Nice Little Sunday

Jon spends his Sundays in a colonia called Coyoacan where his wife's family is from. It wasn't far from where we were staying, so he suggested it as a nice place to recover after a crazy Saturday. It was the definition of a good Sunday for me, no matter where I am in the world. The weather was perfect, there were plenty of options for a good cup of coffee and plenty of people watching.

As a bonus, Jon insisted on grabbing some famous pancakes from a local vendor. The guy is a legit pancake artist. Jon asked him to make me a pancake of a sexy lady. The guy was trip, describing each part as he "drew" it, asking me if I approved. He even had me butter her naughty parts as a finishing touch. He was impressed with my skills.

Jonathan Chenier

I first met Jonathan Chenier over 10 years ago as a crazy Canadian track star. We ran track and cross country together at Marquette. Jon is the quintessential extravert, the sort of guy who could transcend the cliques between distance runners, sprinters, and throwers. He affectionately called me his non-sexual crush back in the day.

When he graduated in 2002 through a series of events he got a job teaching history at an international school in Mexico City. Over the last 8 years he's picked up the language and a wonderful Mexican wife. He teaches the children of diplomats from all over the world in addition to the Mexican elite at a school called The American School Foundation. He's moved on from teaching history to an administrative postition as an activities specialist, organizaing everything from camps to dances. I could see him being great at it.

Friday night Jon and his wife Carla insisted on having all 8 of us over for a BBQ to springboard the weekend. It was my first burger in awhile and it really hit the spot. Saturday night he led the way as we buzzed through the historic districts on a makeshift pub crawl. As we processed down streets and alleys he excitedly pointed out attactions in a well perfected Spanglish. He even convinced the owner of a famous bar to come to our table for a private history lesson. The night culminated in a place known as Garibaldi Square, which is full of Mariachi players. We ate dinner, drank beer and tequila and then Jon carefully selected the musicians to serenade us. I can't thank Jon enough for his hospitality and generousity. I plan to rendevous with Chen Dogg again in the near future.

By the way, in these pictures he is stoking the BBQ coals with his wife's colorful flowered hair dryer, posing with a Mariachi player who came by to compliment Jon on his hair cut and the non-sexual crushes are united once again.

Mexico City

This weekend was my second descanso. A group of 8 of us hopped the bus to Mexico City. When it comes to cities, Mexico put all of its eggs in one basket...it is the epicenter of the country, if not Latin America. It started as the hub of the Aztecs and is now flooded with at least 22 million people. It represents the extremes of the country from the billionaires to communities that literally live in the sewers. Just riding the subway you can see how many people are scrapping for a living, selling anything from gum, to batteries, to CD's. Amazingly it seems like they're making it work. It's also famously known for its pollution. I took the bottom picture from a bar on the 48th floor of a building downtown. You can appreciate the haze that hangs over the city. The pollution in the air literally makes your nail beds brown. In two days I could only scratch the surface of this impressively huge city.

Lunch with Yelli and Lilia

Yelli and Lilia were recently assigned to clinic to help with the chores. Before they arrived this saintly woman named Dona Felipa (who I'll have to write about another day) was working non-stop 11 hours a day constantly sweeping, washing, serving food and taking out the trash.

From what I understand these two were part of the Special Ed department throughout school. NPH has a transitional house in Cuernavaca for students in their situation where they can live and work after high school. A lot the focus is on learning the life skills necessary to live on their own. They were having some problems so they were sent back to Miacatlan to work various jobs. They live in the dorms with the oldest girls.

Yelli (short for Angelica) is on the left in the picture. She was referred to me as patient when I got here because of a history of mild CP. She required a lot coaxing to participate initially because of a some significant self esteem issues. She was slowly coming out of her shell, but now that she has her sidekick Lilia she has really blossomed.

The first time I met Lilia she asked me about 20 questions in a row and probably pinched my cheeks 5 times, saying "Ahhh", the way a big sister would to her little brother. She cannot remember my name, so she calls me "Papa".

At lunch time they set the table and desiginate the seats for everyone. One of them has to sit next to Dan and one of them next to me. Every day they ask if we have girfriends. When we say no, they go through this routine of speculating which of the female volunteers we like. Dan was feeling under the weather today and didn't have the patience to go through the whole list, and just said we all share lovers. When they acted surprised, he calmly said, "Asi es el amor" (Such is love). It was a great response and they were forced to change subjects. The doctor sits quietly at the other end of the table chuckling to himself. Yelli and Lilia have definitely spiced up the lunch hour.

By the way, this photo is a legit glamour shot, some definite primping was required before they would allow me to take it.

Napkins

I'm not a big fan of the napkin. Most of the time it seems like a formality that creates unneeded paper waste. It especially bothers me at takeout places when they throw piles of napkins into your bag without asking if you want them. I had a whole drawer in my old apartment dedicated to excess napkins that I never used but couldn't bring myself to throw away.

Here at NPH you won't find napkins at any of the meals. When I get salsa on my hands I usually wipe it on my pants or if I want to spare some laundry I'll wipe my hands on my legs or on my hair (it makes for good conditioner).

I've noticed other kids and staff wiping their hands on other people's shirts after a meal. They do it one of two ways. The first is very blatant, so that the victim knows they are doing it. If you choose this route you have to follow a hierarchy ie. older vs. younger, stronger vs. weaker, encargado vs. pequeno, director vs. encargado. There is no retaliation if you follow suit. The second way is the incognito ambush. This takes the form of a pat or slap on the back, a quick shoulder rub or a kid jumping on your back. If you can pull it off you can bypass the hierarchy, but if you're caught, expect retaliation. I tend to be weary of overly affectionate kids after meals.

Encargado

Encargado means "person in charge". It is the title given to the people who take care of the children. Before I arrived I didn't quite understand how this was organized, so I thought it would be worth explaining. Children here are affectionately referred to as pequenos. A typical pequeno lives in the Miacatlan home from childhood (as young as 3 years old) until 9th grade (some kids are as old as 19). Upon graduation they move to another house in Cuernavaca where they attend high school. High school is broken up into 6 semesters. Upon high school graduation the pequenos are asked to give 2 years of service before going on to college. A very high percentage of the kids comply with this. During these years a majority return to Miacatlan to work as encargados, taking care of the children. The encargados usually work in teams of 2, taking care of a section of about 30 kids. Sections are determined by gender/age/year in school, but also by maturity level and the size of the child (because younger kids share clothing). The encargados wake the children in the morning, make sure they bathe, wash clothes, help with homework, provide discipline, resolve conflicts and then put the kids to bed. It's a lot to ask of someone in their late teens to early 20's, but then again it's the family structure they grew up with. They get a weekend off every 2 weeks and receive about $100 per month as compensation. When they successfully complete their two years they are invited to the NPH home in Monterrey (northern Mexico) where they live together, work and study at the university.

The picture above is of Manriquez, also known as "Mikey". He is one of the encargados in the section that I help out. A lot of volunteers primarily work as encargados during their time here. Manriquez was disappointed that none had chosen his section, so he asked me if I would adopt them even though I work in the clinic. He's a funny guy. He is not ashamed to to tell you that he idolizes "Stiffler" from the American Pie movies. He asked me to watch American Pie 6 last week but I told him I had to organize my sock drawer. He often asks me to swing by the dorm at night to help kids with English homework and then he will tear me away from the kids to listen to a song that he loves. His room is partitioned off in the dorm by the kids lockers and he has posters of Blink 182 all over the walls. Supposedly they're still popular. As you can see in the picture he is not shy. One of the first nights I was here he set up the sound system for an activity and then proceded to lip sync to one of his jams. He's got a great heart and the kids think he's really cool. We seem to make a decent team, what I lack in coolness I try to make up for in maturity.

Wild Wild Horses

The title if this post is a bit misleading, but when this group of horses ran past me it felt like they were wild. I had seen it happen once before, but yesterday they were running towards me on my bike ride and I had my camera handy...que suerte (what luck)! I often see horses grazing on the side of country roads or in fields that have been harvested. It's common enough that I assume it's an accepted practice amongst local farmers to let them roam. I don't know anything about horses but for some reason every once in awhile they'll get in a group and break into a gallop between one field and another. To me it's this crazy paradox between them exercising a pre-domestic instinct to run free, yet they are conditioned to never stray far from home.

Three Types of Mexican Dogs

Starting at about 5 years old I used to ride my bike alongside my dad when he ran. I can remember vividly the first time a dog charged at us from someone's yard. My dad stood up to the dog, pointed at it and yelled in a deep voice, "No! No! Get down"...and it worked. I've stuck to his method ever since.

When I was staying with my parents in January my dad told the story of the first time he went running in Mexico. Within a few minutes he came across a dog on the street and started yelling at it. He said the dog looked at him in confusion and some old men on the corner started laughing at him. The dog had just enough energy to live, it didn't want to waste any calories chasing my dad.

I would say 90% of the dogs I've encountered here in Mexico are the way my dad described them. A perfect example would be the skinny looking dog in the bottom picture. I saw her this morning on a bike ride. She was soaking the sun into her cold bones after a chilly night. These guys don't even budge when I go by.

Another 5% of the dogs are represented by the two dogs in the middle picture who are literally scratching their fur off. These guys have a serious flea problem and seem to be generally irritated. I go out of my way to avoid these dogs.

The last 5% are represented by the two dogs in the top picture who are wrestling eachother. They are big enough to do some damage and well fed enough that they have the energy to start some trouble. In case you can't tell I took this picture from the opposite side of the street. There is a farm dog on my running route that confronts me a couple of times a week. I knew right away that he was a fighter by the battle scar across his back. He waits on the side of the road and as I get closer he starts to flex his shoulders and flash his teeth. When I get within a couple of feet he tears after me and barks like hell. In these situations I implement my dad's method. When I yell in a deep voice, my words aren't censored for a 5 year old. In fact, when I was on my cross country bike ride, I wrote a post about dog encounters entitled "Down Mothertrucker...Down!". I can tell you my language has gotten worse since then. Other than my language, my dad must have taught me well, because that dog backs down everytime...or maybe I'm not worth chasing more than 10 feet.

All About The Whistle

Anyone who knows me knows that I'm a big fan of the whistle. My trademark whistle is an imitation of the "Ca Caw Ca Caw" bird call. When I lived with a lot of people, I could simply give "the whistle" and everyone would know when I was home or in another room. I also used the whistle when I was working at RIC. There was a time when I was constantly asking my co-worker Shannon for help with a difficult patient. I got sick of asking so instead I would just stick my head in the gym door and give my whistle. She gave me a hard time for whistling at her in at first, but then it became standard. She would say, "If you need me, just whistle."

When it comes to music I'm also a big fan of the whistle. One of my favorite singers is Andrew Bird who is arguably at the top of the whistling game. He creates these amazing loops with whistling melodies. Here in Mexico I enjoy hearing the Regaton music because I can whistle along with the horn parts.

All this to say, Mexican culture is a whistler's paradise. Of course there is the machismo whistle at the mamacitas as they walk by. But it's also common to to just give a short whistle and a wave or a peace sign when you're passing someone, rather than using words. I've been using this a lot, especially when passing big groups of kids. I've also noticed that the whistle is often used to replace words when describing something. For example, "We're going to eat and then (whistle + 2 fingers imitating running)" = "We're going to eat and then we'll go."

This picture above is of Angel, but they call him Akon, like the rapper, which they pronounce "A-Cone". He was messing around on the balcony a couple of weeks ago, fell and broke his jaw and some ribs. So he's been "encamado" (bedridden) here in the clinic. The irony is that he's never in bed, so I've been letting him play the Wii to pass the time. I think he's going to be an expert at every game by the time he heals. His jaw is wired shut, so a lot of our communication involves whistling.

Boss Lady

This post is well overdue. This is Julia our faithful volunteer coordinator. My intention was to write about her a month ago when I was introducing the whole crew. She was going back and forth between Miacatlan and Cuernavaca during our first two weeks, so I kept holding out to see if I could gather some dirt on her. The truth is that there's none to be had.

Julia is 23 and originally from Arizona. She arrived here in Mexico back in July and is committed to staying here until January 2011. As the volunteer coordinator she has to make sure we all know what we're supposed to be doing and that we do it. She's very good at communicating what's important. She makes colorful signs on a daily basis tapes them next to the door in the volunteer lounge. For example, "Saturday: wear your black polo, mass is at 5pm" or "Smash your trash!". She also has charts for chores and what day you're assigned to do your laundry. The first day I met her at the airport she whipped out her scheduler and started checking off a long list of things to do that day. It takes such a person to do her job...she's definitely management material. Not only that, but she is the liason between the Mexican staff and the volunteers. She is the proverbial messenger, but can hold her own (and her liquor) amongst machismo Mexican men and smart ass volunteers.

Miacatlan Critical Mass

In the mornings I run along a country road that passes through several large farms that grow sugar cane, corn and agave plants. Bikes are a common form of transportation around here. I always smile when I see a grandmotherly looking woman pumping up the hills on her BMX with 2 bags of groceries on the handle bars. It's also not uncommon to see campesinos heading out to the fields on their bikes, often with a hoe over their shoulder. But this morning I was passed by a whole mass of cyclists, some of whom had pictures of the Virgen Mary strapped to their bikes. They even had sag wagons following behind...it seemed like a legit ride. I asked a local guy what was going on and he said it was tradition in this area on Ash Wednesday. I have a feeling that they see it as form of penance because people around here don't seem to ride their bike just for the sake of riding.

I jokingly titled this post "Miacatlan Critical Mass" because it seemed as if the sheer number of

riders changed the traffic norms. Usually I'm forced to jump off the road when cars fly down this narrow road, but today it was as if the cars were conditioned to react to me. For those of you unfamiliar with Critical Mass, it's a gathering of cyclists that happens in most big cities around the world on the last Friday of the month. For example in Chicago thousands of cyclists meet at Daley Plaza and clog the downtown streets during rush hour and then head aimlessly (usually) through different neighborhoods. It's tradition to yell, "Happy Friday" as you pass pedestrians and stopped cars. It's an opportunity for cyclists to be the majority and affect the car-dominated culture. Responses often vary, some frustrated drivers go into fits of road rage as they wait up to 20 minutes for everyone to pass and others smile and give a thumbs up. I don't know if it's the best way to earn respect for bikers, but it sure is fun!

I didn't have my camera this morning but I found a random picture of Mexican cyclists behind the Virgen. The other 2 pics were taken at the Chicago Critical Mass.

A Haircut You Can Set Your Watch To

The title of the this post was taken from my Grandpa Bob, God rest his soul. As some of the boys in our extended family got older and experimented with growing our hair longer, he would give us a hard time. One year at a family party, my cousin Drew showed up with a traditional haircut and Grandpa Bob said, "Ahh, there's a haircut you can set your watch to!" I still don't know exactly what he meant by that, but I'll never forget it.

Today 80 cosmetology students from Cuernavaca descended upon the house to provide hundreds of haircuts for the kids. The makeshift salon took place on the patio in front of the stairs that lead up to my room. There is no way I could pentetrate the crowd. All I could do was take a few picture through the fence.

In honor of the occasion I thought I would make some comments in relation to my observations of the kids' hairstyles. First of all, gel (pronounced "hell") is a key ingredient. Luckily most kids have access to a big vat of it in their dorm rooms. When the older kids get access to money, it's a priority on their shopping list. The Faux Hawk is also a popular style for the guys, but the word on the street is that it is fading. If a boy misbehaves, they will shave his head bald, as a sort of public castigation. I always watch my back when I see little guy with shaved head lurking around me. And for those of us with curly hair, "borrego" (sheep) is a common nickname. The kids haven't called me that to my face, but it's only matter of time.

Avatar/Ishmael/Animism

The buzz about Avatar was definitely in full effect right before I left for Mexico. Most people were talking about 3D, special effects, action...none of which really do it for me when it comes to movies. My first weekend here our volunteer coordinator bought a pirated DVD version at the market. I saw part of the movie that night and I was I was captured by the story, which everyone had neglected to talk about.

The week before I came to Mexico, I wrote a post about Animism/Catholicism. A few people dropped me a message asking more about animism. I gave an inadequate answer, trying to distinguish it from a formal religion. Animism is a word someone came up with to describe a way of life that recognizes a common divinity/"energy" between all living and even non-living things. This world view was held and is held by many groups of people who have chosen to live outside of the present dominate culture.

A better answer would have been to tell everyone to see Avatar. The people of Pandora are animists. Jake Sully (great name by the way), the main character, gets the privelege of learning the ways of the people. His training culminates when he makes his first kill and he recites these words to the animal:

"I see you brother and I thank you. Your spirit goes with Eywa (the sacred tree = the source of all life/energy). Your body stays behind to become part of The People"

This is animism. As you can imagine, such an understanding of the world guides you towards a life of accepting the sacredness of both life and death. A life of harmony vs. domination.

Daniel Quinn wrote a fiction book called Ishmael, which first opened my eyes to this idea of deep ecology. He coined certain terms like Leavers, Takers, and Mother Culture. If any of this sounds interesting, I highly recommend it. A former volunteer left behind My Ishmael, the sequel, which I am currently re-reading.

"Out there is the true world and here is the dream" - J. Sully

Descanso

The word descanso is used often here in Mexico. It comes from the verb descansar = to rest. It's not uncommon at the end of the night to say, "Que te descanses bien" - wishing someone a good night's rest. But more importantly descanso is the word everyone uses here when you get your weekend off. After two weeks of work here in Miacatlan, I was ready to get some time to myself and live it up with my good friends. That's exactly what I did.

Friday afternoon I did some exploring on my bike, which is something that has been lacking. I biked up to an archaeological site in the foot hills that I had heard of. It involved a gradual 12km climb up and a quick ride down. Saturday I caught the bus back to Cuernavaca, the same place I stayed during language school. NPH provides free housing there during descansos. I bought some necessities at the market and picked up a few requested items for the ladies in the clinic. I was very proud of myself for soing some successful purse shopping for Rosi. I was happy with my selection. I also bought a pirated version of Avatar for about $1.25US, which deserves a separate post.

Saturday night the old crew got back together for a night on the town. We warmed up with some tequila and Beyonce dance lessons (seen in picture one). Then we went out for some chamoyadas (beer with chili, sugar, lime) - see picture 2. The weekend was just what the doctor ordered.

Sweeping the Nation

I've already mentioned that sweeping is no joke here in Mexico. When I run in the morning I have to avoid the dust clouds as people sweep the sidewalk in front of their home. NPH is no exception, they have embraced the strong culture of sweeping. The kids sweep multiple times per day as part of their chores. When I moved into my room here there was a sturdy broom greeting me at my door. It even had my name on it. Every weekday morning at 7:45 I join my sweeping team to tackle a section of the outdoor patios. I am no stranger to the broom. At a very young age I would sweep the sidewalks after my dad would pass by with lawnmower. One of his sayings was, "Take pride in your work". But I can't compete with Mexican people, it's in their genes. I've been studying my compadres' technique and I feel like I'm getting better every day. I think once I master it, there is potential for it to be a form of meditation. There's a book called Peace Is Every Step by Tich Nat Han, which I've read several times. The first section of the book focuses on the art of breathing and performing every day tasks with mindfulness. One of the reflections is on scything. He talks about learning to cut the grass in front of his hermitage while coordinating his breath with the movement of the scythe. I think about this a lot while I swing the broom.

Birthday Parties

Last night there was a birthday party held for all the kids whose birthdays were during the months of September, October, and November of last year. There were about 60 kids in all. It had all the traditional touches: balloons, a special dinner, cake and music. Each child received a gift and took an official picture to document another year of life.

As a I watched the celebration from afar, it provided a moment of perspective. Like a lot of things in life there is a delicate balance of emotional involvement. When I was working at the Rehab Institute of Chicago, people would say, "It must tear you apart to work with people whose lives have been drastically changed by car accidents, fires, 'surgeries gone wrong', terminal cancer." I would always answer by saying that I only knew my patients as they were in their injured state and it was my job to help them achieve a greater level of independence. I took this approach partly as a way of being a professional clinician and partly as a method of emotional sustainability. But there were times when I would a see a picture of a patient before their injury, hear a story from a family member, or get the news that a former patient had died and I would be forced to take in the depth of their loss.

As I encounter the kids here in masses on a daily basis, it's easy to simply survive by identifying them by age groups, personalities, or injuries. But seeing a group of them share their birthdays with 59 other kids several months after their birthday reminded me that these children have not lived normal lives. It was one of those moments when I was forced to put things in perspective and feel their loss. I was reminded of the individual stories each child brings and the harsh realities most have known; often dealth, abuse, poverty or all of the above. A bit of an ironic revelation in the midst of a party.

On Again, Off Again

I've mentioned before that there are three women that live in the clinic. One of them, Pati, was born with Mucopolysaccharidosis and has lived there since she was a child. The other two, Rosi and Tere, grew up in the home, became chronically ill with rheumatiod arthritis and returned to NPH when they could no longer properly care for themselves. NPH's philosophy is that they are committed to caring for their children over their entire lifespan in such cases.

The social dynamic between the three women is very interesting. They've shared one room for decades, but I've never heard them say a word to one another. Yet they have plenty to say to me about eachother. Rosi couldn't sleep because Pati makes too much noise. Pati's mad because Tere is the boss of the TV stations. Tere needs to go to the market to buy some headphones so that she can finally sleep in peace.

I had heard that Pati can be moody, but I was feeling good because so far our sessions had been smooth sailing. She was in pain today and decided to give me a serious silent treatment while I was trying to work with her. After a few minutes I took the hint and returned her to the cement floor (as seen in this picture) where she prefers to spend every day. I think she likes it because it's out of her room and she can strike up conversation with everyone who passes by. She has a very high pitched voice and is hard of hearing, so you always know when someone new is coming through.

When I was walking through the market today, I decided to buy three Valentines Day balloons for my ladies. Rosi and Tere were commenting on all the V-day paraphernalia when we were at the market last weekend and it made for a nice peace offering to Pati. They were all very specific about where they wanted me to tie the balloon ie. radio, bed, arm of a stuffed animal. I made sure to give all of them the same one, so that I wouldn't be accused of playing favorites. I'm hoping that me and Pati are back on again, despite our tiff.

Makeshift Sprint Coach

These two studly fellas are part of the group that I try to hang around. Bon Ice is on the left and Ganguis is on the right (nicknames of course and neither one can tell me what it means). They asked me the other night if I could train them a 200 meter competition that they participate in every Spring. I'm far from a sprinter coach, but I once played one on TV. On Saturday we went out to the soccer field and worked on some form drills and short sprints. Today we worked on pacing and endurance. They ran in their socks but they said they'll be able to borrow a friend's "light shoes" for the big race. They also told me today that the race isn't in March, it's on Thursday. I hope that training kicks in quick.

The kid standing against the wall is my man Manuel. He's a really sweet kid. He has a gentle smile and always made a point to say hello before I knew anyone. He's one of my patients in the clinic. His leg was mangled by a dog when he was 10, he's missing most of his right calf muscle, but he functions very well. He showed up late for therapy this afternoon but decided to come down to the field with us. I made him stretch out with the other guys.

By the way, there was some concern about the earthquake that hit Oaxaca, Mexico - reaching as far as Mexico City. Fortunately we didn't have any effects. Good to know some of you worry about me though.

Chicharron

This will be my second post about food in a row. Maybe its because I feel full right now, which seems to be a rarity these days. My theory is that it's the size of the meals. Lunch is always very substantial and then dinner's light. Which is an adjustment for me. Tonights dinner was a roll and a cup of arroz con leche (this sweet milk/rice combination with cinnamon). But in honor of the Super Bowl, some of the volunteers cooked up some tacos with all the fixin's, not to mention brownies and a big Corona. The game was broadcast on one of the local channels.

Amongst the kids, it doesn't get any better than chicharron. Chicharron is pork skin that is fried and seasoned. There's a little snack shop that sells it at night, and it seems to be a top seller...always with hot sauce (sometimes in the shape of a smiley face). This weekend there was an activity that involved groups coming up with a cheer and a dance. The winners were treated to chicharron with cheeze, tomatoes, hot sauce and chunks of ham. The little guy above is proudly displaying his creation. He was in hog heaven...get it.

Cereal for Life

In general the food here is very simple and most of it comes right from the farm. The main staples are pork (I heard we eat 3 pigs per week) and tortillas (they make 1000s per day). It's amazing how many ways they can combine the same ingredients, but I'm not complaining.

One thing I was ready to sacrifice during my 6 months here, was my love of cereal. To my surprise I found out that the founder of NPH, Father William Wasson, entered a contest years ago for a life-time supply of Kellogg's cereal. Not only did he win, but he made the case that his family consisted of the 100s of children in the house. He passed away a few years ago, but Kellogg's still supplies cereal for the house.

Father Wasson pictured above both in his younger and later years, seems like the kind of guy who was always pulling off amazing feats. I think a lot of his success came from his ability to connect the rich with the poor. He reminds me a lot of my main Irishman Fr. Michael Doyle in Camden, NJ. Fr. Wasson came to Cuernavaca from Arizona as a young priest. He was the man who originally took care of the first child and the visionary who developed 9 different NPH homes in Latin America. He is legendary here. I don't think a prayer goes by without giving him a shout out. Some of the volunteers joke that the hierarchy of the divine at NPH is in the following order: 1. Padre Wasson, 2. La Virgen Maria, 3. Jesus Cristo.

El Nino

I have commented to more than one person that no one talks about the weather here because it's so consistent. Most of the year it is sunny and dry. During the rainy season in the summer months it supposedly rains like clockwork from 8pm until 4 am. Well, currently it has rained for more than 24 hours straight and people are talking about it. I've been taking full advantage of it, it's a nice go-to topic when your language skills are limited. I even threw in a reference to "El Nino". The person I was talking to had no idea what I was referring to. Remember when the El Nino effect hit the mainstream and everybody attributed any change in weather to it?

"El Nino....Spanish for The Nino" - Chris Farley (I think)

English Classes

This week after dinner I've been observing other volunteers teach English classes to the kids. It involves creating a 30 minute lesson plan for 2 sections of about 20 kids. The program was started by volunteers last year as a way to supplement the kids' English classes in school. You have the liberty to teach whatever you want, which they say is both good and bad. I observed Julia teach 13-15 year old boys tonight (the picture isn't that good, I turned off the flash so that I wouldn't disturb the class). She had them forming questions with "who, what, where, why, and how". Across the hall, another teach was playing a Black Eyed Peas song and translating the words for the kids. Starting next week, I will start teaching some classes. Lord have Mercy.

Yesterday, a shiny new TV arrived for the therapy room. I was able to buy a Wii Fit in the States before I came to use as a form of therapy and possible motivator for the kids to stick with the program. Dan and I decided it was only right that we do some preliminary Wii research during our down time.

Let the Therapy Begin

Today was the first day of official therapy. As you can see in this picture, I was able to get Pati, one of the women in the clinic, doing some weight bearing on the tilt table. It's not text book alignment, but she was happy to get somewhat vertical after not walking for the last 7 years. When she began falling in 2003, she limited her movement significantly. Presently she hangs out on the patio in the clinic on her stomach most of the day.

This other little guy in the picture goes by Bello. He's 6 years old and has been quarintined to the clinic since I've been here because of mumps. He's the man with a million questions, which I guess is par for the course considering his age. He has touch everything and show me how he does his exercises. He got a little jealous when I was working with other people and started complaining that his foot hurt, so I had him get on the plynth and I stretched him out really quick. It made him feel a lot better. He's a smart kid, we played dominoes and he picked it up super quick. I think he's heading back with rest of the kids tonight. It will be quiet without him tomorrow.

Learning the Local Spots

I've only been here Miacatlan since Friday but it seems like weeks. Tonight the "older" volunteers showed us their local hang out, Tacos Gaby. I filled up on the Tacos de jour and a big Victoria beer with lime and salt...it takes it to another level. It was good to sit next to my old friends Joe and Singrid. It had been too long since I had a good hard laugh. OK that's it for tonight.