Sometimes I Sits and Thinks

I've now been in McDonald's for over four hours and haven't eaten a thing in almost eight, which as you all know is quite a feat for me. My sustenance, if you will, has been the ideas which you can read below, the first two chapters of my new story about The Most Talented Man in the World (based very loosely on the life of the economist John Maynard Keynes).

I'm scheduled to depart Ecuador tomorrow morning at 6:30 AM, so this will be my last update from Ecuador, though not my final post on this blog-- I've got to finish the story! I apologize for going nearly a week without a post-- I've had a sore throat that entire time and I lost my camera so I couldn't post any new pictures. I'm now feeling mostly better and am two days into a five-day course of azithromycin, taken on the off-chance that our friend Streptococcus is trying to give me Rheumatic fever or glomerulonephritis. But the past week hasn't been as bad as I just made it sound-- I never had a fever and, apart from my throat, actually felt ok most of the time. I saw more births this week as well-- vaginal and Cesaerean-- and got to scrub in for the first time on a couple surgeries, a cholecystectomy and a fibular reduction and rod placement. I also saw a plastic surgery for a boy with extensive facial scarring from a burn, a tubal ligation, a couple other surgeries, and some interesting inpatient cases. On Wednesday, five other students in the program each gave a brief presentation on a tropical illness (I picked Giardiasis and Amebiasis-- diarrhea, yessss!) to the pediatrician who was our preceptor, and she shared some of her knowledge of tropical medicine with us after each of us finished.

I also really enjoyed the non-clinical part of my time in Chone, in which I got to do exactly what I pleased. After finishing up at the hospital around one, my companions and I would trek thirty-five minutes back across town to our homestay, where we consistently had the best food I've ever eaten in Latin America. After lunch, I'd nap for a bit under the oscillating fans, then read for hours on end. I knocked out Kurt Vonnegut's Breakfast of Champions over the course of twenty-eight hours, finished memorizing all 501 verbs of 501 Spanish Verbs (I already knew most of them, so it's not that big of a deal), and almost finished going through Evangelio Segun Juan (The Gospel According to John), on which I'll probably be leading a Bible study this semester. My colleague Sarang, a Hindu, and I had some enlightening conversations about our faiths and our ideas about what makes life rich and meaningful-- I read a bit in a few of his books, Flow by Mihaly Csikzentmihaly (good stuff which echoed a lot of what I learned about flow and being in the zone in Buddhism class), Awakening Hippocrates by Edward O'neill, Jr., and The Teaching of the Bhagavad Gita by Swami Uberlonglastname. I also got comfortable fooling around with my medical iPhone apps, which I'll probably start relying on this year as I learn pharmacology and pathology. Last and certainly least, I started teaching myself the Moonwalk... gotta long way to go on that one, though!

I'm glad I came. Trying to wrap all of my experiences here up in a paragraph or two is a toughie... kinda reminds me of a poem I wrote in January about how our deepest feelings can't be captured by words or even by the left-brain thinking to which we're so accustomed. With it, I end my efforts, which I hope have resulted in new fields of thought for you all:

The ocean of unfiltered feeling

Fights the force that gives it frame.

Words and thoughts, the airy sky

To which the great white sea sublimes--

But oh how slow, the wait, the pain!

The wisdom of a million winters

Takes as long to yield its gain

And so I wait, and as I wait

I've watched a sunset and a storm or two--

The mark of the unbridled real

Transcends what here I try to do.

The First Two Chapters of a Story Intended to be Read

“The Most Talented Man in the World Meets the Most Interesting Man in the World and, After an Awkward Power Struggle That Neither of Them Would Later Acknowledge, They Join Forces to Defeat the Most Scheming Man in the World”

By Daniel Goble

July 30, 2010

Chapter 1, The Meeting

None of you know this, but there was a man who lived in the past century who was the most talented man the world had ever seen. He will be known in this account as “The Most Talented Man in the World.” I know none of you know about this man because I just made him up this morning, after my last breakfast with Graciela and Jennifer and Hilary. Right now, I’m sitting in a McDonald’s in Quito with free WiFi and writing a story about three men of action, three men of bold action whose bold steps, by a twist of providence or fate, would converge one unforgettably hot and sticky Amazon day in 1957. In order of goodness to badness, they were The Most Talented Man in the World, The Most Interesting Man in the World (of recent Dos Equis notoriety), and The Most Scheming Man in the World. To give you all an idea of exactly how much of the qualities of goodness, talent, and interesting-ness each of these men had, I include the following picture which I will draw in “Paint,” since I don’t have a scanner handy:

LEGEND: T= THE MOST TALENTED MAN IN THE WORLD

I= THE MOST INTERESTING MAN IN THE WORLD

S= THE MOST SCHEMING MAN IN THE WORLD

As you may have deduced from his name, The Most Scheming Man in the World was more bad, or “evil,” than good. And the Most Talented Man in the World, since he happened to be mostly good, naturally did not like this particular quality of the Most Scheming Man in the World. So he decided to stop him.

But before I delve into this plot, I must lay the “groundwork,” which is an architectural term often applied to stories, since most houses and stories have a structure that goes more or less like this:

Born in the middle of a blizzard on the top of Jungfrau-Joch, Switzerland in 1930, The Most Talented Man in the World made his first millions (of francs) when most people were just trying to put their lives back together. He won all six of Switzerland’s gold medals in the 1948 St. Moritz Olympics, sweeping the three downhill events as well as the Nordic combined, the Skeleton, and Ski Jumping. He used the proceeds from the ensuing endorsements and advertisements to form a darn-near monopoly on French and Swiss ski resorts and establish his own financial firm and an international charity organization. At the age of twenty, having made his fortune, he purchased and restored a 1720s Rococo villa overlooking the Lac D’Annecy in the French Alps—the lake whose restoration into Europe’s cleanest lake he would oversee two decades later. In 1953, he married the diva Francesca Aurman and settled into a rather itinerant routine as a visiting scholar and neurosurgeon at prestigious universities and medical centers, chessmaster, advisor to various governmental and international agencies, and chairman of an assortment of banks, monetary funds, trade cooperatives, and the International Olympic Committee. Parenthetically, The Most Talented Man in the World also played a central role in the peaceful transition of Egypt, Indonesia, and possibly Taiwan into self-governing states. It was during one of his trips to Egypt, in early 1953, that he met Most Interesting Man in the World—which forms the true beginning of this story.

The Most Talented Man in the World was early, as was his custom, to a summit of British and Egyptian leaders in the midst of the Valley of the Kings, and had just decided to give himself a tour of the archeological sites, since of course he read most known types of hieroglyphs fluently. The Most Interesting Man in the World had just finished discovering another vault off of King Tut’s tomb, and was rounding a corner just outside the vault when he collided with The Most Talented Man in the World.

“Excuse me, señor,” The Most Interesting Man in the World said.

“It’s quite alright… you look like you’re in a bit of a hurry.”

“Actually, yes, I’m in danger of forfeiting the Handball World Championships—my match is in just one hour and it took me nearly two to get here. I guess I’ll have to test the limits of my Lamborghini!”

“By all means, please take your leave—your name, by the way?”

“The Most Interesting Man in the World,” called The Most Interesting Man in the World over his shoulder as he bolted towards his automobile.

“Hmm. Interesting name,” The Most Talented Man in the World mumbled to himself as he gazed after the retreating figure. “I shouldn’t be surprised if we run into each other again very soon.”

Chapter 2, The Decision

The prescience of The Most Talented Man in the World was of course on point. The next day, the two ran into each other again, this time at the foot of the Sphinx.

“We meet again—The Most Interesting Man in the World, correct? How did the match turn out?”

“It was a tough one—I broke my little finger against the damn wall halfway through the first set and had to play the rest of the match with nine fingers. But I finally wore him down: 16-21, 21-20, 11-7.”

“Congratulations—by the way, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself yesterday. My name is The Most Talented Man in the World.”

“Is that right?” responded The Most Interesting Man in the World with incredulity sweeping across his face. “How’d you come by that nickname? My name give you an idea yesterday?”

“Actually, no, I earned it, several years ago in fact. The nation of Switzerland had my name permanently and irreversibly changed—I had no say in the matter. But unlike some people, I don’t like to brag, like about how I won that same championship when I was seventeen… or even how I’ve won more Olympic gold medals that all of Latin American in every Olympic Games to date.”

The brown eyes of Most Interesting Man in the World narrowed, making up the four inches he lacked in height with a gaze that would melt steel. His nostrils flared as if caught by the conflagration of his emotion, and he bit his lip until blood squirted onto the pressed white shirt of The Most Talented Man in the World. Still, neither of them moved, nor did they speak as minute upon minute ticked by.

The calm blue eyes of The Most Talented Man in the World masked his deliberations: Had he stepped too far? Had he underestimated this man’s ability to appreciate a well-conceived jab? Was this the kind of man who could engage in repartee, or was he a mere jock with a child’s penchant for archeology? In a word, was he really that interesting? And was he about to blow his top? These were the questions that hung in the balance as The Most Interesting and The Most Talented Men in the World stood locked in a grim staring contest, mentally debating their next moves.

After a wait that far outstripped the confines of awkwardness, The Most Interesting Man in the World cleared his throat of all its dried blood and spoke.

“I can see you are worthy of your title. But speaking as an expert on the subject, your pride makes you much less interesting than you could otherwise be.”

A wry grin stole across the face of The Most Interesting Person in the World. “Touché. You know what, I think we’re going to get along after all.”

And that is how the extraordinary partnership of these extraordinary two men was formed.

And I Think To Myself...

What a day.
This morning, I signed up for a boat tour that would take me 1.5 hours into the choppy Pacific to the Isla de la Plata-- the aforementioned ¨Poor Man´s Galapagos.¨ I meant to take Dramamine, I really did.
About five minutes into the voyage, I realized what a grave oversight I had made. To my credit, I fought merciless waves of nausea for an entire hour-- those of you who´ve experienced seasickness can sympathize. At the first sight of blue skies, the song ¨What a Wonderful World¨ got stuck in my head-- because I don´t know all the words, it went like, ¨I see skies are blue, red roses too, ladadeedeeda, ladeedodadoo, and I think to myself, what a wonderful world!¨ Not at all appropriate.
I finally gave up the fight when one of the employees of the tour company said I´d feel better if I just threw up. By that point my entire gut was conspiring against me, so I leaned over the side of the boat and proceeded to evacuate my stomach and proximal duodenum four or five times in rapid succession. And I did feel better. For about two minutes.
The hope of making it to the island kept my strength up during most of that first hour. But right about the time I hurled, there was a whale sighting. To my infinite remorse, the pilot slowly turned the boat around and everyone--but me-- went a-whale-watching. I had other things on my mind. The second bout of vomiting did not present itself in the form of a choice, and it came only about twenty minutes after the first. And though it didn´t rid me of my nausea, it did weaken me to such an extent that my brainstem realized I was possibly dying and therefore sent my body into a semi-conscious state in which I closed my eyes and contemplated why God and natural selection had not spared me this fate.
After whoknowshowlong, we made mercifully made landfall. I rested and ate with the rest of the group for about fifteen minutes, then gathered my strength for the hike; I would not be deterred from seeing whatever there was to see. What I saw were hordes of fragata birds... my tour didn´t go to the side of the island with the blue-footed boobies, so I was deprived of my one opportunity to make immature jokes today. But I did manage to gain some strength as the afternoon progressed, comforted by the fact that I had been armed with dramamine by a German lady on the same tour. I also saw some beautiful fish and a group of eight or nine sea turtles. Wish I had gotten photos but I can´t locate my camera at the moment.
The trip back made a true believer in dramamine out of me, though I had an urgent need to urinate and narrowly avoided hypothermia. Nevertheless, I survived it all and proceeded to watch one of the most beautiful sunsets I´ve ever seen when I returned. I also just gathered a few dozen stones and coral pieces that struck my fancy. Tonight, I recover-- no dancing or drinking at the beach-side tiki huts for me.
I anticipate my final week in Ecuador to be good but laid-back. I´ll be at the hospital (which has been consistently a good experience) in Chone again on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, then return to Quito on Thursday. I´m over halfway through the book 501 Spanish Verbs and hope to finish it up by the time I leave on Saturday the thirty-first. The Spanish-only thing is tough when everyone else speaks Enlgish, but I´m still trying to keep it español. I also have an idea for a short story that I might try to write when I get back to Quito. Stay posted. Looking forward to seeing you all.

Chone

I´ve now been in Chone for three days. Here´s a picture of what it´s like: firstly, there are boatloads of dirt and mud everywhere. Fortunately, this part of the year is the coolest and driest, so walking to and from the hospital (a 30-minute jaunt) isn´t too bad. But for the first and probably only time in my life, today I saw a machine plowing a city street. Anyway, tiny tiendas of various sorts populate said streets, and everywhere you look you see stray dogs of all sizes and colors, people of all ages sitting outside in cheap plastic chairs, and of course, mud of all consistencies. There is a thriving bus and taxi system here, so you can´t walk anywhere without hearing the jubilant notes of popular Spanish tunes blaring through diesel-fueled rumblings. Sometimes I hop on a bus, mostly so I can experience the town´s scenery with the soundtrack of Latin America in my ears. It´s fun, at least the first few times.
At the hospital, I´ve been able to observe some surgeries and interview a few patients in the Emergency Room, which is more like an outpatient clinic than an ED. I´ve seen a C-section (my second birth-- a boy!), a combination cholecystectomy and ovarian cystectomy, a breast reduction, a wrist ganglion cystectomy, and a cleaning and escharotomy for a third-degree leg burn. I´ve also tried to decipher a lot of patient charts and looked at a few neonatal chest radiographs.
Tomorrow, my friends Sarang, Jesel, and I travel four hours to the beach, Porto Lopez (¨The Poor Man´s Galapagos¨) to meet the rest of the people in our program who went today. Sorry, no time to upload photos-- should have some up by next Wednesday. Ciao!

The program

In the past couple weeks, I've often compared my experience in the CFHI program to my free-spirited jaunt in Europe earlier this summer. One thing that sticks out to me here is the culture of the program. Society has been created among the students ex nihilo, and in less than seven days. We've all used Spanish class, the clinical rotations, medical school, and touristy activities to connect with each other, though sometimes I would rather be doing my own thing, which is to say running, hiking, playing music, reading, studying, and praying. In Europe, on the other hand, Sam and I usually did exactly as we pleased (which were all of the above and more)-- though we met only a handful of people we'll remember. So, much like during the school year, I've sought to find a balance here between study and society, but the opportunity to get to know new and different people has overshadowed my scholastic pursuits in the past few days. Here's the good, the bad, and the feo:

On Friday, I traveled with friends two hours north of Quito to Otavalo and spent Friday night hanging out in front of a fire at our hostel and playing a guitar I had found. The guitar felt like an answer to prayer-- I've really been missing being able to play music down here. Saturday morning, I made a few purchases in the traditional market (South America's largest, apparently-- photos above) and surprised myself with the reality that I am beginning to have a legitimate taste in art. We returned to Quito that afternoon and went out to "Tapas y Vinos," a restaurant that offers unlimited tapas and wine all night. Unfortunately, I forgot my school-issued Ecuadorean cell phone at the restaurant and will probably have to drop $60 to replace it. Dang. I woke up this morning pretty anxious about that one and plan to call the make some calls to try to recover it later this afternoon. But despite that, I don't regret the time I spent with people this weekend, since I had some experiences that challenged me in new ways. For instance, a bearded, fifty-ish guy approached me at a bus stop near Quito and asked me (in very good English) for twenty-five cents so he could get on the bus, explaining that all of his belongings had been stolen on his bus ride from Bogota, Colombia. Indeed, all he had was the polo shirt, jeans, and shoes he was wearing, so I helped him out and he ended up sitting in front of me on the bus and explaining his situation. He was born in Colombia, grew up in New York, got put in prison for fifteen years (didn't ask why), and was deported back to Colombia upon his release six months ago. He had obtained a fake id so he could get into Ecuador and travel to Guayaquil where he was going to stay with a friend from prison and apparently teach English for $800 / month. The guy was certainly rough around the edges, but my friends and I all empathized with his situation and gave him a few bucks so he could catch the next bus. Thinking about his situation-- and the situation of the majority of the people here-- makes me a lot less stressed out about losing a little phone.

So the wind in my sails at the start of my voyage has been replaced by a bit of a headwind, and I face the task of reorienting yet again for the week to come. The English spoken by all my companions this weekend wore my resolve down to speak only Spanish, so I must build up that broken-down wall as well. And my thoughts keep wandering down the trail to this fall and the abundance of life as a student at Brody School of Medicine, so I must bridle my thoughts and stay focused on the tasks at hand. Which are, to love people and to learn, having peace in the process and growing in sensitivity. I'm only beginning to learn how important that last part is to the making of a rich life.

But you know, sensitivity also has its price, and it's often in the form of contrition. Which brings to mind a favorite song of mine by Red Mountain Church, "Decide This Doubt For Me:"

The Lord will happiness divine,

On contrite hearts, bestow

Then tell me gracious God is mine,

A contrite heart, or no?

I hear but seem to hear in vain;

Insensible as steel,

Insensible as steel;

If aught is felt, ‘tis only pain,

To find I cannot feel.

To find I cannot feel.

I sometimes think myself inclined,

To love thee O, if I could;

But often find another mind,

Averse to all, all that is good.

My best desires are faint and few;

I fain would strive for more,

I fain would strive for more;

But when I cry, “My strength renew,”

Seems weaker than before.

Seems weaker than before.

Thy saints are comforted I know,

And love Thy house, Thy house of prayer;

I sometimes go where others go,

But find no comfort there.

O, make this heart rejoice or ache,

Decide this doubt for me.

Decide this doubt for me.

And if it be not broken, break,

And heal it if it be.

O, heal it if it be.

One thing that blew my mind about this song is that the writer, William Cowper, doesn't at first glance seem to know the current status of his own heart! He spends line upon line meditating upon his sin and his desire for spiritual renewal, but seems to end it with a plea for either more brokenness or more joy, depending on which one God thinks he needs. But as I reflected on it, I realized that he is not asking for either one OR the other, but both-- at the same time. He is indeed a sensitive and broken person, but his sensitivity lies in his ability to recognize his own insensitivity. Which is exactly where I find myself this Lord's Day.

Thanks for your love and prayers. Pray as I travel to Chone tomorrow that I would be sensitive to the needs of the people around me, and my own.

My Little World

Before I sign off for a few days, I thought you all might appreciate a an overview of my home life here in Quito. Below is a picture of my house mother, Graciela, and my reflection in the living area where I take breakfast and supper. Below that is a picture of my digs.

I usually get home around seven o´clock for supper after completing my rotations and classes and internets for the day. Today was unique in that I was able to have two rotations-- my usual morning one (for this week) in the Skin Clinic and an afternoon one at the Maternity Hospital. After supper and the post-meal conversation, I usually spend a quiet evening reading, studying Spanish, and contemplating the past day and the day to come-- truly sweet hours of reflection. As a result, God has given me a lot of clarity about how to conduct myself in my little world, and my continued prayer is that I would have more gentleness and sensitivity.

My thought for you all tonight, dear readership, is that you would remeber that your world is a tiny and delicate thing, much like the baby girl I saw delivered this afternoon. So take a lot of care and put much thought into how you conduct yourself.

Welcome to the World

I just delivered my first baby girl-- well, to be honest, all I did was watch (and I´m not the father!), but I felt like I was a part of the process since I was only a few feet away from where it all went down. Many of you have probably seen a few births, but just indulge me by thinking back to your first one.
It was overcast today, and I arrived at the cramped, drab Maternity Hospital with a couple friends at 1:00, just avoiding a downpour. After changing into green scrubs and touring the delivery room area, we realized it would be a slow afternoon since only 3 women were in the ¨Dilatacion¨ room and none was in serious labor. But over the next couple of hours, I learned how to palpate a pregnant uterus and watched a doctor remove parts of a placenta of a woman who had had a miscarriage (a procedure that is every bit as bloody as you might imagine). After twiddling our fingers for a while (apparently a common activity in obstetrics) and feeling our hope wane, one of the three ladies (a 15-year-old) finally get wheeled to the delivery room around 4:00 PM. Just 10 or 15 minutes later, a baby girl with dark, curly hair and a gigantic fontanelle entered the world. I had to fight back tears when the baby drew its first breath, let out its first cry, and the mother´s face blossomed from agony into joy. Below is a picture a a couple babies in the maternity ward, the baby girl I saw delivered, and me holding the little tyke.

Though she´ll never remember it, the first words ever spoken to her were mine-- ¨Bienvenidos al mundo!¨ is what I told her. Welcome to the world.

The week in preview.

I made a resolution this morning. After church, I realized that I wasn't challenging myself enough to speak Spanish. So I resolved to speak nothing but Spanish for the next three weeks. Over the past few days, I've realized that short of such a drastic commitment, I lapse into speaking English with the other students here. This afternoon, I watched the World Cup with a couple of them, and they held me to this pledge and spoke mostly Spanish themselves while with me. And I learned probably a dozen words just by watching the game and commenting on it in Spanish.

I only have two days of Spanish class left, Monday and Tuesday. The other afternoons, I hope to shadow with a friend in the birthing room of the maternity hospital here in town. As I may have mentioned, I'll be precepting in the Skin Clinic during the morning hours this week and have heard that the doctors there are very good. I am also scheduled to give a 15-minute presentation to the other students on Tuesday afternoon, and decided to do it on scabies, herpes zoster, tinea, psoriasis, and atopic dermatitis, since I may be seeing some of that this week.

Look for an update mid-week on what's been going on. I'll see if I can catch some video and if the connection permits me to upload it.

The week in review.

Below are a few more photos of this week. It was a good week until Thursday, when my gut started to feel uneasy. I spent most of Friday recuperating, and managed to avoid severe symptoms thanks to Cipro and loperamide. I'm feeling much better today, and have been studying Spanish and reading about skin diseases for a presentation on Tuesday. Unfortunately, my illness prevented me from going to Mindo, a town two hours from Quito located in a very biodiverse cloud forest. I hope to be able to make it up there next weekend, as well as to the equator ("la mitad del mundo").

Me in the clinic of Cochabomba. Had a decent experience there-- I met some wonderful kids, heard a lot of heartbeats, and felt a lot of lymph nodes.

The neighborhood of Cochabomba in the north of Quito. Apparently this was all forest just a decade or two ago. With no other space to expand, Quito is steadily creeping up the mountain slopes on both sides of the valley.

Looking down a street towards the smoggy valley of Quito. A transportation system based completely on automobiles and buses is taking its toll on Quito's air quality, as it is in most cities around the world.

Workers cleaning up broken glass after a thief broke into their bike shop the night before. Almost every business with anything of value has an armed guard-- but apparently this place didn't have a night watch.

Some classmates and me before Spanish class. I hope to make more of an effort next week to use the Spanish I'm learning.

Psychobabble

For those of you who like thinking about how you think, here´s a nice article that summarizes some recent research into how we regulate our emotions:
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/06/health/06mind.html?nl=health&emc=healthupdateema10

And for those of you who don´t like to exercise, here´s a scientific kick in the behind:
http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/07/07/your-brain-on-exercise/

On Catching Up

It’s now Tuesday night and I’ve been in Ecuador for three full days. The last two have consisted of four hours of Spanish in the morning and three to four hours of Spanish in the afternoon, followed by a jaunt to the internet café with friends before supper at seven. I fortunately got placed in the advanced class with eleven other wonderful people who speak good Spanish and one very skilled profesora. It takes a lot of energy to stay focused for so long—especially in the afternoon, even with a caffeine pill keeping me tachycardic. I’m learning a lot but realize that I need to be practicing it more. Enter clinical preceptorship. Tomorrow and Thursday mornings, I go with one other student to a clinic in the north part of town to experience, learn, and contribute what I can. I’ll be keeping a little notepad of stuff I learn and will fill you all in on how it goes this weekend.
Catching you all up reminds me that we always pluck out a select few details to mention in our conversations and other communications. In the case of this blog, I choose the details I think will be most interesting and rewarding to my audience. And though hopefully most of our conversations are uplifting, we miss so many opportunities to great things with our words. The audience for my words today was often new acquaintances to whom I came as a blank slate. What an opportunity! Please pray that even tonight—or whenever you read this post—I would use my words to make stuff better.

Pictures from July 4

This photo and the next one were taken in the afternoon at a local park named Carolina-- great atmosphere with lots of kids and things to do. I plan to return for a few games of soccer... it just wouldn´t be fair if I played basketball with these people!


Here are my colleagues Hilary, Andrew, and Alisa looking like lost gringoes-- the mountain in the background was beautiful but apparently not picturesque.



Hillary - ?? - Eleanor - Andrew - Matthew - Hilary at our first lunch. Good folks. We´re going to get along well.



Disembarking from the trolley-- the Afro-Ecuadorean in the hat got onto the trolley with a beatbox and started rapping like crazy about Jesus. It encouraged me, if no one else!


Same trolley trip-- this fellow was already drunk at midday-- and his brain was very much worse for the wear after years of alcoholism. A boisterous but sad reminder of the social ills that plague Latin America and much of the rest of the world.

Exercise Is Bad For Your Health

{Written July 4, 2010}
I can now begin to empathize with sufferers of chronic lung conditions. Simply trudging up a small hill sends my heart off to the races and renders effortless speech impossible. Fortunately, my body began acclimatizing to 9300 feet the moment I touched down in Quito, and visions of mountain biking and running this weekend dance in my head. But for now—and I never thought I’d say this—exercise is bad for my health.

At this moment, I am perfectly content to lounge here in my newest bedroom and organize my life, mentally and materially. But the fact that exercise can hurt and even kill us sets me to wondering: how often do we have too much of a good thing? We all seek for balance in our lives, but what are the facts we don’t know, the realities we can’t see, the symptoms we miss or ignore?

I read an article the other day that suggested that married couples should have a yearly “marriage check-up” to head off the small problems before they turn into mushroom clouds. Though that idea probably won’t work for every couple, it would bring a good third perspective into dynamics that may need some tweaking. My relationships surely do: every one of them is tainted by my desire to get something out of the other person, rather than to show them grace and kindness. Perhaps it’s time for you and me, dear reader, to sit or kneel down tonight and contemplate and repent for the way we use others for our own ends—and ask God for the pure mind and the burning heart we need to make it better.