Spent the last couple days in Guatemala working with a gringo group of physicians and nurses with varying Spanish-speaking abilities. Adjusting to their working style took a little effort. Ignoring Vicente (the head promoter), they went about setting up an intake, discharge, and patient stations. They (of course) assumed I was an indigenous Mayan Guatemalan (because apparently dark-skinned individuals don’t exist in Minnesota, and my adidas-heavy outfit is pretty typical of indigenous attire) and complimented me on my English. haha. They assigned Shom (first year resident, med school at Northwestern, been working here for several years and is fluent in Kaqchikel, the indigenous language) to translate for one of the physicians. When we brought up the point that it would be a waste of skills to have a physician translate for a physician, the jefe replied, “Well we have a protocol. Just follow the protocol. We need you to translate.” Whatevs. Estos gringos. Never consider the fact that they might have something to learn from the cultures they visit.

When I had hit my threshold of gringoness, I stepped out to scope the view. La tormenta Agatha (back in June-ish) carved out an entire canyon next to San Juan, where we had set up our clinic. Standing over this landscape, I couldn’t help but notice how stunning it was—all the green, the new river, the waterfalls—carved out by water. Pretty impressive.

There are a lot of things I love about Guatemala, including traditions, foods, the lake, etc. These are my top five in no particular order:

1. The alfombras of Semana Santa: making them, seeing them, everything.
2. “Salud, Dinero, Amor”: When someone sneezes, instead of saying, “Bless you,” or some equivalent, you say “salud” for the first sneeze, followed by dinero and amor for the next sneezes.
3. Being greeted with a kiss: All the men greet the women with a kiss on the cheek. Old-fashioned, maybe, but super sweet.
4. El Mercado: Despite the craziness and the raw meat, the colors, fruits, veggies, people are always varied and interesting. The fruits and veggies available depend on the season. Delicious
5. Chiltepe--these tiny green chilis that pack a decent punch 

El primer paso

Being the old person that I am, I avoided starting a blog for the longest time, despite several requests to do so. But in an effort to avoid spamming the inboxes of those who thought they wanted to read about the minute details of my adventures, but then realized they didn’t quite have the time, I’ve decided to join the crowd. This’ll be a sort of record of my thoughts as I travel the world. Feel free to tune in and out as you please.

Arrived in Guatemala yesterday, marking what I think is my seventh time here. When I first came after freshman year I had no idea it’d turn into an epic series of adventures. Yet here I am trying to roll my r’s as I dole out vitamins and eat things I probably should have sanitized first. But, knock on wood, I have yet to get the gringo illness, so maybe I’m actually immunizing myself against the real awful amebas.

Every time I come back, the scenery around me catches my breath. The shades of green and blue, red and orange are stunning. Now, since the big storms, a lot of the greenery is punctuated by massive boulders and other rocky items. The main road in and out of San Lucas is a bit unsound, structurally speaking—there are signs that tell you so: cross at your own risk. Those chicken buses and pickups rumble across anyway, so I figure I’ll be fine. Someone actually painted a rock shaped like Snoopy’s head, like Snoopy. Pretty funny. I’ll have to try to grab a pic of that one…

The weather here is pretty crazy. Summer’s starting—all the kids are on vacation and it’s not monsooning anymore. It’s been crazy windy all evening, though. The lamina (aluminum roofs) keep flopping up and down. A portion of the roof over my room actually slid down into the street. Good thing it’s not raining or I might wake up in a small pond. Despite the wind, I took the fam out for ice cream—less than eight bucks for nine people. Ridic. We also stopped to drop off my poorly translated version of Paradise Lost for one of the cousins. There are whole chunks that I had no idea how to translate into Spanish, so I just gave a general synopsis of what I thought was happening in those twenty lines. Ha. They have them reading Hamlet, too, and translating legal documents. I can name about ten people who speak English as their native language who have trouble understanding those…I now appreciate the Spanish Lit I took way back when.

The intense poverty here still amazes me. Every time I see an old man hobbling down the stony roads with swollen and callused over bare feet, I come close to offering my Nikes. Every time I see a two year old covered in dirt and tattered clothing, with hair turned red from malnutrition, I wish I could pull an Angelina and just take him home with me. Every time I see a woman doubled over under the weight of a load of produce or wood, I have to resist the urge to offer to carry it. Same goes for the ten year old boys alongside their aging fathers barely standing under the huge stack of firewood. A part of me wants to idealize everything: Oh, look at these men bringing home wood for their families, where hot coffee and warm tortillas are waiting. But really. That’s ridiculous. I wish I could fix the world. One malnourished kid at a time. And still come home to my bug-free bed and nice hot shower. Ain't called the third world for nothin