5 Reasons I Would Retake My "Bridge Year" to Ecuador in a Heartbeat

I have been home from my bridge year in Ecuador for almost two years. I am still absolutely convinced that being a Global Citizen Year fellow was the most impactful experience in my life to date.

Five reasons I would retake my bridge year over and over again:

1.  I had the chance to learn another language, through hands-on experience.

(A skill that served me through my mission, my career and in my personal life.)

2. I got to know students (fellows) my age with the same passion and love for life & adventure

I have made lifetime friends,
and when all of these people are famous/successful, future career connections ( ;) ).

Ecuador Archives: Tena [The Amazon Rain Forest]

[not the best pictures ever.. but they're all I have!]

[cerca Spring 2013]

 

Ecuador Archives: Hiking Chimborazo

Ecuador Archives: Riobamba

Once, Betty, Nate and I got on a bus and went to Riobamba..

Here are a few random photos from the adventure:

como hacer patacones / how to make patacones

ingredients: plantains, cooking oil, salt

...that's it.

step one: heat up a pan filled with cooking oil

step two: cut the plantain into pieces as such ~

step three: cook the plantain slices in oil

step four: prepare a bowl of water mixed with salt

remove the patacones from the oil.

step six: using a flat surface, such as a cup, squish the patacones. 

they will look like this:

step seven: soak the patacones in the salt water

step eight: ((classic Ecuadorian style)) cook them in oil again

remove from oil, aaaand Well-ah!

Patacones!

ER Stories 12: Motor Vehicle Accident (MVA)

It's almost one.

12:35.

Uh.. it's sort of almost one.

Sigh.

We've stopped accepting new patients at this point. (That's the nice part about working in a health clinic in Ecuador: we can close up shop for an hour a day during lunchtime without much consequence.)

12:37....

ER Stories 11: Foreign Body (Eyes, Ears, Mouth & Nose!)

Note: These posts are intentionally vague (with no names, ages, or dates) so as to protect patient confidentiality. These stories are random and their publication dates have no correlation to the dates they occurred.

Many of these foreign body cases aren't even handled by the ER Doctor; they are often handed over to a physician who specializes in Ear, Nose, Throat Care. This post is not meant to be an educational how-to-treat these cases, but rather a blog post of my personal account of how certain, specific (freaking cool) cases have been treated. Really what I am saying to you here, is let's not try this at home folks.

Kids have a tendency to stick objects where they're not supposed to go.

Turns out, adults do that too.

Foreign Object in Eye

(http://www.surgical-tutor.org.uk/default-home.htm?specialities/ent/eye.htm~right)

Middle-to-Upper Class Guilt

I am not wealthy.

I am far from being wealthy.

Yet I am actually pretty wealthy.

Sometimes I wait a few seconds for the tap water to get cold before filling my glass, and I don't think much about the clean water going down the drain.

I drive a car. I own a car. I can pay for gas to fuel my car.

I have a job. 

I had the chance to graduate high school.

I go to college.

I have free time.

I am not wealthy.

I am far from being wealthy.

Yet I am actually pretty wealthy.

Should I feel guilty?

I lived in Ecuador for a year. I lived with a host family, worked in a local clinic and tried my hardest to immerse myself into the Ecuadorian way of life.

I felt many emotions when I was leaving Ecuador to come back to the United States. I wondered how I could possibly mix my new simplified way of life with my old, energy-inefficient American lifestyle.

I had a dream a few weeks before I left:

I dreamt that I was walking through my town in Puerto Quito. It was a normal day, except for some reason I was in a hurry. That was odd, as I was hardly ever in a hurry; rushing just doesn't mesh with the relaxed Puerto Quito lifestyle.

Some boy was whistling at me.

I kept walking.

Men whistle at women all the time in Ecuador and it annoys me more than anything.

I assumed this boy wanted my attention and I was in a hurry. I never gave him a second glance.

..but this boy was very persistent. He was abnormally persistent; he was annoyingly persistent.

As I sped-walk to the bus station, he kept trying to get my attention. I continued to ignore him. Can't he take a hint?

Finally, I turned toward him to yell at him to stop.

I was shocked by what I saw.

This boy was not begging for my attention to tell me I was guapa or su reina. No. There was something wrong with this boy.

His entire face was gone. Just gone. It was morphed into a black hole of nothing. It appalled me. It scared me. He didn't want to annoy me; he wanted my help.

The guilt I felt in that moment was real and pure guilt, stronger than I had ever felt in my life. I could not believe that I ignored this hurting young boy for such silly reasons -- being in such a rush and immediately stereotyping this person I didn't know before I even took a moment to look at him.

I woke up to the intense guilty feeling. My heart was beating a million miles a  minute and I was sweating. Even though it was a dream, I could not forgive myself for being foolish and ignorant.

From that moment forward, I decided I would try my hardest to never ignore someone in need. Even though my life would become busier and less energy-efficient and totally different, I would always remember the lesson that dream taught me.

In America, I can waste water to my pleasing. I can drive a car. I can go to college.

The fact is that I can enjoy these things while many of my sisters and brothers throughout my country and my world cannot. Should I feel guilty because of this blatant inequality? Is there anything I can do to ease the guilt I sometimes feel due to it?

I am still figuring out the answer to those questions for myself. I honestly don't know if feeling guilty is an appropriate response to the obvious injustice I see everywhere. I honestly don't know if feeling guilty leads to any improvement of anyone's situation. I honestly don't know what I can do to better this inequality yet.

But, for now, I do know that I can open my eyes and stop ignoring the people around me in need. While I may not have a big picture solution to the unfairness yet, I can make a difference to one person for one moment and it does make a difference. I can buy a meal for the homeless person I see on my drive to work. I can offer a kind word to a stranger who seems to be having a bad day. I can offer a helping hand and a willing heart to a friend in need. I can offer my time and talents to a local charity. There are a lot of things I can do to make the world a better place today, and the first step is opening my eyes to the boy with no face who is asking for my help.

edit: "Not All Passports are Created Equal"

hot Puerto Quito days.

Today I am homesick for Ecuador.

I miss hot Puerto Quito days..

I even miss the day-to-day normal parts of just walking through town..

I miss green jungle in the background of every photo..

I miss having a little oasis five minutes away..

I miss the food..

I miss porch-sitting in this exact spot with my best friend, Betty..

ER Stories 8: Burnt Skin

[Entry from my journal on Wednesday, February 6, 2013]

[Only the first picture is mine. All other pictures included in this post are ones I found on the internet from patients with similar cases.]

Patronato was really busy in the morning. I did a lot! Lots of patients, a few shots and a really interesting emergency:

Denise (coworker) and Chanmi (Global Citizen Year 2014) in the office/waiting room of Patronato

Denise and I exchanged a funny look when we heard odd squealing from outside. We thought it may have been an injured dog. A few seconds later, a very frantic set of parents rushed into the clinic, carrying the source of the squealing -- a little boy.

ER Stories 6: Before and After - Amputated Toe

Another ER Story from Ecuador:

Short Background Story to these photos: On my first week working in the clinic, I met a woman who recently had a good section of her middle toe/foot removed as an eventual result to her diabetes. I cleaned her foot every day and after a few months her wounds heal. 

Long & More Interesting Background Story: http://everydayambassador.org/2013/01/07/looking-up-from-sympathy-to-respect/

I am humbled to see the drastic before and after. Our bodies are miraculous.

Before:

Ecuador Archives: An Armed Robbery Story.

Quito is dangerous.

Quito is really dangerous.

I knew that.

In fact, that very week the entire Ecuador cohort and I had received safety training from the US Embassy.

It was dark, but not late at night. Maybe 8 pm or 9? My host mom is a nurse and she was giving a patient their medication. My sister was rummaging through bags of the new school supplies; my host dad had just picked us up from the mall. He was sitting in the driver's seat. My mom's seat was empty. My host sister was to my left.

We weren't sitting there for more than five minutes.

................

A man wearing all black and a mask appears at my dad's car door. He is holding a gun.

It all happens very fast after that.

Man holding gun aims at Dad. I can't speak Spanish well yet, but I know he has just told him to unlock the doors.

The doors are unlocked.

Man One stays in place with gun pointed at Dad.

Second Man sits in passenger seat next to Dad. He is shaking Dad down. He is demanding Dad's wallet, which Dad willingly hands over. He is rummaging through the glove compartment. 

Dad is always so calm, but right now his eyes are bug eyed and his hands are up on the air in surrender. He keeps saying the same words over and over again. I don't understand them, but I am sure he is telling them to take whatever they want and not to hurt us.

Man Three opens the door on my side and forces his way in. He scoots me to the middle to make room for himself. This man is holding a long screw driver. He points it at me while he yells instructions. Or maybe he isn't yelling. I cannot tell you. All I hear is words I don't understand. Dad's eyes are so big.

I am squished between Sister and Man Three.

He is wearing a mask so I cannot see his face. Maybe I could see his eyes, but I don't dare look. I only notice he, too, is wearing all black.

Man Three looks through my sister's shopping bags. He asks her what is in them. Sister is frantic, in tears, screaming. She yells that it is only notebooks and school supplies. I understand those Spanish words. She is not lying to him. Man Three looks through the bags anyway. 

Sister is scream-crying. I am afraid, but I do not scream. I only sit, stunned.

Man Three is patting us down. First Sister and then me. He keeps saying words to me. I do not understand them. I say "¡No hablo inglés!" because it's the first words I think of. I just told him "I don't speak English!" I think he gets the point, though.

I wonder if we may be abducted or killed. I have an odd thought that this scenario would make a good opening scene for a Criminal Minds episode.

I reach to hold Sister's hand.

Man Three is patting me down again. He pats every part of me, including pulling my dress up in search of anything I may be hiding.

My Ecuadorian ID, my banco de barrio card and my cell phone are all in my bra (a trick I had learned from the US Embassy earlier in the week). I should have willingly given them up, but I am not thinking logically. I am only praying he doesn't find them. I don't know if he will be angry if he finds something I intentionally hid from him.

He doesn't find anything.

I am so grateful he doesn't find anything.

..........

It is over as quickly as it began. The entire scene played out in under ten minutes. I imagine the longer it takes them, the more risk they have of getting caught.

..........

Man One continues to hold the gun to Dad's face while Man Two the Wallet Thief, Man Three the Screw-Driver Assailant and Man Four the Trunk Rummager flee to their car.

Man One waits until they are a safe distance and then runs after them.

I sit still a moment. The fear is really setting in. I think they have left, but I don't feel safe. Are they really gone? What if they come back?

I turn around. They speed off but not before I look The Four Men Dressed in Black right in the eyes. 

My heart is beating fast, or it has stopped beating altogether. I'm not sure which. 

Sister is still crying loudly. I am still holding her hand. I don't want to let go. I lock my door. I don't know what else to do. What if they come back?

Dad keeps asking me if I'm okay. "Estoy bien. Estoy bien," I insist. I am fine. I am shaken but I am just fine.

They're gone, I think.

Ecuador Archives: Carnaval Part 2 THE FOOD

I know what you're thinking: Wow, that intestine soup looks DELICIOUS. How do you think I could make myself some of that?

Now I would never give away my family's cooking secrets, but I do have some behind-the-scenes footage of the making of this tradition Carnaval dish:

¡Buen provecho!

Part One