Lessons Learned from the Jungle.

The straightest path is not necessarily the quickest one.

Sometimes it just gets you stuck in the mud.

So, friends, in your journeys, enjoy the winding road! It may take you to unexpected places.

Cheers, Sarah

Siga, no mas.

Today, friends, and for the last two months, I feel like I've finally been given permission to relish in my life. It's easy to realize how lucky you are in retrospect, but something truly special to recognize your blessings as you hold them.

The past few days in Ecuador have been utterly magical, not because of the sights, smells, foods, or sounds (though they are absolutely lovely), but because of a liberation of spirit. It seems that, unknowingly, I have been craving adventure. And now, having it, a new, wild, vibrant, hungry soul has been unleashed.

There is a greater sense of urgency to indulge, embrace, and explore my youth. The need to discover, to taste, and to learn is overwhelming. I feel truly. Happy.

Siga no mas is a phrase commonly used in Ecuador. And it means something to the effect of, "Come in. You're welcome. There is no need to keep waiting."

Well, if you insist. Yo voy.

Friday

Worked in the Subcentro El Dorado. It's the usual. Taking blood pressure, height, weight, temperature, paperwork. Until Nurse Nancy comes out with her gray cooler and announces that we're going to la escuela para vacunar los ninos.

Crap.

My previous experiences with vaccinating 100 children against Hepatitis B (for free!) was enough for me to know what was coming. Only this time, instead of relatively cool, calm, collected 11 year olds, we were going to be working with Kindergardeners.

What ensued what just as I had imagined: kids screaming for their lives, running away as the Nurse and her gray cooler approach their classroom. Other children run after me, nervously inquiring, "Which classes are you going to do, miss?" If they've been spared for the day, they run away, gleefully shrieking at their good fortune. If I am the bearer of bad news, they run away, shrieking.

It's as I imagined, only this time, because the vaccination is against Tetanus and because the kids are so much smaller, the shots need to go in their rear ends. Which means yours truly became a chair for the kids to bend over on, offering their tender behinds to the Nurse. This also meant that I was in charge of restraining several children--they are stronger than they look. I guess fear for your life will do that to you. (Note: the boys had a lot more trouble with the shots than the girls...)

We finish, and I survived, having only been bitten once. Out of kindness I gave my hand to a small child to hold during the shot. Next thing I know, they shoved my hand in their mouth and bit down. Hard.

Friday Night

It is Mateo's birthday. He is turning 4. Viviana made lasagna for the occasion (from scratch)! The dinner is a romantic one, with candles; we joke about it. You see, the candles are a necessity because for the past few weeks, the electricity has been cut off each day for a 4 hour period. This is because it hasn't rained very much lately (I balk at this statement...it rains every day here) and as such the power plant cannot generate enough energy to light up the city 24 hours a day. It is their way of solving a problem...in truth, I admire it.

Mateo receives: new shoes, new clothes, Ben 10 toys, a toy airplane, and an ice cream cake!

Saturday Morning

Jennifer's school is having some sort of futbol tournament, with each of the classes competing against each other. I elect to go with the family, and proceed to be very, very confused. Wilfrido and Mateo go to la farmacia because the little one has come down with a fever (too much excitement at his birthday party, I suppose). So I am left alone, with Jennifer and about 1000 other children and their families (no exaggeration). There is a procession of sorts, and election of a beauty queen (?) and the competition starts. It turns out Jennifer's class isn't playing today, we've just come for the "Opening Ceremony".

Saturday Afternoon

We take a hike along a trail that follows el rio Puyo. It's lovely and, thinking of it now, it's what I expected the trail to be like through the jungle. I laugh at my silliness now. The kids swim in the river, we emerge from the trail and eat a traditional dish from Puyo called the volquetero. It is plantain chips with tuna, tomatoes, onions, and other things I can't remember. Yes, the dish has the same name as the truck with which I hitchhiked in Pitirischa. It means "dump truck" because the dish is just literally a pile of food. Like it's been dumped. Get it?

Saturday Evening

The kids are bored and keep asking me what I'm doing on the computer. Having listened to some Louis Armstrong earlier that day, inspiration strikes and I play a youtube video of "Hello Dolly" for them. They love it. So, we continue on with Fred Astaire, Gene Kelly (in Singin' in the Rain), Ray Charles, and Audrey Hepburn. If you didn't know, I LOVE OLD MOVIES/MUSICALS, so this was great fun for me (and for them). Jennifer and I even cut the rug to Tony Bennett.

Sunday Morning

Starts off with an early church service which I don't understand at all. And then back at the house for a breakfast of encebollado. It is basically, tuna soup. The sheer amount of tuna I have had in the last few days is astounding.

Sunday Afternoon

The family works hard at putting up a Christmas tree. Believe it or not, the Torreses are a bit late on this, as Christmas decorations have been up for weeks now. It is very weird, since usually, in America, we wait until after Thanksgiving to start with the ornaments and lights. But here, right after Dia de Los Muertos...it's time.

I decide to stay home today while the family goes out for lunch. Alone time is precious and I engage in absolutely magical conversations with Taylor Debevec and Anita Prasad. I am so, so happy despite having the most uneventful day yet in Ecuador.

Sunday Evening

Dinner. is. canned. tuna.

This aggression will not stand! Or, at least, I like to think so. But I eat anyway, surprisingly noting the bright flavor of lime in the mix. It is refreshing. We have a juice of Taxo fruit today and while I slowly sip, trying to place this new flavor (there nothing more exciting to me than trying some new food for the first time) the rest of the family tilt their heads back and chug like they're playing flip-cup as if their lives depended on it. I quickly learn why.

Taxo is extremely acidic. To make the juice, the fruit is blended with milk. Acid + dairy = curdle. Ew.

Mateo is still sick and finds it funny to cough and sneeze without covering his mouth. I joked yesterday in Spanish: "Gracias por ducharme." Which, means (I think), "Thanks for the shower." The kids quickly learn my joke and repeat it throughout dinner after one of Mateo's coughing episodes. I suspect he does this on purpose just so that Jennifer can say the joke. I am proud because finally, an inkling of my endearing wit, sarcasm, and charm has shone through.

After dinner, Wilfrido and Viviana drag up one of the couches to the second floor hallway. I am confused until Vivi, satisfied with the arrangement, tells me to come, sit, and use the internet. I am strangely touched by this effort on their part. The internet connection upstairs (in my room) is much weaker than downstairs or in the hallway, but I often feel like I need to stay in my room to avoid being a distraction to the kids as they do their homework. So, for the past few weeks, I have been sitting/laying in awkward positions on the floor by my door to get what precious few bars I can. Now, I can blog from the comfort of my very own couch in a prime internet spot. Score!

And that, friends/lovers/family, has been the past magical/mundane (however you see it) three days for me.

P.S. Many of you have been inquiring how I am able to post so often from the jungle. To clarify: Puyo is a city on the outer edge of the jungle. This is the house I am staying in.

It has wireless internet. Yes, it is very nice. The family had it built a year ago. I feel like I am cheating a little bit. But what is not pictured is the vast emptiness surrounding the house and the small shack-like dwellings in the distance. It is an oddity on the outskirts of a relatively small town.

But rest assured, yes, I have been to the actual jungle. And yes, for the 8 hours I'm away from this palace every day, I am in a jungle town.

Things I Am Just Remembering From the Jungle...

...but forgot to put into my post(s).

1. The jungle children are oddly fascinated by contact lenses. Every morning, as Eve, James, Adrienne, or I pop in our "eyes" there is at least one kid peering over the table, just. staring. as Gustavo tells them they are late for school.

2. Gustavo thought that Bush was still President. I'm not sure which Bush he was referring to.

That's all folks!

And the Kind of Doctor You'd Like to Be?

If anyone had asked me this question two months ago, I would have most likely shrugged, and answered, "A good one."

But after my experiences this week, the answer has changed. Right now, it would be, "I'm not absolutely certain, but I'm thinking a lot about it."

And that's the truth.

On Wednesday and Thursday, I had the opportunity to visit and work in the Subcentro de Salud in Pitirischa. Some of you may remember my mentioning this "lovely" little town in my jungle posts and let me assure you, it is still the butt crack of rural Ecuador. I say this with all the affection I can possibly muster, because, as dismayed as I was to learn I would have to come back to this town, I suspect that the experience holds a life-changing moment for me.

And for that, Pitirischa will forever have a special place in my heart.

(For those of you at home, some visuals. Above is the view of Pitirischa from "my" left. To the right is the view of Pitirischa from "my" right. I'm not kidding when I say there are four houses and a store that sells Coca-Cola.)

So, perhaps some of you may understand why I was reluctant to return (I know Eve, James, and Adrienne get it. Ha!). In my one visit here nearly a month ago, I felt I had seen everything this town had to offer. I was wrong.

As I made my way to the Subcentro on Tuesday morning, I was greeted by Dr. Juan Carlos. The first few hours were incredibly awkward, as I had trouble understanding nearly everything the doctor was saying. He kept asking me for my opinion after a review of the patient. In truth, I had none. I kept stressing that I was not yet a medical student and that I didn't know very much. I was getting nervous--I thought I sensed a bit of frustration in him, but be that as it may, he always smiled and explained to me what was he was prescribing for the patient and why.

He explained that for infants, he always checks the lungs, heart, and respiratory frequency with the mother still holding her baby, to ensure that the little one stays calm.

He explained that for women still breast-feeding, there is a different type of treatment for parasites, because the normal medication is too strong for infants.

He explained that these tonsils were inflamed and that his nostrils had a pale color, which indicates this, or that. He explained why he had the woman make a fist and open her palms and why he looked under her eyes.

Yes, most of these things I probably could have figured out on my own, but what I appreciated so much was that he took the time to explain. He was patient, endlessly kind and understanding, and in a few hours time, I grew more comfortable, confident, and made the most of my time there. I asked questions, I listened to sick and healthy lungs, I found the heart beat of a baby still in her mother's belly. And he answered, he explained, he taught, he drew diagrams and he found material for me to read when I didn't quite understand.

And by lunchtime, we were fast friends. I was invited to have lunch with him and the Odontologist in the Subcentro kitchen (there is no restaurant in Pitirishca). Both Dr. Juan Carlos and Dr. Jose have just completed their residencies and are fulfilling their "rural year" (in Ecuador, all doctors that have finished their residencies must serve for a year in a "rural" community before progressing further in their professional careers).

We conversed, we dined on canned atun, we laughed. Most of you know by now my complete aversion to atun, but honestly, I didn't mind. I guess I didn't realize how much I missed the company of people more my age. We talked about how the doctors ran away to Puyo in September because the indigenous communities had come out on the main road in protest of Water and Mining Laws. Dr. Jose laughs, saying that he wasn't scared of the men, but that the shouting women with machetes were a different matter. We talked about my experiences with the Vwijint community and how the doctors want to try Maricoa. We talked about my Spanish being better than I thought, and Obama, and healthcare, and chicha.

I left Pitirischa that day with a lifted spirit, having made two new friends and having learned so much.

The next morning, at 4:30 am. My spirit is not so lifted anymore...it is more groggy than anything else. It is Wednesday, and the doctors and I are to go into a community to perform check-ups on the children living there. This requires me to catch a bus at 6 am. Joy!

I arrive in Pitirischa by 7:30 and meet up with the doctors. They insist that before we embark, we must share breakfast. Here, I begin to feel really bad that I can't offer anything in return...they are providing me with yet another meal. (It's really funny watching the two men cook, by the way, because it reminds me of how my brother, Jonathan, is in the kitchen: capable of fending for themselves, but definitely bachelor's fare. It is endearing.) The doctors are shocked when I don't put sugar in my coffee and drink it hot and black. We give our leftovers to the Subcentro's dog, aptly named Pitirischa.

And then we're off. We walk for a few minutes, and Dr. Jose (definitely the more rowdy one), insists we hitchhike because there is just no sense in walking when someone can drive us. (By the way, hitchhiking for short distances is a VERY common practice in Ecuador. I wouldn't do it by myself, but in the company of people who know what they are doing...no problem). We find and cram into the front of a volquetero for 15 minutes when Dr. Juan Carlos says, "Gracias" and the driver shifts gears. I jump out from the car and crane my neck over some trees. A one-room school. I don't even know how the doctors recognized the area.

We take a short hike to the escuela, where we find 11 children from 5 to 11 years old and one teacher. The doctors explain that they're here with me to do a free check-up and give any necessary medication. We set up shop. Dr. Juan Carlos produces from his bag: a scale, a measuring tape, some papers, and a small pharmacy. Dr. Jose scurries to a small desk a bit farther back, ready to check the children's teeth (they all need dental work).

There is a problem. There is no masking tape with which to stick the measuring tape on to the wall. I improvise with bobby pins on a multiplication chart. It will do.

And we start with the check-ups. As each child comes forward to have their weight and height taken, I nervously hold my breath as I track their progress. Dr. Juan also looks over my shoulder, always asking, "Peso bajo o peso normal?" And everytime he asks me, I feel like I want to cry. Only one of the children is at a normal weight. Everyone else is at least 3 or 4 years behind in development, mal-nourished. The doctor then quietly asks, "How many times do you eat a day? What do you eat? Are you hungry right now?" The kids answer softly. He prescribes multivitaminas.

Some of the children have gingivitis, some have a fungus on their skin from swimming in infected water. One boy has what looks like a ganglion cyst on his neck. He says it hurts. Nearly all of them have parasites.

One by one, the doctor checks the children, making sure they understand that they need to eat better, to bathe everyday. Dr. Jose blows air into a glove, making a balloon, and draws a smiley face. He uses this to teach the children how to brush their teeth. All of this is done and spoken in soft, soothing tones, with plenty of "mihija", "preciosa", and "mi corazon" thrown in.

We finish and start the walk back to the main road. The doctors, noticing that I am unusually quiet, pat me on the back and tell me not to be disheartened, that it is better to know how bad things are and make them better. And while they correctly guess that I am sad about the state of the kids, they misunderstand my silence. I didn't speak, because I was deep in thought.

This was where I started thinking about the kind of doctor that I want to be: kind, patient, understanding, soothing, empathetic, decisive. I know it hurts, but I never want to stop

caring. I never want to stop fighting. I want to

treat and heal. To make it better. This is where I understand that good doctors are, at their very core, teachers who still happen to be learning.

Watching these two doctors over the past two days has given me a lot of food for thought. Truthfully, I'm still processing everything and most likely won't have learned all the lessons to be learned for a good while. But I am forever grateful to both of them for their patience, their hospitality and for giving me a glimpse of the kind of doctor I want to be.

Yes, I am alive.

Friends, this week, I am spent and exhausted. There is so much to write about and process and share with you.

But there is time tomorrow for that. As I've now been up since 4:30 am (it is 10 o'clock, here), I'm having trouble typing out coherent thoughts (let alone thinking them).

So, for now, yes, I am alive. (Don't worry mom). Everything is truly, truly wonderful.

Ecuador is love. God is love. You are love. Love is love.

Today's Joys.

1. Finding a papaya that was BIGGER THAN MY HEAD.

2. Catching a pretty good-sized trout.

3. G-chatting with Katie Hall.

4. Reading that Michelle Pacer misses my Butternut Squash Soup.

5. Finding out that the House passed Healthcare.

6. Not being seriously hurt after a bottle of insect repellent exploded in my face/eyes.

7. Buying UP to watch with the kids.

8. Getting an email (with pictures of Moose and Hannah) from my mom.

9. Realizing that, yes, the jungle actually did happen. (And the bug bites finally healed!)

10. G-chatting with Taylor Debevec last night (it was so fun, it ends up on the next day's post!)

11. Not taking a shower today and, for the first time, being okay with that.

12. Reading about Emma Sandoe's creepy but happy gym workout.

13. Making up a song about a bear wanting to hibernate as I walked to El Centro.

14. 18 days until I get to see you guys!

Agua.

Cómo quieres ser mi amiga
Si por ti daría la vida,
Si confundo tu sonrisa
Por camelo si me miras.
Razón y piel, difícil mezla,
Agua y sed, serio problema.
Cómo quieres ser mi amiga
Si por ti me perdería
Si confundo tus caricias
Por camelo si me mimas.

Pasión y ley, difícil mezcla,
Agua y sed, serio problema...
Cuando uno tiene sed
Pero el agua no está cerca,
Cuando uno quiere beber
Pero el agua no está cerca.

Qué hacer, tú lo sabes,
Conservar la distancia,
Renunciar a lo natural,
Y dejar que el agua corra.
Cómo quieres ser mi amiga
Cuando esta carta recibas,
Un mensaje hay entre líneas,
Cómo quieres ser mi amiga