, listening to what appears to be some mixture of love songs and Spanish-Jazz playing over the sounds of Elsa cooking, I’m hesitant to say that I feel like I’m at home, but although it’s nothing like the life I’ve left, or the houses I’ve been in before, in all honesty, it’s gotten to the point that this “casita” has become my home. For the past three weeks I’ve woken up to the same scenes, the same smells, the same food. I’ve gone to work, I’ve gotten to the point where I’ve seen and eaten the same lunches over again, and I’ve even grown accustomed to the some-what lumpy bed that barely contains my stature. In all, good or bad, this is my home for now, and over the past week I’ve been dealing with the realization that this is going to be what I call my home for another two months.
Don’t get me wrong, things are still going really well- the past week I began to get into a rhythm with my schedule, prepared what I feel like is everything I will need for the upcoming month of “blood pressure awareness,” and put the final touches on my proposal for my growth standards investigation; yet, as the novelty of living in a new place began to fade, and stresses from Medical school applications, constant translations, and a bit of sleep deprivation began to build, I guess you could say, I just began to miss home. I began to miss the comfort of having milk and cereal for breakfast opposed to “huevos and pan;” I started to miss being able to just relax- sit on my front porch and people watch, and not necessarily take everything in for the first time; and honestly, I really started to miss those closest to me: my family, my friends, and most of all, my best friend; my fiancé, and the person I feel incomplete without, Caity. This past fall (in addition to the past 4 and a half years), being together and studying abroad in Spain opened my eyes to a level of happiness, and excitement, and love for every second of life that has since been something I’ve brought to everything I try and do; but here, without her, I’ve begin to realize how much I never want to take her presence in my life for granted- and how much I can’t wait to change the world with her at my side! Along those lines, this time away has given me a chance to reflect on all of the people around me who have supported me up to this point- and more than anything, it’s made me realize how lucky I truly am. For this, although it doesn’t even begin to do justice, I want to say thanks.
There’s really no way to describe how lost you can feel when you’re surrounded by people who you can only express your feelings to in limited terms. Salutations, small talk, and discussing the world cup matches are great- but at some point, the basal level forms of expression only scratches the surface of how you really feel, which over time, becomes increasingly frustrated or, as I have found, just exhausted at times. In the end, being on my own has significantly reassured all of the feelings, and excitement, and determination I had before I got the plane a few weeks ago, and for this, I cannot even express my gratitude, but with 60 or so days left on my journey, I guess it’s good that I’m starting to feel “at home” in one way or another; becasue right now, I'm missing mi propia casa a bit.
To sort of change gears, things this past week at the clinic have been going smoothly. Monday I traveled with Paola to two of the pre-schools to conduct inventory of ALL the things the schools currently have. From chalk boards, to chairs, to broken pencils; we counted, separated, judged, and recorded any and everything that was of even the most miniscule value. Interestingly, one means of categorizing the materials was based on who donated them to the school. Often times, the teachers weren’t exactly sure if it were the parents of the children, the Rotary Club Foundation, or other non-profits that had helped in the past that were responsible for the majority of the necessities, but I was caught off guard by the donations deemed to be from el ministerio de la educación. Sadly, these "gifts"/ obligations usually consisted of things of very minimal worth, including: plastic chairs with rickety legs (some of which were only 75% in tact), stuffed animals that were “new,” as to say newly donated, (which appeared to have been left over from foster homes or garage sales), and some old books with numerous pages missing and/or covers tattered past the point of recognition. In all, it was an eye-opening experience that changed my perspective on what resources were truly at hand here in Ecuador, and at the same time, made me grateful for the public education I was able to access throughout my youth, in spite of whatever negative connotations might be associated with it back in the states.
Tuesday to Friday, my life involved a handful of translations varying from: donor letters, certificates of appreciation for other volunteers that were leaving, yearly updates on children in the schools, and even having to translate a list of 100+ pieces of dental equipment that a group of American dentists will be bringing in late August (needed for some sort of customs formality I think). By the end of the week, these tasks, along with the finalization of my proposals for the upcoming months, left my head spinning, aching, and- thanks to the homesickness I mentioned- a bit out of sync.
The best way to relax, I found, was in keeping myself distracted. And even though it isn’t the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of “relaxation,” this past week marked the start of my summer rugby training program, and the start of any sort of formal exercise for the first time since I landed. Given that my body has more or less adjusted to the altitude here, and any worry of passing out or having a heart attack had subsided after last week’s rugby practice, going on a jog every other day and doing some push-ups actually felt pretty good towards the end of the week. Not to mention that it gave me something productive to occupy my time during the somewhat lonely nights, in between coming home from work and waiting to eat dinner and drink coffee with the family. In fact, I even got to know the neighborhood in ways my parents hadn’t even explored; which, Friday night, came back to bite in more ways than one.
As I had started every day before, my jog around the barrio involved a quick stretch, talking to the front gate guard Jaime, and then heading up hill; other than being a little unusually over-cast and a bit windy, this Friday seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. My customary route involves trotting through the main street that our conjunto is on, dodging the empty bottles and loose rocks that line the gutters and making my way between cars and school buses as they head to their destinations. For the most part, the first ten minutes or so of the jog is fairly easy, with a slight incline and some decent scenery ranging from a water treatment plant to a campo with cows and wild grass. Then, abruptly, at the end of the road there is a fork that splits into two paths: one, being what looks like a drive way (and thus I’ve yet to find out what it really is); and the other, a steep inclined road that traces the profile of the mountain separating the valleys on either side of Quito. Immediately when I arrived at the foot of this “hill” the first time I knew I had a goal- make it to the top, and since, have tried to climb a little by little, to at least a height further than I had the days before. On this Friday evening, when I arrived at the base of the road my legs were a bit shot after a week of doing this customary run, but after painstakingly convincing them to carry me past the bus stop, past the street vendor, and past the old abuielita I say hola to every time I crawl up the precipice, I made it to a point where the incline subsides and I felt satisfied with my progress. Amidst catching my breath and trying not to roll down the hill, I distinctly recall the red-ish orange sunset that greeted me as I looked down into the valley, peered onto Tumbaco, and stood (actually hunched over) in the presence of the most amazing view of Quito I’d seen yet; represented by the gleaming edifices of ten story buildings nestled between two protruding peaks of densely vegetated mountains on either side. After catching my breath and taking a mental picture, it was time to carry on.
Down the hill I jogged, passing the people I’d seen struggling to walk up it along the way, and reaching the road in probably 1/16th of the time it took me to ascend. With all the momentum from hill, it was almost (but not entirely) easy to make my way through the rest of my customary jog, as I followed along the path that brought me to the hill and then made a left down the street I suppose is known as, calle cinco, due to the scribbled graffiti on the brick wall that lines the corner. Down 5th street, the scenery is a bit more rural, with sprawling fields to the left, and the road being composed of individually placed river rock that has since formed an uneven, but charming, pathway to lead the few people that call this area home to their front steps. I made my way down this route as I had the Wednesday and Monday before, focusing on my footing as not to fall, and taking the streets back south to my home where I could eventually rest. Today though, as I approached the first turn in my path, I saw an oddly cute puppy, wearing an orange sweater and sniffing around in the tall grass alongside the road. As I passed it, it ran in front of me, sprinting down the path and away from my sight; that is, until out of the silence, I heard a quick bark, that transitioned into a chorus of furious yelps and growls that barreled down on me from behind a set of bushes to my right. Within seconds -or however long it took me to turn my head and see what was the matter- a pack of four dogs, one that used to be white before living on the streets, a black-matted lab, and two fierce looking canines that if I had to guess were probably boxers, were sprinting the 5 or so meters that separated us towards me. Before I could even react, two of the dogs had already latched onto the side of my leg and back of my knee, only lessening their grips following a few kicks and yells. They retreated to where-ever it was that they came from, as I sprinted off in a direction towards home, hoping that I wouldn’t accidently set off again whatever animal instinct caused this reaction in the first place.
Once out of sight, I slowed down and assessed the damage to my leg, quickly realizing that, although pretty bloody, there had been no significantly life threatening damage. Relieved, I headed home, only stopping to pick up a stick in case I ran into any other trouble along the way. For the rest of the evening, I got to experience the Ecuadorian health care system from the patient’s perspective; first coming home to clean the cut with hydrogen peroxide and whatever Jorge could find me, and then heading to the emergency clinic at the Universidad San Francisco de Quito. There, I was able to take all precautionary steps (a.k.a get a shot and a schedule of the next 4 shots I’ll need over the course of this month) to make sure I don’t transform into some rabies-crazed zombie while here.
For all the mothers or fathers or future wife that may be reading this, since this some-what hectic evening, everything has been fine, my leg looks to be healing, and other than the hospital bills and new-found desire I have to throw rocks at every dog that barks at me the wrong way, it wasn’t that bad of an experience. And as I sit here now, looking at the teeth marks that’ll probably stay scarred with me for the rest of my life, I realize it could’ve been a lot worse, and if it’s any consolation, at least this way I’m covered in case any other animals decide they want to see what gringo tastes like.
I hope all back home is going well and that everyone reading this (and even those that aren’t) is having a happy Fourth of July, and more importantly, a happy blood pressure awareness month!
Sinceramente
drew
Don’t get me wrong, things are still going really well- the past week I began to get into a rhythm with my schedule, prepared what I feel like is everything I will need for the upcoming month of “blood pressure awareness,” and put the final touches on my proposal for my growth standards investigation; yet, as the novelty of living in a new place began to fade, and stresses from Medical school applications, constant translations, and a bit of sleep deprivation began to build, I guess you could say, I just began to miss home. I began to miss the comfort of having milk and cereal for breakfast opposed to “huevos and pan;” I started to miss being able to just relax- sit on my front porch and people watch, and not necessarily take everything in for the first time; and honestly, I really started to miss those closest to me: my family, my friends, and most of all, my best friend; my fiancé, and the person I feel incomplete without, Caity. This past fall (in addition to the past 4 and a half years), being together and studying abroad in Spain opened my eyes to a level of happiness, and excitement, and love for every second of life that has since been something I’ve brought to everything I try and do; but here, without her, I’ve begin to realize how much I never want to take her presence in my life for granted- and how much I can’t wait to change the world with her at my side! Along those lines, this time away has given me a chance to reflect on all of the people around me who have supported me up to this point- and more than anything, it’s made me realize how lucky I truly am. For this, although it doesn’t even begin to do justice, I want to say thanks.
There’s really no way to describe how lost you can feel when you’re surrounded by people who you can only express your feelings to in limited terms. Salutations, small talk, and discussing the world cup matches are great- but at some point, the basal level forms of expression only scratches the surface of how you really feel, which over time, becomes increasingly frustrated or, as I have found, just exhausted at times. In the end, being on my own has significantly reassured all of the feelings, and excitement, and determination I had before I got the plane a few weeks ago, and for this, I cannot even express my gratitude, but with 60 or so days left on my journey, I guess it’s good that I’m starting to feel “at home” in one way or another; becasue right now, I'm missing mi propia casa a bit.
To sort of change gears, things this past week at the clinic have been going smoothly. Monday I traveled with Paola to two of the pre-schools to conduct inventory of ALL the things the schools currently have. From chalk boards, to chairs, to broken pencils; we counted, separated, judged, and recorded any and everything that was of even the most miniscule value. Interestingly, one means of categorizing the materials was based on who donated them to the school. Often times, the teachers weren’t exactly sure if it were the parents of the children, the Rotary Club Foundation, or other non-profits that had helped in the past that were responsible for the majority of the necessities, but I was caught off guard by the donations deemed to be from el ministerio de la educación. Sadly, these "gifts"/ obligations usually consisted of things of very minimal worth, including: plastic chairs with rickety legs (some of which were only 75% in tact), stuffed animals that were “new,” as to say newly donated, (which appeared to have been left over from foster homes or garage sales), and some old books with numerous pages missing and/or covers tattered past the point of recognition. In all, it was an eye-opening experience that changed my perspective on what resources were truly at hand here in Ecuador, and at the same time, made me grateful for the public education I was able to access throughout my youth, in spite of whatever negative connotations might be associated with it back in the states.
Tuesday to Friday, my life involved a handful of translations varying from: donor letters, certificates of appreciation for other volunteers that were leaving, yearly updates on children in the schools, and even having to translate a list of 100+ pieces of dental equipment that a group of American dentists will be bringing in late August (needed for some sort of customs formality I think). By the end of the week, these tasks, along with the finalization of my proposals for the upcoming months, left my head spinning, aching, and- thanks to the homesickness I mentioned- a bit out of sync.
The best way to relax, I found, was in keeping myself distracted. And even though it isn’t the first thing that comes to my mind when I think of “relaxation,” this past week marked the start of my summer rugby training program, and the start of any sort of formal exercise for the first time since I landed. Given that my body has more or less adjusted to the altitude here, and any worry of passing out or having a heart attack had subsided after last week’s rugby practice, going on a jog every other day and doing some push-ups actually felt pretty good towards the end of the week. Not to mention that it gave me something productive to occupy my time during the somewhat lonely nights, in between coming home from work and waiting to eat dinner and drink coffee with the family. In fact, I even got to know the neighborhood in ways my parents hadn’t even explored; which, Friday night, came back to bite in more ways than one.
As I had started every day before, my jog around the barrio involved a quick stretch, talking to the front gate guard Jaime, and then heading up hill; other than being a little unusually over-cast and a bit windy, this Friday seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary. My customary route involves trotting through the main street that our conjunto is on, dodging the empty bottles and loose rocks that line the gutters and making my way between cars and school buses as they head to their destinations. For the most part, the first ten minutes or so of the jog is fairly easy, with a slight incline and some decent scenery ranging from a water treatment plant to a campo with cows and wild grass. Then, abruptly, at the end of the road there is a fork that splits into two paths: one, being what looks like a drive way (and thus I’ve yet to find out what it really is); and the other, a steep inclined road that traces the profile of the mountain separating the valleys on either side of Quito. Immediately when I arrived at the foot of this “hill” the first time I knew I had a goal- make it to the top, and since, have tried to climb a little by little, to at least a height further than I had the days before. On this Friday evening, when I arrived at the base of the road my legs were a bit shot after a week of doing this customary run, but after painstakingly convincing them to carry me past the bus stop, past the street vendor, and past the old abuielita I say hola to every time I crawl up the precipice, I made it to a point where the incline subsides and I felt satisfied with my progress. Amidst catching my breath and trying not to roll down the hill, I distinctly recall the red-ish orange sunset that greeted me as I looked down into the valley, peered onto Tumbaco, and stood (actually hunched over) in the presence of the most amazing view of Quito I’d seen yet; represented by the gleaming edifices of ten story buildings nestled between two protruding peaks of densely vegetated mountains on either side. After catching my breath and taking a mental picture, it was time to carry on.
Down the hill I jogged, passing the people I’d seen struggling to walk up it along the way, and reaching the road in probably 1/16th of the time it took me to ascend. With all the momentum from hill, it was almost (but not entirely) easy to make my way through the rest of my customary jog, as I followed along the path that brought me to the hill and then made a left down the street I suppose is known as, calle cinco, due to the scribbled graffiti on the brick wall that lines the corner. Down 5th street, the scenery is a bit more rural, with sprawling fields to the left, and the road being composed of individually placed river rock that has since formed an uneven, but charming, pathway to lead the few people that call this area home to their front steps. I made my way down this route as I had the Wednesday and Monday before, focusing on my footing as not to fall, and taking the streets back south to my home where I could eventually rest. Today though, as I approached the first turn in my path, I saw an oddly cute puppy, wearing an orange sweater and sniffing around in the tall grass alongside the road. As I passed it, it ran in front of me, sprinting down the path and away from my sight; that is, until out of the silence, I heard a quick bark, that transitioned into a chorus of furious yelps and growls that barreled down on me from behind a set of bushes to my right. Within seconds -or however long it took me to turn my head and see what was the matter- a pack of four dogs, one that used to be white before living on the streets, a black-matted lab, and two fierce looking canines that if I had to guess were probably boxers, were sprinting the 5 or so meters that separated us towards me. Before I could even react, two of the dogs had already latched onto the side of my leg and back of my knee, only lessening their grips following a few kicks and yells. They retreated to where-ever it was that they came from, as I sprinted off in a direction towards home, hoping that I wouldn’t accidently set off again whatever animal instinct caused this reaction in the first place.
Once out of sight, I slowed down and assessed the damage to my leg, quickly realizing that, although pretty bloody, there had been no significantly life threatening damage. Relieved, I headed home, only stopping to pick up a stick in case I ran into any other trouble along the way. For the rest of the evening, I got to experience the Ecuadorian health care system from the patient’s perspective; first coming home to clean the cut with hydrogen peroxide and whatever Jorge could find me, and then heading to the emergency clinic at the Universidad San Francisco de Quito. There, I was able to take all precautionary steps (a.k.a get a shot and a schedule of the next 4 shots I’ll need over the course of this month) to make sure I don’t transform into some rabies-crazed zombie while here.
For all the mothers or fathers or future wife that may be reading this, since this some-what hectic evening, everything has been fine, my leg looks to be healing, and other than the hospital bills and new-found desire I have to throw rocks at every dog that barks at me the wrong way, it wasn’t that bad of an experience. And as I sit here now, looking at the teeth marks that’ll probably stay scarred with me for the rest of my life, I realize it could’ve been a lot worse, and if it’s any consolation, at least this way I’m covered in case any other animals decide they want to see what gringo tastes like.
I hope all back home is going well and that everyone reading this (and even those that aren’t) is having a happy Fourth of July, and more importantly, a happy blood pressure awareness month!
Sinceramente
drew
Sunday, June 27, 2010
fri, sat, sun...ish
Friday morning I had the pleasure to attend the end of year Club Rotario Quito Valle Interoceánico breakfast, during which, my good old amigo Miguel was going to be passing the reigns to the new President for the coming year. As I followed the directions Mr. Falck gave the day before at the school closing, I ended up approaching an impressive hotel known as the “Swissotel,” but immediately grew hesitant; thinking the hundreds of police outside, the riot guards, and secret service looking personnel must not be there to welcome me as their guest. Oddly, as I walked up the front side-walk and towards the marble steps I managed to avoid any questioning (as I’ve learned so far in my travels, if you act like you know what you’re doing, you can usually steer clear of most suspicion), and easily find my way to the concierge who pointed on towards the breakfast/ ball-room. There, I learned from discussing with a number of white-haired Rotarians that, even though we deserved the attention that was forming outside, the unusual security and attention was being provided for the leaders of ALBA that were staying at the hotel, and soon would be leaving the country to continue on official business; just in case you haven’t heard of this organization, that would include Rafael Correa (the president of Ecuador), Hugo Chávez, and Evo Morales, to name a few.
The breakfast included some of the freshest fruit I’d tasted in my life, fried plantains, and other wonderfully decadent comida that my stomach could hardly bear as I started to get sick the night before (I know I shouldn’t have taken up the school cook on the second plate of potatoes with the questionable salsa…) and still didn’t have much of an appetite. After eating, the podium was graced by directors, treasurers, secretaries, and finally Miguel, who gave the best speech of the day- summing up the year, his time as President, and the desire he has to continue to see this organization make a difference in whatever means possible. In the end, I spent the rest of the day reflecting on his inspirational words (which was sort of easy since my stomach only got worse after eating, and I spent the afternoon and night in bed…) and pondered the possibility of maybe coming back Ecuador after graduating to fulfill my newfound desire of continuing the genuine tradition these people have begun.
The two week-iversary of being in Tumbaco that I celebrated this weekend, again took me to the capital of Quito. After peeling myself out of bed, I called a friend of mine from DU who has been doing community development work on the Southern side of the city to meet up before rugby practice. About two hours, four buses (which should have only been three had the guard at the bus station told me he wasn’t sure what bus to take instead of guessing) and a bit of a walk later, I met up with my team-mate from back in the states, Eric, and a 12 year-old kid he has mentored over the past 12 months. With quick greetings and introductions, we hopped in a cab and headed to the most beautiful field I’ve ever played on. The grass was rough, pot-holes littered every five meters or so, and we had to share the campo with two middle school soccer teams, but situated atop the second tallest hill in Quito, the view from this field- including the vast stretches of urbanized houses and apartments from the Airport at the most northern point to el Panecillo in the south- was breathtaking (not only because of the combination of running and the extra altitude). As I have almost always found with the people I meet through rugby, the players on this team were welcoming from the start. With a few 7s games and a tournament on the horizon, I look forward to building the friendships that started as we scrimmaged in the rain, sun, and then later rain again, over the next couple of months.
Looking at my clock now, I should probably get back to my work that’s due tomorrow, but to sum up the rest of the weekend: I was able to experience my first black-out while in the sketchiest part of Quito, eat the first red meat I’ve come across since being here (in the form of a double bacon cheese burger- I know, typical, but if I was gonna have a burger, I figured I’d make it worth it!), go shopping for some sunscreen that my shoulders sorely need, test out the swimming pool that we have in our housing complex, and relax a little while getting over the U.S.’ loss yesterday with some distracting one-sided soccer games today.
I miss you all, and hasta pronto
drew
The breakfast included some of the freshest fruit I’d tasted in my life, fried plantains, and other wonderfully decadent comida that my stomach could hardly bear as I started to get sick the night before (I know I shouldn’t have taken up the school cook on the second plate of potatoes with the questionable salsa…) and still didn’t have much of an appetite. After eating, the podium was graced by directors, treasurers, secretaries, and finally Miguel, who gave the best speech of the day- summing up the year, his time as President, and the desire he has to continue to see this organization make a difference in whatever means possible. In the end, I spent the rest of the day reflecting on his inspirational words (which was sort of easy since my stomach only got worse after eating, and I spent the afternoon and night in bed…) and pondered the possibility of maybe coming back Ecuador after graduating to fulfill my newfound desire of continuing the genuine tradition these people have begun.
The two week-iversary of being in Tumbaco that I celebrated this weekend, again took me to the capital of Quito. After peeling myself out of bed, I called a friend of mine from DU who has been doing community development work on the Southern side of the city to meet up before rugby practice. About two hours, four buses (which should have only been three had the guard at the bus station told me he wasn’t sure what bus to take instead of guessing) and a bit of a walk later, I met up with my team-mate from back in the states, Eric, and a 12 year-old kid he has mentored over the past 12 months. With quick greetings and introductions, we hopped in a cab and headed to the most beautiful field I’ve ever played on. The grass was rough, pot-holes littered every five meters or so, and we had to share the campo with two middle school soccer teams, but situated atop the second tallest hill in Quito, the view from this field- including the vast stretches of urbanized houses and apartments from the Airport at the most northern point to el Panecillo in the south- was breathtaking (not only because of the combination of running and the extra altitude). As I have almost always found with the people I meet through rugby, the players on this team were welcoming from the start. With a few 7s games and a tournament on the horizon, I look forward to building the friendships that started as we scrimmaged in the rain, sun, and then later rain again, over the next couple of months.
Looking at my clock now, I should probably get back to my work that’s due tomorrow, but to sum up the rest of the weekend: I was able to experience my first black-out while in the sketchiest part of Quito, eat the first red meat I’ve come across since being here (in the form of a double bacon cheese burger- I know, typical, but if I was gonna have a burger, I figured I’d make it worth it!), go shopping for some sunscreen that my shoulders sorely need, test out the swimming pool that we have in our housing complex, and relax a little while getting over the U.S.’ loss yesterday with some distracting one-sided soccer games today.
I miss you all, and hasta pronto
drew
Week 2
So the past week has really flown by. After a Monday spent in meetings that basically set forth the foundations for the rest of my time here at the medical clinic, I spent the rest of the week getting into a rhythm of observing, being astonished, and trying to rest whenever I could find a spare second or two.
On Monday, with the guidance of Paola and Dr. Andrade, I finalized the preparatory stages of setting up both: my investigation over utilizing the new WHO child growth standards; and the support group for hypertensions. Regarding the growth standards (although I still need to make up the final proposal for this research to the clinic- “this week’s assignment”…), my project would begin with attending the final, closing ceremonies of the pre-schools that are run in conjecture with the clinic. Five in total, these schools provide basically free schooling to about 250 children aged 3-5 in the Cumbayá- Tumbaco, “northern valley,” area outside of Quito; with the only cost of attendance being a $5 monthly charge used to pay for food and the chef that cooks it.
From Tuesday to Thursday, I woke up early to meet Evelyn outside of our conjunto (pic below), so that we could make it to the pre-schools in time for the beginning of the ceremonies. At each school, we arrived with a number of other Club Rotario representatives, usually consisting of the wives of Rotarians that serve as the madrina for the children from year to year, the Falck’s, and Jennyfer, who customarily presented a thank-you speech to the parents, the students, and the professors.
Although at each school the agenda varied in its own unique way, for the most part, everything began with the masses of children dressed in their navy blue and gold, donated Club Rotario uniforms, suddenly stopping their squirmishness so that they could stand before their country’s flag and sing the national anthem of Ecuador. From this, the audience was graced with a presentation of the years learning; which, often included picking the correct vowels out of a collection of letters, demonstrating their ability to determine which set of apples contained three and not two or four, and even reciting a few English words they had learned from previous volunteers. In all, as I sat amongst the parents in awe, I immediately understood how important it was for these children to have the opportunity that these pre-school provided- not only because of the lessons they had learned over the past 9 or so months, but because how drastically different they appeared in contrast to the children who would occasionally wander past the rickety fences surrounding the compound, peer in to see what the commotion was about, only to then scurry off to continue to kick whatever rusty can, or stray dog that accompanied them on the lonely streets they called home.
From school to school we went, and at each establishment I found a new set of smiling faces accompanied by a couple of professors and a handful of parents that tried to catalyze the change necessary in these children’s lives. Tuesday it was muñequitos de chocolate, Wednesday, mis primeras letras, and Thursday, los amigos de Noruega; in total, the 3 schools and some 150 students I was able to meet dramatically altered my perspective concerning my project, putting an entire collection of dirt smudged, but innocent faces with the set of medical records that I would begin to analyze over the next two months. At the end of the day Thursday, I left the final school with an overwhelming sadness- a feeling of regret if I had to classify it- that my brief exposure to these children had only consisted of watching versions of “head, shoulders, knees and toes” or “Snow White” in Spanish, sitting down in wooden chairs that came up to the middle of my shin to eat plates of chicken and papas, and playing soccer with the recent “graduates.” But at the same time, after I left each school and drove the winding, often extremely bumpy, roads back to the medical clinic, I had a new found optimism to help these children in whatever way I could- and for now, that meant determining what sort of help is needed most.
Following the mornings that were spent at the pre-schools, each afternoon I came back to the clinic to a rag-tag set of chores and tasks that often included translating e-mails from donors and other Rotarians around the world into Spanish for the director, running errands for the infirmary, and preparing for the implementation of what I figure may allow the most successful continuation of the hypertension support group: a “blood-pressure awareness month.”
After meeting with Dr. Andrade, I was better able to understand exactly what has gone into the group, where the problem of hypertension stands within the community, and what sort of options we as a medical clinic have at our disposal. In hopes of ameliorating some of the issues that were brought to my attention (low attendance, very minimal understanding of the problem, and a static utilization of resources/ information), I realized that, above all, I need to reach out to the community in an approachable, compassionate manner in hopes that they in return will do the same. Thus, after a couple of nights spent researching a health topic I still feel I know minimal about, jotting down ideas for what our next group topic may be, and trying to conceptualize the thoughts careening through my head, I knew exactly what I needed to do: start from square one; the general population. Prior to this point, in the hypertension treatment agenda pursued by the medical clinic the majority of forces have been concentrated at targeting those who have shown signs of high to extremely high B.P. While this plan is by no means flawed, somewhere between reviewing my scribbled notes, and waking up from brief siestas with a plethora of books on my lap, I realized that if we truly wanted to attack the problem at its source, we needed to focus our efforts in a more broad spectrum of patients, teaching, increasing the understanding of, and supplying the resources to avoid the health problem that is high blood-pressure. And, in a nut-shell, this is where my idea for “blood-pressure awareness month” came from. In addition to hoping to gain the trust of the community I will be working in for the next ten weeks, this month will hopefully provide all of those possible with the resources, knowledge, and motivation to change their lives in whatever way possible- most importantly, so that in the coming years, instead of solely having a group devoted to reducing the risk in those most susceptible to deadly complications, we are able to curb to incidence and morbidity of this chronic disease within the population, improving the health of the entire community in the process. Right now, as I write this, I’m sort of procrastinating on deciding on what the entire month will consist of, but for pre-view purposes (since July is just around the corner…), I will most likely be spending the mornings at the clinic from 8-1 providing free blood pressure screening to those who come to the clinic day in and day out. Additionally, I am in the process of creating a small pamphlet to hand out to those brave souls who decide to let me take their blood pressure, and will once again be contacting, by phone, each and every person on the register of “high blood pressure patients.” The entire effort, and the month for that matter, will culminate into a support group meeting which will be held on July 22nd.
On Monday, with the guidance of Paola and Dr. Andrade, I finalized the preparatory stages of setting up both: my investigation over utilizing the new WHO child growth standards; and the support group for hypertensions. Regarding the growth standards (although I still need to make up the final proposal for this research to the clinic- “this week’s assignment”…), my project would begin with attending the final, closing ceremonies of the pre-schools that are run in conjecture with the clinic. Five in total, these schools provide basically free schooling to about 250 children aged 3-5 in the Cumbayá- Tumbaco, “northern valley,” area outside of Quito; with the only cost of attendance being a $5 monthly charge used to pay for food and the chef that cooks it.
From Tuesday to Thursday, I woke up early to meet Evelyn outside of our conjunto (pic below), so that we could make it to the pre-schools in time for the beginning of the ceremonies. At each school, we arrived with a number of other Club Rotario representatives, usually consisting of the wives of Rotarians that serve as the madrina for the children from year to year, the Falck’s, and Jennyfer, who customarily presented a thank-you speech to the parents, the students, and the professors.
Although at each school the agenda varied in its own unique way, for the most part, everything began with the masses of children dressed in their navy blue and gold, donated Club Rotario uniforms, suddenly stopping their squirmishness so that they could stand before their country’s flag and sing the national anthem of Ecuador. From this, the audience was graced with a presentation of the years learning; which, often included picking the correct vowels out of a collection of letters, demonstrating their ability to determine which set of apples contained three and not two or four, and even reciting a few English words they had learned from previous volunteers. In all, as I sat amongst the parents in awe, I immediately understood how important it was for these children to have the opportunity that these pre-school provided- not only because of the lessons they had learned over the past 9 or so months, but because how drastically different they appeared in contrast to the children who would occasionally wander past the rickety fences surrounding the compound, peer in to see what the commotion was about, only to then scurry off to continue to kick whatever rusty can, or stray dog that accompanied them on the lonely streets they called home.
From school to school we went, and at each establishment I found a new set of smiling faces accompanied by a couple of professors and a handful of parents that tried to catalyze the change necessary in these children’s lives. Tuesday it was muñequitos de chocolate, Wednesday, mis primeras letras, and Thursday, los amigos de Noruega; in total, the 3 schools and some 150 students I was able to meet dramatically altered my perspective concerning my project, putting an entire collection of dirt smudged, but innocent faces with the set of medical records that I would begin to analyze over the next two months. At the end of the day Thursday, I left the final school with an overwhelming sadness- a feeling of regret if I had to classify it- that my brief exposure to these children had only consisted of watching versions of “head, shoulders, knees and toes” or “Snow White” in Spanish, sitting down in wooden chairs that came up to the middle of my shin to eat plates of chicken and papas, and playing soccer with the recent “graduates.” But at the same time, after I left each school and drove the winding, often extremely bumpy, roads back to the medical clinic, I had a new found optimism to help these children in whatever way I could- and for now, that meant determining what sort of help is needed most.
Following the mornings that were spent at the pre-schools, each afternoon I came back to the clinic to a rag-tag set of chores and tasks that often included translating e-mails from donors and other Rotarians around the world into Spanish for the director, running errands for the infirmary, and preparing for the implementation of what I figure may allow the most successful continuation of the hypertension support group: a “blood-pressure awareness month.”
After meeting with Dr. Andrade, I was better able to understand exactly what has gone into the group, where the problem of hypertension stands within the community, and what sort of options we as a medical clinic have at our disposal. In hopes of ameliorating some of the issues that were brought to my attention (low attendance, very minimal understanding of the problem, and a static utilization of resources/ information), I realized that, above all, I need to reach out to the community in an approachable, compassionate manner in hopes that they in return will do the same. Thus, after a couple of nights spent researching a health topic I still feel I know minimal about, jotting down ideas for what our next group topic may be, and trying to conceptualize the thoughts careening through my head, I knew exactly what I needed to do: start from square one; the general population. Prior to this point, in the hypertension treatment agenda pursued by the medical clinic the majority of forces have been concentrated at targeting those who have shown signs of high to extremely high B.P. While this plan is by no means flawed, somewhere between reviewing my scribbled notes, and waking up from brief siestas with a plethora of books on my lap, I realized that if we truly wanted to attack the problem at its source, we needed to focus our efforts in a more broad spectrum of patients, teaching, increasing the understanding of, and supplying the resources to avoid the health problem that is high blood-pressure. And, in a nut-shell, this is where my idea for “blood-pressure awareness month” came from. In addition to hoping to gain the trust of the community I will be working in for the next ten weeks, this month will hopefully provide all of those possible with the resources, knowledge, and motivation to change their lives in whatever way possible- most importantly, so that in the coming years, instead of solely having a group devoted to reducing the risk in those most susceptible to deadly complications, we are able to curb to incidence and morbidity of this chronic disease within the population, improving the health of the entire community in the process. Right now, as I write this, I’m sort of procrastinating on deciding on what the entire month will consist of, but for pre-view purposes (since July is just around the corner…), I will most likely be spending the mornings at the clinic from 8-1 providing free blood pressure screening to those who come to the clinic day in and day out. Additionally, I am in the process of creating a small pamphlet to hand out to those brave souls who decide to let me take their blood pressure, and will once again be contacting, by phone, each and every person on the register of “high blood pressure patients.” The entire effort, and the month for that matter, will culminate into a support group meeting which will be held on July 22nd.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
fin de semana
After the excitement of the support group, nothing extremely note-worthy occurred over the next few days except for some well needed relaxation and a couple of nights spent talking to mi padre Jorge about life, Ecuador, and the numerous topics that can arise when you throw Latin American politics into the equation. Over a few cups of coffee, we stayed up until almost midnight chatting in Spanish, as I made up for my lack of formal classes, while Jorge puffed away at his favorite tobacco pipe, advised me on the correct way to conjugate verbs tenses I don’t even think we have in the English language. Even more than what I learned that night in terms of specific lessons or teachings, I realized that I have been extremely lucky to find the house I’ll be calling my home for the next few months.
The first Saturday in Ecuador I spent with my dear, first, and probably best friends in the area: the Falck’s. That previous Tuesday, I attended the “mandatory health and safety” meeting with Evelyn and Miguel, where I learned any and everything that a gringo should know in a foreign country (don’t flash your wallet around, make sure the taxi drivers are actual taxi drivers, and that it probably isn’t the best idea to drink the water here…); however, among these lessons, Miguel and Evelyn began to divulge the secrets of the country they’d been born in, and even offered to take me on a tour of what they called “historic” Quito; as well as a quick trip to the equator. Without hesitation, I took them up on this offer and have thrown in some of the many pictures I took on this slightly rainy, but extremely fun exploration.
*Hanging out in both hemispheres
*A vista of the traffic, rain, and "el Panecillo" in Quito
*Los Falck's and the Southern part of la ciudad
*El Panecillo close up
Sunday, after going to church for the first time in a little over a while, I celebrated día de los padres with the Duran’s and an extensive group of people that can only be described justly by the word “family.” All three hijos, two of their wives, four of their children, Elsa’s sister and her son, and even the in-laws of Cristina, Marco’s wife, ended up coming over for an almuerzo that started promptly after mass and lasted through cena, into the late hours of the night until the children and conversation topics had exhausted themselves.
Somewhere between seeing the way the family got along, and heading to bed as Jorge stayed up and played spider solitaire, I guess I began to miss my own Dad a bit, my own family, and everything that I cherish about home. As I fell asleep that night, I realized two and a half months might be a little longer than I projected at first, but in spite of any new-found woes, I also slept well, knowing that in a way I had found a temporary, new home, a new family, and a new part of the world to show all of those I meet the lessons and dreams everyone I miss has taught me I can accomplish.
The first Saturday in Ecuador I spent with my dear, first, and probably best friends in the area: the Falck’s. That previous Tuesday, I attended the “mandatory health and safety” meeting with Evelyn and Miguel, where I learned any and everything that a gringo should know in a foreign country (don’t flash your wallet around, make sure the taxi drivers are actual taxi drivers, and that it probably isn’t the best idea to drink the water here…); however, among these lessons, Miguel and Evelyn began to divulge the secrets of the country they’d been born in, and even offered to take me on a tour of what they called “historic” Quito; as well as a quick trip to the equator. Without hesitation, I took them up on this offer and have thrown in some of the many pictures I took on this slightly rainy, but extremely fun exploration.
*Hanging out in both hemispheres
*A vista of the traffic, rain, and "el Panecillo" in Quito
*Los Falck's and the Southern part of la ciudad
*El Panecillo close up
Sunday, after going to church for the first time in a little over a while, I celebrated día de los padres with the Duran’s and an extensive group of people that can only be described justly by the word “family.” All three hijos, two of their wives, four of their children, Elsa’s sister and her son, and even the in-laws of Cristina, Marco’s wife, ended up coming over for an almuerzo that started promptly after mass and lasted through cena, into the late hours of the night until the children and conversation topics had exhausted themselves.
Somewhere between seeing the way the family got along, and heading to bed as Jorge stayed up and played spider solitaire, I guess I began to miss my own Dad a bit, my own family, and everything that I cherish about home. As I fell asleep that night, I realized two and a half months might be a little longer than I projected at first, but in spite of any new-found woes, I also slept well, knowing that in a way I had found a temporary, new home, a new family, and a new part of the world to show all of those I meet the lessons and dreams everyone I miss has taught me I can accomplish.
reunión y fotos
Words can’t even begin to explain the fulfillment of being able to, for the first time since stepping foot in Ecuador, help those at the medical clinic hands on. Therefore, I’ve decided to include some pictures to give you a better idea of how everything went.
Although I hadn’t learned officially how to take blood pressure until the morning of the support group meeting, by the time 5 pm came around, I was pro- having spent the entire day practicing on almost any arm I could find. Fifteen minutes before the meeting, it started to rain for the first time I’d been to Ecuador (ok, not honestly the first time, but prior to, and in comparison to this, it was hard to consider any of the light sprinkles “rain”), but regardless, nothing could deter my enthusiasm and motivation to help the people that already began to join in the Sala Odd Hanssen (our meeting room named after the esteemed entity behind the entire Fundación Valle Interoceánico). In all, 13 people journeyed through the pouring rain to make it to this, the 3rd meeting of the support group for hypertension.
After getting in front of everyone and trying to express my gratitude for coming in the few Spanish phrases that I know at this point, the way that the group welcomed me with warm smiles and an incomparable round of applause made me certain that I had made the right choice to continue working on this project.
For about an hour Dr. Andrade (the head doc at the clinic) and Paola shared the main stage as I observed their well designed presentation to describe the basics of arterial pressure, and the psychological stresses of living with the disease. Following this, I began to personally meet the members of the group in a more intimate manner, taking their blood pressure, advising them on how to fill out a personal record of pressures that should be brought to every meeting, and ensuring them that their excessively high pressures are something that we can work at lowering together. I spent the rest of the night cleaning up the meeting room, and saying good bye to the handful of people that I hope to see in a month or so; my grammar errors and lame-jokes must not have made them think any less of me, as every person that came went out of their way to introduce themselves, shake my hand, and tell me things ranging from “hasta la próxima reunión” to “muchísimas gracias.”
From that point on, I immediately began to think of how I could strengthen the group, build the camaraderie I later found it was lacking (only 2 persons who attended the meeting had been to any of the previous two…), and continue the momentum and desire to change that I felt while looking into the eyes of each and every person I had the pleasure to meet.
Although I hadn’t learned officially how to take blood pressure until the morning of the support group meeting, by the time 5 pm came around, I was pro- having spent the entire day practicing on almost any arm I could find. Fifteen minutes before the meeting, it started to rain for the first time I’d been to Ecuador (ok, not honestly the first time, but prior to, and in comparison to this, it was hard to consider any of the light sprinkles “rain”), but regardless, nothing could deter my enthusiasm and motivation to help the people that already began to join in the Sala Odd Hanssen (our meeting room named after the esteemed entity behind the entire Fundación Valle Interoceánico). In all, 13 people journeyed through the pouring rain to make it to this, the 3rd meeting of the support group for hypertension.
After getting in front of everyone and trying to express my gratitude for coming in the few Spanish phrases that I know at this point, the way that the group welcomed me with warm smiles and an incomparable round of applause made me certain that I had made the right choice to continue working on this project.
For about an hour Dr. Andrade (the head doc at the clinic) and Paola shared the main stage as I observed their well designed presentation to describe the basics of arterial pressure, and the psychological stresses of living with the disease. Following this, I began to personally meet the members of the group in a more intimate manner, taking their blood pressure, advising them on how to fill out a personal record of pressures that should be brought to every meeting, and ensuring them that their excessively high pressures are something that we can work at lowering together. I spent the rest of the night cleaning up the meeting room, and saying good bye to the handful of people that I hope to see in a month or so; my grammar errors and lame-jokes must not have made them think any less of me, as every person that came went out of their way to introduce themselves, shake my hand, and tell me things ranging from “hasta la próxima reunión” to “muchísimas gracias.”
From that point on, I immediately began to think of how I could strengthen the group, build the camaraderie I later found it was lacking (only 2 persons who attended the meeting had been to any of the previous two…), and continue the momentum and desire to change that I felt while looking into the eyes of each and every person I had the pleasure to meet.
Sunday, June 20, 2010
the first couple of dias
As dramatic as the last entry was- meeting the Duran’s was painless, relieving, and exciting at the same time. Although the volunteer coordinator had described them to me as “a middle aged couple,” Elsa and Jorge, well, to put it nicely, were a middle aged couple. In spite of the age mix up (Jorge has since told me about how he’s excited to celebrate his 70th birthday this year) the couple immediately won me over with warm greetings, kind smiles, and some of the strongest coffee I’d ever had.
We spent the first night in Tumbaco talking with the Falck’s, resting, drinking, and discussing the logistical functioning of my volunteer work at the clinic- in addition to all the details about where I'm from, what I'm studying, etc, etc. The Duran’s were very welcoming from the start, and immediately began to divulge the dynamic of their lives from the moment I sat down in the plush couch that called their well decorated living room home: Elsa was currently dabbling in cheese making, specifically “queso de hoja,”- a type of cheese that involves flattening queso fresco into thin sheets; Jorge, on the other hand, runs a jardinero business, where he spends the days ensuring all of his contracts are fulfilled, and his workers content. The couple has three hijos; Marco, Juan Fernando, and Maria Elsa- all of which live within a drivable a radius, and all of which I would soon meet this father’s day. As it got later and later we continued to exchange details of our lives until the effects of our café began to wear off and yawns became more frequent than discourse. At this point, the Falck’s headed for the door and the Duran’s showed me too my room. Although looking looking back, everything seems to meld together into one procession that led to me passing out in my new bed, between the tour and my head hitting the pillow I quickly unpacked, oriented myself with my new closet and dresser, and somehow let my family know I was safe. Even with yells coming from the street, incessant barking of stray dogs, and the occasional flashing or car headlights, I slept extremely sound this first night.
Waking up; however, was a much more difficult experience. As I threw off the floral sheets and tried to remember where I was I immediately received a call on the cell phone the president of the Club Rotario supplied me with the night before.
Paola, the director of the 5 pre-schools that are run in tandem with the medical clinic, was on her way to pick me up. In this new found urgency I ran to the bathroom, turned on the hot water and quickly jumped into the shower as it transitioned from freezing, to cold, to luke warm. With a quick dry-off, choice of clothes, and pair of tennis shoes I trotted down the stairs to find my new madre making coffee and setting the table with a basket of small rolls of pan, traditional silverware, and a couple of napkins. Elsa continued to tailor to my needs, making up some quick huevos revueltos, squeezing me fresh orange juice, ensuring that I slept well and that if there were anything I needed to let her know. From this point on I began to feel like I was part of the family.
My first work day at the clinic began when I met Paula outside the front door of the Duran’s and we hopped into her Volkswagen, sped off towards Quito, and began to discuss my responsibilities and motivations for coming to work at the clinic. Before we reached the city we turned off the main road to head towards Cumbayá, passing everything from broken down shops and littered sidewalks , to a centro comercial with a KFC. We continued to climb the inclined streets until on my right I saw a sign with the characteristic Rotary wheel, and below, an arrow pointing to the West- the clinic was on the horizon. At first glance, it appeared to be the nicest establishment in the neighborhood. Surrounded by a silver painted chain link fence and with a mini play ground out front, the clinic stood adorned with signs advertising medical services for under $5.00 and once again, the golden wheel of the Rotarians. It was obvious that hundreds of hours had gone into the building, sustaining its upkeep, and establishing its presence in the community; as I followed Paula through the glass doors, it became even more obvious that the population of Cumbayá put just as much time into utilizing the services offered here.
Directly within the front door of the clinic I encountered a waiting room full of plastic lawn chairs that were reminiscent of my childhood- currently occupied by some 10-15 persons that were waiting to see the doctor. Paula wasted no time in dragging me past the group of future patients and began a tour of the clinic and all that it offered. From the infirmary, to the offices of the accountants and the doctor, I quickly met the staff I’d work with for the next couple of months, also learning the location of the laboratory, as well as the pediatrician and emergency rooms (both of which were currently empty due to a lack of physicians in the area).
Overwhelmed but extremely excited, we continued the tour to the upstairs of the clinic, meeting numerous people whose names I’d quickly forget and have to ask for once again in the coming days.
To make a long story shorter, the remainder of the day was spent meeting with Jennyfer Soto, the directora of the clinic, observing how the infirmary serviced the patients that were waiting in the front, and undergoing a brief introduction into the work that I would be responsible for until September. For the most part I would have a pretty set schedule: beginning at 8am, I was to spend the mornings working in the infirmary or the laboratory, either recording patient vitals or running lab tests depending on where I was. From there, at around 1pm we break for lunch; I had a couple of options, (either eat at the few establishments around the clinic that ranged from interesting to probably dangerous; run to the KFC down the street; or bring my lunch) and although this first day I enjoyed eating with Paula and Jennyfer at a restaurant up the hill, I promptly knew that bringing my almuerzo would be the best choice for my conversation skills and in all practicality, my ability to relax for an hour. Following lunch, the work day continued from 2-5pm, during which I would begin to work on whatever special project was deemed most pertinent for the week.
This first day, I began, or should I say was sort of thrown into, the position of organizing an information session over hypertension. Little did I know, but for seven months before I arrived, a previous volunteer dedicated his time in Ecuador to investigate the morbidity of hypertension within the suburb of Quito, culminating his studies into the formation of a support group, of which now I would have the honor of continuing. And from the very start it truly was an honor.
By “continuing” I soon learned that I was to make phone calls to those patients who had shown un-naturally high blood pressure levels previously at the clinic- which, in total, summed to be some 300 persons- all of which would have to hear my rusty, broken Spanish explain to them the details of the information session
For the first three days, I spent the mornings learning and observing the years of experience Maria, the head nurse, carried on her shoulders. From organizing medical records, to learning how to take basic vitals, to imputing appointment information into the computer, I was swept into the workings of the enfermería from the moment my feet entered the room. Lunch, consisting of learning Ecuadorian dishes that i must try while I'm here, was the only moment I had a real chance to relax, as I got to better know my colleagues while I gladly devoured my customary: locra (potato soup), rice, vegetable salad, and miscellaneous meat for the day. The afternoons I spent with my ear glued to a phone that worked sporadically, chipping away at the mountain of names and numbers of those patients with high blood pressure in the past year. At first, this task was a bit daunting, but somewhere in between my 30th and final phone call I found a rhythm that was ameliorated by the genuine responses of those I called, and their obvious excitement to attend a free information session dedicated to improving a health problem they knew very little about.
As I continued down the list, I still vividly remember calling and speaking with the daughter of a woman who passed away from a heart attack within the past month. Sensing her pain gave me an overwhelming motivation and desire to, in the very least, provide the other 299 persons with the ability to find out more about their life threatening condition.
By Thursday, my anticipation was inexplicable, and by lunch time, we were just hours away from the reunion.
We spent the first night in Tumbaco talking with the Falck’s, resting, drinking, and discussing the logistical functioning of my volunteer work at the clinic- in addition to all the details about where I'm from, what I'm studying, etc, etc. The Duran’s were very welcoming from the start, and immediately began to divulge the dynamic of their lives from the moment I sat down in the plush couch that called their well decorated living room home: Elsa was currently dabbling in cheese making, specifically “queso de hoja,”- a type of cheese that involves flattening queso fresco into thin sheets; Jorge, on the other hand, runs a jardinero business, where he spends the days ensuring all of his contracts are fulfilled, and his workers content. The couple has three hijos; Marco, Juan Fernando, and Maria Elsa- all of which live within a drivable a radius, and all of which I would soon meet this father’s day. As it got later and later we continued to exchange details of our lives until the effects of our café began to wear off and yawns became more frequent than discourse. At this point, the Falck’s headed for the door and the Duran’s showed me too my room. Although looking looking back, everything seems to meld together into one procession that led to me passing out in my new bed, between the tour and my head hitting the pillow I quickly unpacked, oriented myself with my new closet and dresser, and somehow let my family know I was safe. Even with yells coming from the street, incessant barking of stray dogs, and the occasional flashing or car headlights, I slept extremely sound this first night.
Waking up; however, was a much more difficult experience. As I threw off the floral sheets and tried to remember where I was I immediately received a call on the cell phone the president of the Club Rotario supplied me with the night before.
Paola, the director of the 5 pre-schools that are run in tandem with the medical clinic, was on her way to pick me up. In this new found urgency I ran to the bathroom, turned on the hot water and quickly jumped into the shower as it transitioned from freezing, to cold, to luke warm. With a quick dry-off, choice of clothes, and pair of tennis shoes I trotted down the stairs to find my new madre making coffee and setting the table with a basket of small rolls of pan, traditional silverware, and a couple of napkins. Elsa continued to tailor to my needs, making up some quick huevos revueltos, squeezing me fresh orange juice, ensuring that I slept well and that if there were anything I needed to let her know. From this point on I began to feel like I was part of the family.
My first work day at the clinic began when I met Paula outside the front door of the Duran’s and we hopped into her Volkswagen, sped off towards Quito, and began to discuss my responsibilities and motivations for coming to work at the clinic. Before we reached the city we turned off the main road to head towards Cumbayá, passing everything from broken down shops and littered sidewalks , to a centro comercial with a KFC. We continued to climb the inclined streets until on my right I saw a sign with the characteristic Rotary wheel, and below, an arrow pointing to the West- the clinic was on the horizon. At first glance, it appeared to be the nicest establishment in the neighborhood. Surrounded by a silver painted chain link fence and with a mini play ground out front, the clinic stood adorned with signs advertising medical services for under $5.00 and once again, the golden wheel of the Rotarians. It was obvious that hundreds of hours had gone into the building, sustaining its upkeep, and establishing its presence in the community; as I followed Paula through the glass doors, it became even more obvious that the population of Cumbayá put just as much time into utilizing the services offered here.
Directly within the front door of the clinic I encountered a waiting room full of plastic lawn chairs that were reminiscent of my childhood- currently occupied by some 10-15 persons that were waiting to see the doctor. Paula wasted no time in dragging me past the group of future patients and began a tour of the clinic and all that it offered. From the infirmary, to the offices of the accountants and the doctor, I quickly met the staff I’d work with for the next couple of months, also learning the location of the laboratory, as well as the pediatrician and emergency rooms (both of which were currently empty due to a lack of physicians in the area).
Overwhelmed but extremely excited, we continued the tour to the upstairs of the clinic, meeting numerous people whose names I’d quickly forget and have to ask for once again in the coming days.
To make a long story shorter, the remainder of the day was spent meeting with Jennyfer Soto, the directora of the clinic, observing how the infirmary serviced the patients that were waiting in the front, and undergoing a brief introduction into the work that I would be responsible for until September. For the most part I would have a pretty set schedule: beginning at 8am, I was to spend the mornings working in the infirmary or the laboratory, either recording patient vitals or running lab tests depending on where I was. From there, at around 1pm we break for lunch; I had a couple of options, (either eat at the few establishments around the clinic that ranged from interesting to probably dangerous; run to the KFC down the street; or bring my lunch) and although this first day I enjoyed eating with Paula and Jennyfer at a restaurant up the hill, I promptly knew that bringing my almuerzo would be the best choice for my conversation skills and in all practicality, my ability to relax for an hour. Following lunch, the work day continued from 2-5pm, during which I would begin to work on whatever special project was deemed most pertinent for the week.
This first day, I began, or should I say was sort of thrown into, the position of organizing an information session over hypertension. Little did I know, but for seven months before I arrived, a previous volunteer dedicated his time in Ecuador to investigate the morbidity of hypertension within the suburb of Quito, culminating his studies into the formation of a support group, of which now I would have the honor of continuing. And from the very start it truly was an honor.
By “continuing” I soon learned that I was to make phone calls to those patients who had shown un-naturally high blood pressure levels previously at the clinic- which, in total, summed to be some 300 persons- all of which would have to hear my rusty, broken Spanish explain to them the details of the information session
For the first three days, I spent the mornings learning and observing the years of experience Maria, the head nurse, carried on her shoulders. From organizing medical records, to learning how to take basic vitals, to imputing appointment information into the computer, I was swept into the workings of the enfermería from the moment my feet entered the room. Lunch, consisting of learning Ecuadorian dishes that i must try while I'm here, was the only moment I had a real chance to relax, as I got to better know my colleagues while I gladly devoured my customary: locra (potato soup), rice, vegetable salad, and miscellaneous meat for the day. The afternoons I spent with my ear glued to a phone that worked sporadically, chipping away at the mountain of names and numbers of those patients with high blood pressure in the past year. At first, this task was a bit daunting, but somewhere in between my 30th and final phone call I found a rhythm that was ameliorated by the genuine responses of those I called, and their obvious excitement to attend a free information session dedicated to improving a health problem they knew very little about.
As I continued down the list, I still vividly remember calling and speaking with the daughter of a woman who passed away from a heart attack within the past month. Sensing her pain gave me an overwhelming motivation and desire to, in the very least, provide the other 299 persons with the ability to find out more about their life threatening condition.
By Thursday, my anticipation was inexplicable, and by lunch time, we were just hours away from the reunion.
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