Puebla

This weekend a group of 8 of us took a trip to check out the city of Puebla. Many of us Americans celebrate the battle of Puelba every year on Cinco de Mayo, which is the day the Mexicans defeated the French in a sort of David and Goliath-like fashion. They ultimately lost the war, but it still gives us reason to drink margaritas and Corona in Irish pubs.

A million people live in the city but it has a very small feel. It's surrounded by mountain ranges, volcanoes and open land. It's one of the few parts of the country that has managed to avoid drug trafficking drama. It felt good to not have to worry about city curfews, which has been the case in Cuernavaca lately. At around 7,000 feet the weather is a lot more mild...even a little cool in the morning. It was a nice break from the intense heat we've been having in Miacatlan.

We also visited a nearby city called Chulula where my friends Erika and Sophie studied for a semester. I walked with them as they visited their old haunts. Chulula is also known for a huge pyramid, on top of which the Spanish built a Cathedral in true colonial fashion.

Another highlight was hanging out with my friend Raul, who I had visited back in January. He goes to college in Puebla and was able to show us some of the city, including a good taco joint and a fun salsa club on Saturday night.

By the way, I stole these pictures from Erika's Facebook page, so I can't take credit for any of them.

Huriel

Last week the kids finished another quarter of the school year, which meant there was a round of exams. The older kids are required to take an Arts class and for their exam they have to choreograph a group dance and then perform it in front of the whole school. I went to watch them Thursday and Friday mornings. Most of the groups consisted of about 20 kids trying to copy their favorite pop stars' dance moves that they had seen on Youtube videos. At times it was painful to watch but I sat in front taking pictures, as they instructed me to do.

I met Huriel one of my first weeks here. He broke his finger and would show up every once in a while to show me that it was moving better. He's in the Special Ed department. He has this interesting balance of confidence and shyness, which I can appreciate. A couple of Sundays ago he asked me to buy him a Michael Jackson CD at the market. I was able to find a nice mix with a lot of MJ's greatest hits.

Friday morning he walked onto the center of the basketball court in front of all of his classmates wearing black dress shoes, a white belt and a white styrofoam hat. I waited for the rest of his group to join him, but then I realized he was going solo. Billy Jean started to pump over the speakers and he proceded to moon walk back and forth for a full 5 minutes...shedding his white hat and jacket in the process. It was very Napolean Dynamite-esque. Afterwards he came up to me asking for my approval, I honestly told him it was my favorite all of the dances...and I took his picture.

I'm On A Boat

Yesterday all 16 volunteers took a retreat together. It was the first time all of us were able to go on a social outing together because usually we alternate work weekends. We spent the day in Xochimilco, which is the south part of Mexico City. It's known for its canals that flow through the borough. Its most famous attraction are the Xochimilco boat rides. We all piled onto one boat and our driver propelled us though the canals using a huge stick. A whole economy exists along the canal. Boats of mariachis will pull up alongside you to serenade you. Old women in canoes prepare beers with chili and salt, complete with blessings. They're a little expensive, but supposedly they're worth it. I even saw a guy boiling water for corn on the cob using an open fire on his wooden canoe. The atmosphere amongst the boat riders ranges from a relaxing picnic vibe to party boat style. We chose the party route and had a lot of fun together. I even took part in the all-guy shirtless beer shotgun ritual. There was more than one comment of surprise from the women folk that an old man like myself would partake in such college-like shenanigans. But I did just fine after a little orientation. Good people and good old fashion fun...not my typical "nice little Sunday", but luckily I'm not too much worse for the wear on this Monday afternoon.

Perla

Perla is my youngest patient and one of my most consistent patients. She isn't a "pequena", meaning she doesn't live here at the house. She's what is called an "externa", she lives in town and her parents pay money for her to attend school at NPH rather than the public school in Miacatlan. Pati, who seems to know everyone within a 20 mile radius, introduced me to Perla's mother the first week I arrived. Perla has been unofficially diagnosed with Muscular Dystrophy, which has left her with limited strength and difficulty walking. She is well known around the NPH home because of her obvious disability.

Despite being extremely shy, Perla and I have developed a good rhythm together when she comes for treatment after school. Despite very few words being spoken, she has shown increased comfort with me. She laughs more each week and now feels comfortable if her mom waits outside during our sessions. We always finish with a Wii boxing match between Perla and her sister Yeri who is in Kindergarten. Sometimes their cousin Diego comes in too and pretends like he's playing along (as seen in the picture).

Perla's mom pays me with occasional treats like fruit, yogurt or cookies. Yesterday she invited Pati and I to their home for lunch. Perla lives under an umbrella of strong women, including her aunts and grandmother. The men are either deceased or working in the United States. Perla's father works in Los Angeles, sending enough money for her to attend "private" school.

I can't help but to compare Perla to the kids in the house here at NPH. On one hand she has a mother who daily advocates for her to receive the therapy she needs. There is no way the pequenos in the house can receive this one on one attention. But at the same time Perla's mother lacks the resources to ultimately get her daughter the proper medical care she needs. Every child with a disability at NPH is followed by Shriners hospital in Mexico City. It's a complicated process that often involves social workers and a knowledge of "the system"...a task that is too overwhelming no matter how many times I mention it to Perla's mother. Honestly, it's hard to say who has a greater advantage. In the meantime Perla and I will keep plugging away.

***On a side note I'm feeling much more like myself again. I think putting it out there was good medicine. Thank you for those who expressed concern. No doubt there are bad days in life, but it gets hard when they stack up!

Halftime

Please excuse the "Exercise In Living" halftime intermission. I've been in a weird head space since hitting the 3 month point here in Mexico. I haven't felt quite like myself and needless to say, I've lacked the inspiration to write. I wish I could pinpoint something that's causing it but I can't. I'm eating well, sleeping enough, exercising almost daily, using legal substances in moderation, even taking a vitamin. So bear with me, I hope to be back in action in the near future.

Baby Jesus

Jesus is kid I've known for awhile. He's famous for coming up and saying, "Hey man!" in a classic Mexican accent. He's always injured and when he hurts badly enough, he'll come up to the clinic for some help. I started calling him Baby Jesus, partly because he likes English (and gets the reference) and partly because he whines like a baby no matter what I ask him to do. His official nickname is Chango, which is a word used here in Mexico for a small monkey. I don't really like it because it's a name they use for kids who look more indigenous. Part of the reason he's always hurting himself is that his shoes are torn up, his toes literally come out of the top. He also really likes to play soccer. When I mentioned the possibility of getting some new shoes, he would always tell me that his uncle is the lawyer for the President of Mexico, and would send him money. That never came through, but luckily my friend Park the Krazy Korean and Baby Jesus became fast friends and Park left some money to buy him some shoes. So this morning we hit the market and he picked out some shiny new black soccer kicks, which should serve him well on the slippery soccer courts here. I hope they keep him injury free.

"Wear them in good health"... famous quote by my grandma every Christmas.

"Hey, I put my new shoes on and suddenly everything is all right"... lyric by Paolo Nutini

Taxco German Style

Today I went with my friends Erika, Jane and Martin to a town called Taxco, famous for its silver mines. It's a steep curvy bus ride to reach the town. My new friend Martin who is visiting from Germany politely woke me up during the ride and asked if I had a plastic bag. Luckily I did and in stereotypical German style he stoically threw up in the bag and then went on as if nothing ever happened. The German theme continued as we explored the town in several vehicles: VW bug taxis, VW bus public transit, and a cable car ride that I believe was also made in Germany (or was it Switzerland?). We also walked our share of the steep cobble stone streets, often dodging VW bugs. It was another nice little Sunday. I spent Friday and Saturday in Cuernavaca but exploring a new place made the weekend seem twice as long.

Change Is Always Hard

It's hard to get change here in Mexico...especially if you're carrying big bills, which is usually the case when you're a high roller like myself. No, but seriously folks, when you go to the bank or ATM, you're almost always given higher denominations (200 and 500 bills). Two-hundred pesos for example is a little less than $20, and it's a struggle to find a place that will accept it without having to go up and down the block asking other vendors for change. This is understandable for people selling hot dogs, peanuts or fruit on the street, but even legit businesses like bus companies are known to make a big fuss about using a bigger bill. When I'm with a group of friends I notice that we often borrow money, not because we're out but because we haven't had the chance to break a bill. Today I had a store owner give me a discount so that he wouldn't have to give me all of his coins. In conclusion, I've learned to carry an assortment of bills and coins...and always be strategic in the order that I spend them.

Can I Check My E-Mail?

One of my first weeks here, a kid noticed my lap top and asked if he could check his email. I didn't think much of it and said yes. Little did I know that I had just stepped onto a slippery slope. Before I knew it, everyone and their brother were asking me to check their email. I quickly learned to set boundaries. There is a place and a time...and it's always conditional. The place is on the stairs below my room where we can usually catch a wireless signal. The time is 6pm, a half hour before dinner (it needs to be finite). Once the bell rings for dinner, e-mail time is over. It's always conditional because I hate to disappoint them if something at work runs late or another responsibility pops up. It's not uncommon to pass a kid during the day and they'll just say, "Tonight at 6?", to which my response is always, "We'll see."

As you can see from the picture a crowd develops once the lap top pops up...it's my most popular moment of the day. The kids sit behind eachother and critique eachother's spelling and typing speed as they hunt and peck away. They have great email addresses like, akon_silmshadypunk@hotmail.com or blinkmiguel_182@hotmail.com. The funny thing too is that most of their messages are forwards from a crazy aunt or spam mail. But I guess in this day and age checking your email is a sort of rite of passage, there's some sort of importance in having to do the act itself.

Anthropological Easter

I was ready to tear up Mexico city with my friend Park this weekend, unfortunately I was too sick accomplish my goal. It started with me almost passing out during the Our Father during the Good Friday Mass here at NPH. Despite a blood pressure of 70/60, I decided to still make the trek to Mexico City...and then spend almost 36 hours straight in a hotel room with very little energy or appetite. When I emerged from my tomb this morning, I had every intention of attending an Easter service, but they're harder to find than you might think. As an alternative I went to the Museum of Anthropolgy.

The museum is filled with artifacts, photographs and comical dioramas of primitive scenes (think junior high science project). Despite the cheesiness of the dioramas, I couldn't help but to think that the majority of my genes are wired to perform the same tasks that hunter gatherers faced thousands of years ago. Zoom in on the picture of the neanderthals fending off predators, holding rocks with their opposable thumbs (it made me think of my own instincts when I've faced packs of dogs while running here in Mexico).

During my visit I also learned a new term that has brought some clarity to my understanding of Mexican culture. The term is religious syncretism, which refers to the ways in which indigenous people incorporated Catholicism into their own religious system. This wasn't forced by missionaries but rather it came from their need to have dieties for the new tools and techniques that were brought by the Spanish. For example, Christ was seen as the creator of cattle, metal tools and money. Celebrations of Christmas and Easter also corresponded well with solstice festivities. This fluidity between the Mexican people's indigenous roots and declaration of Catholicism is still very present today. In fact I mentioned this reality after witnessing my first parade during my first week here. Personally, coming from a country where most of us are detached from our indigenous roots, this fluidity was hard to wrap my head around. People tend to draw clear lines between Catholic vs. Non-Catholic, Christian vs. Non-Christian, Believer vs. Non-Believer, Atheist vs. Pagan. In fact, the lightness with which some Mexicans hold their spiritual allegiance might have really bothered not too long ago. But I'm at a place where presently where I can appreciate it.

Fabiola

I mentioned Fabiola in the "Girl Talk" post, but she deserves her own spotlight. She had septic arthritis when she was very young, which resulted in several surgeries and a severely contracted right knee. She is by far my all star patient. In fact, I don't think she has ever missed a session. Not only has she been consistent, but she has been an excellent student of what it takes to care of her joints and her body in general. She calls me "maestro", which means teacher. The truth is that she has been one of my best teachers. If I prounounce something incorrectly she makes me repeat it until I get it right. My friend Park picked up on this and has been coming up to the clinic during her sessions for tutoring sessions while she does her exercises. She's incredibly patient.

She's a special kid. One day my Spanish was flowing better than normal and she stopped me before she left and said, "I'm so proud of you Maestro, you've improved so much!" In addition to the physical benefits she received from therapy, I've noticed an increased confidence in her. From what I understand she's had some self esteem issues in the past and these days she seems much more self assured. I'm proud of her too.

Krazy Korean

My last year in Camden I had roommate named Jaeduck Park, who we affectionately called the Krazy Korean. At the time he was studying for his second Masters in Linguistics at the University of Pennsylvania. We became quick friends. He was always whipping up exotic Korean concoctions in the kitchen. When I would try them, he would reply with one of his pat sayings, like "You my friend man!" (Insert cool Asian accent)

We both moved away in 2007. He took a job with the government in Monterrey, California teaching intensive Korean language classes to CIA-types by day. At night he teaches English as a second language at a local community college to Mexican immigrants. Through his experience he's become very interested in the Spanish language and culture. So when he heard I would be in Mexico for 6 months, he didn't hesitate to book a flight for a visit.

It's been amazing to watch him attack the language from such a technical standpoint. Despite having no formal Spanish education, he's constantly asking about different verb tenses and grammar structure. Unlike most tourists he actually uses his Spanish/English dictionary with incredible efficiency. He's developed his own entourage of kids who follow him around, so he's had plenty of time to put his knowlege to use while I'm working in the clinic. Not to mention, he's a really funny guy, which he finds a way to transcend with his limited language skills. I'm glad he's here. We'll be heading to Mexico City together this weekend for a little descanso.

Mexi Stache

I was experimenting with the mustache before I left for Mexico, but decided to go clean cut before I left. Ever since I've been waiting for the inspiration to bring it back. After being mustache-less for the last two and half months, my mustache whiskers were jumping out at me, so I decided to leave it when I shaved the other day. As is usually the case, I've gotten mixed reviews. One of the best was from one of my fellow volunteers, Kelly, who complimented the stache in the early stages, saying it was on par with the Mexi Stache. Mexican men aren't known for the full beard but if they don't shave for a few days, the mustacle seems to represent the strongest. I'm not sure if my stache will last, but I feel like it gives me a little extra street cred for now.

Adventures With Pati

I mentioned last week that my Saturdays are always different. One activity that I forgot to mention was taking Pati to visit friends in the pueblo. This usually involves pushing Pati through the backroads of Miacatlan literally for miles. I'm feeling much more comfortable with my off road wheelchair driving skills. The good news is that there is usually a nice meal on the other end of the journey. Today we ended up in the home of a very nice family who had prepared a birthday pozole for Pati. Being both a foreigner and a visitor I was gifted with the pig's foot in my bowl of soup. I asked if it was edible or just for flavor. When they told me it was a delicacy, I ate it up, little hairs and all!

One other bonus to the trip was this little guy Juan who you see in the pictures. He's 4 years old and such a cute kid. Little ones love Pati and he's no exception. As he layed with her on the floor he would ask me great questions, like "Does she ever cry?" Which I responded, "Sometimes." Then he asked, "Why doesn't she grow?", which I didn't know how to answer. Me and Juanito also played soccer and explored a nearby river after lunch. He's quite the climber, refusing to hold my hand even on the steep inclines.

Mexican Hot Dogs

Having just bragged the other day about having access to homegrown meat here at NPH, I must reveal that we also eat our share of meat slurry. Hot dogs are big staple here, for breakfast and dinner in particular. Often for breakfast they're chopped up and served with salsa. Yesterday for Pati's birthday party Dona Felipa whipped up a special concoction with hot dogs, cheese, and green salsa. Tonight was straight up hot dog night. The line is always slower to get your food because there is an assembly line of condiments: first is the maynaise bucket (as seen above) - which goes directly on the bun, then chilis - a Mexican favorite, then tomatoes and onions, lastly ketchup - which is squirted haphazardly over the whole plate. The final product is quite the creation as you see Paco displaying. Even a true Chicagoan would be proud, minus the ketchup of course.

Girl Talk

Girls are more responsible than boys. I've known this for a long time, but now I'm being reminded of it every day. I'm finding that when a girl has an injury, they come in for an evaluation right away and they keep coming back until they're better. The boys tend to wait a couple of weeks until the injury is really bad and then ask for help. Instead of focusing on what they need to do to get better, they perseverate the whole session on when they can go back to playing soccer. I'll usually see them again whenever it's convenient for them. I'm still trying to find ways solve this problem.

For the time being, I have a lot more girl patients than boy patients. In fact, many times in the afternoon, there are several of them at once. Lately these three young ladies in the pictures; Fabiola, Blanca and Nancy, have been working out together. As I coordinate all of their treatments, I also tend to get caught up in their girl talk. Conversations tend vary from anything from school to boyfriends to who believes in ghosts. They tend to critique my music selection and recommend movies I never intend to see. I still have Twilight (Crepusculo) and New Moon (Luna Nueva) DVDs sitting on my desk. I tried to explain that I won't watch them, but they won't take them back.

Eating Local

I've mentioned sheep (borrego) once before, it's the nickname given to kids with curly hair. Some people count sheep to help them fall asleep, but I just listen to them instead. My room happens to be a straight shot from the sheep pen, so when I'm lying in bed at night, I fall asleep to the rhthmic "bahs" of my wooly neighbors. There's something comforting about sleeping so close to my food source. They say the average piece of food in the United States travels 1500 miles before it arrives on your plate. It takes a lot of chemicals and fossil fuels to sustain such a journey, not to mention a cost to the nutritional value and flavor. Today we had barbeque lamb for lunch...and it only had to travel 500 feet from the farm to the dining room.

Spiders and Flies

When I was applying for a position with NPH I was most intrigued by the opportunity to provide physical therapy in a Latin American country. I downplayed the fact that I would be working with kids, both in my own mind and when describing the opportunity to other people. The reality was that I had very little pediatric physical therapy experience and limited interactions with kids in my personal life. Living and working in a big city like Chicago, sometimes it felt like days would go by without seeing a kid. During my morning bike commute it was always a shock to see a kid riding his bike or walking to school. My most recent kid credentials involve being an uncle to my nephew and niece, which usually involves fighting the rest of my family for their short bursts of attention.

One of my few legitimate kid experiences involved working as the part-time phys. ed. teacher at Sacred Heart School during my last year in Camden. I would teach K-4th grade on Tuesday mornings and 5th-8th on Thursday. It was a tough gig because they were inner city kids and it was the only scheduled physical outlet that they had at school all week. I wanted to respect their need to burn off some energy, but I also needed to retain some sense of order. The result was chaos...fist fights, cat fights, and tears almost every class. Not to mention the fact that I was usually alone with them in a park across from the school and I had to leave right after class to go to my other job, so I could never enforce any of my punishments.

One of my few positive memories was playing a game called Spiders and Flies with the younger kids. They would line up at one end of the soccer field and I would pick a couple "spiders" who would go to midfield, the rest of the kids would be "flies". Then there was a chant between the two groups: "We are spiders!"..."We are flies!"..."We're going to catch you!"..."You just try!" Then the flies would try to run to the other side of the field without being caught. If they were, they'd become spiders.

Every Sunday here at NPH we do a volunteer activity with the kids in the afternoon. Today I decided I would do Spiders and Flies (Aranjas y Moscas) with the younger kids. I wasn't creative enough to come up with a chant, but I made sure to hype them up before they ran. They really got into it. As you can see from the pictures, they were at a pool activity before mine, so they're sporting their swim gear. No fights and no tears...it was good day.

As far as my kid credentials go, I think I'm slowly advancing. I was pretty shell shocked my first day here, but I'm learning. I've noticed that kids often don't want to "interact" with you, they just want you to show up. They don't always say much at the dinner table or in the dorm at night, but they always ask me to show up and they always notice if I'm gone.

Saturday with the Angels

Saturdays always look different for me. I don't see patients so usually I spend the day tinkering around the clinic trying to make myself useful...fixing wheelchairs, running errands in town, hanging out with patients. The cast of characters in the clinic is always fluctuating depending on who is hurt or sick. I introduced Angel #1 (Akon) a few weeks ago. He's the kid who broke his jaw during my first week here when he fell off a balcony. We're hoping he's going to be cleared to eat real food on Monday. Dan and I are planning to take him out for some tacos to celebrate.

There is a second Angel who's been in the clinic this week with a sprained wrist. He's a little younger than Akon, just the right age that he thinks I'm really cool. He's like a little brother following me around, asking me what I'm doing and always offering to help. He makes my plate at lunch or if I'm carrying a box he grabs one end to help me...only using his good arm of course.

Today I had to wash the towels from the PT room, so me and the Angels formed a 3-man system. Akon washed half the towels on his side of the water tank. I took the other side with Angel #2 as my assistant. Because I am still learning the ways of hand washing, he coached me through each step: first wet the towel, then sprinkle with powdered soap, throw some more water on the towel, with your hands flat rub each section of the towel on the stone, flip and repeat, then pour water one section at a time to rinse out the soap, wring it dry. When we finished each towel Angel #2 would run up the stairs to hang it out to dry...again only using his good arm.

As a treat for their hard work I let them play Wii this afternoon. After so many weeks in the clinic, Akon has become an all star at almost every game, so today he was mentoring Angel # 2 on the tricks of each game. He's quite the protege.

PB You Complete Me

When I moved away from Camden, NJ my friends made some t-shirts in my honor. They decided there were 4 constants in my life that defined me: 1.) Biking 2.) Running 3.)Peanut Butter and Jelly sandwiches (I was known for making 2 every night to bring to work the next day) 4.) Quoting 90's rap songs - represented by this profound lyric by the group Kris Kross, "Some y'all try to rhyme but you can't rhyme like this.".

When I packed my bags for Mexico, I made sure I had my running shoes and my bike. As for the 90's rap lyrics, they'll always be etched in my brain. The one thing I forgot was peanut butter, which is hard to come by down here.

My Auntie Kathy emailed me a couple of weeks ago and asked if there was anything she could send in a care package. I told her peanut butter and anything else she could fit in the box. Needless to say, she came through. It was like being reunited with an old friend. Peanut butter, you complete me.