On Sunday we had a girl who dislocated her knee. All the girls were playing in the ocean and as they were getting out a big wave came and knocked them all down. This girl Taylor fell and twisted her knee, dislocating it. She screamed and I was up on the grass watching and I thought she just stubbed her toe or something. I ran down, saw the knee, DISGUSTING. Knee cap totally out of place. And of course we're on the most REMOTE place of this whole program. Let me just say that the transportation involved in getting this girl to a hospital involved 4 different modes of transportation and took 5 hours. At first I was like, wait Alex (my other guide) you're a WFR (wilderness first responder, people who when camping are trained to react to medical injuries), but since we weren't in the back country and they weren't sure if it was broken, we decided not to just pop it back in place. So they call for the taxi (which is an hour and a half away) and we start to make our way along the beach to go and meet the taxi. The only vehicle they have is a cart pulled by a small horse, so that'll have to do. We put mats down and the guys who work at the lodge lift up Taylor, who is screaming in pain because they're touching her leg. I've given her Ibuprofen by this point but it doesn't seem to be doing the trick. The 15 minute horse ride, as me and her friend Isabel walked/jogged alongside the cart, I tried to keep Taylor's mind busy and off of the agony of having to go over some big rocks or branches brought in by the high tide. I found out she has a younger brother, that her friend hates sharks and refused to bathe or shower for a period of time as a child thinking they would get her through the drain, and that Taylor has never broken a bone in her body or had any type of injury. Of course this happens in Costa Rica to her. We finally get to the end of the beach where we have to wait a half hour I'm told for the taxi. Oh and by this time it's raining, of course. We shuffle her under this overhang, which has about 15 wasps flying about their nests attached to the overhang. It's fine I tell her, you're just going to be sitting there not moving anyway, and they don't want to go out in the rain and bother you. By the time the taxi gets there, Taylor's shivering and I've run out of reassurances and things to talk about. The guy who brought us there just 5 hours earlier, William, pulls up in his Defender and says we have to get in now because the rivers we're going to pass through on this gravely bumpy road are rising fast with the rain water. Not knowing how to get her into the car, they get a foam pad and hoist her up onto in, which of course elicits more screams of sheer agony and sobs. After noticing that William has brought some muchacha with him (daughter? younger girlfriend?) and that now only one seat is left, I angrily swear in Spanish that me AND Isabelle are going and why didn't he bring this girl anyways? We make room and drive the 1 and a half hours to the nearest town with cell phone service and a hospital. Along the way William tells me in a know it all manner that they wont' be able to do anything but give her drugs in Puerto Jimenez, that we'll have to take a boat to Golfito, which is 30 minutes away, so they properly examine her, do x rays, and diagnose her. I say that's all well and good, but we're going to see what the doctors say when we get to the hospital in Puerto Jimenez. To pass the excrutiatingly painful ride, (I brace myself everytime we go over a pothole, digging my nails into my skin trying to inflict on myself just a slight piece of what Taylor is going through), I ask Taylor what her favorite Friends episodes are. We talk about the one with the Hannakuh Armadillo, and later about the One Where Nobody's Ready where Joey wears all of Chandler's clothes and Ross drinks the fat. Silence ensues as the next round of wails come from Taylor and I pull out my book and headlamp. If anything to distract myself and Isabelle from the sobs. I read the back of Middlesex to give the girls an idea of what it's about, and then start reading. I continue to read for the next 35 minutes, through screams, wails, and curses. Later Taylor asks me if the main character is a boy or a girl and assures me that she was at least half listening and did appreciate the diversion. When we finally get to the hospital, I feel that nobody pays attention to me, as I'm screaming at them in Spanish to be careful, it's THAT leg that is messed up, and where are you bringing her? What are you giving her? I'M the guide, yes I speak Spanish. They dope up Taylor what I can only hope is laughing gas or an anesthesia and confirm William's suspicions. They arrange for an ambulance and a boat, and within 30 minutes we are off on a motor boat with Taylor laying on the floor and the rest of us looking out in the gulf admiring the glow in the dark plankton. After that, everything goes pretty smoothly. Five hours after the incident, Taylor's knee is popped back in place, a old school made-from-scratch cast is put on her leg from mid thigh down to her ankle (to make sure the ligaments heal properly, she didn't break anything), and we are sent on our way.
Well it was just my first trip to the hospital with a kid this summer, not too shabby for the last trip. And it could have been worse. We could have been on the 3 day even more out in the middle of nowhere kayaking trip.
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Scavenger Hunt
Wednesday I started my first week on the two week long scavenger hunt program, which I'll be doing two sessions of. I'm doing it with one other guide, Alex, who's a Costa Rican full time employee and is dating my friend Lauren. And then there's our married but womanizing 50-something moustached driver, named Don Omar, who likes to act just like one of us. So it's been a lot of fun with these two guys. We have 10 girls and 1 boy, who I'm 95% sure is gay. They're all getting along for the most part, which is cool. Of course we have the unusual ones, (those into anime and Japanese candies and talking really loud in the middle of other people's conversations) but you know, who wasn't awkward in high school.
The program is based on various competitions between two teams where the winners get x number of dollars to donate to a local school to help fund their construction project. The first competition consisted of making gallo pinto, the typical Costa Rican breakfast which is rice and beans with a little cilantro, onion, pepper and spices mixed in. We figured out these kids hadn't really had any cooking experience when they just threw everything into the pan at once (beans, rice, onions-though they did let the butter melt for about half a minute before they added these other ingredients), paying no heed to the woman who had given them step by step instructions.
The next day we were off to La Fortuna, the most popular tourist destination in Costa Rica, and where the Volcanoes program is based and is on the agenda for a lot of other Rustic Programs. Our first day there we did a scavenger hunt around town. This involved me getting into a cop car and pretending to get hand cuffed, hearing lots of great gringo accents from the kids when they used their broken Spanish to ask directions, and accosting a Costa Rican male on the street as their find for 'tropical mammal' (he had board shorts with flowers on). Pretty entertaining actually, even though it was pouring out. We followed that up with some non-competetive ziplining, followed by another hilarious spectacle when the kids had to reproduce two typical folkloric dances. We visited a local school where the schoolkids put on the 2 minute show and then went to teach our kids the steps. The steps were pretty basic, but again, remember awkward teenagers who either a. don't have an athletic bone in their body, or b. are dancers and/or cheerleaders and therefore over exaggerate their performance. Even better with some oversized dresses and typical blouses for them to put on over their clothes. We had some school teachers, Lauren, and our driver Don Omar serve as judges, with the latter being the harshest, observing the dance for mere seconds, quickly circling his numbers, and then leaning back in his chair with a serious, disappointed expression for the remaining minute and a half.
We climbed a 3000-something ft volcano as part of our next challenge. It was muddy, wet, and humid, but we managed to get through the complaints that endured for the first hour or so and made it up in the usual 2 hours it should take us. We all came down the volcano looking like we had rolled around in mud piles, while German tourists leisourly passed us without a speck of mud on their shoes! Don't know how, but I think it's just in our nature as Americans-if we're going to get a little dirty, why not just get all the way dirty? At least we had the natural hot springs for a reward at night. The pools were surprisingly hot this time around, the coolest one being at least 105 degrees, inciting one woman to exclaim, "my muscles feel like butter!" Which they in fact did.
After a good night's sleep, we came to have a kayaking race and some just-for-fun horseback riding at Rancho Margot, a sustainable farm with cabins for guests and volunteers to stay. The farm manages to grow most of the food it consumes, along with damming up a river on the property to get most of its energy. It has its own cows to make cheese, milk, and butter, and uses the methane gas it extracts from its animals to light its stoves. Pretty cool and relaxing place. Though during the kayak race I did get a little flustered when Alex just launched into the lake and I had to get 11 kids into kayaks and ready to race while at the same time coaxing Don Omar to give me the whistle and to let met countdown so the kids would actually understand me. When Alex came back from his fun in the water and claimed I had smoke coming out of my ears (ok so maybe I was a bit more pissed off than just flustered). Don Omar and Alex just laughed and made jokes at me (that being the way to cheer someone up right?) saying: "Relax, don't be so stressed gringita. Everything works out." And it does. I just didn't want to hear it. I'm still learning that though, learning how to be patient and accepting. I guess that's why I spend so much time here in Latin America, I'm finding my patience. Ah to think, just three more weeks left with these guys to help me find it!
The program is based on various competitions between two teams where the winners get x number of dollars to donate to a local school to help fund their construction project. The first competition consisted of making gallo pinto, the typical Costa Rican breakfast which is rice and beans with a little cilantro, onion, pepper and spices mixed in. We figured out these kids hadn't really had any cooking experience when they just threw everything into the pan at once (beans, rice, onions-though they did let the butter melt for about half a minute before they added these other ingredients), paying no heed to the woman who had given them step by step instructions.
The next day we were off to La Fortuna, the most popular tourist destination in Costa Rica, and where the Volcanoes program is based and is on the agenda for a lot of other Rustic Programs. Our first day there we did a scavenger hunt around town. This involved me getting into a cop car and pretending to get hand cuffed, hearing lots of great gringo accents from the kids when they used their broken Spanish to ask directions, and accosting a Costa Rican male on the street as their find for 'tropical mammal' (he had board shorts with flowers on). Pretty entertaining actually, even though it was pouring out. We followed that up with some non-competetive ziplining, followed by another hilarious spectacle when the kids had to reproduce two typical folkloric dances. We visited a local school where the schoolkids put on the 2 minute show and then went to teach our kids the steps. The steps were pretty basic, but again, remember awkward teenagers who either a. don't have an athletic bone in their body, or b. are dancers and/or cheerleaders and therefore over exaggerate their performance. Even better with some oversized dresses and typical blouses for them to put on over their clothes. We had some school teachers, Lauren, and our driver Don Omar serve as judges, with the latter being the harshest, observing the dance for mere seconds, quickly circling his numbers, and then leaning back in his chair with a serious, disappointed expression for the remaining minute and a half.
We climbed a 3000-something ft volcano as part of our next challenge. It was muddy, wet, and humid, but we managed to get through the complaints that endured for the first hour or so and made it up in the usual 2 hours it should take us. We all came down the volcano looking like we had rolled around in mud piles, while German tourists leisourly passed us without a speck of mud on their shoes! Don't know how, but I think it's just in our nature as Americans-if we're going to get a little dirty, why not just get all the way dirty? At least we had the natural hot springs for a reward at night. The pools were surprisingly hot this time around, the coolest one being at least 105 degrees, inciting one woman to exclaim, "my muscles feel like butter!" Which they in fact did.
After a good night's sleep, we came to have a kayaking race and some just-for-fun horseback riding at Rancho Margot, a sustainable farm with cabins for guests and volunteers to stay. The farm manages to grow most of the food it consumes, along with damming up a river on the property to get most of its energy. It has its own cows to make cheese, milk, and butter, and uses the methane gas it extracts from its animals to light its stoves. Pretty cool and relaxing place. Though during the kayak race I did get a little flustered when Alex just launched into the lake and I had to get 11 kids into kayaks and ready to race while at the same time coaxing Don Omar to give me the whistle and to let met countdown so the kids would actually understand me. When Alex came back from his fun in the water and claimed I had smoke coming out of my ears (ok so maybe I was a bit more pissed off than just flustered). Don Omar and Alex just laughed and made jokes at me (that being the way to cheer someone up right?) saying: "Relax, don't be so stressed gringita. Everything works out." And it does. I just didn't want to hear it. I'm still learning that though, learning how to be patient and accepting. I guess that's why I spend so much time here in Latin America, I'm finding my patience. Ah to think, just three more weeks left with these guys to help me find it!
Friday, June 19, 2009
Read in the Jungle
On the second week of the first session of my second summer with Rustic Pathways (wow lots of numbers, sorry) and everything is going really well, very tranquilo. We only have 6 girls and 3 guides on Heart of the Jungle and I really get along with all of them so that's awesome. One of the guides is from Connecticut (Fairfield county-yeah THAT area, haha though he is your typical Connecticut boy, he does crack some good jokes here and there) and Mary, a girl with a cute midwestern accent from Ohio who's really into outdoors sports like rock climbing and kayaking and hiking. Everything's been running pretty smoothly, no accidents to date (though we start our 3 day kayaking trip in a gulf tomorrow so knock on wood), and people have only asked for the med kit a handful of times for more hydro cortizone cream or band aids for blisters. We've been having good luck with the weather, and all of our activities like climbing a huge fig tree, surfing, rappeling a 150-ft waterfall, have all gone smoothly. Our community service has been going well for the most part too, except for today. We got to the school that we were supposed to prep for painting around 2 and no one was there to greet us. They usually get out of school around 12:30, 1, but today they got our even earlier and no one was left in charge to help us. Apparently the principal (who we only talked to and coordinated this with a couple of weeks ago when we showed up with our manager and had a look of surprise and confusion and vague recollection of our 10 week painting project at the school and then had to write down the dates when we would be there because everything works this way in Costa Rica. You really can't plan in advance and can't get anything done until the last minute because Ticos (Costa Ricans) won't let you! Frustrating!). Anyways, we got there and the principal had left the teacher in charge to deal with us, but he forgot to leave someone else in charge when he had to flee off to a meeting and anyways, we ended up playing games and telling stories to the girls to keep them occupied until we figured out what to do (which ended up being going back to the first and only air conditioned hotel of the 2 week trip to rest, pack for the kayaking trip, and watch TV!!).
One of the stories I told was about this book I'm reading which is really interesting. It's called Marching Powder and is about a Bolivian prison called San Pedro where prisoners have to pay an entrance fee, buy their own cell in a particular section that has a star rating, eat in restaurants and cook their own meals inside the prison walls, and bribe guards for everything, including letting their wives or girlfriends live with them in the prison or so they can have a 'night out on the town' and be back in their prison before 3 a.m. (which if they're not, they then have to bribe the guards even more to let them back in after the established curfew!). The book is told from the point of view of Thomas McFadden, an English guy nabbed for trying to smuggle 4 kilos of cocaine back to Europe. He smuggled it quite cleverly actually, hiding it in the wall of his suitcase and making sure not to leave and fingerprints or hairs and putting women's clothes in there so they couldn't trace the luggage back to him, but he was caught when the head police guy who he had bribed turned him. Eventually this guy started giving tours to foreigners who visited La Paz, Bolivia, of this wild, cracked-out prison, and Lonely Planet guidebook named it one of the most bizarre tourist attractions. A ridiculous story, and I can't wait to finish and see how this corrupt system comes to let McFadden finally go back to England.
One of the stories I told was about this book I'm reading which is really interesting. It's called Marching Powder and is about a Bolivian prison called San Pedro where prisoners have to pay an entrance fee, buy their own cell in a particular section that has a star rating, eat in restaurants and cook their own meals inside the prison walls, and bribe guards for everything, including letting their wives or girlfriends live with them in the prison or so they can have a 'night out on the town' and be back in their prison before 3 a.m. (which if they're not, they then have to bribe the guards even more to let them back in after the established curfew!). The book is told from the point of view of Thomas McFadden, an English guy nabbed for trying to smuggle 4 kilos of cocaine back to Europe. He smuggled it quite cleverly actually, hiding it in the wall of his suitcase and making sure not to leave and fingerprints or hairs and putting women's clothes in there so they couldn't trace the luggage back to him, but he was caught when the head police guy who he had bribed turned him. Eventually this guy started giving tours to foreigners who visited La Paz, Bolivia, of this wild, cracked-out prison, and Lonely Planet guidebook named it one of the most bizarre tourist attractions. A ridiculous story, and I can't wait to finish and see how this corrupt system comes to let McFadden finally go back to England.
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