Weekend Fun!

February 11-13, 2012

Saturday morning I headed off to the beach with an American medical student who is here on a rotation and a Ecuadorian medical resident.  We went to Atacames, which is just south of Esmeraldes, a larger town on the coast.  The bus ride was only about four hours, and we were fortunate enough to have seats the entire way there, on the three different buses we had to take.  The total bus fare was $3.50, I think.  Unfortunately, I had set my cell phone in my lap and when we arrived in Esmeraldes, I couldn't find my phone.  We tried calling it, but didn't hear anything.  I concluded that it must have fallen, been found, and not returned.  (Read: it was stolen, but at least not in a violent way).  Bummer, I was angry at myself for leaving it in my lap and not putting it in my purse.  But...I was not going to let that ruin my weekend at the beach!  Seriously, no cell phone = more relaxing, right?!  

We got to Atacames and found a hostel, only $8/person, not bad.  It was raining cats and dogs so we took a long lunch then explored the many knick-knack/souvenir/craft tables targeted at tourists.  I wish I would have taken a picture of all the tables, covered with colorful jewelry and nestled close together under the palm-leaves-thatched roof...but I don't carry my camera around to prevent it from being stolen.  The beach is lined with bars, discotecas by night, but still blaring music during the day.  We chose one that had swings for bar stools and drank caipirinha, a drink made from sugar cane liquor (or rum), sugar, and fresh-squeeze lime juice, then relaxed on the bar's hammocks enjoying the music and beach view until the rain let up.

It did stop raining, finally, although it was still cloudy.  I was so excited to be in my swim suit in mid-February, I didn't need sun to enjoy the beach!  It was probably better for my pasty skin anyways...  We played in the warm waves and watched others catch the swells on surf or body board.  After a nice long stroll down the beach ad back to the discoteca-lined area, we stopped to watch some 10-15-year-old kids dance cumbia on a stage (I think it was a dance class).  They were so talented!  I love watching people move their bodies with such rhythm and energy and athleticism, especially when the music is so fun, too!

View from the main street of PVM

A night of our own dancing in the many discotecas and then Sunday was bright and shiny!  We played in the waves and sun-bathed before checking out of the hostel and enjoying a lunch of ceviche, which is seafood (we had only shrimp) marinated in lime juice.  It's not necessarily cooked (I think these shrimp were), but the acid in the lime juice denatures the protein...fun food science fact!  They served it with a side of popcorn, fried corn (kind of like "Corn-nuts"), and plantain chips.  So tasty!  Strawberry ice cream to top it off, then back to the bus station.  Once back in Pedro, the weather was the most pleasant it had been since I've lived here.  We walked around and enjoyed the fresh, finally-not-so-humid air and took pictures of the town.

On Monday, we went to Mindo, a lindo (meaning cute in Spanish) town close to PVM.  It is known for it's natural beauty and outdoor activities, such as cannyoning down waterfalls, tubing or rafting down the rivers, and zip-lining through the cloud forest.

We first went to the Mariposario, or butterfly house, per se.  There were so many butterflies!!!!  

Cocoons from different types of butterflies!

We then continued to get lost in search of the zip-line...we started walking in the wrong direction and just kept going, thinking we'd reach the far-off destination.  We ended up walking the long, muddy driveway to someone's house.  The scenery was beautiful!  But after all that walking and a much-needed lunch of vegetarian burgers, the zip-line was closing soon for the day, so we didn't make it to that attraction.  (Note: vegetarian burgers cause food poisoning.  Stick to vaca, beef.)

So, to enjoy a bit more time in lindo Mindo, we grabbed a beer a played a hand of cards.  It was a nice, relaxing day.  :)

EARTHQUAKE!!!

Wednesday, February 8th, 2012


At 6am this morning I woke up from a dream to my bed shaking!  At first I thought I was in a movie where you're in a hotel room and you can hear the people in the next room having sex and shaking the bed and walls.  Hahahaha.  Then the shaking climaxed (pardon the pun) and stopped.  Just before it stopped I realized that the rooms next to mine are not occupied and the building is made of cement...I sat up in bed with my eyes wide from excitement!  I feel horrible to say this, becuase lives may have been negatively affected by this earthquake, but I thought it was the coolest thing in the world.  I loved the geology unit in 7th grade science (thanks, Mrs. Klatt, for showing us your rock collection)...plate tectonics and volcanoes and rocks put me in awe.  The world and its natural power is so much bigger than us it's hard to fathom.


Anyway, no damage from the tremor here in PVM.  As much as geology interests me, I do hope to not experience a life-threatening quake.  But a quote from one of my advisers comes to mind here (although it was in regards to struggling with my research project and the Spanish language): 


'You're working now with a community that lives despair daily.  It only makes sense to feel some of that when working with them.  If you never feel it during your extended time in PVM, you haven't made yourself vulnerable enough.'


Check out the details.

I miss my friends.

Tuesday, February 07, 2012

I was looking at all my pictures (on my computer) from the last three years and it made me think of all the changes that have happened in the last three years.  Change can be really sad, but that means it can also be a learning experience.  I’m still learning and thinking of all of you Stateside.

Ups and Downs…and Ups, Hopefully

Wednesday, February 01, 2012

(pardon the back-posting)

I was really frustrated today when I tried to return to the residencia after lunch.  The outside door to the building was locked; it never has been before.  The guard from the hospital had to let me in, but the hospital staff couldn’t find him and then he didn’t understand why I wanted to be let into my apartment, then he couldn’t find his keys, then the keys he found didn’t work.  I was frustrated because the door had never been locked before and each room within the building has a lock on the door, so there is no security threat.  I didn’t have a key for the outside door, so I could not get into my room when I would like to.  I just don’t understand the reasoning behind all of it, because I don’t fully understand what people are saying all the time.  So I was frustrated…because I want to understand everything people are saying, but if they don’t speak clear enough or loud enough I don’t understand well.  I don’t mean to blame them for not speaking to me slow enough…the only thing to blame is my lack of patience.  I’ve only been here two weeks, this speaking-like-a-native will take time.

Next time I get frustrated like this, I’m going to remind myself of the few times Spanish-speakers have told me that my Spanish is good…and that the American doctor who lived here for 15 years told me he still messes up sometimes.  I highly doubt that, but I appreciate his compassion and sympathy for my frustration.  His advice: be relentless, ask questions when you don’t understand.  Ok.  *deep breath*  Tomorrow’s a new day…

Why Yes, I Am Alive and Doing Things...

My first full week (January 30^th) in PVM started with shadowing a medical resident…for over SEVENTEEN HOURS.  He was working in the emergency room; I began shadowing him at 8:30am and returned to my room at 2:20am.  He stayed at the hospital with the other resident on duty that night, to sleep while waiting for the next patient in need of aid to arrive at the 24-hour emergency room.  And no, I did not attend the medical residents’ 6:30am class the next day.

The emergency room has five beds, and for most of the morning they were all full.  Most patients came with severe abdominal pain, which often ended up being a result of their diet and were sent home with instructions to lay off the fried or acidic foods.  However, one small boy did have dysentery.  Other noteworthy experiences were an allergic reaction to shellfish and an elderly campesino (rural farmer) couple who came in around 11-11:30pm seeking treatment for a machete slash in the man’s knee.  I watched the medical resident clean and stitch up the deep cut.  I was worried I might pass out (there was a lot of blood…and I’ve never seen someone sew skin…), but I was more weak from not eating for nine hours than from the blood and needle.  I asked the wife if they lived close and she said they lived two hours away.  I think they walked to the hospital.

The best part of the day was interviewing an elderly main who had been hospitalized a few days prior due to his symptoms of nausea and abdominal pain…and blood glucose of 520!!!!!!!!!  (Anything over 126 without having eating, called fasting plasma glucose, is diagnosed as diabetes.)  We asked him questions about his physical and mental status, as well as the foods he usually eats.  Next, we looked up the caloric values and glycemic loads of these foods, then calculated the calories for the man’s diet.  It was very interesting to observe and be a part of this process.  I didn’t offer “my expertise” (the medical residents have called me an expert on nutrition and diabetes…hardly the case) because I wanted to observe how the medical resident goes through this whole process.  I unfortunately was not at the hospital when the resident talked with the patient about dietary recommendations for his diabetes, but I hope to do much more observing of this diabetes diet process to learn more about the diet prescribed to diabetic patients.

Well, that was just one day.  I had already done quite a bit of exploring the food market, to get an idea of the types of food available and most common here.  So, I spent a lot of time working on questions for surveys.  The American doctor who founded the Hospital and Andean Health and Development (AHD—which is a Non-Governmental Organization (NGO)—check out the Hospital PVM tab) was here, so I met with him and the doctor from PVM, who are two of the advisors for my project.  I realized how unprepared I was with the survey questions I had been working on.  With the help of a hospital employee who is well-known in the town, I met and briefly talked with providers of alternative medicine, as well as a couple pharmacies.  This helped me realize the many various options of healthcare treatment that are available and often used here.  The treatments ranged from insulin and other Western-medicine medications to insulin water (like an herb juice), protein powder, herb supplement (like a cough syrup), herbs used to make an infusion, herb supplement pills, and massage of the pancreas.

Might seem a bit odd, but this is the whole point of my project: to articulate the contextual, cultural understanding of diabetes here in Pedro Vicente Maldonado.  And why articulate this understanding?  Well on the Stateside, the goal of my final report is to introduce doctors to the many alternative medicine options their patients may practice and to encourage acknowledgement of this type of medicine as a legitimate alternative.  Here, in Pedro Vicente Maldonado, my final report will also have this goal for the doctors in the hospital.  However, a couple residents have expressed to me their interest in my project because they’ve noted that diabetes is becoming a greater health concern and they are interested in knowing how to treat it more effectively with diet.  To this end, I’ve been thinking about a new part to add to my project: develop nutrition-related resources (such as a guide to a diabetes diet) that doctors can use when working with diabetic patients.  Of course, these resources would be within the context of the diet, health, lifestyle specific to rural Ecuador.

Goals for the upcoming week:

*Develop questions for healthcare provider surveys

*Complete the official ethics application to conduct research

*Observe more interactions between doctors and diabetic patients

*Speak more Spanish

*Go dancing J

Culture

Saturday, January 28

(I shock myself every time I write the date, realizing that it’s winter and snowy and cold in Wisconsin.)

Today I was sick, coughing a lot and feeling feverish, so I stayed in bed most of the day.  [Read: I didn’t have any friends to do anything with and was too shy and nervous to go out meeting people…especially because I felt under-the-weather.]  I picked one of the five books I brought with me and began reading.  I bought the book Dirty Girls Social Club for a class about Latina Identity, but we didn’t end up reading it in class.  It has been called the “Latina Sex and the City;” how appropriate for a lazy day of reading in Ecuador, right?

Well, I read the entire book—and not because it was the only thing I did all day, but rather because it was so damn good!  The stereotypes of “Latin culture” were described hilariously and accurately, only understandably so after personally experiencing some of the stereotypical situations described in the book.  While reading, I was laughing out loud, then sobbing, then reminiscing.  Call it a cheesy, romance, silly novel if you want, but I was sucked into these women’s lives.  It was a good book.  It was a thought-provoking book.

The six dynamic (fictional) women whose stories are told through the book are all “Latina,” but all completely different.  They each had their own struggles or issues with identifying as Latina and dealing with conflicts among their upbringing, personal goals and perspectives, and society’s expectations of them based on their last name or skin tone.  It was very apparent that the diversity within “Latin culture” is as diverse, if not more, than the diversity between “Latin culture” and other cultures.  This insight is absolutely obvious, right?  Reading this book made it utterly apparent that my conception of “Latin culture” was not only over-generalized, but very narrow.  I felt like a complete idiot, writing how I am obsessed and “passionate about Spanish and Latin culture” in the Who I Am of this blog.  How completely narrow-minded and ignorant!

Am I ashamed of unknowingly proclaiming my shallow understanding of “Latin culture?”  Yes, maybe a bit.  But I’m not going to change the Who I Am section.  May it be a product of “writing like there’s someone reading,” or may it be my romanticized version of what I really think and believe and feel, who knows.  I’m still working on articulating what I really think and believe and feel, so bare with me.  But what I truthfully do believe is most important is that I reread what I wrote, apply my new understanding, and learn.  How can I be ashamed of a mistake if it slapped me in the face and helped me develop a deeper understanding?  I often think of a mentor’s blog, and how she so eloquently describes the fear and rush of blogging, as well as the challenge of identifying one’s self.  Please read her blog (Why I Blog… and Who Am I?, as well as her many beautifully-written, insightful, inspiring reflections).

Reflecting on Dirty Girls Social Club, I smile, understanding why we’d read this sexy, silly, thought-provoking novel for an undergraduate course on Latina Identity.  As much as I have wanted to identify with “Latin culture,” I cannot, by any means.  I now realize that my description of “Latin culture” was merely stereotypes based on my short time in the Dominican Republic, and a few other experiences of what I thought were this culture.  I wanted to be a part of something about which I knew relatively little.  I’ve struggled to identify with “American culture” because I felt I could not describe it…I did not feel like I belonged to a specific culture.  However, by questioning my own culture and seeking another to be a part of, I’ve developed my perception of what it is and how we come to identify with a culture.  I think I really just wanted to understand what culture I was a part of.  As a friend has tried to explain to me when I complained (on multiple occasions) about being “cultureless:” we don’t know our culture because we live it.  (Check out this friend's blog, too, although not about culture, also very eloquently-written.)  I must again reference the above sited blog, noting the Who Am I? section on identity.

Right now I’m craving Girl Scout cookies (Thin Mints, specifically…with ice cold SKIM milk, not the thick, unrefrigerated stuff they drink here…).  Hmm, is this a product of my culture? hahaha  :)

(More recently, after the thought of this blog was almost fully written, I was waiting for a class to start here at the hospital.  The medical resident waiting with me asked me why I was fidgeting (playing with my phone, tapping my feet and hands).  I told him I was anxious, impatient that the class was supposed to start over an hour ago and we still had no idea when the professor would arrive.  He didn’t understand why I was going nuts waiting for this class, when he was perfectly content to sit and chat with me.  I may be over-generalizing again, but I felt the best way to describe our difference in understanding was the values or mind-set developed by our culture.  What do you think?)

Getting to Pedro Vicente Maldonado

Wednesday, January 25

With the help of another friend who I met at an internet café (he asked me for help with his English homework and we ended up chatting—language conversation partners!), I made it to the bus station and was off to Pedro Vicente Maldonado (PVM).  By the time I left the bus station, my anticipated arrival time was only about 2-3 hours later than I had indicated to those expecting me in PVM.  Typical?  Sure.  I stepped off the bus and immediately was overtaken by the climate change.  PVM is about 2 hours west of Quito (116 km, at altitude 620 m), but the difference in temperature and humidity is drastic.  Wishing I wouldn’t have packed those sweaters…


As the Director of the hospital met me, I realized that my computer cord, which was in a side pocket of my backpack, had been stolen on the bus.  I had been dosing a bit and the backpack was on the floor in between my legs, so I think someone must have been creeping around under the seat.  I actually read a warning about this posted on the bulletin board at the hostel in Quito, so I should have been more aware.  Not a big deal, though; I had an extra one at home (from a broken computer) and the American doctor with whom I’m working was flying to Ecuador within the following week, so my parents mailed it to him.

I am living in the residence hall where a few medical residents live during their residency at the hospital.  My room is simple and sufficient and very close to the hospital.  The only downside is the kitchen; the residence is very newly-built, so the kitchen is not finished or functional.  (Which I’ve learned is ok because the cafeteria in the hospital offers all meals for $1.75 each!  Lunch = soup with some kind of meat; main course of rice, beans/lentils/plátano verde, salad of some kind, and chicken/beef/fish!).

 I like looking out the window when rains (it still rains everyday, as in Quito), watching the clouds form foggy layers of hills and trees on the horizon and listening to the chorus of music, dogs, chickens, children, birds, frogs, and insects...and at night a lullaby of rain pattering on the roof.

This might look run-down, but it's a relaxing view; a picture doesn't do it justice.