While Torre Torre was an adventure, our weekend was far from over when 275 Brasilia woke up on Sunday morning. After downing our breakfast, we were on a mission, we were destined for the Sunday artisan market in Huancayo. Since our group is 9 people, we have to take two cabs, and you guessed it, one cab made it to the market and the other cab got dropped off at another market... guess which cab I was in. Yep, instead of arriving at the artisan market my cab ended up at the REAL Sunday market for actual Peruvians. Lena, Scott, Piyush and myself wandered and weaved our way through block after block of this bazaar of overstimulation. Everywhere you looked there were shoes, traditional wool highlander skirts, hanging dead chickens, pig carcasses, mounds of oranges, you name it, it was being sold at this market... well, with the exception of artisan goods, ha ha ha. While we were in fact slightly confused and disoriented, I LOVED IT. I felt as though I was Anthony Bourdain (watch his show, "No Reservations" it's a real gem) on some sort of ridiculous culinary quest in an exotic maze of unidentifiable items and scents. Somehow after an hour and a half of exploring we ended up at Plaza Vea, a big mall in Huancayo and took a taxi to a location we were familiar with, Plaza Constitución.
The whole point to go to that plaza (besides the fact that we knew it really well) was that they had an indoor artisan market on one of the corners. Well, much to our surprise, when we arrived we actually crashed a festival for El Día del Campesino. We made our way through the random throngs of people and got to the door of Casa de Artesanía, to find that it was closed. A little disgruntled and down, we stopped at a local juice bar to strategize and get some sugar in our systems. After we perked up a bit we stopped at a hotel to ask about this elusive market that to us might as well have been Atlantis or the Holy Grail. Luckily, the concierge knew exactly what we were talking about and we were apparently within walking distance. Delighted we arrived at the REAL market and were reunited with the other half of our group very quickly, after all nine of us probably make up at least 75% of the gringo population of Huancayo. After some heavy duty shopping (my total bill was about 28.60 US dollars woot woot) we returned to our home and pretty much passed out and rested for the rest of the day. But I did have a wonderful skype session with my Mom and Dad, thanks for being funny and marvelous people!
This morning we headed to Daniel Carrión hospital as usual, but this time we switched rotations. Meaning, that for the next two weeks I shadow surgical rounds instead of internal medicine rounds. For Emily and me, this week is men's surgery rotations, and boy do I miss internal medicine. Practically every patient had a scar from a removed gallbladder, with the exception of the fascinating patient who had scars from being gored
by a bull. Where are the infected venomous spider bites, thyroid abscesses, rat poisonings and pneumonia patients? Just a whole lot of monotony in the surgical ward. Also, earlier on the trip, Lena, a fellow FIMRCer, told me that I had a great demeanor with the doctors, and now I get why. It's because for the past two summers I have volunteered at Chelsea Community Hospital as a nurse's aide in the surgical recovery room, and most of the doctors I would see were surgeons. Let's just put it like this, if you know the surgeon stereotype (yes, there are exceptions), it's the same in Peru... no Dr. Yumpo's on today's rounds. Afterwards it was time to play some Pictionary with the psych ward patients at the insurance hospital, I seriously wanted to frame the one schizophrenic patient's drawing of a dog.
This afternoon it was time to teach our lesson about contamination to the kids at the HIV shelter. Our lesson was delayed at first because the kids weren't done with their homework. I absolutely loved helping Sajnary with her history, Spanish and English homework and teaching Valentino (I would seriously swipe him if I could) the 9's multiplication trick on his fingers. I know I've mentioned it before, but this trip has completely validated my decision to not go into medicine. During our lunchtime siesta I was reading the book, When Helping Hurts: How to Alleviate Poverty Without Hurting the Poor... and Yourself, a really insightful book with a biblical perspective about poverty alleviation. I was enjoying my time reading and soaking up some rays on the roof when a line stood out at me basically saying that work is meant as an act of worship. Yes, it is simple enough to comprehend, I probably heard it in Sunday School or on other Missions trips at nauseam. But this time it impacted me differently. Immediately my mind raced through the activities I've been doing these past weeks here in Huancayo, and it all just made sense. For me, the hospital is not where I thrive. It's interacting with the kids, it's learning from the moms at the HIV shelter or the volunteer "moms" at Rosario discussing first aide or nutrition where I feel like I'm fulfilling my purpose. Honestly, the validation, peace and overall feeling of content is worth it all. I'm just living another day in my own personal paradise.
Where you invest your love, you invest your life. "Awake my Soul" by Mumford and Sons
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