Sunday, August 1, 2010
Major Changes Have Come to Pass
When I initially embarked on this adventure I figured that after a few weeks of natural medicine lessons with Leonie, I would be elbow deep in placenta. Unfortunately, when I arrived and had my first chat with Leonie she said that she misunderstood me and (for some reason unbeknownst to me) she thought that I was fluent in Spanish. I can assure you I am at no point that could possibly be confused with fluency. We agreed that the best course of action would be for me to take lessons from her at a very reasonable rate while I simultaneously took Spanish lessons; from here we would see where things went. This was all well and good for several weeks until one sunny afternoon a very tired Leonie approached me. She explained that she has continued to take on patient after patient and project after project and has reached a point where she is so over worked that she can’t even recall the last time she was able to wash her hair. She has decided in the next few months she will retire from midwifery but in the mean time she must reduce her workload. I can see the stress and how it is negatively affecting her and I completely agree that the best possible option for her is to cut back on the extraneous commitments that don’t immediately effect the health of others. Unfortunately, lessons for me fit in that category. With these changes underfoot, I will soon be leaving this beautiful and sacred valley. Las Chullpas, Leonie and Chalo you have been incredible and thank you for all you have shared with and taught me. Lots of love.
The Birthing Process A.K.A One of the Coolest Things I Have Witnessed
I am so grateful for the opportunity to witness such an incredible occurrence. While I understand this happens on a daily basis, this is now a treasured experience that I will keep with me throughout my life.
Our gal arrived at 9 PM with her husband, this was supposed to be her third child at the ripe old age of 20. An incredible feat, if you ask me! We sat and waited patiently until "the time came." Around midnight, it was quite apparent that this child was not coming any time soon so Leonie and I decided to retire for an evening of very light sleep. I woke bright and early with the idea that she was just a few short hours away from delivery. Well, we waited and waited and waited some more... By the time 2 PM rolled around we concluded that this was indeed a Peruvian child and was operating on her own time. Eventually, things began to progress and I was assigned the duty of timing contractions and preparing various herbs and teas. The hours rolled on, the sun set and we waited. I marveled at the strength and fortitude of this tiny woman as she paced about the small room in an effort to achieve comfort despite the progressively strengthening contractions. When the time finally came, Leonie sat Sonia down on the birthing chair (it looks like a toilet seat- a backless a chair with a hole where the seat should be) and draped a blanket over her lap. I was immediately struck by the simple beauty of the situation. This was so unlike the images portrayed in movies. There was no screeching woman, splayed open for all to see in the harsh florescent lights of a hospital. This was peaceful, calm and most importantly her dignity was preserved.
It was beautiful to see how husband and wife worked together throughout this endeavor. He stood behind her and offered not only mental support but also physical by holding her as she pushed. The only noise to escape her lips was a gentle whisper of his name in her time of need. I busied myself with this and that assisting Leonie whilst gaping at the miracle I was witnessing. At 11:38 PM with one final push, this teeny woman brought into this world a perfect baby girl. At that moment the room felt so full as it seemed to me that more that one new person had come to occupy the space.
Gently, I wrapped and rocked the babe then handed her to her daddy as mama gave birth to the placenta. The entire process was majestic and peaceful and I was continually impressed with how different it was from the images conveyed through modern media.
Here, it is customary to bestow the honor of naming the child upon the midwife. With graciousness and respect, Leonie accepted and named this little gem, Anabella, a name backed by strength and beauty.
On a totally different note, I feel obligated to expound upon another local custom associated with birth, the tradition of eating the placenta. Yes, you read correctly, EATING! After the birth the thick organ known as the placenta is then taken to the kitchen where the meaty section is diced and fried along with tomatoes, garlic and other local seasonings. It is then consumed by the family in celebration of good health and in honor of their new member! Yum!
Our gal arrived at 9 PM with her husband, this was supposed to be her third child at the ripe old age of 20. An incredible feat, if you ask me! We sat and waited patiently until "the time came." Around midnight, it was quite apparent that this child was not coming any time soon so Leonie and I decided to retire for an evening of very light sleep. I woke bright and early with the idea that she was just a few short hours away from delivery. Well, we waited and waited and waited some more... By the time 2 PM rolled around we concluded that this was indeed a Peruvian child and was operating on her own time. Eventually, things began to progress and I was assigned the duty of timing contractions and preparing various herbs and teas. The hours rolled on, the sun set and we waited. I marveled at the strength and fortitude of this tiny woman as she paced about the small room in an effort to achieve comfort despite the progressively strengthening contractions. When the time finally came, Leonie sat Sonia down on the birthing chair (it looks like a toilet seat- a backless a chair with a hole where the seat should be) and draped a blanket over her lap. I was immediately struck by the simple beauty of the situation. This was so unlike the images portrayed in movies. There was no screeching woman, splayed open for all to see in the harsh florescent lights of a hospital. This was peaceful, calm and most importantly her dignity was preserved.
It was beautiful to see how husband and wife worked together throughout this endeavor. He stood behind her and offered not only mental support but also physical by holding her as she pushed. The only noise to escape her lips was a gentle whisper of his name in her time of need. I busied myself with this and that assisting Leonie whilst gaping at the miracle I was witnessing. At 11:38 PM with one final push, this teeny woman brought into this world a perfect baby girl. At that moment the room felt so full as it seemed to me that more that one new person had come to occupy the space.
Gently, I wrapped and rocked the babe then handed her to her daddy as mama gave birth to the placenta. The entire process was majestic and peaceful and I was continually impressed with how different it was from the images conveyed through modern media.
Here, it is customary to bestow the honor of naming the child upon the midwife. With graciousness and respect, Leonie accepted and named this little gem, Anabella, a name backed by strength and beauty.
On a totally different note, I feel obligated to expound upon another local custom associated with birth, the tradition of eating the placenta. Yes, you read correctly, EATING! After the birth the thick organ known as the placenta is then taken to the kitchen where the meaty section is diced and fried along with tomatoes, garlic and other local seasonings. It is then consumed by the family in celebration of good health and in honor of their new member! Yum!
Pictures of Lares Trek
or copy and past the link below:
http://s778.photobucket.com/albums/yy66/Scooby_Tuesdays/Lares%20Trek/
Lares Trek
Chalo (the owner of Las Chullpas- the bed and breakfast where I am staying) asked me to co-guide a trek to Lares with him and without hesitation, I agreed. When I finally had a few moments of silence with myself I realized I had no clue what I had gotten myself into. I came to find out we were leading a four day trek to Lares (a trek I had been wanting to do for some time) for twelve 15 and 16-year old Australian kids and three of their teachers. Sounded good to me. Again I was dabbling with quite high altitudes and about two hours into the venture we were already dealing with one little gal with mild altitude illness. No fun. The scenery was spectacular with views of the valley I just couldn't get over. I think I took one million pictures of it as we ascended into the tops of the surrounding mountains.
The first night was great (if you are into ice crystals). It was literally freezing and this time I wasn't the only one bothered by the chill. The next day I donned my bright yellow snow pants and vowed not to part with them until we had descended to an elevation where I once again could feel warmth in my most distal digits. Day two was accompanied by numerous sick kids. These little chaps weren't very used to the outdoor life and as a result they were really feeling the repercussions of being at such heights. I forced myriad pills, probably gallons of water down their throats and more often than not was showcasing the cool look of wearing both front and back packs in an effort to lighten their loads. At one point we had a little gal who was feeling so ill that we put her on a horse so as to get her to camp faster. But you can't just put a child on a horse and send her off into the hills with some man who doesn't speak her language. So Chalo decided it would be best if I would sprint after the horse as it galloped up the largest mountain in sight. Once I reached the top, huffing and puffing and swearing my lungs were bleeding from such an effort at an insane altitude, I learned it was the highest point of the trek... Well, at least she had a comfy ride... That quite possibly could have been the most difficult physical activity of my life.
All in all I was pretty darn happy with the trek, it didn't even really bother me when it started pouring rain... for two days...Dry season, my eye! So there I was in the hot yellow pants, with mud up to my shins, layers of every shirt I brought, my rain coat and a poncho (which resembled a giant trash bag more than anything else). Clearly, I was the epitome of fashion. The fourth and final day couldn't have been more beautiful! There were birds chirping, the sun was shining, the kids were happy and we were headed to the hot springs! Oh my stars and garters, what a way to end a trek! There were six pools varying in temperature and clarity of water and that stinky sulfur water never smelled soooo good.
The first night was great (if you are into ice crystals). It was literally freezing and this time I wasn't the only one bothered by the chill. The next day I donned my bright yellow snow pants and vowed not to part with them until we had descended to an elevation where I once again could feel warmth in my most distal digits. Day two was accompanied by numerous sick kids. These little chaps weren't very used to the outdoor life and as a result they were really feeling the repercussions of being at such heights. I forced myriad pills, probably gallons of water down their throats and more often than not was showcasing the cool look of wearing both front and back packs in an effort to lighten their loads. At one point we had a little gal who was feeling so ill that we put her on a horse so as to get her to camp faster. But you can't just put a child on a horse and send her off into the hills with some man who doesn't speak her language. So Chalo decided it would be best if I would sprint after the horse as it galloped up the largest mountain in sight. Once I reached the top, huffing and puffing and swearing my lungs were bleeding from such an effort at an insane altitude, I learned it was the highest point of the trek... Well, at least she had a comfy ride... That quite possibly could have been the most difficult physical activity of my life.
All in all I was pretty darn happy with the trek, it didn't even really bother me when it started pouring rain... for two days...Dry season, my eye! So there I was in the hot yellow pants, with mud up to my shins, layers of every shirt I brought, my rain coat and a poncho (which resembled a giant trash bag more than anything else). Clearly, I was the epitome of fashion. The fourth and final day couldn't have been more beautiful! There were birds chirping, the sun was shining, the kids were happy and we were headed to the hot springs! Oh my stars and garters, what a way to end a trek! There were six pools varying in temperature and clarity of water and that stinky sulfur water never smelled soooo good.
Pictures of Manu National Reserve, Peru
Or copy and past the link below:
http://s778.photobucket.com/albums/yy66/Scooby_Tuesdays/Manu%20Jungle%20Peru%202010/
Friday, July 30, 2010
Pictures of our trip to Manu National Reserve
http://s778.photobucket.com/albums/yy66/Scooby_Tuesdays/Manu%20Jungle%20Peru%202010/?albumview=slideshow
Welcome to the Jungle
After a tremendous amount of leg work on the part of Lauren and Dave we were ready to venture off to the jungle. The jungle of Manu is supposed to be one of the best preserved in South America as 80% is not even open to the public and within its limits live numerous indigenous tribes and nearly countless exotic species of flora and fauna. Our group was composed of three Dutchies and us three Americans. Our private bus scooped us up all bleary eyed at 5 AM and thus began the adventure. Day one was comprised of ten hours in the bus… a daunting feat if you ask me. The hours in the vehicle weren’t what scared me, I was more alarmed by the treacherous nature of the “road” upon which we were supposed to travel. Like I said, we were in a bus, which generally means massive vehicle, which also generally means you need a road built for something larger that a bicycle. However, this is Peru and the roads aren't always up to par with what we would consider navigable according to standards in the states. However, Carlos our guide, made the venture quite manageable, what with the numerous stops to take in the surrounding beauty of the local flora and fauna.
Day two of eight was comprised of roughly 6 hours in a motorboat. Now, I know that doesn't sound incredibly appealing to most but we had a super comfy sitch, each with his/her own reclining, padded seat and a fashionable life jacket (a massive improvement from the last boating expedition I embarked upon in a developing country). We had also rented mega strong binocs so as to adequately observe the goings on in the jungle from the comfort of our vessel.
After a full day on Madre de Dios we spent one sweaty night in the "town" of Boca Manu where we were afforded the luxury of electricity between the hours of 6 and 9 PM. During this time we were able to recharge batteries and take showers with the benefit of lights. Now, showers were an ordeal of their own, the water is pumped directly from the river and when showering with lights, one is able to tell that the water does, in fact, run clearish from time to time. Unfortunately, lights don't do crap for the temp which never reaches above freezing. I will have you know that these were the fastest showers of my life. I was in, out and clothed again in under four minutes.
As much as I would prefer to avoid the pain of the frigid shower, it rapidly became a necessity given the suffocating heat of the jungle. This is the type of heat that would make you swear that your internal organs were sweating. You drink water in hopes of providing solace to your melting innards but this only produces subsequent problems, for now you need to deal with relieving yourself. Normally, this comes with an easy solution BUT this is the jungle and nothing is normal here. If you choose to pull down your pants and squat you have exposed the precious tender skin of your nether regions, which provides quite a feast for all manor manner of jungle beasts! Option 2 is to hold it until your eyes turn yellow. This is quite a conundrum!
After three days we finally arrived in the Zona Reservada (the furthest point the public can reach in Manu National Park). During our sweltering four days and three nights in the ZR we had nearly limitless opportunities to see numerous types of jungle life including the endangered giant otter. There is a family of five living in the one of the oxbow lakes and we were fortunate enough to see them playing and eating. One curious male eventually took note of us and swam to our dock to give us hell and try to scare us off. Didn´t work. We stayed and stared in silence. Amazed.
The following day we sailed the glassy lake for two hours on a rough catamaran (basically ten pieces of wood nailed together) in hopes of a jaguar siting. While the illustrious cat remained a mystery, we were pleasantly surprised by the reappearance of the otter and the opportunity to watch a cormorant gobble up a snake and then fight to keep it down as she hadn´t bothered killing it before making it her supper.
Day after day we donned our progressively more disgusting clothing and tromped into the wilderness where we were greeted by only about a billion monkeys, exotic birds galore and 17 trillion insects. After the sun set we embarked upon alternative adventures that took us deep into the jungle to experience the nightlife of venomous spiders and poisonous snakes. For me, this was a terrifying endeavour due to the magnitude of beasts roaming around in the darkness. We even made a special trip to beach of the river to see if we could catch (a glimpse) of the numerous cayman who call those shores home. This enterprise proved quite successful, albeit a bit scary. Especially because of the deadly sand vipers who bury themselves in the sand, waiting for passing prey to present itself. I walked with tender care, terrified that my next step could cause my ultimate demise. After nearly an hour of my heart pounding and adrenaline surging through my veins each time I took a step, Dave chose to inform me that those snakes don't exist, at least not in Manu... What a pal... Thanks Dave, like I needed help thinking the jungle was scary...
Day two of eight was comprised of roughly 6 hours in a motorboat. Now, I know that doesn't sound incredibly appealing to most but we had a super comfy sitch, each with his/her own reclining, padded seat and a fashionable life jacket (a massive improvement from the last boating expedition I embarked upon in a developing country). We had also rented mega strong binocs so as to adequately observe the goings on in the jungle from the comfort of our vessel.
After a full day on Madre de Dios we spent one sweaty night in the "town" of Boca Manu where we were afforded the luxury of electricity between the hours of 6 and 9 PM. During this time we were able to recharge batteries and take showers with the benefit of lights. Now, showers were an ordeal of their own, the water is pumped directly from the river and when showering with lights, one is able to tell that the water does, in fact, run clearish from time to time. Unfortunately, lights don't do crap for the temp which never reaches above freezing. I will have you know that these were the fastest showers of my life. I was in, out and clothed again in under four minutes.
As much as I would prefer to avoid the pain of the frigid shower, it rapidly became a necessity given the suffocating heat of the jungle. This is the type of heat that would make you swear that your internal organs were sweating. You drink water in hopes of providing solace to your melting innards but this only produces subsequent problems, for now you need to deal with relieving yourself. Normally, this comes with an easy solution BUT this is the jungle and nothing is normal here. If you choose to pull down your pants and squat you have exposed the precious tender skin of your nether regions, which provides quite a feast for all manor manner of jungle beasts! Option 2 is to hold it until your eyes turn yellow. This is quite a conundrum!
After three days we finally arrived in the Zona Reservada (the furthest point the public can reach in Manu National Park). During our sweltering four days and three nights in the ZR we had nearly limitless opportunities to see numerous types of jungle life including the endangered giant otter. There is a family of five living in the one of the oxbow lakes and we were fortunate enough to see them playing and eating. One curious male eventually took note of us and swam to our dock to give us hell and try to scare us off. Didn´t work. We stayed and stared in silence. Amazed.
The following day we sailed the glassy lake for two hours on a rough catamaran (basically ten pieces of wood nailed together) in hopes of a jaguar siting. While the illustrious cat remained a mystery, we were pleasantly surprised by the reappearance of the otter and the opportunity to watch a cormorant gobble up a snake and then fight to keep it down as she hadn´t bothered killing it before making it her supper.
Day after day we donned our progressively more disgusting clothing and tromped into the wilderness where we were greeted by only about a billion monkeys, exotic birds galore and 17 trillion insects. After the sun set we embarked upon alternative adventures that took us deep into the jungle to experience the nightlife of venomous spiders and poisonous snakes. For me, this was a terrifying endeavour due to the magnitude of beasts roaming around in the darkness. We even made a special trip to beach of the river to see if we could catch (a glimpse) of the numerous cayman who call those shores home. This enterprise proved quite successful, albeit a bit scary. Especially because of the deadly sand vipers who bury themselves in the sand, waiting for passing prey to present itself. I walked with tender care, terrified that my next step could cause my ultimate demise. After nearly an hour of my heart pounding and adrenaline surging through my veins each time I took a step, Dave chose to inform me that those snakes don't exist, at least not in Manu... What a pal... Thanks Dave, like I needed help thinking the jungle was scary...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)