.

"We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for."

John Keating The Dead Poets Society

Between the Pages III-- Of Love and Shadows by Isabel Allende

“All you will have is the present. Waste no energy crying over yesterday or dreaming of tomorrow. Nostalgia is fatiguing and destructive, it is the vice of the expatriate. You must put down roots as if they were forever, you must have a sense of permanence” (278).

Chilean author and Los Angeles resident Allende tells a tale of romance, political upheaval, and desaparecidos. Allende's command of language is mesmerizing. A quick read that pulls you into a land of passion and pain. Just as enjoyable as her compilation Stories of Eva Luna, Allende's House of Spirits is now on my reading list.

“The fragrance of the fresh herbs and spices she used for seasoning stews and fried potato cakes always lingered on the air, the mouth-watering harmony of sprigs of rosemary, bay leaves, garlic cloves, and onions melding with the more subtle fragrance of cinnamon, clove, vanilla, anise, and chocolate used in baking breads and cakes.” (211).

“Supported by the rough trunk, they sat in silence, without touching, but so united in their feelings they might have been cradled in a single womb.” (120)

“Through sleepless nights they told each other the stories of their lives. There was no memory from the past, no dream of the present, no plan for the future that they did not share. They surrendered all their secrets; going beyond the physical, they abandoned their souls to one another.” (257).

“Finally dawn came. Light spread like a flower of fire and slowly the darkness receded. The sky cleared and the blinding beauty of the landscape materialized before their eyes like the birth of a new world. They roused themselves, shook the frost from their blankets, stretched their stiff arms and legs, and drank the remaining liquor to restore their circulation.” (289).

Click here to hear Allende's talk on TED Ideas Worth Spreading: "Isabel Allende tells Tales of Passion"

Eyeglasses & Bingo in Río Caña

View from the Car

Sunday I went to Río Caña with a Rotary International group from Portoviejo. Only an hour and a half away, the landscape was strikingly different. The dry hills and dust clouds surrounding Portoviejo were replaced by verdant foliage. In orderly rows, the tall skinny trunks of yucca plants reached for the sky. Cacao, avocado, plantain, banana, naranjilla, orange, and mango trees encroached on the winding dirt road.

Cacao Tree (See the Yellow Cacao Fruit?)

Boys Spinning the Sugar Cane Grinding Machine

We made a sharp turn into a plot that housed a contemporary country home and a larger farmhouse no longer in use. The homes in el campo have a brick foundation and a steep staircase leading to the home on the second floor. Walls and floors made primarily of canya (bamboo-like material) comprise the home. Hammocks hang lazily in one room and a porch looks out on the temptingly cool creek.

Bingo Game

I climbed up the steep stairs/ladder of the old farmhouse to find a home with six rooms. The kitchen housed a stove fashioned of a wooden counter with a carved out center for wood and charcoal. One large room housed the men’s beds and the other the women’s beds. In a multi-generational home such as this, eight or ten people slept in each room.

Historic Sugar Cane Grinding Machine— Once Upon a Time
Extracted Sugar Cane Juice

In the morning, the Rotary group and a team of optometrists set up camp beneath the old farmhouse and fitted community members for prescription glasses. With other volunteers and high school Rotary exchange students I sifted through boxes of donated glasses to find the necessary prescription for each glasses recipient. Oftentimes, the exact prescription wasn’t available. In these cases, it was fun to help the recipients try out a few different specs to find the optimal pair.

Lunch was across the street…the volunteers seemed concerned that I wouldn’t like the traditional country food, but it was delicious. Three enormous pots simmered over a wooden stove in the kitchen. One was filled with a soup full of giant lentils, carrots, and huge hunks of pork. In another, simmered the breasts, legs, and hearts of multiple gallinas (country chicken). Enough rice to feed a small village steamed in the third pot. I winced a bit before drinking the lemonade that had been mixed up in a giant plastic bucket, but was assured the water was boiled. My stomach is hearty and it was delicious. When I was unable to finish my portion of rice (enough to feed a full family of four), I had to assure everyone that everything was rico.

In the afternoon, the Rotary club put on a BINGO game for the community. It was a hit and as far as I can tell a huge chunk of people turned out for prizes consisting of household goods, candy, and five-dollar bills.

I left Rio Canya a little sunburned and with approximately a bajillion bug bites. Still, I was overwhelmingly content. My stomach was full of fresh mangoes and star fruit. I had the pleasure of meeting kind, energetic Rotary members and the humble, generous community of Río Caña.

CliffsNotes on Ecuadorian Weddings & Karaoke Bars

I had the pleasure of attending a wedding this past weekend with two good friends. Interesting cultural notes:
1. The drink of choice is whiskey. While champagne was plentiful during toasts, each table passed around a bucket of ice and a bottle of whiskey. Traditionally, the groom’s parents pay for the whiskey and the bride’s parent’s pay for the wedding. I’m thinking that it is expected you cough up a nice amount of money for the best whiskey. Beer is frowned upon as informal at weddings. I would attribute this to the fact that most drinking establishments serve two beers—“Pony” and “Pilsner” (side note: Pilsner is the company name as well as type of beer).
2. The first dance between the bride and the groom is traditionally a waltz.

I met up with some friends at a bar this past weekend. Upon arriving I realized it was a karaoke bar. I am all for karaoke—it’s a good time, right? Belt out some lyrics, generally it doesn’t matter if you can really sing, a chance to let loose. These rules hold true here. Yet, unlike in the USA where rock and pop take center stage, ballads were the stars of the night here. I will admit, this was not for me. Most ballads centered around: Longing for your old lover, Feeling like you can’t go on without your old lover, Remembering your old lover. Not exactly jamming songs for a Saturday night! Eek. Hey, at least I got to follow the lyrics on the screen and watch images of tranquil oceans, doves, and furry animals. In summary, I checked off Ecuadorian Karaoke Bars.

Sueños en Español

Yay! I finally had a dream in Spanish. This is mostly exciting because this usually signifies my brain is working really hard to master something! (Before orgo exams the molecules and reactions haunted my dreams.) In the dream, I was in a literature class being taught underground by a gypsy teacher in bangle bracelets. In this dreamworld, some of my family participated in the class, speaking Spanish fluently. (Prophetic foresight?) I attributed the secretive nature of the course to the fact that she was revealing the key to humanity--yes that is a vague term that should be in a Nicholas Cage film.

Strangely enough, unlike most of my dreams, danger was distant and it was quite pleasant--with an aroma of fresh cut flowers. Imagine that.

A Gastronomical Tour of Ecuador: Part 1

In Ecuador, all food is "rico, rico, rico"—delicious, rich. I find it impressive that I have not yet commented on food, as it is one of my great loves. If you have known me for a time, you know I love to:

• Talk about food--If you could choose only one condiment for burgers the rest of your life, what would it be? Best dish for a freezing night?
  
• Read about food (My favorite memoir staring menus of Parisian cafés —A Moveable Feast by F.Scott Fitzgerald)
• Devour movies featuring chow (Como Agua Para Chocolate, Chocolat, Julie and Julia, Babette’s Feast). Sidenote: I just discovered NYC Food Film Festival, "a multi-sensory experience where filmgoers are able to watch food films then sample the food portrayed in those films." I guess I can do the same thing with my laptop, a dvd, and a kitchen....
• Make a mess of the kitchen experimenting with new recipes from thefoodnetwork.com
• Photograph food (Whoops, I only have two photos from Thanksgiving 2008—the golden roasted turkey and vanilla ice cream melting on warm pumpkin pie)
• And of course, share a snack, meal, or drink with family and friends.
  

In Ecuador, the majority of lunches and dinners, consist of a meat or seafood dish, rice, perhaps a salad (finely cut iceberg lettuce with tomatoes and onions), and a glass of juice. For me, the shining star of main dishes on the coast is ceviche—either fish ceviche or shrimp ceviche. More on this citrus seafood grub later.

This past weekend, I went with my Ecuadorian family to their regular Sunday haunt—a large tented area in the sand next to La Boca, an ocean inlet resembling a mouth. After enthusiastically greeting familiar faces, we sat down and our chairs sank a bit into the sand. The kitchen is beside the tables. Huge pots of ceviche and frying fish and shrimp sizzled. A meal for three was eight bucks. Good fresh grub.

La Morcilla with Maduras

I am pretty eager to try just about anything. We ordered a few appetizers (read: I nodded that I would try anything). Within a few moments a plate of sausage and chifle (plátano chips) arrived at our table. After asking “Es carne? Es carne?” several times, I bit into the sausage. Still chewing, examining the savory flavor, I learned I was swallowing morcilla—cleaned cow intestine stuffed with rice, pig’s blood, and spices. Eek, I did not attempt to hold back my dislike for the idea of intestine. It was delicious, but one taste was enough! I stuck to chifle before my meal arrived ;-0

Bangla→English…English→Spanish

A lawyer in Portoviejo connected to the Clinic helped in the preparation of my Visa documents. So, on Friday when she called asking for an English→Spanish translator at an event with young people, I quickly agreed to help.

While I thought I was going to an event with young visiting students from the USA, it turns out I met her at the local police station. Twenty-four Bangladeshi men were apprehended by the police after failure to produce identification documents. Only one man spoke English. None spoke Spanish.

In a small room, with four desks, the Bangladeshi men were questioned one by one about their reason for travel to Ecuador, about airline tickets, and where their passports were. One Bangladeshi man (also lacking documentation) zig-zagged between the desks, translating from Bangla→English while each translator then relayed the information to the administrators in Spanish. I did laugh to myself as sometimes this translation consisted of saying English words with a Bangla/Indian accent. Four “translators” sat at the desks each beside a woman in a sharp suit and vest over a baby-pink button-up shirt. I use the word “translator” loosely—as I was one and the only qualification was basic conversational knowledge of English and Spanish. The English of the other translators was impressive—seemingly better than my Spanish—and one was a high school student. There stories had slight variations…but all agreed on one thing—their passports had been given to a hotel manager for a security check and he disappeared with their passports and money, leaving them stranded and without identification.

Now, I am usually one to take people’s word as truth and give them the benefit of the doubt. Let’s just say in this particular case I am thankful I was not in the shoes of the Bangladeshi tourists nor in the shoes of a lawyer faced with finding lost passports and considering deportation.

While it was a bit crazy and busy, this was not the scene of a violent apprehension nor was a fistfight about to breakout. Nevertheless, a handful of Ecuadorian immigration police officers stood throughout the room in charcoal colored camel uniforms, laced up black boots, a handgun at their hip, caps, and facial expressions teetering between stern authority figures and amusement. After a time, the capítan of the police force showed up sporting this huge semi-automatic across his chest. None of the government workers seemed to give it a second thought—it did seem a little over-zealous to me though.

Several times I caught myself attempting to speak in Spanish to a Bangladeshi man with a blank look on his face or English to an Ecuadorian lawyer.

This made for an interesting Friday night. I can only hope the best for these young, bewildered Bangladeshi men.

Between the Pages II. --Beloved by Toni Morrison

Toni Morrison introduces the eerie territory of Beloved: “124 was spiteful. Full of a baby’s venom. The women in the house knew it and so did the children. For years each put up with the spite in his own way, but by 1873 Sethe and her daughter Denver were its only victims.”

seasons

“In Ohio seasons are theatrical. Each one enters like a prima donna, convinced its performance is the reason the world has people in it” (137).

Never having read Morrison’s work, I found the language of the novel artful and yet colloquial. The plot—twisted. Tone—creepy. Characters—believable—some pitiful and others spectacularly strong. Morrison crafts a novel that slowly stitches together the past world of southern slavery at Sweet Home and the haunting present at 124 in Ohio.

fire

“First a bit of paper, then a little kindling—not too much—just a taste until it was strong enough for more. She fed its dance until it was wild and fast” (214).

This book required attention…at times I would find myself paying too much attention to the language and losing bits of the convoluted plot.

snow

“Down came the dry flakes, fat enough and heavy enough to crash like nickels on stone. It always surprised him, how quiet it was. Not like rain, but like a secret” (152).

.

"When in doubt, opt for the bolder approach"

Cristina García, A Handbook to Luck

Poco por Poco

Visiting Orthopedic Team and Local Physicians

Bit by bit my Spanish, medical vocabulary, and ability to assist at the clinic are improving.

Still, the learning curve was steep this past week. A surgical team from the U.S was at the clinic the whole week. The team—an anesthesiologist, bilingual RN, orthopedic resident, and two orthopedic surgeons—very kindly allowed me to work by their side and learn from them. The first day, the team saw somewhere around sixty patients in clinical consultation. I was surprised to find myself translating much of the time when the RN was unable to assist in translating two cases simultaneously. While many peds patients were from nearby, others were from a pueblo four hours away and still others had traveled on horseback to reach this pueblo before coming to Portoviejo. Clinical concerns ranged from club feet, to complications arising from poor casting of feet or ankles after former operations at other medical facilities, to removing an excess digits patient’s feet.

Translating, helping with the patient records, and photographing limb deformities for later physician referral—I felt useful. Many patients were told to simply wear una férula (a brace) on their wrist or ankle and observe changes in limbs throughout the next year. Yet about fifteen children were asked to return that week for an operation.

In the OR the rest of the week, I learned from the local nurse how to best be of assistance from pre-op to post-op—translating, cleaning, opening sterile equipment for the surgeons… After many operations, I helped the physicians explain to expectant parents how the surgery went and instructions for cast-removal and physical therapy. While the majority of parents nodded, some seemed more in shock than their children and gave a blank stare.

Me & New Med School Friend

The kids here are tough. Most went home the day following a major surgery involving reconstruction of bones and joints. While given what meds were available, they definitely weren’t sent home with the same deluxe gift-bag of pain relievers available in the U.S.

While most time was spent with children or adults (I am not a real adult yet…right?) I also translated two lectures for medical school students. Eek! While I am not one to have stage fright or be overly anxious about public speaking…I did have a few butterflies before walking into a classroom of fourth year med students with the visiting physicians. (As students here don’t go to University with an undeclared major, the university is a combination of college and professional school. Med School here is six years, maybe seven. Translating two lectures about hip dislocations & upper extremity anatomy and pathology proved tricky. It also involved a great deal of gestures and pointing to various parts of my arm. All in all, I think it went well though—I judge this by the fact that many students came up to ask the physician questions after the lecture—always a good sign. Moreover, two students returned to the clinic the following day with x-rays of wrist injuries, looking for medical advice.

Best part about the week: The days flew by and I again feel a confirmation that I want to study medicine.