Preparation Time!

This was written July 3, although I'll be posting it...some time when I have internet access.  Indefinitely in the future.

Hello!

Today was fascinating .  We spent the morning at a traditional tribal ceremony, and the afternoon at the hospital where we'll be doing research.

We took our bus out to a small village.  Driving here is an adventure.  Many of the roads are approximately as smooth as the average theme park ride, as they're either dirt or covered in so many potholes that they might as well be dirt, and, with people crammed five to a row, there's quite a bit of bouncing around and landing in each other's laps.  On top of that, the streets here are terribly disorganized, with cars turning every which way with little regard to the rules of the road and people darting across the streets with baskets on their heads.   I definitely wouldn't want to drive in a place like this, but I haven't seen an accident yet.

The tribal ceremony was unlike anything I've seen in my life.  We were there to meet with the deputy chief about whether or not we were permitted to work in the villages in the area.  He's of the royal family of the Ashanti tribe, although I forget the name of the village.  There were about five men, all wearing traditional clothing--brightly patterned cloth pulled over one shoulder.  They sat on chairs, and we sat across from them.  The deputy chief spoke only to a linguist, who translated his statements from Twi (the local language) into English for our benefit.  However, he also spoke to the deputy chief whenever anyone else, including Twi speakers, was addressing him.  He generally seemed to be the go-between.  They negotiated about what we would do for the village in order to get the privilege of working there--he wanted a computer lab, but our "chief" (the head doctor running our program, who strongly resembles Dumbledore), pointed out that we were helping improve the health and water and sanitation programs in the area, and that our work would directly benefit them.  They then held a reception for all of the students with cans of coke (it seems to be quite popular here, and, fortunately, is safe to drink, unlike the tap water.  I always worry that people will serve us some kind of homemade drink that we'll have to figure out how to refuse in a culturally polite way.)  There were a few small kids running around who looked shocked to see white people--they pointed and giggled and got so excited when we waved at them.  One boy, probably three or four years old, was wandering around trying to shake all of the visitors' hands.

We took a wild ride back, then went to the hospital.  The main road was closed, so it took a while for us to get around to the right place.  We finally ended up where we were supposed to be, then had to find the right clinic.  The hospital was...different.  Much of the space where people were was outside--there weren't any halls, but each of the clinic doors opened out to the open air.  It was terribly dirty outside, and although we didn't go into any of the exam rooms, but just met in a classroom, I can't imagine the inside being sanitary, let alone sterile.  We passed a phlebotomy lab and my hands instinctively went to the crooks of my elbows as if to protect them--I couldn't imagine letting someone stick me with a needle in a place like that.  However, the doctors who we met seemed excellent.  They were knowledgeable and kind and seemed to really want the best for their patients.  It just felt like the hospital was so over capacity that it wasn't able to function as well as it should.

We then wandered around our area for a while--we walked over to a nearby school and watched a group of kids do soccer drills, then toured up and down the street.  We saw lots of stalls, selling everything from fruit to shoes to tailoring.

We then had a meeting for our entire group.  We debriefed from the past few days, then went around discussing something that was expected, unexpected, and made us uncomfortable.  It was interesting to hear everyone's perspectives.  Oh, and we got big news!  We're invited to the wedding of one of the doctors in the hospital on Saturday.  Apparently it's not terribly uncommon here to invite thirty strangers to your wedding five days before the event occurs.  I'll let you know how that goes, as it's certain to be exciting.

Some other funny things--yesterday, one of the student's doorknobs fell off when they tried to open it, and another's sink fell off the wall.  And we currently have no water.  Not no hot water, but no water.  Period.  Fortunately, we have plenty in bottles, so we're just out of luck for showering.  That's our adventure of the day.

Thanks for reading!

Research Training

Hello!

Ok, so the Internet here is currently quite spotty.  I’ll have to see when I can actually post this, as service goes in and out on a whim (I sent three messages to a friend at 9:40 PM, and the third one didn't go through.  Then it went on again at 9:46, and off again 9:50.  But how wonderful is modern technology?  I can make immediate contact with a friend who literally is halfway around the world to giggle over the guy she likes.)  

Today was our first full day in Kumasi, where we'll be staying most of the time we're here.  We woke up and ate breakfast provided by the hotel (featuring fresh pineapple juice, which was delicious,) then met with our groups to go over our projects.  Our program is pairing with students at the local Ghanaian medical school, so we'll be working with quite a mix of students.  I wasn't able to get all of their names, but the African contingent included a very quiet girl named Priscilla, a man named Michael in his last year of medical school, and a cheerful Ophelia, who drastically contrasts with Shakespeare's character.  

Our group is studying barriers and facilitators to craniofacial care.  In layman's terms, we're learning about what what is easy and difficult about accessing healthcare for children with facial, oral, and nasal deformities.  We're focusing primarily on cleft lips and palates (if you've ever seen the TV commercials for Smile Train, it's the same issue that they fix.  I also once read a book that discussed cleft palates which I believe was called Words In The Dust, but I can't verify the title due to the lack of ability to google.  But if that is the title, I loved it around age 13.  Literary review over.)  Our group led by Chelsea, a PhD candidate in speech pathology who is one of the most enthusiastic people I've ever met.  She can talk for hours about speech development, accents, public health, her home in New York, her fellowship in Ohio, or her various mission trips to train other speech pathologists and work with people who have had recent cleft surgery.  She's one of those people who makes everything seem really interesting, regardless of whether or not it's something you normally care about, just because of the intensity of her passion.  I admire that.  

We'll be interviewing caregivers of the children with these conditions, so today we trained in proper interview techniques, and how to avoid asking leading questions.  It's actually a lot more difficult than you would expect, just because you come in with so many of your own biases that it's difficult to filter them out of your speech.  We also practiced avoiding technical terms, because a lot of the caregivers, especially from rural areas, won't have the same vocabulary that we do.  

After our training, we went to the mall!  I'm usually not at all a shopper, and only bought one thing, but it was fascinating.  It was across the street from an outdoor market full of stalls that likely required a bit of haggling to come to a price. The mall itself provided a great contrast--a huge concrete building that would not look at all out of place in the US.  A group of us ambled around, including Andrea, a geography doctoral candidate interested in mapping illness patterns and designing maps that can be used by colorblind people (she likes maps a lot) who tells us that she takes her four-year-old to class with her; Uoni, a Persian-Armenian pharmacy student who grew up about forty minutes from me in California; and Rachel, a career-change medical student from the Bay Area who talked extensively with me about the culture shock of moving from California to Utah ("but I love Salt Lake," she told me, "it's the right place for me."  I agreed).   

We first went to the grocery store there--Rachel was still jet-lagged and wanted to buy coffee, and foreign grocery stores are fascinating to wander, as they provide a snapshot of local life.  There wasn't a drastic difference between most American grocery stores, although there was an incredible amount of rice, in many different varieties.  Most of the food here seems to be grain-heavy, with a sauce and a bit of meat.  

I have a peculiar small world story.  Being 19, Mormon, and living in Utah, I have quite a few friends who either recently returned from Mormon missions or are heading out in a few months to a few years.  I know someone who went to Kumasi, Ghana and returned before school started last fall.  In the grocery store, I ran into...Mormon missionaries.  I asked them if they knew my friend, Elder Lastname, who came home last year, and they said yes.  It was one of the oddest coincidences, to find a mutual friend in Sub-Saharan Africa.  

In the middle of the mall, they were playing music from a huge speaker.  It was a very odd mix of songs, everything from Drake ("God's Plan") to what I assumed was pop music in Twi (the local language). A group of little kids had assembled in front of the speaker to dance.  They were quite talented, and had the biggest smiles.  Some of the dances seemed to be common, as everyone was coordinated in their motions, but others were just a free expression of twirling joy.  

In the mall, we were quite popular.  Families would stop and look at us passing, and one asked us to pose for a photo with their young children.  Andrea was standing across the room at that point, so she took a photo of them taking a photo.  I'll see if I can get it from her to post on here, as it was hilarious.  Even though we stand out, it doesn't feel as uncomfortable as it would if  we were back home.  It's clear that we don't really belong here, but it's a good kind of standing out.  We have to opportunity to get lost in the wonder of being able to experience a culture that in no way belongs to us.  

Our last stop at the mall was the fabric store.  It was gorgeous--stacks of dozens of elaborately colorful prints that you could picture clothing someone in joy.  Unfortunately, we weren't allowed to take photos in the store.  Most of us--myself included--purchased a few yards to get made into skirts or dresses at the local tailor shop.  The array of hues in that store was dramatic--I've never seen anything quite like it.  

Anyway, that's all for tonight.  I'll post this whenever we get internet access again.  

Ghana Arrival!

Hello!

I'm officially in Ghana!  We flew in to Accra last night, and have spent most of the day traveling to Kumasi, where we'll be for the next few weeks.  And tonight I took a shower with real shampoo and soap (I haven't figured out how the hot water works yet--or even if we have any--so it was refreshing, as well), so I feel wonderful.

The flight here wasn't bad--I sat next to a Ghanaian-Norwegian computer programmer who writes health tracking apps.  He was raised in Ghana, but had moved to Norway as an adult, but was returning to take a short course and visit relatives.  But if you ever want to see an incredibly conspicuous group, look at a group of University of Utah study abroad students headed towards Ghana.  You could definitely pick us out of the crowd.

Flying into Accra looked like flying into any other city at night--a field of darkness peppered with spots of yellow and white lights.

We got off the plane, passports and vaccine certificates in hand, and waited.  And waited.  And waited.  And waited.  Fortunately, I have a very fun group, so it wasn't terribly unpleasant to wait in line for about four hours, even if we had just gotten off an international flight and were terribly exhausted.  We passed through a body-temperature sensor (if you were worried, I officially don't have Ebola), flashed our vaccine cards at the inspector (I don't have yellow fever either), pressed fingerprints, had our passports inspected, and finally were free to get our baggage.

We all found ours, and we were off.  We drove for about two hours to the Ensign College of Public Health, which is run by the U of U, and stayed overnight in the dorms.  They had a shower!  My bags were on the bus, so I had no shampoo, but washed my hair with a bar of soap.  It felt wonderful (but looked less so).

We ate breakfast the next morning, and were off.  The bus ride from Ensign College to Kumasi can take between 5 and 10 hours on a mix of dirt and paved roads, but it took about 6 and a half hours for us.  There was little traffic, because it was a Sunday, and, although it rained, we were lucky enough to only have it rain on the paved parts of the road, so we weren't slowed down much by mud.  It's pouring now, though, and not likely to let up until tomorrow.

The drive was fascinating.  Ghana is gorgeous--I don't think that I've ever been in a place this lush.  When you glance off the road, all you can see is miles and miles of green.  And the sky is beautiful as well--layers and layers of fluffy clouds.  It's so different from the US.  I drifted off for a bit on the bus ride, and when I woke up, I briefly did a very sharp double take, until I remembered where I was.

Things have very odd names here.  I passed Denmark Farms, Korea Rice, New Orleans Music and Talent School, and Staten Island Farms (I wasn't aware that either Denmark or Staten Island were known for farming, but it's possible.  I haven't been to either).  There are animals everywhere, mostly goats, but a few dogs, chickens, and a handful of cows.

We also passed a group of about 8 young boys--probably 6-11--all wearing suits and carrying musical instruments, including trombones, trumpets, and drums. I assumed they were going to church, as religion seems quite prevalent here (quite a few businesses have religiously themed names, including God is Able Carpenter Shop and Jesus Loves Fresh Pork), and it was Sunday morning.

Driving through Ghana is drastically different than in the US.  For the most part, we were on paved roads, but at one point we hit a series of potholes so deep that our bus was tilted about twenty degrees.  Whenever we're at stoplights, people come up to our bus windows and try to sell us a wide variety of goods, including mangoes and toilet paper.  We didn't buy anything.

The dress here is interesting--a mixture of Western and traditional, and definitely more formal than you find in the US (although that could be because of the religiosity of the nation.  I'm guessing a lot of people were headed to church).  The women typically wear short-sleeve, empire waist, knee length dresses made of brightly patterned fabric, while the men wear shirts out of the same bright patterns and slacks.

And my favorite thing was driving past the little kids.  Anyone under about the age of 10 would, upon seeing the bus, outright stare for about 4 seconds, mouth slightly open.  Then they would start to wave, and when we waved back, wave their arms back and forth with incredible enthusiasm.  They would then alert any other kids around them, point at us, and start yelling.  They presumably don't get a ton of white people here.  It was hilarious.

Ghana is probably one of the culturally farthest places that I've ever been from the LA suburb where I grew up, or Salt Lake City, where I live now (geographically farthest as well).  I've never lived anywhere with dirt roads or goats roaming the streets.  But one of the things that strikes me is how similar people are.  Looking out the bus windows, I saw pregnant women with hands clasped over their swollen bellies, groups of men gathered to watch the World Cup Game, two elementary school boys appearing to have a contest as to who could pee the farthest, a young teen with an infant sibling or cousin perched on her hip, an adolescent girl who would shyly raise her eyes towards a group of guys, then quickly smile and avert her gaze.  I'm half a world away from home, yet people are mostly the same.

That's all for tonight.  It's so wonderful here.  The real work starts tomorrow--we have all of our preparatory research meetings and meet the Ghanaians that we are partnering with, and we spend Tuesday at the hospital.  I'm so excited!  And the internet actually works well enough to post some photos, so enjoy!

Amsterdam! (Well, the Airport Anyway)

Hello!  I'm in Amsterdam for the time being (well, the airport anyway), at least until my connecting flight leaves in about four hours.  And, because there's not a ton to do in the airport for six hours, I'm going to talk to you, instead!  Please excuse any typos--I've only slept about 4 hours (on an airplane) in the past 36.  Because of this and the swirl of foreign languages surrounding me, everything feels vaguely like a dream.  If I took my glasses off, everything would look like I had recently entered an Impressionist painting, and the sensation would be complete.

My flight here was pretty easy--I read, slept, and spent quite a bit of time with my eyes closed trying to pretend that I was asleep.  Oh, and people-watched everyone wandering up and down the aisles, as it's quite difficult to sit for 10 hours.  My favorites were ten-month old twins, little boys with heads of thick blonde hair--one curly and one straight, big smiles, and mesmerizing blue eyes.

What I know of Amsterdam is wonderful.  I love the Dutch language--written, it looks sort of like English, with extra letters added for fun (I'm sure that this statement betrays a deep misunderstanding of linguistics). And spoken it sounds like a gentler version of German.  I just googled it, and apparently it's roughly halfway between English and German, so my misunderstanding of linguistics is shallower than I assumed.  Also, I learned that they speak Dutch in Suriname.  There's your random fact of the day.

This airport is really cool.  They have a miniature museum!  It's one of those children's science museums, where you learn about light refractions through tilting mirrors and oscillations through pendulums that you can move yourself.  And they have a DNA-based play structure, which I thought was really cool for antsy children (honestly, I sort of want to try it, but I'm a bit big).

They have a piano!  That anyone can play!  The Amsterdam airport gets some really good pianists too--I heard someone playing the Moonlight Sonata, all the way through, and someone else playing something that sounded like Rachmaninoff, but I didn't recognize the piece.  They also have a library, with a bunch of titles in Dutch (and a handful in English).

Wandering around, I saw a sign for a "meditation room," and, curious, I wandered in.  It was an interfaith chapel, with space for people of all faiths.  Walking in, there was a shelf with Muslim prayer rugs, as well as a chart of when the calls to prayer will occur during the month of June.  And on the shelf, they had religious texts in 47 languages (I counted, because that's what you do when you have six hours to kill in a foreign airport).  Everything was there, from Thai to Luganda to Norwegian (the books were all labeled).  It was very peaceful, and I tried to talk to the lady manning the room, but there was a bit of a language barrier.  I don't know any Dutch, unless I wanted to try and sound out the "Only Use In Case of Emergencies" label on the alarmed door, but that wasn't quite the message I was going for.  But I think that she understood that I appreciated the space.  

Anyway, that's all I have to report.  I promise that things will get more interesting once I actually arrive in Ghana.  Love you all!

LAX-->SLC-->AMS-->ACC

Hello!

I am currently en route to Ghana.  The very beginning of en route--I'm sitting in the Salt Lake Airport, waiting for them to call for boarding.  I have three flights today--LA to Salt Lake City, Salt Lake to Amsterdam (where we'll technically arrive at 9 AM tomorrow morning) and Amsterdam to Accra, Ghana.  And then we'll drive to Kumasi, the city where we'll be doing research.

There's a bunch of different groups in the program--I'm with the craniofacial team, studying cleft palate treatment.  We're interviewing parents and caregivers of children with cleft palates and other facial anomalies, asking them about their barriers to finding treatment.  Then hopefully we'll be able to interpret the results and make treatment more accessible!  Other teams include dermatology, antibiotic resistance, and maternal nutrition.

I'm very excited.  A little bit terrified, but it's ok.  It's just a heightened version of how I tend to be all the time.  And exhausted, because I had to leave my house at 4:30 this morning to make it to the airport in LA.  Hopefully I'll be able to sleep on the plane.

I'm armed with the necessities--multiple copies of my boarding passes, a passport with the Ghana visa that I had to apply for back in April, my "International Certificate of Vaccine Prophylaxis" (which you get when you get vaccinated for yellow fever.  So if any of you had plans to infect me with yellow fever, you won't be able to.  However, I think it's quite unlikely that any of you are bioterrorists, so I'm safe).

I've met some interesting people so far, wandering around the airport for the past few hours--a former lobbyist going back to school to be a hospital Child Life Specialist, a girl my age going to visit a foreign exchange student in Germany, a family going on a family history trip (only in Utah), and a young mother from Baghdad wearing a shirt with text entirely in German (I asked her what it said, and she had no idea).  Her daughter was lovely too--she was around four, and told me all about why Belle was her favorite Disney Princess.

Anyway, I'm about to board my plane.  I promise this will get more exciting when I actually do something besides sit in an airport.  As for now, I'm off to read articles from the PanAfrican Medical Journal about cleft palates.  I'll write again soon!

The End

Hi guys!

So, this is the end.  I'm writing to you from the Cuenca airport, where I'm catching a flight to Quito, where I'm catching a flight to Houston, where I'm catching a flight home.  I'm sad.  It was a hard goodbye, both to the kids and the other volunteers.   (Although, in the week before I left for Ecuador, I said something like 18 goodbyes.  I should be used to them by now.)  It's weird, in many ways, it feels like I've been here much longer than two weeks, like I've been here for months.  But I don't want to leave--the rhythms of the work are somewhat part of me.  Perhaps this is what belonging feels like.

As I'm leaving, a few thank you's are in order to those who helped me get here.  (I don't want to publish their names online without their consent, but a lot of you guys will know who they are).  First, to my parents, who both permitted their young daughter to go to a developing country, and for funding it.  I'm very lucky about that.  A fifth-grade teacher at the elementary school I attended, for recommending that I do OSSO (she volunteered here herself several years ago).  Those who agreed to serve as my references--my boss, my piano/band teacher, and my Young Women leader, who were all willing to say nice things about me to help me get accepted.   And everyone who has taken the time to read about my adventures on this blog, especially those who have left comments or texted or emailed me about it.  Thank you thank you thank you.

I was in the OSSO orphanage all day today--Casa Alegria in the morning, and Casa Milagros in the afternoon, although the two groups were somewhat mixed today, so I sort of just rotated between all of the kids.

In the morning, I had the typical Casa Alegria schedule--feeding, and then bath time.  I had to feed Jhon again (the boy who really really hates to eat), which is always an experience.  In all honesty, I could just take his bowl at the beginning and pour it out on his bib to obtain the exact same result, in a fraction of the time.  However, we do try and get his meals into him--it takes a while, though.  I can feed him in the time it takes to feed three or four other kids, because he fights so hard.  While he was eating, I talked to him about how some things in life, like the superhero movies that Martin always wants to show, are completely optional, while others are mandatory.  And how eating falls into the second category.  I doubt he understood much (or any) of it, because I don't know how much English he has, or comprehension in general, but maybe the sound of my voice distracted him.  And the effort to get a toothbrush into that boy...it's quite impressive how forcefully he manages to prevent anything from getting in his mouth.  If it weren't such a harmful habit, I would applaud his ethic.

After everyone ate, it was time for all the kids to take their showers.  Although I don't actually wash the children (that job falls to the orphanage workers), I do dress and undress them and help carry them from beds and wheelchairs to the shower.  I've gotten a whole lot more comfortable with other people's nudity while I was here, which is a good trait for an aspiring physician to have.  I've also seen some...interesting things in that regard, which I won't explicate on.  You guys can use your imaginations.

I then chased Bryan around a bit, exploring around the orphanage grounds with him (although we've both already seen the entire thing).  I then read a bit more to Cecilia--we made it most of the way through Superfudge, which was fun.  I read that book around second or third grade, and it's interesting to see which plot points still seem familiar.

During my lunch break, I did a few necessary departure things (washed my sheets, emptied my trash, swept my room, double checked that my shampoo was out of the shower, donated extra laundry pods to the left-here-by-volunteers cabinet), and then went to the bakery with another volunteer.  It was awesome--they had shelf after shelf of freshly baked bread, and the smell rivaled any bakery I have ever been in.  And the bread tasted as good as it smelled--I had no idea what I was buying, because there was no label and I wasn't sure how to ask if there was a filling, but I bought some kind of cheese-filled roll, and it was yeasty and gooey and wonderful.

After lunch, I had my shift in Casa Milagros.  Fortunately, I only had easy feeders there today, so that was pretty efficient.  Although one boy seems to be attempting to eat his toothbrush, as it is covered in bite marks and whenever I put it in his mouth, he clamps down.

One of the little boys just got a new hearing aid, and he apparently doesn't find it comfortable, because he keeps trying to pull it out (and occasionally just gives it to people when he pleases).  They've had to tape it to his ear to prevent him from pulling out, and it creates quite the comical effect.

Another volunteer set up a bunch of crafts for the kids to do, which kept most of them busy--I was in charge of supervising those who couldn't or didn't want to do the activities.  I pushed Laura on a swing for a while, until Martin announced that he wanted to go for a walk (he can propel his own chair, but he struggles on hills).  We looped around the orphanage grounds, stopping every once in a while to run over to give Laura a push to keep her swinging.

I then went into Maria's room to spend some time with her (she gets cold really easily, so she can't go outside much, even though being walked around is one of her favorite things).  Instead, I sang to her. Another young boy heard the noise and ambled in her room to listen.  He even applauded occasionally (especially when I would slip his name into the songs).  It was very good for my ego.

Because her name is Maria, and I was told that she loves music, I spent the past few weeks singing the Sound of Music to her.  We've gotten through pretty much the entire soundtrack (except for the weird yodeling goatherd song, because my yodels would song akin to a drunken cow being tortured.)  Tonight, I ended with "So Long, Farewell," which I had never sung to her before.  I hope she understood the goodbye.

I then went to say my final goodbye to all of the rest of kids.  Martin almost cried, which prompted me to almost cry, and Cristian, who always high-fives me and sticks out his tongue, gave me a hug (along with high-fiving me and sticking out his tongue).

I then said my goodbyes to the other volunteers, with hugs and promises to meet up in the US (all but one live within a few hours drive of my college, so it's feasible.)

Keenan and Sasha, the volunteer directors, then escorted me to the airport.  Cuenca to Quito was easy (the airport there is tiny--it only has three gates), but Quito to Houston was more interesting.  Apparently United check-in has its own section of the airport, but it's completely unlabeled, so I walked past all the check-in counters three times, until I finally asked for help.  I was able to cobble together that I was supposed to get into the long, snaking line.  Fortunately, I had extra time, and the women behind me in line were super nice--they were from Ireland, and had just gone to Macchu Pichu in Peru and the Galapagos Islands.  And their accents made them so fun to talk to--if anyone has seen the movie Brooklyn (you should, as both the movie and book are lovely), they had almost the same accent as the protagonist.

Eventually, we got on the flight to Houston.  I was sitting in the middle of a large high school language-immersion tour group, and somehow they decided that I would know how to fill out the customs forms, so they all asked me for advice.  I told them that it was only the second one that I'd filled out in my life, but I tried to give them the answers--the form wasn't too complicated.  (Also, apparently going to Ecuador, you aren't allowed to take more than 2 calculators without declaring them for taxes.  File that under completely random laws).

Fortunately, all the high schoolers were exhausted, so they were pretty quiet and we all were able to sleep a bit.  We got back to Houston and it was bizarre.  Everyone was speaking English!  I could read every single sign, and even if I had a question, I could just ask it and understand the answer without charades or guessing as to what words meant!  (Although I did bump into someone and instinctively let out a "perdon, señor.")

In Texas, I didn't have a lot of time.  The bags were supposed to come out at 5:50, but didn't start until around 6:15, and my flight started boarded from 6:25-6:55.  I got my bag around 6:30, then bolted through security (or tried to.  The woman in front of me didn't understand that she had to take off her scarf, and jacket, and empty her pockets).  My gate was on the other side of the airport, so anyone who happened to be at George Bush International early this morning got to see me sprinting in sock feet on approximately three hours off sleep, clutching shoes, laptop, sweatshirt, and passport to my chest because I didn't have time to put them in my bag.  It's not my most attractive state.  Eventually I realized that I could run faster in shoes, and put those on, making it to my gate right as they were about to stop letting passengers on.  Fortunately, I made it on the flight, and am currently flying home!  I'll publish this when I get to my house.

I wish that I could tell you some great life lessons that I learned from doing this--maybe I'll figure those out a little while from now, when I have more time to reflect and not just do.  But here's what I have so far: love everyone, wholeheartedly.  The innocent, the broken, those tough and those tender, the vulnerable, the seemingly unlovable.  In small ways and large--both can be incredibly impactful.

And I don't think that I'm going to stop posting on this blog--I won't write every day, but I really enjoy having my own little corner of the internet to do with what I wish, so if anyone wants to check up on it occasionally, you're welcome to.

Thank you so much.  This has been an amazing journey,  and I am better for it.  

Hi guys!

So today was my second-to-last day here, as I leave tomorrow evening (but I'm trying not to think about that.  I love it here).  I spent this morning volunteering at the Casas orphanage next door, the one for healthy children about age 3-7.

Every week, they try and take the kids on a field trip.  Today was field trip!  The nuns had originally planned to take the kids to the local country club (Cuenca Tennis y Golf Club) to go swimming, but unfortunately the pool there was closed, so we ended up playing on the (very nice) playground at the club instead.

It's weird, the country club there looks like it could be placed in any somewhat wealthy suburb in the US--a few tennis courts, a sprawling golf course, a pool, and a playground.  Yet on the way we passed  a bunch of cows just randomly tethered to poles on the side of the road (that is actually pretty common here.  It was so odd to see at first).  It's interesting where the cultural differences and similarities lie.

On the playground, the kids soon learned that they could go much higher on the swings if I pulled them up by their feet than if they just swung themselves, so I spent quite a while pulling children up above my head and then releasing them in order have them swing as fast as possible.  I think I pulled off a shoe or two, but that act got some awesome giggles.

After, Diana and a boy named Juan pulled me around to try out all the playground equipment.  We went on teeter-totters and climbed through the jungle gym.  I learned that those tube slides are definitely not built for people my height, because I kept hitting my head as I was going down (perhaps that's why they have the sign on the playground that says that it is only for children under the age of ten.  I wonder).

After the playground, the kids had a snack--potato chips and this disgusting orange soda.  It was so sickeningly sweet, it makes Fanta taste bitter.  But the little kids liked it.  We then went home, to go to our second shift.  On the bus ride home, two kids fell asleep on top of me, but it was a nice feeling

My second shift today was in the OSSO orphanage, both in Casa Alegria and Casa Milagros.  One of the boys, Martin, had just purchased a movie, so anyone who wanted to went to a small room to watch Captain America.  (I was in the room, but didn't really get much out of the film, because it was all in Spanish, with no subtitles in either language.)

During the movie, Bryan (the deaf five-year-old boy) got a little distracted, so we ended up playing a few games with him in the room where the movie was showing--matching games and puzzles, both of which he is really good at.  However, because he is deaf, he can be fairly loud without ever realizing it, and eventually it got quite distracting to the other kids, so we went to play outside.

First, he held my hand and pulled me around the grounds of the orphanage.  We eventually ended up at the wheelchair swings, where he proceeded to have me push him on every swing.  (He's not in a wheelchair, but the swings fit able-bodied kids as well).

After the movie finished, I went in to read to Cecilia some more, then had to feed the kids.  Fortunately, I was not in charge of feeding Bryan, the boy who hates to eat, today.  (He can be frustrating).  Instead, I fed this boy named Martin (different Martin than the one with the movie.  We have a ton of double names).  He was pretty easy, but had a tendency to smile whenever I smiled, making it difficult to put food in his mouth.  Therefore, I had to spend the entire time with my ridiculous not-really-a-frown (I physically can't frown) on my face in order to make it easy for me to feed him.

That was about it for tonight--I took my final Ecuadorean shower (the next shower I take won't burn or freeze me, and pretty soon I will be able to brush my teeth using tap water!), and am pretty much packed all the way.

Thanks for reading, guys.  Love you all!