Ecuador: Monday and First Impressions

As I continue my recollection of Ecuadorian events, please bear in mind that I failed to act on my intentions of keeping a journal while there. By the time we were back in our rooms at night, I was thoroughly exhausted, and had to wake up at 5 the next morning (I averaged about 5.5 hours of sleep per night). Thus, I write this blog based on memory alone. I apologize for this imprecision.

Anyway...

Monday morning was an early morning. Breakfast was served at 6 and we were to leave at 6:30, so Pete, Eddie, and I woke at 5:30 to shower. We enjoyed the same spread as we had on Sunday morning. I made sure to take an extra scoop of instant coffee in an attempt to erase the weariness from my eyes. 

We corralled in the lobby at 6:30, expecting to leave any minute but instead waiting for over 60. This lack of punctuality set a tragic tone for the rest of the trip: people no longer trusted the statements of "We'll be leaving right at X in the morning," and thus fulfilled their own prophecy by showing up to lobby late from then on. 

When we did leave, the landscape offered pleasant scenery. Acres upon acres of farm land created a patchwork quilt that covered the hillsides. The impressive amount of agriculture eerily reminded me of the plains of North Dakota, albeit with formidable and drastic changes in elevation. As the bus climbed higher, clouds lingered in valleys and rested on the sides of mountains. We traveled so high that at some points we would be above an entire plain of clouds. It looked like...well, see for yourself!

Infinitely better than anything Grand Forks can offer.

I sat by Avery from Harvard on the bus (super nice girl). We engaged in a lengthy discussion as we absorbed the beautiful vistas. After about a 2.5 hour drive, we arrived at our first clinic of the week. Though, one could hardly tell it was anything at all. Going into the trip, I didn't know exactly what the clinics would look like, how they would be set up, so I can't say I was surprised at what I saw. But I didn't really expect it, either.

Instead of tents, huts, or organized units unambiguously labeled "Doctor" or "Farmacia", the bus pulled up to what I can only describe as a community center in the midst of the sporadic farm houses. This "hub" consisted of two buildings, one with two floors, a separate bathroom with several stalls, a dirt-floored volleyball court, and a large soccer field. The buildings had the same simple architecture as most other structures -- a bare-bones, rectangular design of cement, dull paint, and uniform windows. One building housed two rooms, one fairly large. The other building, the two-storied one, had three rooms on the ground floor, and I believe (I'm not sure, since I was not assigned to work an area up there) three rooms on the second floor. The rooms were unremarkable, just cement-floored areas that were clearly built for function rather than visual appeal -- something I appreciated (this design reflected their rural lifestyle -- pragmatic, practical, and simple. These people didn't work for glory, glamour, money, or success; they worked to survive. I respected the hell out of that. I'll probably talk more about this later.) Each room had been cleared out to make room for clinical activities.

The setup of the clinic (and all clinics that week) was as follows: 

Students were split into two groups -- USC and UGA kids were sent to one clinic and the Harvard kids plus the kids from miscellaneous schools (me) were sent to another. The clinics contained 8 different stations: Registration, Vital Signs, Education, Tooth-brushing, Doctor, Dentist, OBGYN, and Pharmacy. Students were assigned to one station for the morning session and one station for the afternoon. Native Ecuadorians first signed in at the registration table, receiving a piece of paper that served as their patient file. The Medlife leaders (who spoke fluent Spanish) ran this table, marking down the patients' names, ages, and destinations (doctor, dentist, OBGYN, or some combination of the three). After registering, the patients would saunter to the vital signs station (los vitales), where students would measure their height, weight, temperature, and blood pressure, recording each data on the patient's file. Once measured, the adults and kids went to the education room, where they were shown videos, and given corresponding pamphlets, on various healthcare and hygienic topics, such as malnutrition, fungus, diabetes, hypertension, and breast cancer. 

The kids saw only one video -- how to brush your teeth. After watching this, the kids went to the tooth-brushing station, where students would hand them all their very own toothbrush, slather some fresh paste on it, and demonstrate how to properly brush one's teeth. All the kids would practice with them, probably brushing their teeth for the first time. While the kids did this, the adults would watch those more maturely-themed videos, and afterwards kids and adults alike would line up to see a physician. Since there were only at most 2 doctors and 2 dentists and 1 OBGYN at each clinic, Ecuadorians were forced to wait extensive periods of time before actually being examined. Once they were examined, the physicians pointed them to the pharmacy where students would fill out their prescriptions and send them off with a smile.

An adorable Ecuadorian about to brush her teeth. Taken by Luis, the Medlife photo guy.

Another one taken by Luis. This is a sample of what the lines were like.

I wore shorts and a T-shirt that day, and as soon as I stepped off the bus I became strikingly aware of how foolish that decision had been. It was maybe 50 degrees Fahrenheit, with gusting winds that chilled me to the marrow. I felt like a stupid, proud, white-skinned American who ignorantly dressed down, expecting to work in vacation-like conditions. 

As I surveyed the Ecuadorian citizens for looks of judgement, I surprisingly found none. In fact, I thought I saw the hint of smiles, a twinge of excitement on each of their faces. I took solace in this, but still felt dumb as I observed their dress. Women (as can be seen above and will be seen later) wore a very traditional outfit: a brightly-colored wool shawl draped across their shoulders and an equally bright, below-the-knee skirt, each trimmed with a woven pattern, sometimes floral, always intricate. I couldn't tell the exact number but each woman's unnatural thickness hinted a number of layers hidden under those shawls and skirts. Most wore a boot of some kind -- galoshes mostly -- and multiple pairs of knee-high socks. To top it off (pun), each woman wore a more mutely-colored fedora. When I say "women" I mean "all women" -- the precious little girls would don their miniature version of the adults' garb, fedora and all. So cute.

The men dressed more plainly. Many of them also wore fedoras and shawls, albeit in more conservative colors like brown, gray, deep crimson, and maroon. Most wore unremarkable work pants, sweaters, and boots, with layers underneath each. The boys wore hooded sweatshirts or sweaters, sweat pants or khakis, galoshes or work boots, and just about every one of them wore an American-looking baseball cap. I thought that interesting.

I also thought the mean height interesting. At an even 6 feet, I towered over everyone. I remarked about this to one of the other students who said it was most likely because of their less than ideal nutritional standards as kids, stunting their growth in the future. That made me sad to think about.

The bottom half of the women's outfits. Very cool.

In truth, most everything about their culture fascinated me, I had to quell my desire to ask all the questions swimming in my head. Instead, I hugged myself and shivered as each of us were directed to our designated areas in the clinic. I had been assigned to man the education station with Derek from Harvard. We introduced ourselves on our way to the station. Once we got there, a Medlife leader briefly -- so briefly -- told us what we were to do. Derek and I filled in the blanks (for the most part) and set up the computer/projector needed to display the videos (the computer had a password lock on it, but I hacked it! It was "medlife".)

We evaluated our apparatus with pride after expertly setting it up, but pride turned to angst when we realized neither of us spoke Spanish. The point of the videos were to educate the citizens, but with "education" comes "explanation", something neither of us were capable of doing. Derek spoke better than I -- he could give a two sentence introduction on each video in a thick American accent -- but we doubted it would be enough. We waited, anxious and timid, as Ecuadorians old and young filed into our room, grabbing chairs and mumbling in a dialect that differed from the little Spanish we knew (other kids later told me it was indeed a different language, Kitsch).

Once everyone was settled in, Derek "explained" to the kids the tooth-brushing video they were about to watch. Blank stares. I played the video and observed the crowd. A sort of reverent awe lit up the kids' faces, with some confusion mixed in there as well. The video ended, and we (Derek) asked if anyone had any questions. Someone did, and Derek and I exchanged baffled looks -- neither of us had any idea what was being said. Luckily, a Medlife leader, Gabriella, walked in at that moment. Derek and I quickly redirected the question toward her and she answered. She also said the kids were to brush their teeth now, so we watched as all the little ones filed out. A few adults remained. Derek and I decided we should show them some more videos. After only two, the audience had diminished significantly, and by the end of the third we sat alone in the room, unsure what to do.

(Keep in mind that on this first day of clinic, things were not as ordered as I made them sound in the above paragraphs. Quite the opposite actually. Students were given little direction on their responsibilities and the infrastructure of the compound made it difficult for organization. After this clinic, though, things went much more smoothly.)

The downtime allowed us to talk a bit. Derek was a gamer, like myself, and we enjoyed a hearty discussion on Dead Space and League of Legends until another Medlife leader, Martha, came in and showed us the informational pamphlets that needed folding. Both eager to contribute, we hunched over tables and desks in silence, furiously trying to master the necessary folding technique and creating hundreds of pamphlets in the process.

Martha folded with us, and once she surmised we had created enough, she instructed us to hand out one of each kind to every adult at the clinic. Derek and I deliberated on how to go about that task in the most efficient way, eventually deciding that, since it was lunch time, the best course of action would be to (shame on us) dump the chore onto the afternoon education group.

Thus came time for our first meal in rural Ecuador. I had mentally prepared for this moment in the days leading up to the clinic, fully expecting to not eat well or eat too much of something exotic that I wasn't used to eating. At first, I thought the former would happen. The Ecuadorian community leaders brought out a heap of corn cobs and fava beans (probably the most popular bean in Ecuador). I happily tore away at a cob, intermittently popping fava beans in my mouth (I was unaware at the time that to properly eat a fava bean meant peeling a thin skin off of it and eating the meat inside. Skin and all, I ate my share. They tasted like lima beans, only better.) 

The supply diminished as more kids entered the "lunch room" and I thought the meal would end shortly. Then another Ecuadorian brought in a plate of thick cheese slices (their cheese is different than ours: similar to feta in appearance and texture, but salty and sour in taste. Delicious.) I snatched up a slice and experimented a fava bean-cheese combination with great success. I felt satisfied, although my stomach disagreed, and thanked the natives for their generous spread.

But still, more came.

Apparently Medlife had its own cache of food for us to eat. The leaders handed us ham and cheese sandwiches, Ruffles chips, bananas, Oreos (a dangerously good half vanilla, half chocolate kind), and bottles of water to wash it down. Everyone ate their fill, gracious and smiling. I met more Harvard kids during that lunch -- Jamie, Andres, Keon, and Michael -- and by the end I was content and ready to get back to work.

For the afternoon, Pete and I were slated to man the tooth-brushing station along with a few others (I think Nicole from Penn State, Jamie from Harvard, and Ryan from Harvard...maybe someone else. Don't remember.) Turned out, however, that all of the kids had brushed their teeth that morning, leaving us with nothing to do. We cleaned the station and put the equipment back on the bus.

  

I wandered to the other stations, seeing if any needed a helping hand. None did. The only stations that had any activity were the doctors, the dentist, and the pharmacy, each fully stocked with students. Pete, Eddie, and I hung out after that, mingled with some of the other kids. I met Austin from Harvard, and listened as he and Derek discussed various anime shows (I, too, watch anime). Pete, Eddie, and I also talked to Keon more, though I can't recall what we talked about. Overall, the down time gave us a great opportunity to get to know our fellow group members. We took full advantage. 

After a couple of hours, we went and played soccer with the kids. The sun had been dipping in and out of the clouds for about an hour before we commenced the game, but it came out in full force when we stepped onto the field. Since Ecuador lies on the equator (Ecuador, equator...you see?), and since we were elevated about 3600 meters (~12,000 feet), that sun was HOT. Most intense UV exposure of my life. Needless to say, my forehead got a little red from that...

The teaser pic from last time. On the lower left you can see the soccer field. Those clouds cleared after a while.

The soccer was fun, though, despite the fact that after every 20 feet of running I was out of breath. The kids showed their competence and played fearlessly. Whenever I play anything with kids, I tend to take it easy on them. Some of my group members, however, displayed some differing behavior. They really went hard. It was funny in a somber way.

It felt good to exercise. The altitude did a number on my lungs, but also left me feeling refreshed. We finished playing and apparently Ecuadorians have similar dining habits to hobbits for another meal awaited us. They brewed a hearty soup  of chicken, vegetables, rice, and potatoes. Most everyone was full and didn't eat much, so I finished off a few soups to appear polite. Bad move. After the soup, they served another bowlful of potatoes and a local delicacy -- guinea pig. I forced down the potatoes and cautiously approached the new meat (carne nuevo). Whatever kind of bone I had didn't have much meat on it, but what little there was tasted good, like a juicier, slimier form of turkey. 

The time had come to board the bus. We loaded all the equipment and started boarding, but not before playing with the kids one last time. Students snapped last minute pictures with them, taught them high fives, knuckle-bumps, and one student, Preston from Harvard (a.k.a. "Brotein"), arm-wrestled at least five kids at once. The Ecuadorian kids were one of the best parts of the trip.

One I took from the bus. Half of Avery can be seen on the far left.

Credit Andres for the photo (I stole this from his Facebook album; hope he doesn't mind). Preston (middle) post arm-wrestle.  Up top (left to right) are Sylvia (Harvard), Keon, Eddie, and Austin. Love this picture.

Alas, the fun ended and we lethargically set off back for the hotel. Pretty much everyone napped on the bus after clinics. I can't remember what I did. I want to say I sat by Eddie...

Anyhow, the last thing on my mind was food when we pulled up to a small yet modern mall to eat dinner. The place we ate at had a refreshingly contemporary ambiance. High ceilings, welcoming staff, a polished, jet-black bar, and a patio that had a stage of sorts for live music, though no music played that night. We (Eddie, Pete, Avery, and I) sat in relative silence compared to the rest of the table, eventually served another chicken soup (paled in comparison to the one from earlier). Fatigue had dulled my conversational skills. The main entree came shortly after -- chicken slathered in a zesty lime sauce, with rice, potatoes, and a countable amount of vegetables (literally like 6 carrot sticks and 5 green beans).

I somehow managed to finish my plate and the rest of Avery's (I really hate wasting food). The mall contained a supermarket, where several students went to stock up on water, Oreos, and other goodies. I didn't buy anything that night; I had eaten more food on that day than I had anticipated eating the entire week.

We finally got back to the hotel around 8 (I think). Rumor had it that there would be some sort of karaoke that night at 9. I took a much-needed lukewarm shower and donned what I thought were appropriate clothes for karaoke. Instead of having a karaoke machine set up in our hotel's dining area, as Pete, Eddie, and I had hypothesized would be the case, we took a stroll through Riobamba to a bar dedicated to karaoke. 

We entered the bar around 9 pm. Empty, square, and small. Booths lined the stunted walls. Kitchy tables and chairs sat in the middle of the floor. A lone support pillar stood imposingly in the exact center of the room, flat screen TVs dangling from it, facing the booths. Two Ecuadorian men manned a neon-lit bar along the back wall. The opposite wall held a tiny square stage in one corner, where a microphone waited to be used. Three large projector screens hung from the three non-bar walls, showing some of the most objectifying music videos I've ever seen (apparently the Latino culture has different standards for the amount of clothing a woman can wear in such a video. Although, I never watch American music videos; they could be just as bad/worse.)

Students grouped together and rearranged some tables to accommodate their size. Harvard huddled around one booth, USC formed an elongated table in the adjacent corner to the stage, UGA split between two booths, and the miscellaneous schools (Pete, Eddie, Tiffany, Suji from Virginia, Lauren from Howard, Nicole and Chloe from Penn State, Keon randomly, and me!) planted them(our?)selves into a booth opposite the Harvard group. 

  

Kids ordered drinks (karaoke lubricant) and sipped them over light (but loud) conversations. I don't remember what we talked about, but I had fun swapping stories and jokes with those guys.

After about 30 minutes, the karaoke started. Three USC girls took the stage and sung (wailed) some Backstreet Boys song. I and many others felt like dancing, so we quickly cleared the "dance" floor of tables and grooved. The Harvard group took the stage next -- all 22 of them. It was pretty fun to watch and hear; some of them had really good voices, others sang in a more comical fashion. Performance scores of each singing group displayed on the main projector in the front of the room. I wouldn't find out until later that the Harvard kids were subtly competing with the USC group. 

We danced and sang for about an hour, until Tiffany approached me about the possibility of singing a duo. My stomach turned at the thought, but I still didn't mind the prospect. I agreed after a time and we looked through the catalog to find a suitable ballad. Much to our chagrin, however, the catalog was 90% Latino songs (don't ask me why I was surprised by that), and the songs that we did know (e.g. Radiohead -- "Creep" and Jason Mraz -- "I'm Yours") were less upbeat than the tunes kids had been enjoying that night, and we certainly did not want to be killers of the buzz.

Unfortunately, as we tread through the swamp of indecision, the Medlife leaders announced it was time to leave. Tiffany and I exchanged looks of disappointment as we shuffled out the door with the rest of the kids. 

Back at the hotel (11 pm or so), Eddie, Pete, and I plopped on our beds like corpses. We had a short discussion on the night's events, commenting on the overall dancing talent (which was considerable) of the collective group. Due to our late start the previous morning, Medlife had instructed us to wake a half an hour earlier (5:30 instead of 6) for breakfast Tuesday morning. With a slight air of contempt I set my alarm accordingly and passed out. End of Monday.

This post took a lot more time and words than I thought it would, but that was mostly due to my description of the clinic, the Ecuadorian lifestyle and landscape, and other introductory details that I will only mention once. The following posts should be much shorter and more adherent to a journalistic style. Again, sorry this took so long to write.

I'm such a tease!