Nine Things

Reading: Hospital by Julie Salamon

Capuchin monkey, Misahuallí

1. Some how my blog has become famous... as in, it's on some random website unbeknown to me. But that's cool, I'll take it. So check out #22. (Ignore the fact that my name is spelled wrong, or as I like to think, the Spanish way. That silent 'h' really isn't necessary)

2.  The best gratification for a very last minute environmental ed. lesson plan is to rush out of your house only to learn that school has been let out early today. Praise be to exam week! I should have assumed as such, considering that next weeks marks the start of Paccha's founding fiestas. Who has time to study during founding fiestas?

Eight Months, Twelve Hours

Reading: Absalom, Absalom! by William Faulkner

Sobralia rosea

Many of us who join Peace Corps immediately after graduating from college can quickly point out the similarities of the life style of a PCV and college student. There is a close-knit community between PCVs, much like students on a college campus. More so, we have a lingering sense of the fleeting nature of our time here as we are shuffled in and out of our host country in omnibuses that bear resemblance to graduating classes. And like every good college student, when PCVs find themselves in the final lap of their service, they are faced with the overwhelming feelings of “senioritis” juxtaposed with wistfulness.

After successfully sending Mary Rae off to the states, I was able to spend the afternoon with another PCV friend of mine. We leisurely chatted about the only topics we know how to talk about while in the Peace Corps: things we miss from the states, frustrations with our community, and PC gossip. Somewhere in the conversation, it really started to hit me – I only have eight months in this country. Granted, eight months sounds like a really long time. However, it is very little compared to the 27 months with which I started. Even more, it is a whole four months less then the year that I have been repeatedly telling everyone that I have left here in Ecuador. And, it is one month away from the ¾ mark of my service. Meaning: Omnibus 105, we have officially made it to our “senior year.”

Infección de Garganta

Reading: The Moral Equivalent of War by William James

So on Sunday I managed to come down with a nasty case of something that left me with a fever and some good old body aches. Normally this would not be all that worrisome, simply remedied with some self-prescribed Tylenol, water and sleep. However, we are not in normal, this is Ecuador, which means that fever and body aches could be a whole host of things, the most problematic being malaria and dengue.

Now, I personally ruled out the two worse extremes, mainly because I’m currently taking mephaquin for the malaria and I’m told that dengue feels like death itself, which my state of being could not be exaggerated to. On Monday, since I was still freezing even though it was clearly hot out, my neighbor, Marilyn, decided that we need to confirm my claims by rubbing me down from head to toe with a raw egg. The idea is that the egg will absorb whatever ailment is possessing you, so when it is cracked open in a glass of water, one can read the position of the yoke and albumen to determine what is actually wrong with the patient. My egg voodoo confirmed that I indeed had a fever, no thermometer needed.