#1 And it begins . . .

Well, I decided that this would be a good summer to do two things which were absent from my life’s resume . . . service work in another country and creating a blog (the former carrying more significance than the latter). I am three days into the first endeavor and figure that there is no better time than the present to start the second. Not really sure what it will include, but hey . . . it is a summer of adventure so why not give it a whirl.

We arrived in Guatemala City on Saturday after traveling 2,030 miles in 7 hours from NYC courtesy of US Airways. Given that impressive pace, how hard could the last 130 miles to our soon-to-be home in Quetzaltenango be? Answer . . . 5 hours of pot holes the size of a Volkswagen, encounters with countless chicken-buses (yes, that’s right), cliff-edge meandering in fog that seemed to be inside the van, and the tremendously upsetting sight of another bus that had just tumbled off the edge and cart-wheeled hundreds of feet down. Our collective voices were hushed as the final encounter certainly left an impression on us. But, Fredy got us to our base safely and we looked forward to the light of day when we could cast our eyes upon the mountains, volcanoes, and people with whom we would live.

Daybreak brought a vista that was magnificent. Despite the inescapable poverty, Xela is a simply beautiful place with beautiful people. It is abundantly clear that the home in which we 16 live is not representative of what the locals inhabit. The Mayan motif in our house is complete with gorgeous wooden furniture and colorful tapestries, somewhat spacious bedrooms (with six bunks per room), a grassy lawn, and a staff whose smiles override the language barrier that exists.

Not surprisingly, the dining room wall is covered with quotes from both famous and unknown sapient minds extolling the virtues of volunteering. I had figured as much and predicted an environment where Ghandi, Mother Teresa, JFK, and Bishop Tutu would have had an impact both in spirit and in words. Not here, however. The quotes boldly scattered across the stucco were a little more direct and, dare I say, ominous. “There is no education like adversity” . . . “Despair has its own calms” . . . and “We learn from failure, not from success”. YIKES!

Twelve hours later and filled with the optimism from these 'inspirations', I was sitting on a bench at the foot of a mountain waiting for the clinic to open. With me was a lush sea of deep green corn crops, an incredibly docile cow, and a nagging curiously as to how in the world was I going to survive working here the next three weeks with a group of 6 women (mostly nuns) who did not speak a word of English. Just as the butterflies' flapping was become unbearable, the heavy wooden door open and out walked the head nun of the Campo Maria. I rose, stuck out my hand and . . . “Me llamo Jason, y usted?”

For some reason, despite the fact that my command of the Spanish vernacular consists of, “Where is the bathroom” and, “Thank you” . . . I quickly found myself drawing blood, testing for diabetes, and writing prescriptions in Spanish. Yes . . . someone whose proficiency in this language had grown to maybe 20 words at this point was writing prescriptions for insulin and amoxicillin. Ummm . . . okay. Of course I checked each prescription with Celestia - my guardian at the clinic (I think she drew the short straw) - after making the mistake of instructing a patient to take twelve pills every hour instead of one pill every 12 hours . . . don’t worry she will be fine.

Although the women with whom I work are undoubtedly the nicest in the world, they do not hesitate in laughing uncontrollably at my ridiculous language handicap. While sharing a mug of some sort of white soup/beverage/porridge I attempted to explain where I was from and what I did for a living. Each listened with a fascinated gaze and with great intensity. Clearly I knew more Spanish than I thought! Upon completing my biography they exchanged thoughtful looks before exploding into hysterics. I simply smiled . . . and immediately consulted my dictionary to see why “I am a Biology teacher and am married to a volunteer who works in a girls home in Xela” was so funny. Ahhh . . . I in fact had made minor mistake, evidently I regaled them with tales of my upcoming marriage to the large goat that lives in town! While it was a handsome goat, there were no nuptials and I have since signed up for private Spanish lessons during my free time. Evidently the best education is adversity.

Hilarity and embarrassment aside, the work continues to inspire, humble, awe, and amaze me. Today we treated a 98-year-old, 98-lb. man who has lived here his whole life and tomorrow I will be heading into nearby villages to treat those who are too poor or frail to come to the clinic. Nervous, yes. Excited, incredibly!

I am hoping to update the blog every couple of days (certainly with more brevity - I promise), and hope to include some more photos as well. Hasta luego.