The time has come. Time to pack our backpacks one last time, to make our way to one last airport, fill out one last immigration form, and close the chapter on this incredible journey.
To say it has changed me can hardly capture the essence of this experience. As I sit here, at one last internet cafe, I am flooded with memories from the past 3 1/2 months.
Bustling through the halls of Hospital Hipolito Unanue, bouncing between operating rooms. Comforting crying post-op babies. Listening to parents and families who saved up all year long to bring their kids to the hospital. Walking the winding streets of Cuzco. Accidentally crashing a funeral. The majestic Andes peaks. Making hostels home. Getting my bag stolen in Ecuador. Biking 26 miles through the Andes towards the Amazon. Being in an ecuadorian music video. Seeing Bridget and hanging out with the amazing Padròn family. Switchbacks. Sleeping in the airport (twice). The inspiring people we met in Guatemala. Weighing children in El Fortìn. Finding spirituality. Finding peace. Finding myself.
So what have I learned? I have learned that strength, humility, and hope are three virtues that can get you through most any tough times. I have learned that no matter where you are, if you have an open heart, you can make anywhere feel like home. I have learned that you can tell a lot about a country by how it treats it´s elderly, poor, women, children and marginalized. And I have learned never to underestimate the kindness of strangers.
I am so blessed to have been given this opportunity; a truely life changing experience. Now all that is left is to hop on that plane, hug my family, and start putting to practice all that gifts that this trip has bestowed upon me.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Friday, April 24, 2009
And the clock ticks down...
How time flies.
We are ending our time in Latin America where it began last time: in Costa Rica, the land of breathtaking natural beauty and ¨pura vida¨(literally ¨pure life¨- the sort of national catch-phrase). Whereas Nicaragua is abundant in beauty of a different sort, Costa Rica prides itself on its natural resources, a pioneer for ecotourism, and the country with the highest standard of living in central america (and one of the highest in the hemisphere). Amazing how two countries so close in proximity can seem worlds away.
I have always felt more drawn to Nicaragua as a country than Costa Rica for several reasons. In Nicaragua I felt as though I was part of a living history- the past (indigenous heritage, dictatorship, revolution, civil war, U.S. interventionism) is all still very alive and present. While Nicaragua is afflicted with arguably some of the worst problems in the hemisphere, it also has a unique ¨we can prevail¨ optimism, due in large part to the fact that it was largely the youth that succesfully took down a dictatorship in the 1980´s. The natural beauty and resilience of the Nicaraguan people is evident no matter where you go.
Costa Rica; with its picturesque beaches, lush rainforest, and countless animal species, has been called a mini ecosystem all its own. No wonder this is such a tourist destination: it´s beautiful! We went first to Manuel Antonio, a spectacularly beautiful beach town surrounded by rainforest, and got to visit my cousin Miquela and her baby Bella, who live there.
Then, we went to Bagaces, a small town where Cory and I studied abroad two years ago. While I may have felt more at home as a country in Nicaragua, I never felt as welcomed and part of a family than with my Costa Rican host family. We stayed with our host families again, and it was so great to return to that feeling of home, and to have it extended to Katie (who my family promptly adopted as another daughter).
Now we are in Samara, the last leg of the journey, the final stop on this life-changing trip. It is a quiet beautiful beach town, and its tranquility and peace are just the right thing to aid our anxieties about returning to home responsabilities (aka, finding a job in this economy). But we are trying to live in the present, soaking up as much of this experience as we possibly can.
While it sounds clichè, I cannot convey how life-altering this trip has been. I feel as though I have grown more in the past three months than I ever thought that I could, and am becoming a woman that I think my parents would be proud of.
This life is so beautiful, and it´s never too late to go out and grab it. Again, the quote from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button rings true:
¨For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. ¨
Samara, Costa Rica
My street in Bagaces, Costa Rica
We are ending our time in Latin America where it began last time: in Costa Rica, the land of breathtaking natural beauty and ¨pura vida¨(literally ¨pure life¨- the sort of national catch-phrase). Whereas Nicaragua is abundant in beauty of a different sort, Costa Rica prides itself on its natural resources, a pioneer for ecotourism, and the country with the highest standard of living in central america (and one of the highest in the hemisphere). Amazing how two countries so close in proximity can seem worlds away.
I have always felt more drawn to Nicaragua as a country than Costa Rica for several reasons. In Nicaragua I felt as though I was part of a living history- the past (indigenous heritage, dictatorship, revolution, civil war, U.S. interventionism) is all still very alive and present. While Nicaragua is afflicted with arguably some of the worst problems in the hemisphere, it also has a unique ¨we can prevail¨ optimism, due in large part to the fact that it was largely the youth that succesfully took down a dictatorship in the 1980´s. The natural beauty and resilience of the Nicaraguan people is evident no matter where you go.
Costa Rica; with its picturesque beaches, lush rainforest, and countless animal species, has been called a mini ecosystem all its own. No wonder this is such a tourist destination: it´s beautiful! We went first to Manuel Antonio, a spectacularly beautiful beach town surrounded by rainforest, and got to visit my cousin Miquela and her baby Bella, who live there.
Then, we went to Bagaces, a small town where Cory and I studied abroad two years ago. While I may have felt more at home as a country in Nicaragua, I never felt as welcomed and part of a family than with my Costa Rican host family. We stayed with our host families again, and it was so great to return to that feeling of home, and to have it extended to Katie (who my family promptly adopted as another daughter).
Now we are in Samara, the last leg of the journey, the final stop on this life-changing trip. It is a quiet beautiful beach town, and its tranquility and peace are just the right thing to aid our anxieties about returning to home responsabilities (aka, finding a job in this economy). But we are trying to live in the present, soaking up as much of this experience as we possibly can.
While it sounds clichè, I cannot convey how life-altering this trip has been. I feel as though I have grown more in the past three months than I ever thought that I could, and am becoming a woman that I think my parents would be proud of.
This life is so beautiful, and it´s never too late to go out and grab it. Again, the quote from The Curious Case of Benjamin Button rings true:
¨For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. ¨
Samara, Costa Rica
My street in Bagaces, Costa Rica
Sunday, April 12, 2009
The sun sets on Nicaragua
As the sun sets on our final day in Nicaragua, I cannot help to look back on the profound experiences of the past two weeks spent in El Fortín. As I said before, we were working in public health, taking height and weight measurements of the children. This was challenging on many levels (none the least of which being the unbearable heat), but incredibly rewarding as well. We walked down the cracked dusty earth roads and went to every house in both communities in El Fortín, took measurements of 10 year olds with stunted growth due to malnutrition and screaming 9 month old babies with potbellies weighing only 8 pounds. It was an eye-opener, much more so than if this work had been done in a clinic. Actually visiting these families where they live, we could see such a bigger picture- where this malnutrition comes from, how these children get parasites, and the bigger questions: how are these families surviving? And, on a governmental health level, why are these people (a mere 10 km outside of Granada) forgotten?
On our last day in El Fortìn, we went to the beach with many of the kids from the community. We had a blast swimming in the (uh, polluted) waters of Lake Nicaragua with Estefanì, Juancito, Betito and others. The kids were having a blast too, and at one point, I looked over at 6 year old Betito grinning ear to ear, swimming with his homemade floaties- two empty 2 liter soda bottles. Sitting in the gently rocking waves, sunlight dancing off the water, my face fell as I realized that this innocent happy boy would have to fight hard not to become one of the other faces of El Fortìn: the adolecent and teen boys eyes bloodshot from huffing glue and doing drugs. However unfair, the cards are stacked against him.
There is a quote by Marcel Proust that says that ¨The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.¨ This whole trip has given me new eyes when it comes to the issue of poverty. I see it whenever I look out my window to scores of shantytowns that, while the country borders or even continents may have changed, bear an unmistakable likeness of resilience and dispair. How many people have I seen living in one room, dirt floor tin shack communities built into the sides of hills outside of town, without electricity or running water? How many elderly women have I seen on the streets, abandoned by families, begging for a peso or a few of our french fries? How many young men have I passed with bloodshot eyes and a glazed over expression, clothes hanging off of their skeletal bodies? And in every single country, how many, many street children have I seen? From the Incan girls in Peru, wandering the streets of Cuzco, posing for pictures and selling their culture in order to survive. To the 10 year old Mayan girls in Guatemala, carrying their baby brothers on their backs and taking care of their other siblings all day while their parents work. To emaciated boys in Nicaragua running barefoot through the streets, peddling ceramics, gum, or simply asking for money.
For so many of these people, they were never given a chance to realize their full potential. They were born into a system, not merely political, but social, that ignores and marginalizes the vast majority of the populace, making it incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to escape their circumstance. You are born into the slums, you die in the slums. If these children could easily go to school, if the young men and women could get jobs that pay living wages, if people of all ages were educated about health (sexual health, water and food born pathogens, and preventable diseases, for example), and if their governments could invest in their people, perhaps these people would have a better shot. I firmly believe that there are certain things that all human beings deserve: access to clean water, food, shelter, healthcare, a decent education, and employment opportunities. I hope for a better future. But in the meantime, I will work towards it, because hope alone doesn´t feed empty stomachs, and optimism doesn´t cure disease.
For so many of these people, they were never given a chance to realize their full potential. They were born into a system, not merely political, but social, that ignores and marginalizes the vast majority of the populace, making it incredibly difficult, if not impossible, to escape their circumstance. You are born into the slums, you die in the slums. If these children could easily go to school, if the young men and women could get jobs that pay living wages, if people of all ages were educated about health (sexual health, water and food born pathogens, and preventable diseases, for example), and if their governments could invest in their people, perhaps these people would have a better shot. I firmly believe that there are certain things that all human beings deserve: access to clean water, food, shelter, healthcare, a decent education, and employment opportunities. I hope for a better future. But in the meantime, I will work towards it, because hope alone doesn´t feed empty stomachs, and optimism doesn´t cure disease.
Monday, April 6, 2009
A Prayer by Archbishop Oscar Romero
While working at the mission in Guatemala, I came across this prayer that was written by Archbishop Oscar Romero. For those of you who don´t know, Archbishop Romero was the Archbishop of El Salvador during the civil war who denounced the repression and genocide of the Salvadorian people. He was assasinated on March 24th 1980 while saying mass. This prayer speaks a lot to liberation theology and really spoke to me.
It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.
The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts, it is even beyond our vision.
We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.Nothing we do is complete, which is a way of saying that the Kingdom always lies beyond us.
No statement says all that could be said.
No prayer fully expresses our faith.
No confession brings perfection.
No pastoral visit brings wholeness.
No program accomplishes the Church’s mission.
No set of goals and objectives includes everything.
This is what we are about.
We plant the seeds that one day will grow.
We water seeds already planted, knowing that they hold future promise.
We lay foundations that will need further development.
We provide yeast that produces far beyond our capabilities.
We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of liberation in realizing that.
This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter and do the rest.
We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between the master builder and the worker.
We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.
We are prophets of a future not our own.
Friday, April 3, 2009
El Fortín
In a country that is ranked second poorest in the Western Hemisphere, on a continent with the greatest gap between rich and poor in the world, lies the community of El Fortín. It is still amazing to think that this somewhat isolated country community lies a mere 10 minutes from the hustle and bustle of Granada.
The two couldn´t be more different. Step into Granada and you are stepping into the same conundrum that plagues most tourist spots-- the beautiful architecture, horsedrawn carriages, new restaurants and bars catering to foreign clientele, all of which try, but cannot mask, the extreme poverty that actually lives and breathes beneath the surface. Elderly women begging for scraps of your food. Teenage boys huffing glue in the park. Barefoot children in ragged clothes who should be in school wandering the streets without destination or purpose.
All the while, this country is one of my very favorites. Yes, there is poverty. Yes, there are dire circumstances. However, there is something very unique to Nicaragua. Something intangible, but can be felt in the warmth and love we have (and are) experiencing in El Fortín.
We arrived on Monday with aprehensions. We hadn´t heard back from María Teresa, our contact, so we werent sure if our host stays were secure, and we still didn´t know exactly what she wanted us to do. On top of that, there were other questions. How had things changed since we began our project there two and a half years ago? Or worse, for the sake of the project, how had things remained the same?
El Fortín, as I have said, couldn´t be more different from Granada. Whereas Granada is full of the deafening sounds of microbuses, bachata music, chicken buses, and street vendors, there is an initial eerie quiet when you arrive, exacerbated by the silence of the people who live there. There isn´t a lot of talking going on at my host family´s house. The very first time I came to El Fortín, I got to my family´s house and they grabbed me a chair, invited me to sit down, and they proceeded to make a semi-circle of chairs around me and stare at me. Just stare. No questions of who I was or why I was there. Awkward silence. Being someone who, lets face it, likes to talk and has a tendency to fill silent voids with conversation, this was a shocker. But, it also made me think that perhaps this is just an environment where silence isn´t something to be avoided- you don´t talk unless you have something to say.
Our work for the time we are there is dedicated to public health. As I have said, the children in this community were tested for parasites last year, and every single one of them tested positive. To put this in perspective, there are about 400 houses in both areas of El Fortín, many of which house several families. Thats a lot of kids.
We have been going house by house taking height and weight measurements of the children. This is crucial information to determine of the kids are malnurished, underdeveloped or have intestinal parasites. It was truly eye-opening walking house by house, opening the barbed wire and wooden stake fences, approaching houses made of cinder block or wood or tin, and asking tired mothers or grandmothers if we could weigh the kids running around the house. One house that we approached had seven kids (the eldest of which was 11) and no parents.
Some kids were healthier than others. I´m no medical expert, but it didn´t take much to look at these kids, look at their measurements, and know that they are terribly malnourished. Children with skeletal arms and legs and the caracteristic potbelly, so often an indicator for parasites, or malnourishment. This information, once sent to the government health agencies, will hopefully bring more help to this community that desperately needs it.
The situation sounds dire, and perhaps when talking of health and economics, it is. But there is another side to El Fortín, and I see it everyday when I have legions of kids following us around to play with us. They look like the happiest kids in the world, and it pains me that they have so much of life stacked against them. Maybe this was our bigger mission with LASED- to give these kids a fighting chance to escape circumstance. But unlike other programs, we realize that a diversified approach is the only way to success-- families need income to afford to send their kids to school, kids need to go to school in order to succeed, but kids cannot succeed on empty stomachs. Or when they are sick.
But for now, I am enjoying life tremendously. From feeling super popular with the 7 year olds, to taking bucket showers in the sun, I remember why I love this place so much. Maybe some people here don´t talk much, but when it comes to making us feel so welcome and part of the family, they don´t need to.
The two couldn´t be more different. Step into Granada and you are stepping into the same conundrum that plagues most tourist spots-- the beautiful architecture, horsedrawn carriages, new restaurants and bars catering to foreign clientele, all of which try, but cannot mask, the extreme poverty that actually lives and breathes beneath the surface. Elderly women begging for scraps of your food. Teenage boys huffing glue in the park. Barefoot children in ragged clothes who should be in school wandering the streets without destination or purpose.
All the while, this country is one of my very favorites. Yes, there is poverty. Yes, there are dire circumstances. However, there is something very unique to Nicaragua. Something intangible, but can be felt in the warmth and love we have (and are) experiencing in El Fortín.
We arrived on Monday with aprehensions. We hadn´t heard back from María Teresa, our contact, so we werent sure if our host stays were secure, and we still didn´t know exactly what she wanted us to do. On top of that, there were other questions. How had things changed since we began our project there two and a half years ago? Or worse, for the sake of the project, how had things remained the same?
El Fortín, as I have said, couldn´t be more different from Granada. Whereas Granada is full of the deafening sounds of microbuses, bachata music, chicken buses, and street vendors, there is an initial eerie quiet when you arrive, exacerbated by the silence of the people who live there. There isn´t a lot of talking going on at my host family´s house. The very first time I came to El Fortín, I got to my family´s house and they grabbed me a chair, invited me to sit down, and they proceeded to make a semi-circle of chairs around me and stare at me. Just stare. No questions of who I was or why I was there. Awkward silence. Being someone who, lets face it, likes to talk and has a tendency to fill silent voids with conversation, this was a shocker. But, it also made me think that perhaps this is just an environment where silence isn´t something to be avoided- you don´t talk unless you have something to say.
Our work for the time we are there is dedicated to public health. As I have said, the children in this community were tested for parasites last year, and every single one of them tested positive. To put this in perspective, there are about 400 houses in both areas of El Fortín, many of which house several families. Thats a lot of kids.
We have been going house by house taking height and weight measurements of the children. This is crucial information to determine of the kids are malnurished, underdeveloped or have intestinal parasites. It was truly eye-opening walking house by house, opening the barbed wire and wooden stake fences, approaching houses made of cinder block or wood or tin, and asking tired mothers or grandmothers if we could weigh the kids running around the house. One house that we approached had seven kids (the eldest of which was 11) and no parents.
Some kids were healthier than others. I´m no medical expert, but it didn´t take much to look at these kids, look at their measurements, and know that they are terribly malnourished. Children with skeletal arms and legs and the caracteristic potbelly, so often an indicator for parasites, or malnourishment. This information, once sent to the government health agencies, will hopefully bring more help to this community that desperately needs it.
The situation sounds dire, and perhaps when talking of health and economics, it is. But there is another side to El Fortín, and I see it everyday when I have legions of kids following us around to play with us. They look like the happiest kids in the world, and it pains me that they have so much of life stacked against them. Maybe this was our bigger mission with LASED- to give these kids a fighting chance to escape circumstance. But unlike other programs, we realize that a diversified approach is the only way to success-- families need income to afford to send their kids to school, kids need to go to school in order to succeed, but kids cannot succeed on empty stomachs. Or when they are sick.
But for now, I am enjoying life tremendously. From feeling super popular with the 7 year olds, to taking bucket showers in the sun, I remember why I love this place so much. Maybe some people here don´t talk much, but when it comes to making us feel so welcome and part of the family, they don´t need to.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
So long Guatemala, Hello Nicaragua!
Wow. Where to even begin.
Our time in Guatemala is a difficult one to put into words. I can say how we spent our days or who we met, but the most profound part of the experience lies somewhere in that inexplicable corner of your soul, the deepest most profound part of you, but the most difficult to express in a way that does it justice.
In a sense, it was much less about what we did day to day, than how it made us feel. Don´t get me wrong, the day to day was great- we would wake up, go to the mission for an AMAZING breakfast with all 100ish volunteers and find out the jobs we could do that day. After breakfast we would do things like reforestation work, break rock, construction, organizing/cleaning, sorting coffee beans, or (if we were lucky) help make artisan wooden spoons. After that we would return for an equally amazing lunch, work in the afternoon and dinner again with all the volunteers (who come from all over the US but the majority are from Minnesota). We met wonderful lifelong friends; like Erin from New York, Jack from Minneapolis, Roberta from Los Angeles, Paul from Apple Valley, and Matt from Pennsylvania. We shared stories and laughs, and learned much about the history, culture, and traditions of the community. We quickly took on leadership responsabilities in the mission: I led tours, interpreting for lots of people, including interpreting for Chona´s talk. It was a wonderful glipse into the life of a long term volunteer. All this was wonderful, we were being helpful and it helped shape our trip tremendously. However, I experienced the common sentiment that I was getting more out of this experience than I could ever put in.
It's a fine mystery, trying to pinpoint the origin of the peace and tranquilty that engulf you from the moment you arrive. It's like a cool breeze off the lake that reaches through you and settles right in your soul. One huge gift that Guatemala gave me is a renewed interest in faith and spirituality. Blame it on my youth, my cynicism, or overall disdain for authority (thanks Irish blood), but prior to our time in Guatemala, I didn't feel a huge religious connection on this trip. But there was something about this place, something that touched me very deeply and gave me clarity and spoke to my own personal spiritual beliefs. This church wasn´t working for the people, they were working with the people, Catholic or not. Social justice was the name of the game, and liberation theology was the philosophy. I found myself praying for the first time in what seemed like years, and spending time reading, searching, and reflecting. Though I am far from devout, for the time it seems I am back on the journey.
We left Guatemala with mixed excitement and sadness. We couldn't wait to see what Nicaragua had in store for us (after our 2 day bus ride, of course). Three of the four of us (Cory, Jeanne and myself) studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica two years ago, and we couldn't wait to go back to see how things had changed/stayed the same. As the bus rolled into Granada however, I was overcome by the familiarity of my surroundings and the normalcy of being back. In many respects, it was as if we had never left.
We had the pleasure of the company of some of our wonderful friends who came for this past week for their spring break: Christie Cleaves and Kristin Racchini (both studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica last year and were founding members of LASED- our organization dedicated to sustainability, education and development projects in Latin America), and Gina Ploessl, Cory's sister, first time out of the country. We packed a lot in in that week; visiting the beach at San Juan del Sur, the market at Masaya, a volcanic crater lagoon at Laguna de Apoyo, and Isla Ometepe- the Island with two volcanoes in Lake Nicaragua. (Fun fact: Lake Nicaragua is the only place in the world where you can find freshwater sharks!) We had a wonderful time, and it was so great to finally share a central american experience with Christie and Kristin, as well as be there with Gina to see her experience it for the very first time.
So now here we are, gearing up for our three weeks of volunteer work in the community of El Fortín, outside of Granada. For those of you who don't know, when we studied abroad we did a service project in this community. We built a greenhouse, planted herbs to be sold at the market, planted fruit trees, and spent a lot of time with the kids. The subsequent study abroad groups have continued this effort, working on different projects from education, to health and sustainable development. The conditions for the people who live there are not the easiest- Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the hemisphere after Haiti, and making ends meet, especially in a community like El Fortín, is brutally hard. Most of the families have tough decisions to make- do they send their kids to school, spending $35 a year on uniforms and supplies, or do they send their kids to work, and maybe earn a little more for the family? We saw a need in this community, and we decided to take action.
In the spring of 2008, our two study abroad groups came together and formed LASED (Latin American Sustainability Education and Development). We have raised a few thousand dollars for educational scholarships, sustainable developement projects, healthcare and nutition programs, as well as fundraising for a bridge that is desperately needed. We held the first annual El Fortín 5K Marathon last May, Eau Claire will host another this May. If you are in the area, please take part or donate to this wonderful cause!
Okay, enough of my shameless plug. We are very excited to begin work in El Fortín. We will be mostly working as community health workers, taking census information, talking about parasite prevention and other health concerns, as well as nutrition education. This is extremely important because when the other study abroad group tested the kids in El Fortín for intestinal parasites, 100% of them tested postive. We'll also probably be doing some construction and tutoring the kids.
Life is going great, and I could not be happier. All of a sudden 3 1/2 months seems far too short.
Our time in Guatemala is a difficult one to put into words. I can say how we spent our days or who we met, but the most profound part of the experience lies somewhere in that inexplicable corner of your soul, the deepest most profound part of you, but the most difficult to express in a way that does it justice.
In a sense, it was much less about what we did day to day, than how it made us feel. Don´t get me wrong, the day to day was great- we would wake up, go to the mission for an AMAZING breakfast with all 100ish volunteers and find out the jobs we could do that day. After breakfast we would do things like reforestation work, break rock, construction, organizing/cleaning, sorting coffee beans, or (if we were lucky) help make artisan wooden spoons. After that we would return for an equally amazing lunch, work in the afternoon and dinner again with all the volunteers (who come from all over the US but the majority are from Minnesota). We met wonderful lifelong friends; like Erin from New York, Jack from Minneapolis, Roberta from Los Angeles, Paul from Apple Valley, and Matt from Pennsylvania. We shared stories and laughs, and learned much about the history, culture, and traditions of the community. We quickly took on leadership responsabilities in the mission: I led tours, interpreting for lots of people, including interpreting for Chona´s talk. It was a wonderful glipse into the life of a long term volunteer. All this was wonderful, we were being helpful and it helped shape our trip tremendously. However, I experienced the common sentiment that I was getting more out of this experience than I could ever put in.
It's a fine mystery, trying to pinpoint the origin of the peace and tranquilty that engulf you from the moment you arrive. It's like a cool breeze off the lake that reaches through you and settles right in your soul. One huge gift that Guatemala gave me is a renewed interest in faith and spirituality. Blame it on my youth, my cynicism, or overall disdain for authority (thanks Irish blood), but prior to our time in Guatemala, I didn't feel a huge religious connection on this trip. But there was something about this place, something that touched me very deeply and gave me clarity and spoke to my own personal spiritual beliefs. This church wasn´t working for the people, they were working with the people, Catholic or not. Social justice was the name of the game, and liberation theology was the philosophy. I found myself praying for the first time in what seemed like years, and spending time reading, searching, and reflecting. Though I am far from devout, for the time it seems I am back on the journey.
We left Guatemala with mixed excitement and sadness. We couldn't wait to see what Nicaragua had in store for us (after our 2 day bus ride, of course). Three of the four of us (Cory, Jeanne and myself) studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica two years ago, and we couldn't wait to go back to see how things had changed/stayed the same. As the bus rolled into Granada however, I was overcome by the familiarity of my surroundings and the normalcy of being back. In many respects, it was as if we had never left.
We had the pleasure of the company of some of our wonderful friends who came for this past week for their spring break: Christie Cleaves and Kristin Racchini (both studied abroad in Nicaragua and Costa Rica last year and were founding members of LASED- our organization dedicated to sustainability, education and development projects in Latin America), and Gina Ploessl, Cory's sister, first time out of the country. We packed a lot in in that week; visiting the beach at San Juan del Sur, the market at Masaya, a volcanic crater lagoon at Laguna de Apoyo, and Isla Ometepe- the Island with two volcanoes in Lake Nicaragua. (Fun fact: Lake Nicaragua is the only place in the world where you can find freshwater sharks!) We had a wonderful time, and it was so great to finally share a central american experience with Christie and Kristin, as well as be there with Gina to see her experience it for the very first time.
So now here we are, gearing up for our three weeks of volunteer work in the community of El Fortín, outside of Granada. For those of you who don't know, when we studied abroad we did a service project in this community. We built a greenhouse, planted herbs to be sold at the market, planted fruit trees, and spent a lot of time with the kids. The subsequent study abroad groups have continued this effort, working on different projects from education, to health and sustainable development. The conditions for the people who live there are not the easiest- Nicaragua is the second poorest country in the hemisphere after Haiti, and making ends meet, especially in a community like El Fortín, is brutally hard. Most of the families have tough decisions to make- do they send their kids to school, spending $35 a year on uniforms and supplies, or do they send their kids to work, and maybe earn a little more for the family? We saw a need in this community, and we decided to take action.
In the spring of 2008, our two study abroad groups came together and formed LASED (Latin American Sustainability Education and Development). We have raised a few thousand dollars for educational scholarships, sustainable developement projects, healthcare and nutition programs, as well as fundraising for a bridge that is desperately needed. We held the first annual El Fortín 5K Marathon last May, Eau Claire will host another this May. If you are in the area, please take part or donate to this wonderful cause!
Okay, enough of my shameless plug. We are very excited to begin work in El Fortín. We will be mostly working as community health workers, taking census information, talking about parasite prevention and other health concerns, as well as nutrition education. This is extremely important because when the other study abroad group tested the kids in El Fortín for intestinal parasites, 100% of them tested postive. We'll also probably be doing some construction and tutoring the kids.
Life is going great, and I could not be happier. All of a sudden 3 1/2 months seems far too short.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Ghosts, memories, testimonies
There are places where the past is no more past than the lingering smell of this morning´s meal. Places where things live on, perhaps not in action, perhaps not materially, but they live on nonetheless, an everpresent reminder in a people´s psyche.
Her name is Chona. She has worked at the mission for the past 42 years, primarily as a cook, though during ´La Violencia´, her role was much more. Here is her story.
The story of our life here is very hard- 1980, ´81 and ´82 were very difficult years. I am the mother of four, and during the time of ´La Violencia´, we here in the parish worked on behalf of the suffering people in our community- you see, lots of people here had problems either because of the military or because of the guerillas. The guerillas would come and offer the Mayans lots of incentives to join: more land, money, anything to get them to join. During this time, there was much violence at the hands of both, and one had to be completely neutral: if you were to help one person on one side, the other side would come after you and your family.
Only Father Greg and I knew the movements of the guerillas and the military. We could tell no one and we worked together many times to save others.
So the priest asked Father Greg to help get them and bring them to a local orphanage. All in all, there were eleven kids from two families, the youngest were one year and a year and a half.
¨How do we get them out?¨ Father Greg asked me. ¨If the military finds out, they´ll kill us all. But, if we do nothing, they´ll kill the children. How are we going to get them out?¨
I told him ¨Look for a car and a driver and I will go get them myself.¨ So we got a car and a driver and we went to Quiché. There were three military checkpoints along the way. I went with a letter for the priest from Father Greg saying that I was coming to get the kids. I was so scared and worried about what would happen if we were caught. I told the priest to tell the children that if the military asked, that I was their mother. Only, I was scared because I was only 30 at the time, and there were 11 kids. They´ll never believe me.
The priest said that he would pray for us. I told the kids- tell them I am your mother and that we were coming to visit family in Quiché, but that you are from San Lucas Tolíman. So, we left and the kids were very sad to leave their family, their home, all that they knew. It still hurts my heart to think of them. I remember the eldest child hiding the suitcases of their few belongings under the seat, so as to not upset the other children.
At the first military checkpoint, everyone was scared, shaking and crying. I told the children ¨Don´t worry, calm down, the military will want to talk to me not you, we´ll be fine. But, if they see you crying, they´ll never believe us and they´ll kill us all.¨ The officer stopped us asking what I was doing here with all these kids. I told him that I was their mother and we were coming back from visiting family in Quiché. Another officer told him to take us all out of the car to question us, but by luck, the first officer said, ´no just check around the perimeter of the car for weapons.´ And they let us go.
At the second military checkpoint, again all the children were scared and crying. I thought ahead of time to bring candy, and I gave each of them a piece of candy, so they would be distracted when we got to the checkpoint. Again, an officer asked ¨Where are you taking all these kids?¨ Again, I told him, I am their mother and we are coming back from visiting family in Quiché. I felt bad because the eldest children were holding the younger ones as I was talking to the military, because they were still scared of me because I was a stranger. And thank God, once again, they only checked the outside of the car before letting us go.
At the third military checkpoint, the kids were again scared and crying. I told them this time ¨Let´s pray together¨ so that when the military came, they would see that we were praying. Again, an officer approached the car and asked ¨Who are you? Where are you going with all these kids?¨ I told him that I was their mother and that we were from San Lucas Tolíman, just coming back from visiting family in Quiché. The officer yelled to the others ¨Take them out of the car.¨ Another officer said ¨No, they´re kids, they don´t have weapons, they´re fine, leave them.¨ By the grace of God, they let us go.
When we were finally just outside San Lucas Tolíman, I turned to the children and told them we have arrived, thank God, we are saved, we are free. You´ll have a home, Father Greg will take care of you and no one will come after you in the night. You can laugh, you can cry, because thank God, you are safe, you are free.
Three of the children stayed in town and are now married with children. For christmas every year, there is a tradition of eating tamales and bread, and they brought me these telling me ¨Thank you, you are our mother.¨
From that time, Father Greg and I helped many people with problems with the military and guerillas. We helped children, families, and the religious as well because at this time many religious were being killed. And to help all of these people, we were accused of being guerrillas by the government. We recieved a letter from the military saying that they were going to kill us for this work we were doing, so we were forced to flee to the United States for five months.
When we returned, I took up my work helping the widows, and I still help sell their weavings and crafts, to help them support their families.
This is my story. There are many others. Thank you and God bless you all.
´La Violencia´. This is what the time of the civil war is called here- ´The Violence´. A time of untold horror, a time of unspeakable cruelty, a time of countless atrocities and acts so inhumane it seems unfathomable that they could be carried out by people. Sons. Fathers. Uncles. There are many stories from this time, testimonies only now beginning to be told, only now coming into light, after so many years of forced silence. They weave together to form a tapestry of, at once, the resilience of the human condition, and of the horrors that man can commit. There are many, many stories from this time. Today I had the opportunity to hear one such story.
The story of our life here is very hard- 1980, ´81 and ´82 were very difficult years. I am the mother of four, and during the time of ´La Violencia´, we here in the parish worked on behalf of the suffering people in our community- you see, lots of people here had problems either because of the military or because of the guerillas. The guerillas would come and offer the Mayans lots of incentives to join: more land, money, anything to get them to join. During this time, there was much violence at the hands of both, and one had to be completely neutral: if you were to help one person on one side, the other side would come after you and your family.
Before the peace accords in 1996, we were not allowed to talk about ´La Violencia´; it was too dangerous. Though there was violence everywhere, we here in the highlands were hit the hardest by the military forces.
It is very hard for me to talk about this. I lost my husband to the military, and when I am telling the story I relive the moment. I know I am not the only one who suffered, there were many. I know people whose parents were killed in front of them; whose children were killed in front of them.
I didn´t see my husband murdered. He worked on a land redistribution project, so for his work, the military accused him of being a guerilla. At this time you couldn´t do anything to help the people; by helping others you were accused of being a guerilla. One day, my husband was working with some final paperwork on a project, and went to meet with some lawyers in Sololá. He never returned. We were told that he was taken by the military- dissapeared. 28 years ago this happened. We were never told any more.
Still, it feels like yesterday. The pain I remember the most is trying to take care of my children; night after night staying at different houses for fear that the military would come and kill me and my children in the night. I had to fight hard for my children and I prayed hard for the strength to help others.
In 1982 I had to help a group of children. I knew that the military was on their trail, looking for them and would certainly kill them.
One day, a priest in the Quiché region called Father Greg asking for his help, saying there was a group of children who neede to be saved. Their parents were killed right in front of them, and by the grace of God, somehow they escaped and survived. The military knew that they had witnessed the murders and so they were looking for them to kill them as well, to leave no trail, no witnesses.
So the priest asked Father Greg to help get them and bring them to a local orphanage. All in all, there were eleven kids from two families, the youngest were one year and a year and a half.
¨How do we get them out?¨ Father Greg asked me. ¨If the military finds out, they´ll kill us all. But, if we do nothing, they´ll kill the children. How are we going to get them out?¨
I told him ¨Look for a car and a driver and I will go get them myself.¨ So we got a car and a driver and we went to Quiché. There were three military checkpoints along the way. I went with a letter for the priest from Father Greg saying that I was coming to get the kids. I was so scared and worried about what would happen if we were caught. I told the priest to tell the children that if the military asked, that I was their mother. Only, I was scared because I was only 30 at the time, and there were 11 kids. They´ll never believe me.
The priest said that he would pray for us. I told the kids- tell them I am your mother and that we were coming to visit family in Quiché, but that you are from San Lucas Tolíman. So, we left and the kids were very sad to leave their family, their home, all that they knew. It still hurts my heart to think of them. I remember the eldest child hiding the suitcases of their few belongings under the seat, so as to not upset the other children.
At the first military checkpoint, everyone was scared, shaking and crying. I told the children ¨Don´t worry, calm down, the military will want to talk to me not you, we´ll be fine. But, if they see you crying, they´ll never believe us and they´ll kill us all.¨ The officer stopped us asking what I was doing here with all these kids. I told him that I was their mother and we were coming back from visiting family in Quiché. Another officer told him to take us all out of the car to question us, but by luck, the first officer said, ´no just check around the perimeter of the car for weapons.´ And they let us go.
At the second military checkpoint, again all the children were scared and crying. I thought ahead of time to bring candy, and I gave each of them a piece of candy, so they would be distracted when we got to the checkpoint. Again, an officer asked ¨Where are you taking all these kids?¨ Again, I told him, I am their mother and we are coming back from visiting family in Quiché. I felt bad because the eldest children were holding the younger ones as I was talking to the military, because they were still scared of me because I was a stranger. And thank God, once again, they only checked the outside of the car before letting us go.
At the third military checkpoint, the kids were again scared and crying. I told them this time ¨Let´s pray together¨ so that when the military came, they would see that we were praying. Again, an officer approached the car and asked ¨Who are you? Where are you going with all these kids?¨ I told him that I was their mother and that we were from San Lucas Tolíman, just coming back from visiting family in Quiché. The officer yelled to the others ¨Take them out of the car.¨ Another officer said ¨No, they´re kids, they don´t have weapons, they´re fine, leave them.¨ By the grace of God, they let us go.
When we were finally just outside San Lucas Tolíman, I turned to the children and told them we have arrived, thank God, we are saved, we are free. You´ll have a home, Father Greg will take care of you and no one will come after you in the night. You can laugh, you can cry, because thank God, you are safe, you are free.
Three of the children stayed in town and are now married with children. For christmas every year, there is a tradition of eating tamales and bread, and they brought me these telling me ¨Thank you, you are our mother.¨
From that time, Father Greg and I helped many people with problems with the military and guerillas. We helped children, families, and the religious as well because at this time many religious were being killed. And to help all of these people, we were accused of being guerrillas by the government. We recieved a letter from the military saying that they were going to kill us for this work we were doing, so we were forced to flee to the United States for five months.
When we returned, I took up my work helping the widows, and I still help sell their weavings and crafts, to help them support their families.
This is my story. There are many others. Thank you and God bless you all.
Sunday, March 1, 2009
Back to beginnings-- Guatemala
GUATEMALA! As I have said before, my first trip to Guatemala five years ago changed my life. At the time, I was an insecure 18 year old with a big heart, but little life experience. My path to Guatemala actually began four years earlier: I was taking a Spanish class at the high school and a group came and talked to us about their service trip to San Lucas Toliman, Guatemala. I was mesmorized, and in December 2003, I finally got my wish: I was accepted to go on the Guatemala trip.
To say that it changed and impacted me is a laughable understatement. Much of what I am today; much of what I am passionate about and people on campus knew me for: coordinator of trips to the School of the Americas protest, president of the Latin American Sustainability Education and Development, and the Latin American Studies Club, fundraiser for sustainable development and humanitarian aid projects, advocate for social justice-- much of all this was born out of and shaped by my time here.
We have been here five days and it´s amazing how quickly things come back. The smell of wood-burning stoves, the sounds of marimbas and ranchero music, the colorful huipiles (women´s traditional woven blouses), the stunning scenery, the smiles and ¨buenos dìas¨of everyone you pass, and the overwhelming feeling of being at peace: all uniquely spell Guatemala to me. It is incredible coming back to a place that played such a pivitol role in shaping the person I am today. There is something about this place that fills me with such unbridled happiness and peace, and at the same time such a motivation and drive for social justice work. So far, our time here has been spent sorting coffee beans, working on reforestation projects, helping make wooden artisan works for sale, and going to other communities, learning all we can about guatemala, social justice and liberation theology (and meeting some wonderful people along the way!).
San Lucas Toliman is located in the Mayan highlands of Guatemala on the shores of Lake Atitlan, surrounded by three volcanoes. This is an area of at once rich cultural heritage and a devistating history of bloodshed. In the 1950´s Guatemala had it´s first democratically elected president Jacobo Arbenz, and one thing that he recognized people were suffering from was lack of land (at this time about two dozen families owned almost all the land in Guatemala, forcing the vast majority of Guatemalans to ´work´on coffee plantations (work is a relative term, it would be looked at more like indentured servitude today)). Anyways, one of the biggest landholders in Guatemala was the United Fruit Company (now Chiquita). Arbenz decides to go through with his land redistribution, so notifies United Fruit Company and tells them that the government will pay them per acre the value of their land, as they claimed on their taxes. Well, United Fruit claimed much less than it was worth, and they were furious, and some of the board members were also in the CIA. So, in 1954, the CIA orchestrated a coup d'ètat to depose of the democratically-elected Jacobo Arbenz. There was a devestating 36-year civil war, which culminated with a horrific genecide at the hands of (among others) General Efraín Rios Montt in the 1970s and 80s. Death squads, dissapearances, massacres of whole villages, extortion, rape, and assasinations were commonplace, many times daily occurences. According to the U.N. Truth Commission, the Guatemalan government forces were responsible for over 93% of the human rights violations during the war. During the first 10 years of the war, they targeted students, workers, religious persons, professionals, and opposition figures, but in the last years it was thousands of mostly rural Mayan farmers and non-combatants. Over 450 Mayan villages were destroyed and over 1 million people became internal and external refugees. The civil war ended with the signing of the peace accords in 1996.
Despite all the bloodshed and violent past, Guatemala remains the most entrancing, loving, and, yes, magical, place I have ever been. It´s ironic how a place with such a violent past (and, very often, present) inspires the deepest sense of peace I have ever known.
Well, it´s back to work for us. Cory just left to shoot a wedding in Mexico for a week, and so it´s just us girls holding down the fort for awhile. Here are some pictures courtesy of my friend Mira, from my last time down here:
Market in Santiago Atitlan
Ana and Miriam
Monday, February 23, 2009
¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨
Sitting on our bus to the coast, Selena music blaring from the speakers, I am again staring out my window taking in the beautiful countryside. The rolling green hills, chicken wire fences, rusted tin roof farms, and of course the steep imposing Andes half hidden by cottony veils of clouds, all pass me by. At one point we are driving through one such veil of clouds, landscape obscurred by white, that the child in me sticks my hand out the window, longing to know what it´s like to touch a cloud. My heart sinks a little as I realize that this is the last time I will see the Andes on this trip. There is something truly humbling and majestic in these blue-green giants that wield such silent yet omnipotent power; it´s no wonder why they´re so revered. Never have I seen such awe-inspiring and striking beauty in my life. There is something so wonderfully humbling and peaceful in being dwarfed by these majestic peaks; in realizing your presence is one less on the earth than of it, less a dominant role than a equal cooperative one. You turn a corner, your breath catches in your chest and you´re hooked.
One thing that Ecuador has made me think a lot about (and appreciate) is the role of family, friends, and community. I know we joked about the ¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨ sign we came across after just getting my backpack stolen, however in my short time here, I´ve come to realize that this seemingly bold statement is more true than I ever knew.
We were blessed with two wonderful home stays while in Ecuador. Two families opened their homes and hearts to four complete strangers, each demonstrating that the old adage of giving the shirt off your back is not merely present in Ecuador, it is the rule. Never in my life have I been shown such unabounding kindness and love by complete strangers. Such is Latin America. Such is Ecuador.
When we arrived in Cuenca, we were invited to stay with Santi and Ryan´s family for the week. They housed us, feed us ungodly ammounts of amazing food, showed us their city, and nursed us back to health when each of us got mystery 24 hour illnesses. I got to spend time with my sister Bridget and finally share an international experience with her, however breif. Between being with her, and feeling like literally part of the family at Santi´s house, it was a strong reminder of ´home is where your heart is,´ and it was so wonderful to feel so at home, laughing uncontrollaby, singing while Santi´s mom played guitar, watching movies with the siblings, and sharing memories that will stay with me the rest of my life. Even after only 6 days, it was so difficult to say goodbye, which is a true testament to how much we were let into their lives (and they ours).
I just cannot convey the kindness that I have been shown in this country. From our two ¨families¨, to all the random people that helped me get a passport, Ecuador having nice people is quite the understatement. I am so sad to say goodbye to Bridget today (we fly to Guatemala early tomorrow morning). We had a great weekend at a funky (and quirky) surfer town on the coast with some of her friends. Though I´m sad to say goodbye, I´m so excited to see where her adventures take her, and how her study abroad experience shapes her.
Well, thats all for now-- next post will be from Guatemala, arguably the place that has shaped who I am today the most (I went there in high school and it profoundly impacted me). Adios Ecuador!
OH! How could I forget? Yours truly was in an Ecuadorian music video. Yes, you read that correctly. Cory, Katie and I were going for a run along the river in Cuenca one day and came across a music video production set. Cool! we thought, I´ve never been on set before! We had no idea who the singer was, but were watching when the set director motioned towards Cory and I. The singer was singing a ¨Hey Jude¨with lyrics changed to be all about Ecuadorian pride, and love of the country, and we were supposed to walk past him slowly, very moved with pride for ¨our¨country. We did this twice, remarking to eachother afterwards at the irony of using two people from the United States (lets just say the Ecuadorian government isnt fond of the U.S.-- they just kicked out two ambassadors) in their national pride music video. Ryan then told us that they run these videos before presidential speeches. On every channel. Awesome. So sweaty, athletic wearing Maria is now famous for her Ecuadorian pride.
One thing that Ecuador has made me think a lot about (and appreciate) is the role of family, friends, and community. I know we joked about the ¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨ sign we came across after just getting my backpack stolen, however in my short time here, I´ve come to realize that this seemingly bold statement is more true than I ever knew.
We were blessed with two wonderful home stays while in Ecuador. Two families opened their homes and hearts to four complete strangers, each demonstrating that the old adage of giving the shirt off your back is not merely present in Ecuador, it is the rule. Never in my life have I been shown such unabounding kindness and love by complete strangers. Such is Latin America. Such is Ecuador.
When we arrived in Cuenca, we were invited to stay with Santi and Ryan´s family for the week. They housed us, feed us ungodly ammounts of amazing food, showed us their city, and nursed us back to health when each of us got mystery 24 hour illnesses. I got to spend time with my sister Bridget and finally share an international experience with her, however breif. Between being with her, and feeling like literally part of the family at Santi´s house, it was a strong reminder of ´home is where your heart is,´ and it was so wonderful to feel so at home, laughing uncontrollaby, singing while Santi´s mom played guitar, watching movies with the siblings, and sharing memories that will stay with me the rest of my life. Even after only 6 days, it was so difficult to say goodbye, which is a true testament to how much we were let into their lives (and they ours).
I just cannot convey the kindness that I have been shown in this country. From our two ¨families¨, to all the random people that helped me get a passport, Ecuador having nice people is quite the understatement. I am so sad to say goodbye to Bridget today (we fly to Guatemala early tomorrow morning). We had a great weekend at a funky (and quirky) surfer town on the coast with some of her friends. Though I´m sad to say goodbye, I´m so excited to see where her adventures take her, and how her study abroad experience shapes her.
Well, thats all for now-- next post will be from Guatemala, arguably the place that has shaped who I am today the most (I went there in high school and it profoundly impacted me). Adios Ecuador!
OH! How could I forget? Yours truly was in an Ecuadorian music video. Yes, you read that correctly. Cory, Katie and I were going for a run along the river in Cuenca one day and came across a music video production set. Cool! we thought, I´ve never been on set before! We had no idea who the singer was, but were watching when the set director motioned towards Cory and I. The singer was singing a ¨Hey Jude¨with lyrics changed to be all about Ecuadorian pride, and love of the country, and we were supposed to walk past him slowly, very moved with pride for ¨our¨country. We did this twice, remarking to eachother afterwards at the irony of using two people from the United States (lets just say the Ecuadorian government isnt fond of the U.S.-- they just kicked out two ambassadors) in their national pride music video. Ryan then told us that they run these videos before presidential speeches. On every channel. Awesome. So sweaty, athletic wearing Maria is now famous for her Ecuadorian pride.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Giving Ecuador a fresh start
After getting my stuff stolen, I was bound and determined to give Ecuador a fresh start. We left for Baños, which is a town in the Andean highlands near the start of the Amazon jungle, known for its thermal springs and extreme sports. Upon arriving we were marveling at the beauty (again, dwarfed by andean peaks), and safety of this town (people walking around at night?! Things open past 7pm?!). As Cory so aptly put it, after our experience in Quito, ¨This is a tourist trap. And I LOVE it!¨
A photo (not mine) of outside of Baños along our bike route+633.jpg)
My favorite picture: Bridget terrified on the sky tram +618.jpg)
Bridget!
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Cuy (guinea pig) a national delicacy. Cory and Katie ate these guys.
That night, we waited for Bridget and her two friends at a Italian restaurant. We were so excited-- it was as though we were all awaiting the arrival of a sister. Finally the taxi pulled up and an overdramatic show of excitement ensued on the streets of Baños, which ended with a night of stories, hysterical laughter, and just plain bliss. Bridget came to Baños with Mark, a fellow study abroad student, and Ryan who is my friend Santiago´s brother. Santiago´s family lives in Cuenca and has been like a second family to Bridget.
Our time in Baños was well spent. We biked 25 miles through the high, lush green Andean peaks, and let me tell you, that was by far the most beautiful bike ride of my life. Imagine seven of us biking on gravel road with the most stunning views of high peaks, waterfalls, and yes, even lush jungle (the road leads to the Amazon rainforest). We made two detours: the first was bridge\bungee jumping over a river. Alas, I did not partake in this, but both Cory and Bridget and Katie and Ryan did, and it looked like a blast. After that, our next detour took us to a sort of sky-tram over the river gorge and a waterfall. This.was.awesome. Only Bridget didn´t seem to think so. We were suspended by wire cables in a metal wicker basket soaring across the divide. Then we hiked down and across the river on a wooden suspension bridge (also, not Bridget´s cup of tea). After biking the gorgeous 25 miles, we got a ride back in the back of a pickup from some guy on the side of the road. It reminded me that riding in the back of the pickup is my favorite mode of transportation in the world.
The next day, after a night of karaoke singin (don´t mean to brag, but jeanne and I got 98.25%), and dancin´ up a storm (Cory and I were busting out our mad skillz and puttin even the snazziest of Ecuadorians to shame), the others spent the day canyoning (reppeling down waterfalls) while Bridget and I had a chill day in town. We were just paying for our lunch when all of the waitresses in the restaurant excitedly ran towards the door and looked out to the street giggling like crazy. ¨Um, what´s goin´on?¨ I ask. ¨It´s the national soccer team!¨ She squeals.
Sure enough, we exit the restaurant and all over the street are men in soccer jerseys, and in every window and doorway, women excitedly giggle and swoon. Bridget and I walk past a group of them who look up and mutter an ´hola´, and no sooner do we stop at the next candy stall that we are surrounded by soccer players. Where are we from, whats our names, what brings us to Baños, what are we doing tonight? They ask. Now, mind you, Bridget and I have not showered, are dressed borderline frumpy, and having fat days, and we are STILL being hit on by 8-10 Ecuadorian soccer players (much to the envy and dismay of the rest of the women). It was one heck of a confidence booster.
Before leaving Baños we decided to stop at the thermal springs. Now, I´ve been to thermal springs before, but... lets just say this was different. It was like taking an overcrowed bath where the water looked like urine and there were mothers breastfeeding everywhere. At one point a man with a bloody open wound rubbed up against me. There was also a small boy running around with a very apparent (i.e. gross), highly contagious case of chicken pox. It was quite the experience.
Our bus ride from Baños to Cuenca was also an experience. We almost hit someone, the bus swerved and screeched sending people flying. At one point we had to turn around because ¨the mountain fell¨ (a landslide blocked the road), and the way our driver was driving, we were convinced that a) he was drunk and b) we were certainly going to die. While the jury is still out about a, luckily we arrived in Cuenca safe and sound.
We have been in Cuenca all week with Santi and Ryan´s amazing family. But that´s another post. :) Ecuador is definately lookin´up.
A photo (not mine) of outside of Baños along our bike route
Bridget!
Cuy (guinea pig) a national delicacy. Cory and Katie ate these guys.
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Shit Got Real, or How I Got All My Stuff Stolen in Quito
Well, we´ve made it safely to Ecuador! Our first impressions were great- no sooner had we touched down on Ecuadorian soil that we were MARVELING at the beauty of Quito-- colorful colonial majesties in a natural bowl rimmed with green hills and volcanos. This was not your typical Latin American capital, so it seemed. We spent our first night in Old Town, a registed UNESCO world heritage site, and apart from the fact that everything closed at 7pm and the overwhelming abundance of armed military personnel everywhere, we were loving Quito. Finally! A Latin American captial that had it goin´on!
The next day was spent sightseeing a bit, the highlight of which undoubtedly being the Catedral del Voto Nacional. This massive gothic cathedral can be seen for miles and boasts one the best (albeit deadliest) views of Quito from it´s crumbling spires. So, naturally, we climbed up the rickety planks (knowing full well that not only would this not be allowed in the states, but that this place would most likely be condemned), and took some great pictures hanging off the side of the cathedral high above the city that I´m sure my mom will love.
After dinner, we grabbed our stuff and went to catch a taxi to Katie´s friend Elizabeth´s host family´s house, where we would be staying for the next few days. It was 7:30pm and getting a taxi was proving to be impossible-- no one would take us. It wasnt until a kind man flagged one down for us, that we seemed to be on our way. We were stopped in the middle of the road and the man was scurrying frantically to help us get our bags in the back so we wouldnt keep backing up traffic. It was because of this crazyness that I did something I NEVER ever do-- I allowed them to stuff my small backpack in back with all the large packs. There was some issue with the trunk shutting, so a couple other passersby came to help stuff it in. ¨Wow¨, we thought naiively, ¨These people sure are nice!¨ Huh.
We get to Elizabeth´s house and lo and behold, I go to the trunk and my backpack is gone. No where to be found. So here I am, on a dark street corner in Quito, yelling, cursing, and kicking my pack (not to mention really creeping out our taxi driver), because EVERYTHING of importance was in this backpack. For example:
-passport
-credit card
-debit card
-insurance card
-drivers license
-flight information
-$150 in cash
-ipod
-cell phone
-digital camera (with memory cards)
-journal
-guidebook
-medicine
-purse and all makeup and jewelery
Awesome right? But, there were several silver linings to this situation. I immediately called and cancelled my credit and debit cards and my cell phone, so nothing was charged. As I already said, my camera was broken anyways (its just the pictures that are gone). My insurance card and drivers license are of no use to anyone outside the U.S. After Ecuador, I didn´t need that guidebook, as it´s ´South America on a Shoestring´. Everything else was replaceable (with the exception of my journal, which is a bummer). Everything except my passport.
I don´t know if any of you have experienced loosing a passport in a foriegn country, but let me tell you, it´s one of the more frustrating experiences in regards to traveling. The next day was spent going to the United States Embassy, waiting in line only to find out that I needed a police report first, then going to the police station only to find out that ¨this station only does police reports for stolen documents. To report all your personal items you need to go to a different police station.¨ Then, going to that police station to (again, of course) wait in line, only to be told by the gentleman with a Nazi tatoo on his hand that ¨this station only deals with police reports for this neighborhood. You need to go back to the neighborhood where it was stolen and go to the police station there.¨ Screw that. It´s not like the theif is going to turn in an ipod and camera anyways.
Then comes the best part of all the errands: getting my new passport picture. I go to this internet cafe/corner store where the woman sits me in front of white paper and takes her digital camera and snaps the picture. The whole time I am facing all my friends making it that much more awkward, and Jeanne directing me to stop slouching, I look weird and have too much cleavage. I ask the woman to take a couple more pictures and finally photo 3 looks like a keeper. She goes to the computer and pulls up photo #1. Awesome. Then, she proceeds to photoshop the background, cutting excess and making it a plain white back ground. She starts tracing my hairline, then, she must not have liked my haircut, because all of a sudden she is giving me a virtual haircut and hacking away at my hair. As if this photoshop makeover wasnt enough, she started clicking a button making my face fatter. Now, my passport picture is a thing of beauty. Everyone will be jealous.
So, I return to the Embassy and the door is locked. A man opens it and tells me to come back at 1:30. Excuse me? It´s lunchtime. Great, thanks a lot. So promptly at 1:30pm with the report of stolen documents from the police station, I tell my story for the 109th time, and for some reason am met with a look of surprise when I tell him (again) that I will be leaving Quito tomorrow, no I will not be coming back to Quito, I am flying out of Guayaquil. Apparently the previous 108 times I told him this, he was nodding just to humor me. Anyways he tells me that the passport won´t be ready by then, in fact, it won´t even be ready by the time my flight leaves Ecuador on the 24th. But, after much pleading and sweet talking, they tell me that, okay, my passport will be ready at 11am the next morning.
(p.s. During this whole time, Cory Jeanne Katie and Elizabeth were such good friends-- they came with my every step of the way, sacrificing their own Quito fun for hours sitting outside the U.S. Embassy playing cards. That night we decided we didnt trust Quito, and stayed in with homemade lasgna, wine, and pirated DVDs)
So, the next day, I return to the embassy (I am now a celebrity, everyone knows me by name and why I am there), and leave with a new passport (complete with a bangin´photo). The last thing for me to do, they tell me, is go to immigration and get an entry stamp for ecuador and paperwork. This should take no more than 30 minutes. Cool.
Here is where I say be grateful for how smoothly opperations run in the U.S. I get there and no one is paying any attention to me or answering my questions. I get to the front of the line, tell him the paperwork I need and he tells me to take a number and sit down. I wait. I watch as all the female police officers are helping people and all the male ones are in a corner laughing and cracking jokes while dozens of people are waiting. I get called to the cubicle of one such male police officer who tells me I dont need the paperwork, just the stamp, go take another number for cubicle 4. The one right next to him with a woman working it. I take another number. I am furious. This is taking 3 hours. As I am waiting, we notice that all the men seemed to dissapear. Now, it was lunchtime, so I just figured that they took their lunch break. Yes, it is a little weird that they take their breaks by gender, but whatever. But just then, the back door opens and all of the male police officers emerge... in soccer uniforms. Dozens of male police officers leaving for the afternoon to play soccer and the women at cubicles putting on makeup and NO ONE helping me. Finally, after hours of waiting for a stupid stamp, we book it out of there and don´t look back.
So, yes, this was a frustrating ordeal. Yes, it is a bummer that I lost all of my important stuff. But, honestly, it really puts things in perspective. After my 15 minute freakout, I just said ¨You know what? This is okay. I´m not hurt, I still have my friends and my health, and everything will work out. This is an exersize in detatching ones self from material posessions, and really knowing whats important.¨ After all I have seen, how can I honestly be angry about not having an ipod? The woman who took my bag was probably desperate. How can I look at all the street families and complain about not having a camera? It doesn´t make sense. So what if I don´t have an ipod or cell phone or camera. These are things that the vast majority of the people I´m seeing will never have. So, I am grateful for this lesson. I don´t ¨need¨any of this stuff. No one does. I like them, but I won´t die without them. This could be the best thing to happen to me on this trip-- to really ground me to everything I am seeing and experiencing, stripping away what´s not important so I can really see what truly is.
Now I couldn´t be happier-- I am in Baños with Bridget!!! But, more on that later. Chao!
Hanging off the Catedral del Voto Nacional
Jeanne, me and Katie inside the Cathedral
After my stuff got stolen, this was the sign I saw: ¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨
At a bar in Puno, Peru, you could write whatever you wanted all over the walls. Here was our contribution- a quote from the movie ´Y Tu Mama Tambien´: ¨Life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea¨
The next day was spent sightseeing a bit, the highlight of which undoubtedly being the Catedral del Voto Nacional. This massive gothic cathedral can be seen for miles and boasts one the best (albeit deadliest) views of Quito from it´s crumbling spires. So, naturally, we climbed up the rickety planks (knowing full well that not only would this not be allowed in the states, but that this place would most likely be condemned), and took some great pictures hanging off the side of the cathedral high above the city that I´m sure my mom will love.
After dinner, we grabbed our stuff and went to catch a taxi to Katie´s friend Elizabeth´s host family´s house, where we would be staying for the next few days. It was 7:30pm and getting a taxi was proving to be impossible-- no one would take us. It wasnt until a kind man flagged one down for us, that we seemed to be on our way. We were stopped in the middle of the road and the man was scurrying frantically to help us get our bags in the back so we wouldnt keep backing up traffic. It was because of this crazyness that I did something I NEVER ever do-- I allowed them to stuff my small backpack in back with all the large packs. There was some issue with the trunk shutting, so a couple other passersby came to help stuff it in. ¨Wow¨, we thought naiively, ¨These people sure are nice!¨ Huh.
We get to Elizabeth´s house and lo and behold, I go to the trunk and my backpack is gone. No where to be found. So here I am, on a dark street corner in Quito, yelling, cursing, and kicking my pack (not to mention really creeping out our taxi driver), because EVERYTHING of importance was in this backpack. For example:
-passport
-credit card
-debit card
-insurance card
-drivers license
-flight information
-$150 in cash
-ipod
-cell phone
-digital camera (with memory cards)
-journal
-guidebook
-medicine
-purse and all makeup and jewelery
Awesome right? But, there were several silver linings to this situation. I immediately called and cancelled my credit and debit cards and my cell phone, so nothing was charged. As I already said, my camera was broken anyways (its just the pictures that are gone). My insurance card and drivers license are of no use to anyone outside the U.S. After Ecuador, I didn´t need that guidebook, as it´s ´South America on a Shoestring´. Everything else was replaceable (with the exception of my journal, which is a bummer). Everything except my passport.
I don´t know if any of you have experienced loosing a passport in a foriegn country, but let me tell you, it´s one of the more frustrating experiences in regards to traveling. The next day was spent going to the United States Embassy, waiting in line only to find out that I needed a police report first, then going to the police station only to find out that ¨this station only does police reports for stolen documents. To report all your personal items you need to go to a different police station.¨ Then, going to that police station to (again, of course) wait in line, only to be told by the gentleman with a Nazi tatoo on his hand that ¨this station only deals with police reports for this neighborhood. You need to go back to the neighborhood where it was stolen and go to the police station there.¨ Screw that. It´s not like the theif is going to turn in an ipod and camera anyways.
Then comes the best part of all the errands: getting my new passport picture. I go to this internet cafe/corner store where the woman sits me in front of white paper and takes her digital camera and snaps the picture. The whole time I am facing all my friends making it that much more awkward, and Jeanne directing me to stop slouching, I look weird and have too much cleavage. I ask the woman to take a couple more pictures and finally photo 3 looks like a keeper. She goes to the computer and pulls up photo #1. Awesome. Then, she proceeds to photoshop the background, cutting excess and making it a plain white back ground. She starts tracing my hairline, then, she must not have liked my haircut, because all of a sudden she is giving me a virtual haircut and hacking away at my hair. As if this photoshop makeover wasnt enough, she started clicking a button making my face fatter. Now, my passport picture is a thing of beauty. Everyone will be jealous.
So, I return to the Embassy and the door is locked. A man opens it and tells me to come back at 1:30. Excuse me? It´s lunchtime. Great, thanks a lot. So promptly at 1:30pm with the report of stolen documents from the police station, I tell my story for the 109th time, and for some reason am met with a look of surprise when I tell him (again) that I will be leaving Quito tomorrow, no I will not be coming back to Quito, I am flying out of Guayaquil. Apparently the previous 108 times I told him this, he was nodding just to humor me. Anyways he tells me that the passport won´t be ready by then, in fact, it won´t even be ready by the time my flight leaves Ecuador on the 24th. But, after much pleading and sweet talking, they tell me that, okay, my passport will be ready at 11am the next morning.
(p.s. During this whole time, Cory Jeanne Katie and Elizabeth were such good friends-- they came with my every step of the way, sacrificing their own Quito fun for hours sitting outside the U.S. Embassy playing cards. That night we decided we didnt trust Quito, and stayed in with homemade lasgna, wine, and pirated DVDs)
So, the next day, I return to the embassy (I am now a celebrity, everyone knows me by name and why I am there), and leave with a new passport (complete with a bangin´photo). The last thing for me to do, they tell me, is go to immigration and get an entry stamp for ecuador and paperwork. This should take no more than 30 minutes. Cool.
Here is where I say be grateful for how smoothly opperations run in the U.S. I get there and no one is paying any attention to me or answering my questions. I get to the front of the line, tell him the paperwork I need and he tells me to take a number and sit down. I wait. I watch as all the female police officers are helping people and all the male ones are in a corner laughing and cracking jokes while dozens of people are waiting. I get called to the cubicle of one such male police officer who tells me I dont need the paperwork, just the stamp, go take another number for cubicle 4. The one right next to him with a woman working it. I take another number. I am furious. This is taking 3 hours. As I am waiting, we notice that all the men seemed to dissapear. Now, it was lunchtime, so I just figured that they took their lunch break. Yes, it is a little weird that they take their breaks by gender, but whatever. But just then, the back door opens and all of the male police officers emerge... in soccer uniforms. Dozens of male police officers leaving for the afternoon to play soccer and the women at cubicles putting on makeup and NO ONE helping me. Finally, after hours of waiting for a stupid stamp, we book it out of there and don´t look back.
So, yes, this was a frustrating ordeal. Yes, it is a bummer that I lost all of my important stuff. But, honestly, it really puts things in perspective. After my 15 minute freakout, I just said ¨You know what? This is okay. I´m not hurt, I still have my friends and my health, and everything will work out. This is an exersize in detatching ones self from material posessions, and really knowing whats important.¨ After all I have seen, how can I honestly be angry about not having an ipod? The woman who took my bag was probably desperate. How can I look at all the street families and complain about not having a camera? It doesn´t make sense. So what if I don´t have an ipod or cell phone or camera. These are things that the vast majority of the people I´m seeing will never have. So, I am grateful for this lesson. I don´t ¨need¨any of this stuff. No one does. I like them, but I won´t die without them. This could be the best thing to happen to me on this trip-- to really ground me to everything I am seeing and experiencing, stripping away what´s not important so I can really see what truly is.
Now I couldn´t be happier-- I am in Baños with Bridget!!! But, more on that later. Chao!
Hanging off the Catedral del Voto NacionalJeanne, me and Katie inside the CathedralAfter my stuff got stolen, this was the sign I saw: ¨Ecuador: We´re nice people¨At a bar in Puno, Peru, you could write whatever you wanted all over the walls. Here was our contribution- a quote from the movie ´Y Tu Mama Tambien´: ¨Life is like the surf, so give yourself away like the sea¨
Monday, February 9, 2009
Reflactions on my last day in Peru...
Here I am, back in Miraflores, where everything began nearly one month ago. It is amazing how familiar everything feels, yet it glistens with a new sheen after all of the experiences of the past three weeks, rendering it all the more understandible and beautiful. Thinking back on our cherished time here, it is hard not to see it in snapshots. Of rocking sweaty babies, just out of surgery in Lima. Of having to say ¨No gracias¨to the thousanth child who approached me selling homemade finger puppets in Cuzco. Of walking up through the clouds in the humbling, majestic Andes to witness the mist part and the awe-inspiring Machu Picchu laid out before us. Of the Uros woman of the floating isles of Lake Titicaca selling her colorful woven tapestries, while white parasitic tourists laugh and rudely take pictures without regard or permission.
It´s the children laughing in the park. It´s the Argentinian hippies drinking mate. It´s the woman who is spending her last sole (coin) to get her son to the hospital to have cleft palette surgery. It´s the Andean farmer who has to watch a train of rich tourists pass on their way to Machu Picchu, while he scrapes by on less than $1 a day. It´s the children compromising their childhood, selling trinkets to tourists all day so that their family can eat. But, more than that, it´s the smiles, it´s the humor, it´s the enduring friendly nature, happiness and hope of a people who against all odds, and in the bleakest of circumstances, approach life with optimism and a great deal of love.
Peru has taught me a lot. If the mountains have taught me anything, it´s humility. If the sea has taught me anything, it´s serenity. And if the Peruvian people have taught me anything, it´s hope.
Somehow I know that this will not be my last time in Peru. There is something about this country that captivates and touches you on your most primal human level and won´t let go. But, for now, Adiós Perú.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Lake Titicaca
First off, let me just say how thankful I am for my wonderful traveling companions. We hit a rough patch a few days ago, and luckily Cory, Katie, and Jeanne were there to support me.
On Feb 1st, I called my mom to wish her a happy birthday only to find out that she was at St. Joseph´s Hospital. My dad had had a heart attack. Now, by itself, this is a scary situation, but being thousands of miles away... I don´t need to try to convey the fear, shock, and helplessness that creates. Thankfully, they caught it early enough, and it looks like he should be okay. Thanks to everyone for their thoughts and prayers.
The next day, we boarded our overnight bus to Puno, the folklore and festival capital of Peru, located on Lake Titicaca. At 12,500 ft above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world, as well as the largest lake in South America. And, ironically, it looked a lot like northern Minnesota.
Lake Titicaca (which means ´rock or grey puma´) is home to many indigenous island communities, who have (more or less) maintained their way of life over the course of thousands of years. We were given the opportunity to take a boat tour of two such communities: the Uros community and Taquile island.
The Uros live in impressively constructed floating artificial islands made of totora reeds. They originally began constructing these floating communities as a defense against other warring indigenous groups. The Uros main industry (other than tourism) is fishing, and practice trade or sell their fish on the mainland. The Taquile people live on the island of Taquile, approx 7km long. It looked strikingly like the greek isles. The main industry (again, other than tourism) for the Taquile people is agriculture, and the island is full of manmade terraces for farming.
While I was very grateful for the opportunity to go and learn about these communites, I have to say, the whole thing made me feel very uncomfortable. Seeing tourists stick their cameras into the faces of women and children without a word made me almost sick. There was no interaction, no regard for these people as human beings, it was as though they were objects. Objects to be photographed to show friends and family back home. It was more of the uncomfortable feeling that these people are forced to sell out their culture, their dress, their traditions, to tourists. Its a tough situation, because you want to support these communities, but at the same time, is this also spelling the demise of these cultures? I just wish it was more of a respectful responsible cultural exchange, rather than a sort of people-zoo, which is what it felt like.
My camera broke on this trip, so these are not my pictures, but I wanted to include some pictures to give you a taste of Lake Titicaca, the islands and the people. While it was uncomfortable, it was facinating learning about it all.
Gorgeous Lake Titicaca
The floating islands of the Uros
Uros floating islands
Taquile Island
Taquile men (the red cap means they are married)
**Sidenote- in Cuzco we saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and there was one particular part that spoke to me, especially with regards to this trip. For those of you who dont know, its about a man who ages in reverse- born old, dies young. Anyways, at the end of the film, he writes a postcard to his daughter as he is at the end of his life (yet it in the body of a 20something) backpacking in India and elsewhere around the world. To me, this quote is inspiring and something that I wish for myself, my children, my family, and my friends. He writes:
¨For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. ¨
On Feb 1st, I called my mom to wish her a happy birthday only to find out that she was at St. Joseph´s Hospital. My dad had had a heart attack. Now, by itself, this is a scary situation, but being thousands of miles away... I don´t need to try to convey the fear, shock, and helplessness that creates. Thankfully, they caught it early enough, and it looks like he should be okay. Thanks to everyone for their thoughts and prayers.
The next day, we boarded our overnight bus to Puno, the folklore and festival capital of Peru, located on Lake Titicaca. At 12,500 ft above sea level, Lake Titicaca is the highest navigable lake in the world, as well as the largest lake in South America. And, ironically, it looked a lot like northern Minnesota.
Lake Titicaca (which means ´rock or grey puma´) is home to many indigenous island communities, who have (more or less) maintained their way of life over the course of thousands of years. We were given the opportunity to take a boat tour of two such communities: the Uros community and Taquile island.
The Uros live in impressively constructed floating artificial islands made of totora reeds. They originally began constructing these floating communities as a defense against other warring indigenous groups. The Uros main industry (other than tourism) is fishing, and practice trade or sell their fish on the mainland. The Taquile people live on the island of Taquile, approx 7km long. It looked strikingly like the greek isles. The main industry (again, other than tourism) for the Taquile people is agriculture, and the island is full of manmade terraces for farming.
While I was very grateful for the opportunity to go and learn about these communites, I have to say, the whole thing made me feel very uncomfortable. Seeing tourists stick their cameras into the faces of women and children without a word made me almost sick. There was no interaction, no regard for these people as human beings, it was as though they were objects. Objects to be photographed to show friends and family back home. It was more of the uncomfortable feeling that these people are forced to sell out their culture, their dress, their traditions, to tourists. Its a tough situation, because you want to support these communities, but at the same time, is this also spelling the demise of these cultures? I just wish it was more of a respectful responsible cultural exchange, rather than a sort of people-zoo, which is what it felt like.
My camera broke on this trip, so these are not my pictures, but I wanted to include some pictures to give you a taste of Lake Titicaca, the islands and the people. While it was uncomfortable, it was facinating learning about it all.
Gorgeous Lake TiticacaThe floating islands of the UrosUros floating islandsTaquile IslandTaquile men (the red cap means they are married)
**Sidenote- in Cuzco we saw The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and there was one particular part that spoke to me, especially with regards to this trip. For those of you who dont know, its about a man who ages in reverse- born old, dies young. Anyways, at the end of the film, he writes a postcard to his daughter as he is at the end of his life (yet it in the body of a 20something) backpacking in India and elsewhere around the world. To me, this quote is inspiring and something that I wish for myself, my children, my family, and my friends. He writes:
¨For what it's worth: it's never too late or, in my case, too early to be whoever you want to be. There's no time limit, stop whenever you want. You can change or stay the same, there are no rules to this thing. We can make the best or the worst of it. I hope you make the best of it. And I hope you see things that startle you. I hope you feel things you never felt before. I hope you meet people with a different point of view. I hope you live a life you're proud of. If you find that you're not, I hope you have the strength to start all over again. ¨
Saturday, January 31, 2009
Machu Picchu and more Cuzco
Wow, where to begin. We have been staying in Cuzco, and it is wonderful to feel like you have a ¨home¨, or at least a homebase. It is a beautiful city with so much going on-- it is a city that depends on tourism, which makes it a crossroads of the world and time: international modern trends meet old incan tradition in sometimes jarring ways (women dressed in traditional incan attire begging outside of five star hotels for example). Cuzco is the oldest continously inhabited city on the continent, and its rich history as well as it´s proximity to Machu Picchu (the ¨lost¨city of the Incas, recently named one of the seven modern wonders of the world) make it a city that has long been host to tourists from all over the world.
Two days ago, we boarded our train to Aguas Calientes- the city outside of Machu Picchu. It was a great train ride and I spent much of it mesmorized by the people and places we passed by. Women working in the fields with children wrapped in colorful bundles on their backs, barefooted children in torn ragged sweaters grinning ear to ear and waving as we passed by, and the penetrating wary stare of men and women, working tirelessly to support their families on a dollar a day, and the pain having to watch a train of rich tourists pass them by daily. The landscape too, the rough rocky terrain of the mountains seemlingly inhospitable bearing beautiful tall trees, is a striking metaphor for the resilience of the Peruvian people. Even being born into the most dire of circumstances (Peru is one of the poorest countries in South America with 44% of it´s population living below the poverty line), there is still hope, and courage, and yes, a perservering love of the land and its people.
Upon arriving in Aguas Calientes, we spent the day exploring the town, honeing our bartering skills for meals, and taking in the general mystical beauty. It is breathtakingly beautiful- the deep bluish-green Andes mountains, rather than being gradual accending giants as in the states, jut straight up into the heavens, the peaks barely visible through the mist and clouds. You are literally dwarfed by your surroundings. The next morning we awoke at 4:30am to begin our 8km trek up the mountain. It was dark and pouring rain as we began our hike. It only took us an hour and a half to trek the 1000ft up the mountain, but much of it was brutally difficult for me, exacerbatted by the fact that I was carrying a 20 pound backpack. But we made it up the hill in time for the rain to stop and we were met by our guide, Guido. He led us into the reserve all the while telling us of the history and significance of the site. Machu Picchu was built around 1460 and was abandoned around 100 years later, during the Spanish conquest. Although known locally, it was not ¨discovered¨until 1911 by Hiram Bingham. Why it was abandoned and the exact purpose of the city is still a matter of debate, but what is absolutely certain is its importance as a cultural center and sacred place.
I cannot express in words the moment we turned the corner and saw Machu Picchu and the great Andes laying out before us. I have never witnessed such breathtaking beauty and all that we could muster was ¨Wow.... wow.¨ The extreme intellect, the mathematical precision, the advanced agricultural system, and of course the mammoth stonework required of a civilization to create this place is austounding. You truly feel humbled upon entering and exploring this space. There was a moment while taking in the splendor that I felt agitated, that the same indigenous groups that could create such a marvel of math, science, agriculture, and architecture, could be so brutally marginalized by society today.
So, now we are back in Cuzco for a couple days before heading off to Lake Titicaca, which at 12500 ft is the world´s highest navigable lake, and home to the Aymara people. Wish us luck for a less turbulent bus ride ;)
Two days ago, we boarded our train to Aguas Calientes- the city outside of Machu Picchu. It was a great train ride and I spent much of it mesmorized by the people and places we passed by. Women working in the fields with children wrapped in colorful bundles on their backs, barefooted children in torn ragged sweaters grinning ear to ear and waving as we passed by, and the penetrating wary stare of men and women, working tirelessly to support their families on a dollar a day, and the pain having to watch a train of rich tourists pass them by daily. The landscape too, the rough rocky terrain of the mountains seemlingly inhospitable bearing beautiful tall trees, is a striking metaphor for the resilience of the Peruvian people. Even being born into the most dire of circumstances (Peru is one of the poorest countries in South America with 44% of it´s population living below the poverty line), there is still hope, and courage, and yes, a perservering love of the land and its people.
Upon arriving in Aguas Calientes, we spent the day exploring the town, honeing our bartering skills for meals, and taking in the general mystical beauty. It is breathtakingly beautiful- the deep bluish-green Andes mountains, rather than being gradual accending giants as in the states, jut straight up into the heavens, the peaks barely visible through the mist and clouds. You are literally dwarfed by your surroundings. The next morning we awoke at 4:30am to begin our 8km trek up the mountain. It was dark and pouring rain as we began our hike. It only took us an hour and a half to trek the 1000ft up the mountain, but much of it was brutally difficult for me, exacerbatted by the fact that I was carrying a 20 pound backpack. But we made it up the hill in time for the rain to stop and we were met by our guide, Guido. He led us into the reserve all the while telling us of the history and significance of the site. Machu Picchu was built around 1460 and was abandoned around 100 years later, during the Spanish conquest. Although known locally, it was not ¨discovered¨until 1911 by Hiram Bingham. Why it was abandoned and the exact purpose of the city is still a matter of debate, but what is absolutely certain is its importance as a cultural center and sacred place.
I cannot express in words the moment we turned the corner and saw Machu Picchu and the great Andes laying out before us. I have never witnessed such breathtaking beauty and all that we could muster was ¨Wow.... wow.¨ The extreme intellect, the mathematical precision, the advanced agricultural system, and of course the mammoth stonework required of a civilization to create this place is austounding. You truly feel humbled upon entering and exploring this space. There was a moment while taking in the splendor that I felt agitated, that the same indigenous groups that could create such a marvel of math, science, agriculture, and architecture, could be so brutally marginalized by society today.
So, now we are back in Cuzco for a couple days before heading off to Lake Titicaca, which at 12500 ft is the world´s highest navigable lake, and home to the Aymara people. Wish us luck for a less turbulent bus ride ;)
Road in Cuzco-- notice the incan stonework on the right-- no mortar needed
Cory, Jeanne, and Katie in Cuzco
Mammoth Incan stonework in Cuzco
Machu Picchu!
Monday, January 26, 2009
Cuzco!
After the worst (22 hour!) bus ride of my life, I have finally arrived in Cuzco. Apparently, it doesnt matter how nice the bus is, this route is a nightmare. As it turns out, the twists, turns, and high altitude of the Andes (we´re at about 12,000 feet) dont bode well with my stomach, which led to me spending much of the 22 hour bus ride puking my brains out from altitude sickness. Welcome to Cuzco.
Anyways, after that grueling ride, I was greeted by Jeanne, Katie and Cory. We spent the rest of the day chatting and catching up-- for the past week and a half they had been in Arequipa and did a 3 day hike in the Colca Canyon- the second deepest canyon in the world. We were all wiped from our bus rides and ended up in bed sleeping by 7:30pm.
Cuzco is breathtakingly beautiful. There is definately something about this place which strangely makes you feel nostalgic for a place you have never known. The cobblestone winding streets, the incan stone walls hundreds of years old carved so mathematically perfect, with no plaster and scarcely room for a hair to fit in between, which one can harly imagine how it was made without modern technology. The crumbling exposed plaster of the buildings add character and charm while the rooftops of the city is a canopy of spanish tiles. I feel like I am living in a painting- its just so idyllic and beautiful. Many times, you walk down a cobblestone alley and take in the fact that in terms of appearance, not much has changed in 500 years.
Yesterday we went wandering around the city, and decided to take advantage of the fact that it was sunday and go and see the churches in town for free. We went to two masses, and long story short, we may or may not have crashed a funeral. There was no casket, but there were an awful lot of people in black hugging and kissing and the homily and mass was devoted to some woman. Yikes.
I´ve been thinking quite a bit about poverty lately. It´s hard not to with all the beggars and street children/families, many of whom are indigenous and forced to make a living by begging, peddling trinkets, or other informal market activities. One thing that struck me most was two young indigenous girls walking llamas down the road in their colorful outfits asking tourists if they would like to to take their picture. It felt strange, almost wrong on some level, that these people were in a sense forced to sell out their culture for tourists in order to make a living. Why is it that some people in this world are destined to a life of selling sunglasses on a street corner in Cuzco, while here I am, a college graduate, able to travel the world, and knowing full well that there will most likely be some job back home that will afford me to live in some degree of comfort? I truly believe that it is the responsiblity of those who are born into priveledged circumstances to give back and help those who are in less fortunate circumstances than they.
Anyways, after that grueling ride, I was greeted by Jeanne, Katie and Cory. We spent the rest of the day chatting and catching up-- for the past week and a half they had been in Arequipa and did a 3 day hike in the Colca Canyon- the second deepest canyon in the world. We were all wiped from our bus rides and ended up in bed sleeping by 7:30pm.
Cuzco is breathtakingly beautiful. There is definately something about this place which strangely makes you feel nostalgic for a place you have never known. The cobblestone winding streets, the incan stone walls hundreds of years old carved so mathematically perfect, with no plaster and scarcely room for a hair to fit in between, which one can harly imagine how it was made without modern technology. The crumbling exposed plaster of the buildings add character and charm while the rooftops of the city is a canopy of spanish tiles. I feel like I am living in a painting- its just so idyllic and beautiful. Many times, you walk down a cobblestone alley and take in the fact that in terms of appearance, not much has changed in 500 years.
Yesterday we went wandering around the city, and decided to take advantage of the fact that it was sunday and go and see the churches in town for free. We went to two masses, and long story short, we may or may not have crashed a funeral. There was no casket, but there were an awful lot of people in black hugging and kissing and the homily and mass was devoted to some woman. Yikes.
I´ve been thinking quite a bit about poverty lately. It´s hard not to with all the beggars and street children/families, many of whom are indigenous and forced to make a living by begging, peddling trinkets, or other informal market activities. One thing that struck me most was two young indigenous girls walking llamas down the road in their colorful outfits asking tourists if they would like to to take their picture. It felt strange, almost wrong on some level, that these people were in a sense forced to sell out their culture for tourists in order to make a living. Why is it that some people in this world are destined to a life of selling sunglasses on a street corner in Cuzco, while here I am, a college graduate, able to travel the world, and knowing full well that there will most likely be some job back home that will afford me to live in some degree of comfort? I truly believe that it is the responsiblity of those who are born into priveledged circumstances to give back and help those who are in less fortunate circumstances than they.
Friday, January 23, 2009
Last day at the hospital
This week has gone by way too fast. I just had my last day working in the hospital. I cannot convey the immense gratitude that I feel for having been able to go on this trip. It was an honor and a privilege to be a part of such a wonderful program. Since they started going almost thirty years ago, they have performed over 4,000 surgeries!
Yesterday I was interpreting for a woman whose son needed orthodontic care because of a cleft palete. After, she started to tear up. She said that she was overwhelmed with gratitude for the doctors and this program. She said that she and her husband were one of the over 30% of Peruvians who were out of work, and that this program was a God send. I could tell countless stories about each of these kids, like Renato, who has gotten the highest grades in his class every year he has been in school, but was born with a facial deformity which affects half of his face. Or Deysi, a sweet quiet little girl, with a tough home life, who was so brave all the way through her surgery. These kids; their lives, are incredible.
I am going to miss these kids so much. man, if holding post-op peruvian cleft palate babies was a job, I´d be a happy woman.
Well, I get to spend a lovely 21 hours on a bus tonight (and tomorrow). But, in the end I get picked up by my lovely traveling companions and we will be united once more! Next, on to Cuzco!
The double operating room
Right outside the hospital in El Augustin-- people live in houses like this all across the hillside
Yesterday I was interpreting for a woman whose son needed orthodontic care because of a cleft palete. After, she started to tear up. She said that she was overwhelmed with gratitude for the doctors and this program. She said that she and her husband were one of the over 30% of Peruvians who were out of work, and that this program was a God send. I could tell countless stories about each of these kids, like Renato, who has gotten the highest grades in his class every year he has been in school, but was born with a facial deformity which affects half of his face. Or Deysi, a sweet quiet little girl, with a tough home life, who was so brave all the way through her surgery. These kids; their lives, are incredible.
I am going to miss these kids so much. man, if holding post-op peruvian cleft palate babies was a job, I´d be a happy woman.
Well, I get to spend a lovely 21 hours on a bus tonight (and tomorrow). But, in the end I get picked up by my lovely traveling companions and we will be united once more! Next, on to Cuzco!
The double operating roomRight outside the hospital in El Augustin-- people live in houses like this all across the hillside
Monday, January 19, 2009
Clefts
Today it was back to work at the hospital Hipolito in El Agustin, Lima. I was excited, but really nervious given the fact that they had three people doing my job last week. But, I was a rockstar, aided by the fact that we only had 6 surgeries today. Tomorrow there are 12. Yikes.
Anyways, I run between rooms all day: talking to parents and filling out forms in pre-op, talking to the doctors and filling out charts in the operating room, taking before and after photos in the operating rooms, entering data in the ´gringo´room (staff room), interpreting for everyone, general gopher-ing, and helping hold and take care of the kids in the post-op room.
The conditions of El Agustin are bleak, to say the least. Carlos, our driver, said that El Agustin is one of the poorest and most dangerous areas of Lima. The hospital is at the base of these enormous dirt hills, and entire neighborhoods of dingy brightly colored shacks are built upon the hills. Dire economic hardships have forced people to flood into Lima searching for jobs. But people here are resilient and face life with love, humor, and an unfathomable uptimism for better times ahead.
Speaking of humor, yesterday I met a woman by the name of Sister Peggy. She is a 70 year old Irish nun who works in Chimbote, about 6 hours north of Lima. She is a riot! She was telling us stories for hours, my favorite of which being when she was traveling to Guayaquil, Ecuador and went to what they thought was a hotel, and ended up spending the night in a brothel by mistake.
Everyone here is so nice! I keep wishing I had more of a medical brain-- every time I am working in the hospital, and seeing these kids from pre-op, to operating room table, to comforting them in the post-op room... I would love to do something like this. Looking at the pictures, seeing how easy yet life-changing this surgery is, and how dedicated all the staff is... it is truly inspiring.
Well, must go. We start work at 7am tomorrow!
Anyways, I run between rooms all day: talking to parents and filling out forms in pre-op, talking to the doctors and filling out charts in the operating room, taking before and after photos in the operating rooms, entering data in the ´gringo´room (staff room), interpreting for everyone, general gopher-ing, and helping hold and take care of the kids in the post-op room.
The conditions of El Agustin are bleak, to say the least. Carlos, our driver, said that El Agustin is one of the poorest and most dangerous areas of Lima. The hospital is at the base of these enormous dirt hills, and entire neighborhoods of dingy brightly colored shacks are built upon the hills. Dire economic hardships have forced people to flood into Lima searching for jobs. But people here are resilient and face life with love, humor, and an unfathomable uptimism for better times ahead.
Speaking of humor, yesterday I met a woman by the name of Sister Peggy. She is a 70 year old Irish nun who works in Chimbote, about 6 hours north of Lima. She is a riot! She was telling us stories for hours, my favorite of which being when she was traveling to Guayaquil, Ecuador and went to what they thought was a hotel, and ended up spending the night in a brothel by mistake.
Everyone here is so nice! I keep wishing I had more of a medical brain-- every time I am working in the hospital, and seeing these kids from pre-op, to operating room table, to comforting them in the post-op room... I would love to do something like this. Looking at the pictures, seeing how easy yet life-changing this surgery is, and how dedicated all the staff is... it is truly inspiring.
Well, must go. We start work at 7am tomorrow!
Saturday, January 17, 2009
First day of work!
So, yesterday was my first day of working at the hospital. We got back to our hotel at roughly 2:30am, and had to be up by 6:30am to go to the hospital. So we ate breakfast and hit the road.
The hospital that we work at is in a much poorer part of town and it takes us a good half hour to get there. I spent the majority of the ride there looking out the window and taking it all in: the smog-ladden grey sky (which has coated many buildings in the city with a dirty grime), the shantytowns built on the side of the mountain, the families who make their homes on the medians of interstate highways. This was a far cry from Miraflores, with its shopping malls, designer stores and glass skyscrapers.
I got to the hospital and quickly donned my scrubs and surgical garb. I still was a little vague on the details of what exactly I would be doing, however I was ready for anything. It was so awesome! I was interpreting for everyone (Im the only one fluent in spanish), going into the pre-op room and talking to the families and asking them questions and having them fill out forms, and then going right into the operating rooms and asking the doctors a bunch of information on the surgery for the charts. Surprisingly, I wasn´t nauseated at all! I was right in there elbow to elbow with all the doctors and was totally fine. I wish I had more of a knack or passion for science because it just is so cool what these doctors do.
Then, they had me taking picures of all of the kids before and after their cleft lip or cleft palette surgeries. My favorite part, however, was taking care of the children in the post-op room. These are kids who are ages 16 weeks to 7 years and they are all scared and in pain and missing their parents, and just need some physical affection to calm their nerves. I rocked babies and fed, cleaned up and played with the kids, and I wished I could have stayed there for hours. It blew my mind how quickly these surgeries go, but what a lasting gift. For these kids, this is truly the difference of a life of being ostricized from society, and not.
I am so excited for this week, but I am a little nervious-- they had two assitants doing this job last week and now for this upcoming week its just little old me. Wish me luck!
The hospital that we work at is in a much poorer part of town and it takes us a good half hour to get there. I spent the majority of the ride there looking out the window and taking it all in: the smog-ladden grey sky (which has coated many buildings in the city with a dirty grime), the shantytowns built on the side of the mountain, the families who make their homes on the medians of interstate highways. This was a far cry from Miraflores, with its shopping malls, designer stores and glass skyscrapers.
I got to the hospital and quickly donned my scrubs and surgical garb. I still was a little vague on the details of what exactly I would be doing, however I was ready for anything. It was so awesome! I was interpreting for everyone (Im the only one fluent in spanish), going into the pre-op room and talking to the families and asking them questions and having them fill out forms, and then going right into the operating rooms and asking the doctors a bunch of information on the surgery for the charts. Surprisingly, I wasn´t nauseated at all! I was right in there elbow to elbow with all the doctors and was totally fine. I wish I had more of a knack or passion for science because it just is so cool what these doctors do.
Then, they had me taking picures of all of the kids before and after their cleft lip or cleft palette surgeries. My favorite part, however, was taking care of the children in the post-op room. These are kids who are ages 16 weeks to 7 years and they are all scared and in pain and missing their parents, and just need some physical affection to calm their nerves. I rocked babies and fed, cleaned up and played with the kids, and I wished I could have stayed there for hours. It blew my mind how quickly these surgeries go, but what a lasting gift. For these kids, this is truly the difference of a life of being ostricized from society, and not.
I am so excited for this week, but I am a little nervious-- they had two assitants doing this job last week and now for this upcoming week its just little old me. Wish me luck!
Por fin! Welcome to Lima!
After a three day adventure of trying to get to Lima, we are finally here! Here is what happened:
Jeanne and I left at 5:30am on Tuesday for the MegaBus to Milwaukee, which turned out to be great- the four of us spent the night at Katie´s parents house and in the morning Katie´s dad graciously drove us to Chicago to the airport. Unfortunatly for us, this same day there was a blizzard making our hour and a half drive over three hours long, and we found out our flight was cancelled until the next day. So, yet again, we spent a wonderfully restful night sleeping on the floor of the airport across from McDonalds. Cool.
Anyways, after that we got on our way, arriving in Lima at around 11:30pm on Thursday night. We were psyched and I was just moseying through security when the man checking my passport stops me, calls a police officer who says "could you please follow me." Apparently I had a problem with my passport- meanwhile Jeanne, Cory and Katie are thinking that I was suspected of being a drug mule or something. I ended up in the police office for an hour. Turns out that my passport (which I lost 4 years ago and had to get a new one) was not properly reported by my government to interpol as a replacement of a lost passport. Thanks USA. Thankfully, its all figured out now.
Needless to say, I didn´t have the greatest first impression of Lima, but I am warming up to it. It´s almost 500 years old and there are 8 million people living here! Certain parts are gorgeous and have a very european feel to them, but its the unfortunately common story of class stratification in latin america: there is the very rich and then there is the very poor, with little to nothing in between. I see this when I travel to work at the hospital-- our hotel is very nice, and we get driven to one of the poorest parts of lima. I´m still taking it in, but more on that later.
Cory, Jeanne, and Katie just left for Arequipas for the week and I will meet them in Cuzco on the 24th when I am done with work in the hospital. I am unbelivably excited for this week, but i also cant wait to be back with the gang :)
Sleeping in the airport in Chicago
The beach in Lima-- it was a little foggy/smoggy 
The gang!
Jeanne and I left at 5:30am on Tuesday for the MegaBus to Milwaukee, which turned out to be great- the four of us spent the night at Katie´s parents house and in the morning Katie´s dad graciously drove us to Chicago to the airport. Unfortunatly for us, this same day there was a blizzard making our hour and a half drive over three hours long, and we found out our flight was cancelled until the next day. So, yet again, we spent a wonderfully restful night sleeping on the floor of the airport across from McDonalds. Cool.
Anyways, after that we got on our way, arriving in Lima at around 11:30pm on Thursday night. We were psyched and I was just moseying through security when the man checking my passport stops me, calls a police officer who says "could you please follow me." Apparently I had a problem with my passport- meanwhile Jeanne, Cory and Katie are thinking that I was suspected of being a drug mule or something. I ended up in the police office for an hour. Turns out that my passport (which I lost 4 years ago and had to get a new one) was not properly reported by my government to interpol as a replacement of a lost passport. Thanks USA. Thankfully, its all figured out now.
Needless to say, I didn´t have the greatest first impression of Lima, but I am warming up to it. It´s almost 500 years old and there are 8 million people living here! Certain parts are gorgeous and have a very european feel to them, but its the unfortunately common story of class stratification in latin america: there is the very rich and then there is the very poor, with little to nothing in between. I see this when I travel to work at the hospital-- our hotel is very nice, and we get driven to one of the poorest parts of lima. I´m still taking it in, but more on that later.
Cory, Jeanne, and Katie just left for Arequipas for the week and I will meet them in Cuzco on the 24th when I am done with work in the hospital. I am unbelivably excited for this week, but i also cant wait to be back with the gang :)
Sleeping in the airport in ChicagoThe beach in Lima-- it was a little foggy/smoggy The gang!
Monday, January 12, 2009
Crunch time
Hm. Deja vu. Two years ago, my mother was ready to kill me because I left all of my packing and shopping until the night before I left for study abroad. Now, here I am, slowly packing my life into a backpack, not able to sleep, and watching trashy TV as I look at the clock and realize that Jeanne's parents are coming to pick me up in 4 1/2 hours. yikes mikey. (we are taking the MegaBus to Milwaukee and spending the night at Katie's house, and her parents are graciously driving us to the Chicago airport in the morning)
It really almost doesn't feel real. I have been goinggoinggoing like crazy ever since I got back (and, of course, before that) and I really haven't had time to sit and think about the fact that I will be gone for nearly 4 months. Maybe its for the best. I am getting really excited though. But, knowing me, I will forget something essential like a passport or something. hm. here's hoping I don't.
Oh! And great news! The whole thing with the mission worked out-- we're golden, we have room, board, work and transportation. Thank god.
Now-- on to the MegaBus!
It really almost doesn't feel real. I have been goinggoinggoing like crazy ever since I got back (and, of course, before that) and I really haven't had time to sit and think about the fact that I will be gone for nearly 4 months. Maybe its for the best. I am getting really excited though. But, knowing me, I will forget something essential like a passport or something. hm. here's hoping I don't.
Oh! And great news! The whole thing with the mission worked out-- we're golden, we have room, board, work and transportation. Thank god.
Now-- on to the MegaBus!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Already rolling with the punches...
Typical. In true Latin American form, our plans have already changed and we are forced to roll with the punches. It turns out that the mission in Guatemala is full for the entirety of the time we planned to go. So, we have a few options and we are weighing it out. Hopefully, we can stay elsewhere in San Lucas and still work with the mission (my dad's best friend's wife is from San Lucas and she offered to help us with lodging). If that doesn't work, Jeanne has other contacts in Guatemala that we could work it. It'll all work out, but man, UGH! Welcome to Latin America...
Wednesday, January 7, 2009
One week until aventura
Seven days! Seven days until we (myself, Katie, Cory, and Jeanne) embark on our journey, and I feel like I have a million and one things to do before then. Anyways, I was asked to start a blog, and I thought it was a good idea, so here goes:
Here is our plan:
January 14th- February 9th: Peru
In Peru, I will be working as a medical interpreter on a sort of Doctors Without Borders trip through the U of M Medical School. Every year, a team of doctors lead by Frank Pilney go down to Lima and fix cleft pallets, cleft lip and burn victims, the majority of whom are children. I will be doing data entry, translation, interpretation and taking photos of the children before and after their surgeries. From what I understand these procedures are routine and relatively inexpensive, however they make such a world of difference in the lives of these children. It truly is, in many cases, the difference between a life of being ostricized from society and not. I am so excited to be a part of something like this. After working in the hospital we will be doing some traveling, among which is going to Macchu Picchu :)
February 9th- February 24th: Ecuador
In Ecuador, we will be going to Quito, Banos, Cuenca and Guayaquil. My sister is studying abroad in Cuenca and we get to visit her, which I am very excited about.
February 24th- March 13th: Guatemala
In Guatemala, we will be working at a mission I worked at in high school. It is located in the Mayan highlands of Guatemala and has a variety of programs in sustainable community development such as reforestation, coffee cooperatives, a clinic and construction programs. The mission is very much a proponent of liberation theology, which is definitely an idea I can get behind :)
March 14th- April 14th: Nicaragua
In Nicaragua, we will be working in the community of El Fortin. We all are members of LA SED (Latin American Sustainability Education and Development) and our organization has raised money for various projects such as our scholarship, health, and sustainable economic development programs. We will be working in the community with health and nutrition education programs as well as tutoring children in the creative arts (ceramics, painting, creative writing, etc.).
April 14th- April 28th: Costa Rica
In Costa Rica, we will be traveling, visiting our host families, and hopefully visiting my cousin and her family in Manuel Antonio.
So, that's our grand adventure. Wish us luck!
Love,
Maria
Here is our plan:
January 14th- February 9th: Peru
In Peru, I will be working as a medical interpreter on a sort of Doctors Without Borders trip through the U of M Medical School. Every year, a team of doctors lead by Frank Pilney go down to Lima and fix cleft pallets, cleft lip and burn victims, the majority of whom are children. I will be doing data entry, translation, interpretation and taking photos of the children before and after their surgeries. From what I understand these procedures are routine and relatively inexpensive, however they make such a world of difference in the lives of these children. It truly is, in many cases, the difference between a life of being ostricized from society and not. I am so excited to be a part of something like this. After working in the hospital we will be doing some traveling, among which is going to Macchu Picchu :)
February 9th- February 24th: Ecuador
In Ecuador, we will be going to Quito, Banos, Cuenca and Guayaquil. My sister is studying abroad in Cuenca and we get to visit her, which I am very excited about.
February 24th- March 13th: Guatemala
In Guatemala, we will be working at a mission I worked at in high school. It is located in the Mayan highlands of Guatemala and has a variety of programs in sustainable community development such as reforestation, coffee cooperatives, a clinic and construction programs. The mission is very much a proponent of liberation theology, which is definitely an idea I can get behind :)
March 14th- April 14th: Nicaragua
In Nicaragua, we will be working in the community of El Fortin. We all are members of LA SED (Latin American Sustainability Education and Development) and our organization has raised money for various projects such as our scholarship, health, and sustainable economic development programs. We will be working in the community with health and nutrition education programs as well as tutoring children in the creative arts (ceramics, painting, creative writing, etc.).
April 14th- April 28th: Costa Rica
In Costa Rica, we will be traveling, visiting our host families, and hopefully visiting my cousin and her family in Manuel Antonio.
So, that's our grand adventure. Wish us luck!
Love,
Maria
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