journal entry from 11/2/10

We're in November. How did this happen?? I am a mere two weeks from home--from my 奶奶, Chinese food, 60-degree winter...

Going into my third month here, I'm noticing how my perception of my time here is changing yet again. Now that I've seen a few brigades come and go, my frame of reference, both in time and people, has become defined by the people here, and when they leave.

Last night, I met the famous Dr. Ed Zuroweste--a remarkable (of course) family physician who has devoted the latter half of his life to migrant workers. He and his wife--to whom he is adorably dedicated--have their own migrant health clinic, and also serve as "consultants" to various public health organizations...including the WHO. He travels to various countries to help establish and improve global health organizations, and decades ago had to make the decision: work with Partners In Health in Haiti with Paul Farmer, or Shoulder to Shoulder in Honduras with Jeff Heck? Since then, over twenty years later, he and his wife have made countless trips down to rural Intibucá, helping with paquete básicos and seeing us through the growth of our Santa Lucía clinic and the subsequent construction of our Conce clinic.

Listening to him speak about his various experiences, I remember how again and again, the people who keep Shoulder to Shoulder going are these types of incredible, selfless people. And each of them--Art, Dick, the Tepes, Ed--lead their lives in very different ways, but all equally admirably. Again and again, I think to myself, I want to be like them someday...

And then I remember, that's what a friend told me two months ago, and he's already on that road. It really is that easy.

i'm a cuckoo

So. I've had a lot of unfinished blog and journal entries lately. Mostly because there have been so many changes lately, it's hard to know where to start.

There is another brigade here, again mostly from UC but this time composed of medical students, interns, residents, attendings, and even their kids. Together with the translators, they are almost 40. Like the last brigade, this means... a lot of different things. All of a sudden, there's never any room (though everything has been rearranged to make space), the bathrooms are always occupied, and sometimes we even run out of food. But on top of that, everyone's normal routine is shaken up a bit as we try to accommodate brigade activities, make sure everyone is constantly occupied, entertained, and having a good time, and organize all of the new supplies and medicines that the brigade brought and needs to use.

For instance, I played babysitter last week, walking one of the doctors' kids to and from school every day. It was actually a good experience--I got to interact more with teachers, sit in on a few classes and see what those were like, as well as familiarize myself with the system in general. For instance, I found that Wednesdays are phys ed days. The kids (at least in SL) get half an hour of classroom time, and then jet off to the campo de fútbol to play soccer for the rest of the day. And if children from another community, for instance Magdalena, happen to come to use the soccer field for whatever reason, the kids get to go home. No school!

Plus, since this brigade has a lot of medical students and residents, I have had some incredible learning opportunities--talking to students about med school, to doctors about their experiences with interesting patients, and... teaching stations! Alex, Jess, Ashley, and Beth coordinated some teaching stations to give residents practice on starting IVs, giving IM injections, starting nebulizers, and using blood glucometers. It was... AWESOME. To be in a room full of people interested in both learning from and teaching their fellow peers was absolutely wonderful. Everyone participated, whether by helping teach, offering arms to be pricked/prodded/poked, or trying it out themselves... including the lowly med school applicants, Liz and me! Two hours later, I'd received one IV, 2 IM injections, and had also started an IV and given an IM injection to someone else! Super exciting. On top of that, the brigade leaders have held talks and discussions, so that in essence, the med students are still getting classes while down here.

In other news, I am still learning to live with and adjust my highs and lows concerning life and my work here. Sometimes I will have a wonderful morning, feeling productive, motivated, and inspired. That same day I'll struggle through the afternoon, feeling like no matter how long or hard I work or will work, I still can't ever do enough, and thus can't ever feel accomplished. And I know that the more I work and live here, this feeling is only going to become stronger. Sobering.

About a week ago, Ben and I held a little "This American Life" listening party, specifically for the "Baby College" episode after an animated discussion about education. After hearing about Geoff Canada's successes in Harlem, all of us--Ben, Jess, Liz, Ashley, our new addition Kaitlin, and I--became embroiled in a discussion about how to bring about "sustainable" change, how to assess whether or not we are doing good or are successful, how to distinguish between progress and mere movement toward American ideals and standards, etc. etc. Soon enough, we were descending into existential doubts/questions about what we're doing here, whether there's we're doing more harm than good, what is "progress," or "success," or even health...

But anyway! A couple days ago I moved back to Conce. Jess is also here, and the two of us have moved into our own little room! Since we will be living together, we have been promoted to a slightly bigger room, and even have our own dresser! Needless to say, we were extremely excited to be able to arrange and decorate our little home--my more-or-less permanent stay until June. Yesterday we ventured into town to try to find hangers at the mercado, but to no avail. So instead, we stopped by Delmy's house to say hi to Saraí and Analía (she can walk now!), and met Doña Argentina as well, a storeowner on the other side of the street. Like every other Honduran old woman I've met, Doña Argentina welcomed us with open arms and a kiss on the cheek, happy to meet us and share stories of other gringos who had passed by.

As Jess and I walked (hiked) back up the hill to the clinic and chatted for awhile in our room, I finally started feeling really good about being here. Maybe it was our new room, or Jess, or just the nice conversations we had in town, but for some reason I finally began to feel like Conce is my home, rather than always having a foot (or let's be real, both feet) back in Santa Lucía. Here in Conce, I already feel much different now than when I arrived two months ago to SL, when I was giddy and excited about pretty much everything. Now I feel like I'm really anchoring myself and my work here, and I feel much more settled. I know I will still have my rough days--when I get discouraged about work, or feel lonely--but I also have a more or less permanent safe haven here now.

Anyway, regardless I'll be back in the States in a mere three and a half weeks! Crazy how time flies...

sappiest post yet! sorry...

i had a wonderful morning today. there was nothing remarkable about it--i sat at my little temporary desk, alternately browsing the new york times and reading up on early childhood care and education while brainstorming ideas for CHI. in the meantime, i sipped on two cups of hot coffee, made a couple to-do lists on my new sticky notes (thanks ben), and bantered with janell and liz. but in those few hours, little things kept reminding me that... i really have it good. great, in fact.

i was greeted by TLC first thing in the morning, thanks to friends who are far away, busy with their own lives, and yet make time to send me beautifully written emails that keep me updated and remind me that despite distance and time, some friends will always, always be there.

i read an article about a ballets russes exhibit in london that described the collaborations between diaghilev, nijinsky, and satie--stories i had learned in my music history class just a few months ago. i was not only super excited that the material i learned in class showed up in the NYT, but i also reveled in the fact that i had the opportunity to learn from professors as passionate and wonderful as professor hepokoski. man, his beethoven lectures were good...

i read a chinese blurb about parenting that my mom sent me, and was reminded that i have the most wonderful family a girl could ask for--parents who are sensitive, open-minded, and empathetic, a grandma who is doting, selfless, and never fails to make me smile, and a little brother who despite being bigger, taller, and more mature than i ever remember, always brings out the most protective side of me.

i looked around me, and was again amazed and inspired by the people who work with me. ben with his constant flurry of activity, janell always pushing through with her mountains of paperwork, beth and her reports on everything that has to do with vaginas (okay, just paps and cervical cancer), liz doing her balancing act of med apps, pharmacy, and respiratory study, ashley taking care of and getting excited about her baby, i.e. the clinic bodega, and jess powering through her spanish and nursing books... after four years at yale, again i am lucky enough to find myself surrounded by high-energy peers and colleagues, all of whom are extremely dedicated and passionate about their work. it is an incredible work environment, and i know i'd be hard-pressed to feel this way about any other job in the future.

crazy to think about all the little forks in the road i followed to get to where i am today. almost makes a girl believe in something bigger...

asleep on a sunbeam

So... Where to begin? I am back in Santa Lucía, sitting upstairs with my fellow compañeras as we share pictures and reminisce over our various (mis)adventures, both here and now in Antigua.

After a week away--over three days of traveling and then three days in Antigua--it's weird to be back, thrown back into a routine that...never really existed? We've moved from the downstairs dorms up into the apartments, which means that I now have a corner of a room that isn't really mine, except on the days/weekends that I come back from Conce. But weird living sitch aside, it really is nice to be back and in one place for at least a few days at a time.

cobblestone streets of antigua!

Anyway. Antigua was... A. Mazing. It was really a little bit of everything. A lot of quiet reflection on our 16-hour bus ride, and then a lot of walking up and down cute cobblestone streets, admiring the old buildings and plethora of little shops and restaurants. A morning at the mercado, asking for bargains on everything from a hammock to earrings to a knock-off Toy Story 3 as others shopped for pillowcases and table runners. An afternoon on active Vulcán Pacaya, complete with the most beautiful sunset I've ever seen, marshmallow-roasting over lava, racing i.e. slipping up to the top just so we could say we did, and then hiking back down by headlamp/flashlight, led the whole way by our feisty and nimble lead "tigre," aka our guide Sergio. A night of wandering indecision before finally settling into a 10:30 pm dinner and topping it off with dancing at a nightclub. Aggressive Latin men included, of course.

sergio roasting our marshmallows over lava

sunset on top of vulcán pacaya

"pastel capitalista", mocha, and journal
(me in a nutshell)

A morning by myself in a beautifully decorated coffee shop with a tie-dye papier maché ceiling and painted walls, quietly listening to music and writing in my journal while enjoying a mocha and a huge slice of carrot cake. My best morning, obviously :) And in the afternoon, riding in the bed of a truck with our dresses flying in the air, only to hike down a slippery mud slope in our dresses and flip flops to arrive at the promised Earth Lodge, a peaceful and tranquil avocado farm where we spent the afternoon lounging in hammocks overlooking Guatemala City and Vulcán Agua, the evening feasting on turkey, stuffing, and "pumpkin" (ocote) pie for Canadian Thanksgiving, and the night sitting by the fireplace, talking and laughing with hippies from all over the world who had alternately lived in Korea, Brazil, Palestine, and Saudi Arabia. Made me wonder if I could/would ever live like that, constantly moving and traveling just to shake things up, meet new people, and share new experiences.

my new friends!
byrón, juan carlos, y josé
campo de fútbol, earth lodge

Another quiet day to myself, spent wandering alone and getting lost in the streets of Antigua, people-watching in the park, writing and drawing in coffee shops, chatting with random locals in restaurants, telling the same woman again and again no, I would not like to buy your tapestry... A glorious hour in a different park, listening to music as I watched dads walk alongside their daughters, young teenage lovers playing tonsil hockey against a tree, and one lone old man, sitting quietly by himself on a fountain. And finally, our final night spent at none other but the Jungle Party Inn. A hostel that had hanging multi-colored lamps to set a disco atmosphere, but lacked locks on its doors; had hot showers and internet, but no towels or outlets; and of course, a record number of bitchy receptionists. But only a few hours later, at 3 am, we were back on our way to begin our 32-hour viaje back to Santa Lucía. Fret not, we had misadventures there as well--our bus almost left Liz at a random Texaco stop in Siguatepeque, and then we ran over a cow...

But! Now we're back. Back to the frontera, where there are definitely no other gringos or chinitas walkin the streets, where anything but a 4WD truck or bus on the dirt roads would make us look twice, where we sleep with the sounds of roosters by night and work with the sounds of cows by day, where ants crawl into my clothes and bite me in awkward places, where mis Marías get jealous after seeing me hug Don Luís...

It's good to be back :)

as an aside...

the number of "wow" moments i've had--where i've just been overwhelmed by love, beauty, or just sheer incredulity that i am alive and living this way--and the number of incredible people i have been privileged enough to know, befriend, work with, and/or love are mind-blowing to me. 

i realized today that more than anything else, i am just a conglomeration of the people i love and admire. i have always been surrounded by incredible people, all of whom have at least a few big traits i really admire and aspire to. not only am i lucky with the people in my life, but i have also been privileged with incredible experiences that jolt me out of complacency and monotony, helping me realize just how lucky i am to live the life i lead.

anyway, i wanted to share my sentiment because it literally overwhelmed me today. i promise i'll have a more articulate and less random entry up soon enough :)

paz!

a work in progress

long overdue for updates and a blog post, but again lacking motivation... so. in short:

what i like about conce:

- peace and quiet

- alone time

- rain

- the woman i always see when i go running, who is always concerned about me getting drenched in the rain

what i don't like about conce:

- too much peace and quiet

- too much alone time

- too much rain

- the old woman i always see when i go walking, who is always gesturing to her teeth and then whispering into my ear asking for money

i really should have made a venn diagram...

anyway. fuller update: i've moved to conce! i have a small room that is all mine, which means that the small corner around my mattress is now adorned with pictures and notes to keep spirits high when i get lonely. as of now it will just be me living by myself in the comedor, which means i have a ton of space and privacy, but also that if there's like, say, a dog that comes barking at me out of nowhere and i scream at the top of my lungs, no one can hear me. not that that's happened. 

naaah.

on the whole, things are going pretty well. i'm getting used to the quiet emptiness, though i would really like to make the place a little homier and friendly... working on that. i've become closer to two of the doctors, juan and wilfredo, who promise to be my new friends and sometimes will drink a beer with me (or i'll drink a beer, and they'll drink four or five).

work is rockin' as well. i've mostly wrapped up my vaccination study, and besides faltando some data collection, it seems like our rates and coverage are actually really good around here :) as a bonus, i've won over our health promoters and a few nurses in the health centers, so i'll have at least a couple allies when i start diving into my bigger children's health initiative project. i had some great conversations with suyapa and art about it, just to gauge some ideas, and will continue interviewing various people (doctors, teachers, community health leaders and volunteers, etc.) so i'm pretty excited about that.

for now, i'm back in santa lucía for the week before jetting off to antigua! it's actually really nice to be back. i knew i felt lonelier in conce, but i never realized just how much i missed my daily conversations and routines here. or perhaps it's just the familiarity, the knowledge that i can slip back and comfortably into enjoying good food, drinks, and above all, company. living among people who really understand and empathize with almost every aspect of my personality... that's something really rare, and something i will miss while in conce.

for instance, i had a really good talk with ashley last night, just about our attitudes and feelings about being here now that it's been a few weeks. it seems like our honeymoon period is starting to fade, and we're finally starting to catch up with ourselves in honduras. now that the novelty of being here is wearing off, the me-ness that used to bug me is coming back--my problem of thinking too much, of getting lost in doubts, and other little things. on top of that, it's easy to get lost here in the extreme highs and lows of each day/week. besides our projects, work, and each other, there's little else to do or think about, and i'm starting to see maybe how people here can become so completely absorbed and invested, and consequently more jaded and/or bitter. i don't know if this is a possibility for me too, but i think one struggle for me will be to keep my emotions in check. i feel like in this simple lifestyle, one could really get lost in his/her thoughts and emotions...

anyway, ashley said something last night that i really liked: the idea that we are all works in progress. that we have and will always have inherent characteristics we don't like, but even if we may not always be able to change them (though i always like to think that we can), we can do our best to frame the world in various mindsets, until we find the one that is the both accurate and positive. i like the idea a lot - both as a way to look at ourselves as people, but also at whatever situation we may be stuck in. it always leaves room for improvement, and thus for us to be on the up-and-up.

i like that :)

shit, they say the best things in life are free

Love love love the rain here. Somehow it still hasn't gotten old--the sudden downpours in the middle of the day that shut down internet and sometimes power, getting us soaked in mere seconds. It's awesome.

Anyway, dynamic duo Art and Dick have now been here for a week. After only a few days with them, I was reminded again of just how incredible this organization and its leaders are. I can definitely see how they inspire other employees and volunteers here; they are the definition of people who work tirelessly and quietly. No grumbling, no boasting.

The other night, I woke up to go to the bathroom and noticed that the lights in the comedor were on. I went to go turn them off, and was startled by Art and Dick, both of whom whooshed by me, each with a cheerful "Good morning!" Confused, I groggily greeted them back, and went to check the time on my phone.

4:47.

They had gotten up at 3, and had been in and out working and running errands ever since. This is amazing in and of itself, but to work like this cheerfully for 2 straight weeks, consistently coming back for over 20 years... That's dedication. I know that for years I've always admired and envied people with "passion"--people who have that one thing they really care about, obsess about, and seem to need in order to be happy. I never thought I could feel so strongly about any one thing. People, yes. But some thing, some cause, some activity? Not so much.

I don't know if this is the same idea, just a different rendition, but here the buzz words are commitment and dedication. This kind of passion is different; day-to-day work here can be frustrating, isn't particularly enjoyable, and definitely isn't always satisfactory. But people here--and more and more, I begin to feel more included in that category, though probably undeservedly--care, and for the mere sake of progress (even if it sometimes seems minute or even nonexistent), keep doing what they're doing. I have hardly been here for a month, and already I feel the pull. One year--less, ten months!--seems so short, and already I'm imagining ways to come back.

Another thing I'm beginning to become addicted to is exercise. I know, what? It's funny how much I like to work out here. At home I'm so lazy--it takes so much discipline just to roll out and run at all. Here, I'm starting to understand why Ann and Connie love running so much; I feel addicted to the rhythm of running, the sound, concentration, and slightly masochistic drive of running. That feeling of finding the point where you just have to stop, and then pushing a little harder until you're back into the right rhythm.

It may just be that I love being outside here, or that I'm already outside so much that the activation barrier is lower. But today, for example, my legs were covered in mud (literally up to my shorts), and with the rain falling on me as I felt the burn, all I wanted to do was keep going.

It helps too that after every run, I feel great. My head is just so much clearer, and I worry a lot less. When I first arrived to Conce yesterday I was feeling a little anxious--nervous about leaving and worrying about everything. But now I'm regaining that it's-great-to-be-in-Conce feel, which is nice. It's beautiful out here. And although I'm already starting to feel the loneliness and relative emptiness, I am also really excited to have my own space and alone time. I just need to make sure I keep running to keep clarity and stop myself from thinking too much.

There are so many wonderful parts of being here: the beautiful scenery, the peacefully and slow pace, the incredible friends I've made. But I also need to remember why I am really here: to work hard and do as much as I can for the people here, which means focusing on my project and throwing myself into anything else that could use my help.

Just gotta keep running. Running and working--the rest will fall into place on its own.

journal entry from 9/16 - health fair

A little behind in blogging, but here is an entry about the feria de salud that I thought captured a lot about life here. Story time!

Great day today.

We (the brigade, Karla, Beth, Alex, Alan, and I) left this morning for la feria de salud out in the small community of Guarumo. After ~20 minutes of driving and hiking (read: sore ass and muddy shoes), we arrived at the school, where we were greeted by two of the three local community health volunteers.

What a welcome! There were balloons, streamers, a welcome poster with meticulous pencil lines drawn in... They were so incredibly proud to have us there, and I don't know how many times one of the volunteers kept repeating how "orgulloso" they felt that their little community had been chosen to host the first health fair of the region. Throughout the day, everyone was incredibly gracious and supportive--even passing out cups of hot "poliada" (milk, flour, sugar, and cinnamon--like horchata but better) and later, plates of hot, homemade lunch.

After the initial welcome by the community leader, eight school-age kids came out in elaborate dresses (for the girls) and vaquero outfits (for the boys) and performed a few traditional dances for us. Again, the sense of pride was incredible. The children were all so earnest and serious in their dancing (one boy had some serious moves), while their parents beamed in the audience. In some ways it reminded me of our old Chinese-dance days... The same pushy pride from the parents and reluctance from the kids. But while ours stemmed from embarrassment, theirs was just from shy nervousness. Huge difference.

The dance was then followed by the most enthusiastic sermon I'd ever seen. The pastor from the nearby evangelical church (literally across the street from the fair, and where we had lunch) read a passage from the Bible, then excitedly shared the "palabra de Dios" while asking us to open our hearts and let go of the leprosy in our souls, all the while punctuated by enthusiastic "Amens" from the crowd. With the exception of a crying baby and some distracted children, the audience was captivated; it was the quietest Honduran silence I'd ever heard. It was a small glimpse into religion's central role in these rural, conservative communities, where adolescent mothers are commonplace but dancing is a sin. Even when I asked the health volunteer how many people were in his community, he answered not with a number of families, but with "two congregations!" It made me wonder if we could ever get locals even half as invested in their own health. Or, perhaps more cynically, how we could aprovechar their religious fervor in some way...

Anyway, after all the welcoming fanfare, the brigade members set up their posters and went to man their health education posts as people mingled and passed through. Unfortunately, there wasn't too much interest...unless of course, there were handouts. Free stress balls and toothbrushes went like hotcakes, but I soon found kids blowing stress balls into stress balloons and picking toothbrushes out from the mud, so we know how effective that was...

On the other side of the fair, we performed general consults and pap smears. Everyone and their mom (and/or dad, grandma, aunt, uncle, etc.) came to see the doctor/gringo nurses, and we quickly ran out of patient intake forms. For my part, I became an expert at taking pulses as people waited in line. Then, the brigade leader announced that because of the rain, it was time to roll out. ...Except that we still had almost 20 patients waiting in line to be seen. It was a disaster. Everyone in the community was so proud and worked so hard to organize this event for us, and here we were, ducking out in the middle of it. Eventually, we reached a compromise and decided that the brigade could leave earlier, but we StoSers would stay behind. As a result, I ended up helping Delvia, the professional nurse (as they term them here) from the Conce health center, with her paperwork as she saw patients. She taught me the word "pitis"--patients who had no problems but came to get meds (mostly acetominophen) and explained various illnesses and their treatments to me. It was a good thing we stayed, too, because more and more patients just kept coming in.

Two cases stuck with me the most, coincidentally the last two who wandered in. One patient came in with an infected toenail and needed to get it removed. Beth helped Delvia with the extraction (? I don't know the right terminology) as Karla and I watched. There was obviously no OR or sterile room for surgery, so Delvia cleaned it as best she could with iodine and got ready to pull. The woman--like so many here--was incredibly stoic and calm, quiet despite not having any anesthetics for the pain.

Our last patient was a girl of 20. I served as a translator for Karla and asked her what was wrong. For some reason, she was incredibly shy and refused to speak above a whisper. I became confused by her answer ("me duelen los pies durante la regla," or my feet hurt when I get my period), so I asked Alex to come help. As soon as he sat down, she immediately began whispering urgently in my ear, pulling my head closer to her. All of a sudden, she started spilling her real symptoms to me, and also divulged that she wanted birth control.

She took to me after that, refusing to talk to anyone else while continuing to whisper into my ear. At one point she even cradled my head, caressing my face and stroking my hair. Turns out she had arrived with her sister, but was terrified that her sister would find out about the birth control (i.e. that she was having sex! And thus doomed to hell.) This made me even more impressed with her insistence--at the very least, she would be one less pregnant girl to worry about. (Side note. After about a month here, there are two things that never fail to make me smile: kids who come into the clinic with their dads, and any time a woman asks for birth control. Men are seldom the caretakers here, and I fall in love with every man who comes with his little boy or girl. And after all the pregnant women I've seen... I rejoice every time I hear someone's trying to prevent one.)

Anyway, for some reason this small encounter was extremely exciting and fulfilling to me. I didn't treat her, nor did I prescribe her medications. It was such a small thing, to sit there and coax answers out of her so Karla could diagnose and treat her, and yet I felt stupidly giddy afterwards, so incredibly happy to have been part of the process. It makes me so excited about the prospect of being a doctor, being trained, licensed, and even paid to see patients. My time here has given me possibly the best and most personal--and thus for me, most fulfilling--perspective of medicine, and I am incredibly excited to learn and do more in the next few years in med school.

- The End -

thoughts.

I really do love Conce. There’s just something about being outside here that is so calm and peaceful. I’m back on my favorite porch, listening to the crickets chirp while I stare out into… Well, darkness. There are no lights and the moon/stars are obscured by clouds, so I can barely even make out the difference between the mountains and the sky.

It’s funny how things change in just a few days. Last time I was here, I was the “chinita”—some Chinese chick that no one knew or recognized. I came to Conce mostly just to check the place out, meet people, get to know the area, and see the clinic. We bonded over rum and cornhole, and late-night firefly watching. Today, I was greeted by name by both doctors and brigade members (that was a real surprise), all of whom were warm and welcoming. I came so that I could attend the health fair tomorrow—to work alongside health promoters and community volunteers in a nearby community while getting a feel for these types of community health events. And today, among all these people camped out in hallways and porches, I decided to sit out on the porch by myself, thinking and staring into the darkness.

Been doing a lot of thinking lately. Probably comes as no surprise to my friends in the States—at home and at Yale, I overthink like crazy and am stuck in my head all the time. But one of the reasons I love it here is that when I first arrived, I somehow escaped all of that. I lived in the moment, whether working, chatting, reading or writing, and took every day as it came. It’s a testament to my time here that I even noticed I was stuck in my head.

But now I’m back in the crowd of “whys” and “what ifs” and “what will happens,” for better or worse. Maybe it’s just time for that monthly mental checkup, or maybe it’s just because of all the imminent change. In a few days a new long-term volunteer will arrive to join our gang. A day later, Ben will get back from his two-week vacation, along with Art, Dick, and co. It’s strange to think that in the past two weeks, those of us who have been here have all become close and comfortable with each other, forming a support network that will inevitably shift and expand to accommodate change.

I love this kind of ever-shifting and yet constant dynamic—the same type of camaraderie I enjoyed while in Germany. Somehow, the fact that people come and go and serve different terms makes people bond faster and—I think—on more genuine grounds. Despite knowing someone’s imminent departure, everyone still wants to get as close to everyone else as possible. Connections and intimacy, though not instantaneous, develop quickly, and there’s very little bullshit.

Instead of holding back and keeping some sort of safe distance, it’s almost as if we try to squeeze as much as possible out of people before they leave—to have more to remember, hold onto, and maybe even idealize once they’re gone. The fact that we’re here is already a strong tie that holds us together, but the knowledge that we’re all leaving somehow accelerates the process, knocking down walls and allowing us to see and admire the best in each other. Or… maybe that’s just because we work, eat, and sleep together. Who knows.

Anyway, sorry for yet another sappy post. I figure if I write some of my thoughts down and get them out there, they’ll cloud my head a little less and quit distracting me. Or at least clear out some space for me to think about other, more productive things.

Hopefully.

glossary of my past week

much has happened, but i'm not feeling inspired (or motivated) enough to write a real entry (i.e. with complete and articulate sentences), so this is my way of being lazy... i'll fill in the blanks later (and make it more interesting) i promise! and i'm sorry about all of those parentheses... whoops.

brigades - (n.) two-week rotations of 20-30 people including dentists, dental students, nurses, and nursing students accompanied by teenage translators; spend time by shadowing/working in the clinic or accompanying other personnel on paquete básicos or home visits.

idalia's birthday - (v.) eating several pieces of cake, spooning jello shots out of a tin, and kicking out the translators so we could sit and talk/crack jokes about vaginas... in spanish. followed by an invitation by delmi to stay at her house while in conce. (!!) still trying to decide if it was a serious or drunk offer. or both. (??)

parto en santa lucía - (n.) ashley, liz, and i crowd the small room as a woman lays there, silently waiting for her contractions. said woman turns out to be such a tough bitch that the birth seems almost anticlimactic--no screaming, very little bleeding, and no snipping necessary. baby is born without mishap after a nerve-wracking 5 seconds of silence. he is beautiful, and a whopping 9 pounds.

la esperanza - (n.) closest city for a girls' night out. ashley, liz, janell, and i take a 5-hour bus ride (see following entry) to the closest city in order to tomar and bailar. unforch, stomachaches and a honduran "elvis" get the best of us, preventing too much tomando and any bailando. instead, we (or just i) sway/wiggle along to various spanish songs, plus a short interlude of "yesterday." we return to the hotel to enjoy luxurious hot showers (wow do i miss those... really, the biggest thing i miss from home. surprise!) and girl talk before finally succumbing to sweet sleep at 10:30. again, WILD.

bus - (n.) similar to "short buses" of the states, packed with children on laps and in aisles. bonded with a woman and her baby son on the way back, as well as a 5-year-old who stared at me before asking "japonesa?!" and then his dad, who is a local priest, proceeds to ask if my family believes in god. and if i read the bible. ...and then stops talking to me.

22nd birthday - (n., v.) quiet and relaxed day of eating and lounging. many calories are consumed (por ejemplo karla and beth's m&m cookies, ashley's peanut sauce longevity noodles, and pastel dorado with orange juice-garnished frosting), and then preserved on the couch as we watch "i love you, man." with close friends around me and many messages from home, i go to bed feeling loved and at home despite the vast distance (both physical and metaphorical) between home home and honduras home.

birthday sex - (n.) a song that is stuck in my head.

warning: cheese & sap ahead.

So... The power went out last night. Actually, the power's been out for awhile now, and we've been running on the generator. So really, the generator went out last night. Through our time in the dark--brigade members (nursing and dental students who rotate here for two weeks) read and played games while we (the long-termers) chatted quietly on the porch--I realized a couple things about people and attitudes here. Well, one big thing really.

People here are incredible.

For example, take Alex and Chepe. These two boys decided to drive out last night at 9pm to San Pedro Sula so they could buy a new breaker for the generator. This is a 6-8 hour drive, one way, on shitty roads. In the dark. They finally just got back about an hour ago, which adds up to about 21 hours in transit. The most remarkable part of this is just how unremarkable it all was. There is absolutely no glamour in driving to some Honduran hardware store to buy a circuit breaker. But without it, our clinic would be without power...indefinitely. So besides lacking light (our headlamps got hella action last night) and cold beverages, we were in peril of inactivated vaccines, spoiled lab samples, backed-up data entry, nonfunctioning equipment, etc. etc.

There are also few thanks. As I predicted, they left quietly last night, drove all night and all day, and then came right back to fix the power. Literally, we only knew that Alex had come back when the lights came on; he hadn't even come in to eat dinner. And now they're right back to their million other duties, without fanfare or pats on the back.

People here do what needs to be done, without being asked and without any reason except that someone needed to do it. I think this is one reason (of many) that volunteers and employees here are so remarkable. In middle-of-nowhere Honduras, there's very little room for ego. You can boast or whine all you want, but no one has the time or energy to give a shit; everyone's too busy trying to get things done. Because someone has to do it, people step in where and when they're needed, without any external incentives like ambition, affirmation, recognition, or even gratitude. These are all good things, and common motivators/rewards at home and at Yale, but they're not expected or necessary here.

Another thing is how scarily attached I'm getting to people here. There is a very easy and comfortable support network here, and I absolutely love that we can go from shooting the shit one minute to TMI-ing the next, or even you know, talking about feelings. I feel incredibly lucky to not only know such great people, but also to get to work and live with them, and even have them as lifelines.

These people, who are my roommates, colleagues, mentors, and friends, are the heroes here.

I love that.

this past week in conce, i...

- fought off vindictive ants by day and 3-inch moths and frogs by night.

- stepped into a pile of shit.

- swam in (near? under?) a waterfall.

- watched the most beautiful sunset, accompanied by cows and horses.

- ate lunch in a pink, giraffe-spotted house.

- and squeezed onto a bus ("como pescado") for a 2+ hour ride back to santa lucía.

so that's the short version. hella long version, with complete sentences (and capitalization!):

view on the car ride to concepción

Concepción is absolutely gorgeous. On the drive there from Santa Lucía, Ben stopped at a place where we literally were level with the clouds. On our right, we could see the mountains of El Salvador, and on our left, Honduras--both sides with clouds just floating between the mountains. It was beautiful. Turns out... That's what Conce looks like. All the time. Despite the wide variety of huuuge, strange-looking insects, the views were absolutely unbeatable, and I spent a good few hours looking out into the countryside, even without the aid of a hammock. The nearby campo de fútbol always had at least one horse just chillin there, and behind the clinic there were a bunch of cows grazing and mooing. Incredible.

In terms of my project, I'm really excited to be in Conce. In my few days there, I got to talk to nurses/doctor at the local health center, as well as go into the nearby San Miguelillo with a health promoter, Deisy. We left Conce around 7 am, rolling up our pants to trek (and by trek I mean slosh and squish) through the muddy roads, followed by hiking up and down a mountain. At one point, we had to run along the trail so we wouldn't get hit by the rocks sliding down towards us. When we got to San Miguelillo, I watched Deisy talk to a bunch of kids (4th through 6th grade) about self-esteem, except that they were all watching me. After a few minutes of that, I tried to help Deisy out by asking them questions related to the subject, but they only stared harder, probably thinking, "the chinita speaks!" I sat quietly after that.

I also got to meet Don René, a campesino who claims to have laid the first brick of our Conce clinic. He was very excited to have me there, telling me all about his experiences with other gringos. He took a few breaks between stories to order his wife around, first telling her to bring a chair, and then to bring me some coffee. When I said "no gracias," stupidly forgetting that it is rude here to decline people's offers of food and/or drinks, she poured the cup out and went back inside to reboil water to prepare something else for me. Good job Yuan. A few minutes later, she brought out "chocolate," a delicious concoction made not of chocolate, but of corn. And Don René's stories kept coming.

la cascada

The weekend was also fantastic. Liz and Ashley showed up early Saturday morning, and all of us went to the mercado together, mostly to check it out but also to buy drinks and a cake for our lunch date at Delmi's. We basically wandered around for an hour under the various tarps, stopping to look at/step around everything from seafood and produce, to spices and supplements ("para mejorar la memoria!"), to lacy underwear and woven bracelets. While squeezing through the crowds of people, I ran into Don René (and "con permiso"-ed my way out) and some storeowner offered himself ("le interesa un hombre fuerte?") to me. Awkward...

In the afternoon, all of us went to a nearby waterfall! Alan drove us down, where we hiked down in our swimsuits and flip flops. Guess who stepped into a pile of cow shit? Oh yes. In my flip flops. So I hiked the rest of the way down with a bare (and by bare I mean covered in pupu) right foot, careful to avoid jagged rocks, ant hills, and more mudpies. When we got there, the waterfall itself was absolutely amazing. It was beautiful, and it was fun to just be silly, swimming against the currents and hiking around in our sandals. After we got back, we spent some time just hanging out on the porch, watching the sunset. It's really incredible--no matter how long I sat there, every time I looked away I was stunned again when I turned back. The clouds are always so beautiful, and there's a feeling of tranquility that is wonderful. That night, we gringos took over the clinic and pretty much got right down to the usual: drinking. Armed with rum and tequila, we played cornhole almost the whole night (Alex and I were the champs, no big deal), polishing it off with four of us just music DJ-ing and YouTubing. Liz and I ended up going outside to look at stars on the porch, but had to resort to firefly-watching since it was cloudy/rainy (surprise!). But we had a really great time just chatting, and when we finally went to bed it was already 3.

girls @ the waterfall! liz, me, ashley, and karla

On Sunday, our big adventure was lunch at Delmi's house. A note about the house: it is bubble-gum pink, with large dark spots that make it look like the back of a giraffe. Ashley made a joke about it, and I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about--I simply hadn't noticed. It was just... Delmi's house. Apparently I am adjusting faster than I'd thought; the only things that are remarkable and camera-worthy to me are the landscapes, no longer the run-down houses, muddy roads, or the random chickens/dogs/pigs/children on the side of the road. Trying to decide if that's a good or bad thing.

Anyway, back to Sunday. Liz, Ashley, and I headed over a little earlier to try to help out with cooking, since there were more of us gringo guests than people in Delmi's family. We met Delmi's niece Sari, who is super sweet and an incredible cook. Under her and Delmi's tutelage, I learned how to make tajadas and carne asada (don't worry Steve, I took mental notes), and Doña Lucía even treated us to her special coffee! I watched her roast the beans in sugar before grinding and preparing the coffee, and oh man. Riquísimo. We also had a wonderful time playing with Analía, Sari's beautiful baby, who was pretty much the star of the afternoon. It was wonderful to be able to eat with Delmi's family, complete with the four generations of Analía, Sari, Delmi, and Don Miguel and Doña Lucía, passing plates around and even saying grace together. Everyone was incredibly gracious and welcoming, and Doña Lucía is probably the cutest old woman in the world, giving all of us big hugs before even asking our names. Our feast (carne asada, tajadas, arroz, salsa, cuajada, y frijoles) was followed by cake--ordered from a "Profesora Deisy"--that proclaimed "Felicidades!" though we were more celebrating food than anything else. Unfortunately, in the midst of our merriment, we realized that we only had ~40 minutes until the last bus to Santa Lucía would arrive, so we had to book it.

conce clinic driveway during daily downpour

Except that it was pouring. Again. So we walked as fast as we could, up the steep hills in our flip flops, tracking mud up our pants all over again. We ran into the clinic, throwing our soaked clothes in with our dry clothes, balling up dirty linens, running out the door to the bus stop... only to find out that the bus would probably be another 40 minutes. So, we all waded again through mud and streams to the "sala de espera" of the clinic, where we repacked and took pictures of our sorry selves to bide our time. When the bus finally arrived, it was PACKED. People were already standing in the aisle, and two guys were holding onto the back. Still, they let us get on, huge backpacks and all, so the five of us gringo girls shoved our way down the aisle as non-intrusively as we could. I ended up standing awkwardly between two seats, trying my best not to hit the women sitting on either side of me with my computer or my elbows. Besides some sing-along time with our besties Jack Johnson and Lady Antebellum, the 2+ hour bus ride was pretty uneventful, if slow and a little tenuous. When we finally arrived, the streets of SL were completely flooded. Karla lost her shoes downstream while Idalia, our resident dentist, lost her backpack to the bus. And then the power went out.

Always an adventure!

a note about names

okay. so first point: names are VERY important here. hondurans typically have a grand total of four names: two nombres and two apellidos. this gets confusing, because when one asks, "como se llama?" people usually respond with only two names, one first and one last. when you consider that there are 4-choose-2 permutations of a person's name, and then that they may have records in several health centers and clinics, we have a pretty big record-keeping problem. 

punto dos: you, my anonymous reader, probably know me as yuan. but not here. people here can't pronounce "yuan," so in the past week i have been llamada "jew-an" (the spanish pronunciation of my name), "juan," "juanes," "gringa," "muchacha," y lo que es más común, "chinita." today i met one of our employees/old friends of StoS, named delmi. the three of us took turns to introduce ourselves: elizabeth, karla, y yo. when we got to me, delmi asked me to repeat my name once more, and then just shook her head and said, "chinita." y eso es. she suggested that i pick a spanish name that's easier: "delmi?"

claro.

anyway al final, ya estoy en concepción. it has a very different feel than santa lucía, mostly because it's newer and bigger. the clinic is beautiful and the medical equipment is nice, but it's a lot less familial and loving than SL. definitely no marías y valeadas, nor un comedor where everyone hangs out to eat. it's like a place to visit, not to stay. i guess staying in the brigade-room (where we threw a few mattresses on a tile floor) reinforces that feel. plus, there's no rosbinda in the clinic, though the doctors here are young and nice and friendly. but! to satisfy my badass requirement, i'm probably going to try to win over delmi, who is definitely a no-nonsense, won't-take-your-shit character. love her.

tomorrow, me voy al centro de salud with juan, our medical director/new drinking buddy. we bonded over eminem the other night... go figure. anyway hopefully tomorrow will give me a better feel for how to go about working with health promoters and community health volunteers. OR i'll just get eaten alive by the 3-inch bugs here. en serio. or scorpions/tarantulas.

wish me luck,

chinita

p.s. sorry for all the spanglish today. i must have caught the bug from juan... hope y'all (and by "all" i mean like, the five of you--two if you don't include the roomies) can still understand me! 

vaya pues~

just another sunday in honduras

I am loving things here in Honduras. I have never felt so peaceful, content, unworried, and unstressed. For instance, at this very moment I am curled up on a big hammock on the porch, listening to Norah Jones and contemplating how I love life while enjoying the quiet rainfall over Santa Lucía. 

Here, my questions and worries aren't the usual "what should you be doing" or "what are you forgetting" or "what should you be worrying about for tomorrow, or next week, or next year." Instead, I enjoy every day as it comes, spontaneously deciding what to do for the next few minutes, maybe for the next few hours. I enjoy the here and now, and spend little time or energy worrying about anything else.

This morning, Liz and I decided to embark on an adventure: explore Magdalena, the next town over. While we run there sometimes (~1.5 miles away), we spend much of our time looking down at the road to make sure we don't slip in the mud, or twist our ankles on a rock. We had never actually looked up to see the town, or talk to its people. Today's walk was wonderful. It was warm and humid outside--as usual--and we got a lot of mud onto our flip flops and bottoms--as usual--but we had a great time chatting and enjoying the countryside.

When we arrived ~ 40 minutes later, we found that Magdalena was actually a pretty little town. From what we saw, it was more developed than Santa Lucía; the main road was paved with stones, and almost every house had tiled floors, the primary indicator of wealth around here. By the time we arrived (around noon), the mercado was already ending, vendors putting their produce, shoes, jerseys, phone chargers, etc. away into big trash bags to sell on a different day. Instead, we ventured into a farmacia/tienda, where we found that the storeowner's sister was the doctor in the Magdalena health center: Césamo Magdalena. A woman to meet another day. We also stumbled upon the nearby campo, where there was an organized game of fútbol--complete with jerseys, food vendors, and even vuvuzelas among the crowd! As una gringa y chinita, we drew some attention from the locals, including the usual declarations of love and beauty. We even had a man follow us down the road for awhile, but for the most part there was little reason for concern. 

On the way back, we had just reached the bridge when a truck slowed down next to us. "Vamos?!" the man shouted to us across (presumably) his wife, who was not nearly as enthusiastic to see us. Liz and I had just discussed the possibility of hitchhiking back to the clinic--a common practice here--and here was our chance! A quick look to the back of the truck confirmed a group that included women and even a small boy (wide-eyed and beautiful, of course), so after a short exchange ("Adónde van?" "Santa Lucía!") we climbed into the back, where a woman made room for me on the side, and Liz sat cross-legged on the floor.

We talked a little bit with our fellow passengers in the back, but for the most part we just reveled in our adventure, looking out into the country and sometimes giggling to each other. We crossed the muddy ditch with no mishap--the same place where I had caked my running shoes in mud--and at one point we were in the midst of a herd of cows, including a huge black bull with a hump on its back. We even saw an abandoned bus in a field, vines crawling out of its windows. 

We were dropped off (or rather, we hopped off) right in front of the clinic, just in time for lunch. 


Perfect.

fotos

alright here are algunas fotos. they took bloody forever to upload, so enjoy!

hammock right outside the comedor,
between our living space and the actual clinic

view of mountains just beyond the clinic
(when it's sunny)

houses in the mountains behind the clinic
(during one of santa lucía's daily downpours)

in the comedor, our common living and dining space
from the left: beth, karla, and liz

upstairs in the "apartment" part of the clinic,
where we hang out and watch FNL.
(and sometimes liz works)

great use of headlamps at night: cosmetics
ashley in our room!

cambios

talked to alan today and got a better idea of my project. or projects, really. i'm super excited to finally dive in and focus on this new "CHI", which will involve me doing some research into the current literature while going out into the field and talking to doctors, nurses, teachers, etc. etc. to get a picture of our needs and what should be done about them.

another thing is my move to concepción. it's all happening a lot quicker than i had originally thought. or rather, it's actually happening, instead of being just an abstract, that-will-happen-sometime-in-the-future idea. for awhile i was a little upset, if only because i've just now made santa lucía my home, and am sad to leave it, and the people here. but as i've started on my project, i'm getting more and more excited to get more involved and invested, and i think conce will help me with that.

anyway, everything has been going great. finally met rubén, the doctor who has been here for over five years, and he is absolutely my new hero. i have new heroes basically every day, but still. anyway he is really sweet and supposedly a great doctor, and spent like an hour and a half talking to me about my project, health care in honduras, his life, etc. etc. LOVE him.

okay BREAK

hump day!

so today es miércoles, which means "pregnant lady day" around here. this is the only day of the week we perform ultrasounds, so women (and girls) come in spades to get checkups. i made friends with rosbinda, one of the doctoras aquí, and got to shadow her all day, which was pretty great.

the first girl we saw was fifteen years old. she was 28 weeks pregnant, and since she's so young and little (around 4' 9'' or 10'' probably) she's at higher risk of complications. another girl was nineteen and was already having a second kid--she had her first when she was fourteen. she told us she wanted a total of four kids, but she's one of 26, so you can see why we might be a little suspicious. anyway, rosbinda is great. she taught me how to determine a woman's due date, how to use ultrasound to measure the baby's height and weight, how to feel for the baby's head and determine its sex, and taught me a bunch of great medical vocab. plus she was patient with all of my questions. love her. she's like our own bailey! (from grey's anatomy)

in other news, i now have a project! after much debate and discussion, i will be tackling the project of a "new" CHI: Children's Health Initiative. i am currently conducting some research online and in our database on the medical (and other) needs of children under 5, to determine what needs to be done and what is currently being done. then i will try to develop a proposal for possible interventions and/or projects to try to meet those needs. it's still pretty broad and ambiguous, but i'm meeting with alan tomorrow to try to narrow down some preliminary objectives. in any case, it's exciting that i now have some kind of focus.

next week i'm moving to another clinic in concepción, where i'll get to participate in a brigade and go out into the communities with health promoters. i will be meeting with people who live in the most remote (and thus poorest) outskirts of intibucá, which will be a much more representative slice of honduran life than our clinic here. we received another (i think it's probably my fourth) "orientation" the other day, in which the older volunteers gave us a better picture of our infrastructure, how we try to partner with locals, and our ongoing projects--both successes and failures. i'm hoping that after going into the communities i'll have a better idea of how best to approach various issues.

in the meantime, i'm starting to get a feel for how things work here, and how it is really pretty difficult to actually "make a difference"--at least, one that is both beneficial and sustainable. it was easy to come and think that no matter what, i would be helpful, either by volunteering in the clinic or providing english lessons. but so much of the problem is the quick volunteer turnover here. english lessons have come and gone with volunteers, which means that students get excited and are happy about the attention, but actually learn very little. knowing the alphabet (i almost typed alfabet) song is great, but english isn't going to get them anywhere unless they follow some kind of sustained, regimented curriculum. plus, i'm not sure that intermittent--if enthusiastic--attention from gringo volunteers is healthier than just the steady support they already receive in the library.

on the non-work side, life here in honduras is on the up-and-up. i'm finally starting to get into the swing of things, which mostly involves me becoming more confident about my spanish. on sunday we ventured into town, where we embarked on an adventure of honduran chinese food: "chap suey" at "restaurante danny's." no joke. on the way, we battled mangy dogs (they're everywhere, and NOT nice. many of them have rabies, and they bark and chase after you unless you throw rocks at them) and creepy men. we've also bonded over friday night lights, everyone's newest addiction. since there isn't much to do around here (definitely no bars or clubs), we mostly resort to movies and tv shows (brought from the states and projected onto the wall) for entertainment. sometimes, we'll even use our headlamps to read books at night. i know. crazy.

friday we are having una fiesta de cumples: that of liz, alex, and alan. it will be WILD.

stay tuned!

and the bonding begins...

great day today. had a bit of a rough start, but by the end of the day i made friends in la clínica, played "pato, pato, gallina!" with little fani y maricela, read stories to kids in la biblioteca, and finally figured out a potential project. also, had the best dinner yet: maíz pancakes stuffed with queso suave, or "pupusas," which, incidentally, also means vaginas. see how well my spanish lessons are going???

had an even better night! friday night lights (connie aren't you proud??? i just got SEVEN new people hooked on the show), rum, birthdays, and dave chappelle. in that order. AND makin' friends!

note to self: blog about dogs, headlamps, and danny's tomorrow. for now, off to battle the ants that live between my sheets.

'ta mañana!
yuan

First day.

Okay. So I'm here! Finally made it in last night after 8 hours on the road, which turned out not to be that bad! In fact, the horror stories I'd heard before arriving were mostly exaggerations, and in comparison, I'm actually pretty comfortable.

We arrived in San Pedro Sula airport around noon, and then dove into a driving relay of three different drivers, two Honduran and one American (gringo). The first one, Marvin, picked us up from the airport. I introduced myself, and the first thing he said was, "Oh Yuan! Not Juan! I thought you were a man!"

Ah, first impressions.

Anyway, the road trip was pretty intense. Besides its duration (8 hours from the airport to Santa Lucía) and terrain (dirt roads for 6 out of 8 hours, which meant huge ditches, boulders, and other obstacles), it was also an astonishing first glimpse of Honduras, especially the countryside. First of all, oh man the Honduran children. They are absolutely adorable, all of them, and I literally have problems holding in an "aww" every time I see them. To be fair, this is already normally true, but Honduran children are even cuter--they are beautiful, tan, and have the widest, most innocent eyes I have ever seen. Anyway, there were a huge number of children walking by themselves on the sides of the road. Every time we turned a corner, I worried that we'd run one over. Second, there is an extremely wide variety of houses. Some were gorgeous, with tiled courtyards and arches and gates, but others consisted entirely of sticks bound together. If you consider that during the rainy season (May till November) it rains practically every day, well... You see how this might be precarious. Third, the Honduran countryside is beautiful. We saw breathtaking views of mountains obscured by clouds and fog, and I can't wait to hike up and see more.

So. Life here. I am sharing a room with two other people, dorm-style. I have a bottom bunk, and since we have no room for storage, we are all living out of our suitcases. Turns out no one actually uses mosquito nets, nor do they apply 50% DEET three times a day. I actually didn't get bitten at all until this afternoon, and that's only because I was baking cookies in the kitchen, where it is much warmer and more humid. One big thing is the ants. They are everywhere. I was brushing my teeth this morning, and a swarm of ants appeared on my arm. They either apparated, or fell as a swarm from the ceiling. I still haven't decided.

Another big thing is water. We take water for granted in the States because you can get it for free, anywhere. Here, not so much. It is scarce, and never clean. There are bacteria (primarily E. Coli) and parasitic worms (and larvae) swimming in it, which means new procedures when I brush my teeth, shower, and wash dishes. The showers themselves are not as unpleasant as I'd expected--water pressure doesn't exist, obviously, and the water is cold, but the five-minute military cold showers are a reprieve from the hot, humid weather. And surprise, I don't really want to take a thirty-minute shower when the water is cold and just barely trickling down your body. Five minutes is perfectly sufficient.

There is some adjusting to do out in the town as well. People are conservative out here in the country, so I can't show any skin above the knees. I went running this morning in Kevin's basketball shorts, and still got yelled at. I heard "I love you," "ay, gringa!" and my personal favorite, "puta!" Charming, the men here. Also, running here is tooough. I mean, I'm obviously out of shape, but the hills are absolutely killer. We ran a 5K that felt like 3 miles, simply because the way back was nonstop uphill, complete with big rocks and little streams. When I made it back out into town after showering, I got to actually meet some people and make friends. For instance, I met a Emma, a storeowner and high school teacher who thus spoke clearly and slowly while being patient with my awful Spanish.

My favorite Hondurans so far are the Marías. They are the cooks here in the clinic, and they prepare all of our meals, except on Sundays. Their food is terrific. We had valeadas my first day, and today I helped make tortillas and yucca! One day I will learn how they make eggs. It's like scrambled eggs, but better. Plus we pour this great sauce (think Tabasco meets Sriracha) on everything. Anyway, both cooks are named María, have beautiful kids (of course), and are the sweetest people in the world. "Big María" is great, laughing at our bad tortilla-making skills while asking me to teach her some basic Chinese dishes. She promises to make her legendary tres leches cake for us on Monday :)

Besides that, there isn't much going on. My project has turned even more ambiguous since my arrival, and I'm at a loss on how to start. My only job this week is to get to know people, and I guess get my Spanish up to par. I'm thinking I'll explore the library, maybe read to some kids and teach some English. In a week and a half I move to the new clinic in Concepción, which is about an hour and a half away. I'll get to experience a brigade and go out into the local communities, which will involve a lot of hiking, Spanish, and health education. Excited about that.

Hope y'all are doing well in your respective places, miss you all already!

Hasta muy pronto,

Yuan