Let's just say it's a mixture of both. A workcation, or varking, if you will.
You see, when you're sitting in a truck on the way home after an exhausting field-study, make a turn around a mountain bend and get a panoramic view of an Amazonian valley at sunset, it's hard to feel like you're at work. Really hard.
And today, that's exactly what happened.
I had the opportunity to accompany some of Dr. Torres' colleagues from the Ministerio de Salud Publica to the northern province of Napo, a two hour (mountainous) drive from Puyo.
The office received a tip early last week that chinchorros had been seen in rural communities in the area.
The goal: to collect chinchorro specimen and test for the presence of the T. cruzi parasite, which causes Chagas disease.
At 9am, I hop into the front seat of a pick-up truck next to Angel, the driver, and 7 men pile up in the back. Five other men crowd into a second van. We are ready to go. (I should mention at this point that yes, it was me and 13 men and I have never been treated so nicely in my life.) We drive for quite some time, with the usual treacheries (stray dogs running into the path of the car, insane driving, etc).
At about 11am, we stop. And despite the overwhelming heat and the slight fear-induced nausea, I break into a huge smile. Facing the beautiful Napo River, I see a ferry and put two and two together. I can hardly contain my excitement...it is my first ferry-ride.
We cross, I am practically giddy. The rest of the group is stifling their laughter. I don't care. Having trucks on a boat is cool.
And then, there is more driving. One of the trucks gets stuck (the roads, darling, aren't paved here). Angel expertly handles the situation, ordering all of the men to jump up and down on the truck bed. I don't know what this is supposed to do exactly, but as the other driver shifted gears and 12 grown men jumped in unison, the truck freed itself. I was impressed.
We stop at villages along the way, with the workers doing a cursory search around the bushes, searching for something promising. Finally, we stop at a hut and jump out. The sun is so hot and the air is so humid, there is a permanent layer of sweat on all of our bodies that makes it difficult to get the gloves on. Someone hands me a jar and a set of tweezers and I am ordered to go find bugs.
I'm sorry, I'm from Los Angeles, you want me to do what?
Fourteen people (myself included) invaded this poor woman's "backyard" and overturned dead leafs, a worn boot, planks of wood, and (in general) trash, in order to examine the critters that scurry away. By the chicken coop, someone finds:
1. A tarantula
2. A scorpion
3. A rat
4. Cockroaches.
The tarantula is put into a jar and, for reasons only God knows, handed to me (Stephanie Tangsombatvisit, I thought of you). The scorpion is killed (to protect the kids running around barefoot). The rat scurries away to another pile of wood and the cockroaches...well, they just stay there.
But, with all of the excitement, no chinchorros. We move on to the next house. I have no idea where I'm supposed to be looking, so for the first few minutes, I just watch the men. And I learned. There's no method. Just turn things over and look for the bugs (unless you're at the chicken coop). So, I did.
More houses. Nothing.
Then, the last house.
The chinchorro is a blood-sucking insect, so they are most likely to be found near houses and/or farms where there is plentiful "food" supply. Their bites aren't inherently dangerous, but, as they feed, they also defecate. If the chinchorro is infected with parasites, these will be deposited on the skin within the feces (not through the bite). A person won't be infected until s/he scratches, transferring infected feces into site of the bite.
So: infected chinchorro, bite, poop, scratch, Chagas. Follow me?
I head for the chicken coop, as the chinchorro apparently likes bird-blood. Slightly afraid, I only do a surface search. Darwin, the jefe, comes by and hand-searches the actual nest.
Score.
Two HUGE chinchorros. He tells me to grab them with my tweezers...I try, but fumble. He picks them up with this fingers and throws them into a jar. The rest of the group gathers around and a full hunt is on within the nests. One is occupied by a rather frightened looking hen, the farmer unceremoniously kicks her out, takes her four eggs, and we find one LARGE chinchorro. Darwin tells me this one is so big because it is lleno con sangre (full of blood). Ew.
We've collected enough specimen to make the trip worthwhile so the men spend some time finding other bugs and presenting them to me. I am so grossed out. They are so enjoying it.
We hop into the trucks, stop by a river to splash some water on our faces, pick some limes, and hurry back to the river before 4pm. (This is the time the ferry closes. If we're late, I have to spend the night in the jungle. That is not going to happen).
Another ferry ride, some of the group oblige me a photo because I am still so excited it's embarrassing.
And then the drive back. It's nearly sunset and there is about a mile long view of Amazonian jungle valleys with the night fog slowly creeping over the peaks of the Andes. I couldn't bring myself to take a picture, it wouldn't have done it justice.
Home at 6pm and the power is out in the neighborhood until 9pm.
And that's a typical work day for yours truly in Ecuador.
P.S. Dear Discovery Channel, Bug-Hunters would make a great show.
A preview of my upcoming work-related posts (and a reminder to myself):
1. Shell Voz-Andes: Endoscopy Edition
2. SubCentro de Salud: Mera
3. SubCentro de Salud: El Dorado
4. El Campo: Aedes Aegyptis Edition
5. Hospital Puyo and Vaccinating 100 Children
6. Hospital Puyo and Frankenstein Leg
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