Bo's Journal--Friday

Friday
I started the day with a good run and our volcano offered its now customary plume. We speculated on whether there are Guatemalans stationed at the top of the volcanoes, sending each other smoke signals (Bingo tonight at Santa Lupe Community Hall, same time as usual, bring chips) or if that’s where they dump left over bean paste. We didn’t buy into that one, as no one has reported a plume in their bathroom. Breakfast was rushed because the South Dakota group wanted to get to the orphanage a half hour earlier, to provide a little extra time to complete their projects. Chad, the defacto leader of the SD group was roundly cursed (at least by our group) the night before when he mandated the departure time. So we boarded even less alert than usual, but not disappointed that only one more bus ride to endure after this one awaited.
The morning at Clinica Misericordia passed quickly as morning devotions had been pushed to the afternoon and we quickly had 62 patients registered. With three rooms seeing patients, we finished around noon. I had started teaching Jennifer how to suture the day before. The pig’s foot we were using had been put in the freezer instead of the refrigerator. So, needless to say, it was quite solid. Using the oven to thaw it a bit so we could resume her lessons, it was inadvertently left in a few extra minutes. Suturing a medium rare, warm pig’s foot just wasn’t quite the same, but Jennifer gamely persisted and developed a good grasp on the basics. Meanwhile, the rest consumed their last chicken lunch for some time, Kelly had pasta.
The afternoon began with the insufficiently delayed devotions consisting of more unknown spiritual melodies, sung in Spanish this time, by the orphans, ensuring a complete loss of meaning for us. Accustomed to our ignorance, we had, however, learned when we needed to applaud. Ivan then introduced us to some of the orphans and shared their stories. Someone must have complained, because the auto-biographies were not as graphic as last year. Nevertheless, it was obvious that the children had made great progress. The oldest orphan had finished high school since our last visit, graduating valedictorian of her class and was continuing her studies to pursue her goal of becoming a pediatrician. Gary, with his new found fondness of children, was surrounded by several orphans, obviously enjoying the attention as much as they his.
Next, several of us walked to the village where the SD group had this past week build a home for one of the widows. Home, in this case, is very basic: cinder block walls, one window, a door, no running water or electricity – all on a 12 x 16 slab of concrete. It contained a bed, twin sized, and a stove constructed out of half of a 55 gal oil drum, with an innovation not common in this village, a flue on the stove to exhaust the smoke through the roof. Primitive as this sounds, the widow now had one of the nicer places in town. Not, sure how different the place would have been if built for a widower - put in a pool table maybe, fridge for beer - but that’s outside of the scope of their mission. At any rate, it was a great thing they did, all in 5 days. I know most of these writings have focused on the “medical mission”, but an acknowledgement is deserving of the selfless bone breaking work the SD group has done this past week. In addition to finishing the widow’s house, they and another group from Pennsylvania finished two more dorms so that another 50 orphans can be rescued. Sounds like there will be a little more work for us next year. One last bus ride, in some ways bittersweet, as we said goodbye to new, good friends.
A quick change at Dona Isabela, the 11 of us strapped on a minivan for a short drive into Antigua and a life changing meal at Santa Domingo. We arrived at the monastery, on a street like every other, dusty, narrow and cobblestone. Entry was through a plain wooden door in a tall, stone wall. Oh, but the transformation once through it. A walkway under a trellis stretched before us, a manicure garden along side, real candles on both sides. Soft chanting from hidden speakers completed the atmosphere. One could almost sense the presence of the monks before, shuffling through in their friar robes in sandals. After a “oh my God this is so good!” margarita at the bar, we were dazzled by a meal whose presentation was surpassed only by its taste. Now I have been privileged to eat in some spectacular restaurants from San Francisco to New York, Paris to Vienna, and this meal was on par with any experienced there. The price-fix meal Matt and Jaime chose had them oohing and ahhing through each of their 8 courses. Jennifer, Max and their new son Caleb, Jeremy, Melissa and their daughter joined us for our unexpected gastronomical treat that was the topper for the week. Surrendering our taste buds for two and half hours of dining, on level never expected in this part of the world, we returned to Dona Isabela still giddy from the culinary celebration just experienced. Bravo!
And that, my friends, is a civilized way to end the week.