Prioritizing oral health amidst a myriad of social problems...

Revising children’s teeth in the town of Calzada with the local health center’s dentist.

In a city school, some classrooms had space for children to practice oral hygiene.

It is easier to interest the kids sitting towards the front. I hope the kids farther aren’t left without some oral health knowledge.

The kids in Llullucucha (my home neighborhood) were eager to take pictures.

Francis, my host sister, takes on the role of S. mutans in a Llullucucha classroom.

Charlas for the Salud Bocal (oral health) project:

Staying in the city this week to work at the clinic, Ivet and I visited several elementary schools to give charlas (short presentations/lessons) on oral health. In some schools, I simply drew a tooth on the board. To others, we brought along the attempted tooth model (I am am fully convinced that it is not an architectural success as it doesn't support itself very well, and I am not sure if it is an esthetic or instructional success as we don't get 100% recognition when we ask what the structure is). Kids have called the tooth a cow, elephant, horse, and piñata...but most later agree that it is really a representation of a tooth. I usually start the charla by pointing out some tooth anatomy (identifying the crown/roots and enamel, dentin, pulp) and then introduce the star of the show, tooth-dwelling Streptococcus mutans, named S. mutans for short. I explain that much like them, the bacteria enjoy sweet foods. They multiply and produces lots of acid when fed such items as soda, chocolate, cookies, etc; the acid, then, nibbles away at the enamel, forming many little holes when it breaks down. "Washing away" the acid with healthy drinks like water or milk, I ask how we can we remove the placa (the groups of bacteria adhered to the tooth). Most classes eventually suggest a toothbrush and we practice brushing in circles or up and down on our cheeks. Introducing (or prompting to remember the other way to clean teeth) floss, I demonstrate how to encircle each tooth like the letter 'c' and move the floss up and down gently on each tooth's side. Although these two methods remove most of the bacteria, one or two are left, as they always live on our teeth. In some classes, I explain that dentists may place a cream, foam, or paint on their teeth to repair the small holes while they are small (fluoride). Going towards the climax of the drama, I ask what happens if they eat sweet things and don't clean their teeth, reviewing the bacteria-plaque-acid-enamel decomposition cascade. The many 'little holes,' I explain, become a large, often stained, hole called a caries. If it is deep enough to enter la dentina, close to la pulpa, the cavity will produce pain. At this point, I tell the children, we need help to take care of our teeth from a doctor. I show them that a dentist cleans the cavity and all the bacteria and acid and 'cures' the cavity with special material, making our teeth healthy again (without the infection). Putting dentists in such a positive light, I end the 'drama.'

When introducing the word cavity, the children are often eager to point out who has cavities in the class. When asked if they have ever had tooth pain, nearly all children raise their hand, testifying that the pain is feo, or ugly. After explaining the importance of asking a dentist's help while the cavity is small (so as not to extract the tooth when the cavity grows too large to repair), we review tooth brushing/flossing and questions are taken. In  one class, a young boy earnestly inquired about how the bacteria stick themselves to our teeth. I did my best to compare the stickiness of tape to a substance that the bacteria produce, not wanting to confuse the sugar matrix that plaque uses with what the bacteria eat. One of the instructors asked for clarification about drinking milk to clean teeth; he wasn't convinced that it did. I explained that milk helps wash away the enamel-harmful acids, while the bacteria remain and can 'eat' the milk to produce more acids and therefore must be brushed/flossed away.

We usually accompany a dentist who checks the chidren's teeth to encourage them to use their social health coverage to receive free treatments. At one school, I had the opportunity to hold a flashlight while the dentist conducted these revisions. Of the 40 children whose teeth were checked, only two or three had no cavities. This makes me wonder if socialized health care or free healthcare solves the problem of oral neglect (in the States and abroad). Sheer education and motivation also seems to be lacking...perhaps being the foremost 'problems' before insurance and financing become relevant concerns. In a rural town (not a village but not quite a city) school, I was puzzled to see various facial scars on a handful of the children's faces. When the dentist discussed their treatment plan, we found that many of the children live with their grandparents, aunt, or brother. One of the instructors explained to Ivet that most of the children come from abusive and broken families. The professora wishes that she could get at least psychological support from San Lucas or another organization--she often worries for the children's mental and emotional states. Several students casually commented to Ivet on being illegitimate children, being 'fought over' by grandparents and parents, or their parent's marital problems. In the complex lives of these children, I wonder what priority oral health or even treatment of oral disease takes. What is one's duty as a 'dental health proffessional' in such instances...as a human being?

I hope I will get the chance to visit schools in the US as a dentist. I think I would enjoy holding 'oral health workshops' to teach kids about teeth and oral hygiene. Moreover, it seems worthwhile to me to spend time revising each child's teeth to identify needs but more importantly to provide  what some call 'a positive experience' (what I'd call simply a human experience) to instil motivation in children to seek dental services freely in their future. ...dream on, Luba (my Spanish/Russian short name), that's the only way you'll get anywhere (as far as my experience has led me to believe)!

I received pictures from Ivet from our first village trek (the day after I arrived in Peru). Drenched and muddy--just smile and march on…trying to avoid deep puddles.

Ivet and I visited Nuevo Jerusalen, a community in which the clinic has completed 3 year development. Dscf5131

Starting out the trip to Nueva York in Moyobamba, the truck is loaded (inside and out)—feeling closterphobic? But packing things and people so tightly helps keep one in place when jostled around up the mountain.

We meet the sunrise halfway between two villages.

In Nueva York, a one-classroom schoolhouse hears out my charla.

We practice brushing in circles and up and down with their gifted tooth brushes.

A young girl is freshly bathedand ready for the village meeting that Ivet leads to initiate community development in Nueva York.

A gentleman wearing his llanques--the typical footwear in the Sierra region of Peru, made exclusively from recycled tires.

The sun begins to set as we begin a discussion with the authorities, after dismissing the villagers.

Doing medical missions well

The neighborhood street from the roof of my Peruvian home. A  mototaxi approaches and the neighbors prepare to grill plantains, tomales, and corn to sell on the street.

Two projects of San Lucas, Moyobamba:

During the latter part of last week, Ivet, Francis, and I visited Nueva York, one (of two) of the villages in which community development will occur during these two years. Just as in Flor de Primavera, we explainedto the whole community how we wanted to help the village improve their health and met with authorities to name specific goals they suggest for the village. Discussing how to take the pigs off the village streets or how to discourage cockroaches from moving from the forests into the houses seemed almost too simple as practices that constitute 'community development.' I wondered, "can't they identify and solve these problems on their own?...it doesn't concern us or require our expertise." However, these kind of conversations, those initiated by and concerning the villagers, are exactly the practice we want to encourage in community development. On the ~15km hike back to the city, I recognized some streams and rocky paths from the first trek home two weeks ago. I wonder what kind of connection or feeling towards the land and its surroundings people who tread the paths their whole life have. Is there resentment for the muddy streets (meaning that they live in remote, impoverished villages for which municipalities care little for) or apologetic reverence (being grateful to the land for sustenance but saddened by its mistreatment)? Some villagers, when asked if they are accustomed to living in the area after 8 years, reply that they have no other choice or opportunity but to exist in such a village. I think that if we ask refugees in various African or Middle Eastern countries, they would agree that there is value in the existance of home, a piece of earth to belong to, no matter its quality. Perhaps valuing and respecting your place brings about care that will better your home and thus your life in it.

At the beginning of the week, before leaving the city, I have the opportunity to observe various activities in the fisura labio palatina project that supports children with cleft lip and/or palate. Apart from the surgery, the families are encouraged to bring their child to group sessions that insure the development of the children, who are perfectly normal except for their surgically improved lip/palate. For the younger children (under school aged), parents are educated on stimulating their children to develop normally (eating just as vigorously and talking/interacting/playing just as actively as normally developing children). Various techniques of muscular and psychological stimulation are taught in this group session. Another group meets for music lessons, something that will help the school aged children in the program develop intellectually and muscularly (face/tongue). The recorders that I used for recorder lessons in Honduras will be used in this program. On a different day, a linguistic therapist meets with children one-on-one to read and converse, insuring that the child is developing emotionally, psychologically, intelectually, and muscularly (pronunciation). Lessons are tailored to each child's need and I found it inspiring that the instructor taught a lesson on emotional expression as its own emphasis to a child who was timid and often sad. All of these efforts, and their evident need and function, make me remember my experience from the operating room in my third week in Honduras. I had questioned what good a palate surgery would do a young lady whose leg would remain crippled. At the time, I thought that good in any amount was worth doing. But realizing how superficially a surgery on cleft lip/palate really improves a person's life (that the person only appears better), I wonder if all the cost associated with bringing a brigade of surgeons from abroad for a week of 50 surgeries is wisely spent. There is no question that various orthopedic, urological, opthalmic, and plastic surgeries improve people's lives; the question is whether doing only part of the job (surgery but no essential therapy) is worth doing it at all. I am led to believe that the brigade system of doing medical missions is not as wholistic or sustainable as one that involves less temporary local (or culturally belonging) people at the forefront.

My host family chose to identify their house with several plaques at the front door.

Nelly, my host mom, runs a bodega, the Honduran equivalent of a pulperia or small shop. This means fresh bread rolls delivered daily!

In our home's huerta (home orchard/garden), there are lime, avacado, and papaya trees, among others. Honduran homes all have an open space for plants and animals (chickens, dogs) in the middle, surrounded by a sidewalk/hall and rooms. This makes one feel as if living in the country when surrounded by the streets of a large city.

Dinky, commonly called Reina (kingdom), relaxes on the roof.

Huckelberry, the one (of three) dog privileged to stay within the home's walls, usually sleeps outside of Janet's (Nelly's daughter) room in the open hallway bordering the orchard/garden.

On my first Sunday in Peru, we gathered for a quick picture after the service at the largest congregation in San Martin, the Segundo Jerusalen Pentecostal church. Although there were an estimated 5,000 members in the church, the three gringas were noticed by the end of the service and asked to come to the stage to introduce themselves to the congregation. Awkwardly explaining who we were, from where, and our business in Peru, we were applauded for being present in their midst. Later we were told that there had been a prophesy that foreginers would visit the church (to be taken as a blessing).

The intricacies of homesickness

A bridge crosses the River Mayo on the road from Sta. Anita to Nuevo Jerusalen.

Amoebasis, ecological latrines, and charlas

I spent my second week in Moyobamba getting to know work at the clinic. On Tuesday, I suddenly came down with fever after a noonday headache. As many foriegners might, I wanted to be sure that I didn't have a serious infection like malaria after being in the villages last week. After a series of lab tests, my fever's culprit seemed to most likely be the extra ameobas in my intestines, making themsleves known to my immune system. I was prescribed some antiparasite medication for the week and the fever passed by the next day. Still experiencing some gastric discomfort while thinking about my family in Virginia, I considered how multifaceted homesickness could be. In those Eeyore momens, what makes me desire to be home or what defines 'home' is more than just the building, its inhabitants and the surrounding territory. We grow very accustomed to crtain emergent properties of the 'things' that make up our home...things like family tea time, parasite-free food and water, and an overall sense of belogning, while navigating our daily tasks. Does it simply take time to develop those 'processes or associations outside of the physical' to which we so strongly adapt? When I wonder if I could pursue such a career or lifestye as community development in villages, it means giving up what I have called home (with all its things and doings). The discomfort to consenting to such a 'sacrafice' makes me think I am 'not cut out for' the job. But if we are ultimately attracted to the associations formed between the things in our life, an altered lifestyle simply requires the development of its own unique and special associations (or an expanded association with things known prior). ...just some thoughts on the depths and shades of homesickness and adaptation.

I have been appointed the task of leading the oral health charla (lesson or talk) when we go to schools in the area with several dentists. Elizabeth (the clinic secretary), Francis, and I constructed a large model with which we can dramatize what occurs microscopically to result in a cavity. It is not an architectural success (the roots do not adequately stabalize the tooth upright) but I hope that it will result in an increased interest and knowledge in oral health amongst the children.

On Friday, we visited Nuevo Jerusalen, a community in which development has been going on for 3-4 years. We talked to various families about the use of their ecological toilets (outhouses with comosting components) and improved kitchens (better constructed furnace with added chimney to keep smoke out of the house). It rained during our stay and this commmunities clay roads looked much like the other two that we visited last week (where we would begin development to improve various health issues). Superficially, in other words, there didn't seem to be a drastic difference between the 'healthy' and 'unhealthy' commmunities. Perhaps it isn't easy or sufficient to measure health by tallying the number of infections or ecological latrines. Maybe a healthy community is one in which the villagers care for the state of their pueblo as a whole and are capable of addressing varous problems as they arise...even if this means they may never arrive as a 'perfect village.' I look forward to learning about the process to which each family in La Flor de Primavera and Nueva York will be introduced.

A lady shows us her 'cocina mejorada' (improved kitchen) in functionality.

 

My tooth model, bacteria and acid sticking to one side. A bit sad-looking, but functional.

Welcome to Moyobamba, Peru

The road to Moyobamba from a neighboring town, Segundo Jerusalem (where the largest Pentecostal congregation in San Martin--the region--meets).

A 'road' that leads across the river Mayo to Cordellera, La Flor de Primavera, and many other villages...and this is on a sunny day when it didn't just rain.

The morning after we arrived in La Flor de Primavera, it rained well into the envening with few interuptions.

The ducks seemed to enjoy the wet day...the children, also, enjoyed huddling together on front porches and balconies.

These sisters, when the rain lessened to a drizzle, were sent to fetch 6 gallons of water. Ivet, the comunity development director, and I followed up a challenging hill until they disappeared down a watter-covered path. They returned perhaps half an hour later, the elder sister running back and forth to transport two (of four) gallons at a time along the path while her little sister slowly advanced in front with the other two gallons. They were completely drenched as the rain progressed but emerged in a dry set of clothes within an hour.

Neighboring villages are seen from afar. Travelers here do not have GPS or maps. They simply follow paths a certain direction, know the way, or ask for advice while passing houses.

The purpose of our visit in La Flor de Primavera: to introduce the community development project and explain its necessity and functions.

Villagers from La Flor de Primavera gather to hear Ivet present the community development partnership and process. The scribe records minutes from the meeting in their ´book of actions.´

The village leaders promise to complete and exert effort in the community development process to better thair village.

One of the first friends to greet us when we arrived in Nueva York.

As I surveyed the surroundings and took a picture of the coffee fields, this boy asked, "what's that?" inquiring about my camera, I assumed. I told him it was a camera to take pictures. I wasn't sure how much this explanation meant to him so I said, "wait, I'll show you." By the time I got the shutter speed right to produce a satisfactory image, he got a little impatient and wasn't completely aware that he would stay imprinted on my strange machine. He and a friend left in a haste, semingly uninterested in my toy.

After a cool rain shower, these piglets huddled near their owner's home for a warm nap.

A butterfly in the coffee fields...they might be necessary for pollination.

I marveled at the diversity of the coffee fields. There were bannana, citrus, and many other fruit/vegetable trees making a canopy for the coffee plants. I suppose there is no worry about being able to run a tractor through the coffee fields as all is done by hand (machete in hand, that is).

Nueva York is a village spread out across a hill/mountain (some of its citizens living an hour's hike away). Walking (not to mention cycling or driving) becomes difficult on the clay roads during the rainy season (winter).

I didn't find the statue (or tree) of liberty but I bet I could find a couple of cuddling pups in the real New York.

Village treking: un gorditto y una gringita (Ivet described bringing a ´little fat man´ and a ´little white girl´ to the villages with her as we treked along)

I arrived in Moyobamba just before midnight on Monday, March 5th. The next morning, I was shown around the city and introduced to the clinic. Hearing about all the projects that the clinic runs and discussing what I hoped to be involved in, it was arranged by 10:30am that I would accompany Ivet, the community development director, on a 3.5 day trip to two villages. We met half past one at a car/truck station and found a car planning a trip to Cordellera, a village near La Flor de Primavera, where we were to begin the process of community development from the health sector. Almost at 4pm, when the Toyota pickup was loaded with goods and people, we left the station. The loading capacity of the small car impressed me but the journey through fresh two-feet deep mud gullies made me believe Toyota's jingle: "Toyota; nothing is impossible." We had to unload the car various times to shovel dry earth and plants under the tires and give the truck a push or tilt. A ferry, composed of two canoes and wooden planks, took the truck across the Mayo River and we continued bouncing around or disembarking at especially muddy spots. By 6:15pm, we reached Cordellera and found that no cars ventured into La Flor de Primavera with the current weather conditions and that it was about 2-3 hours walking distance. Consulting with the Puesto de Salud, a village health center, and leaving our heavy laptop, projector, and voltage stabalizer, we started the trek to La Flor de Primavera just as the sun began to set. The hike was pleasant as we were in the mountains, high from rural noises. I heard insects and small animlas from the forest making sounds that I thought only machines made. The road/path was torn up by vehicles and mules and it grew harder to discern the softness of  the mud as it grew darker. Although the moon's light sometimes aided our small flashlights, there was substantial slipping, sliding, and sloshing around the mud before we reached the village half past eight. After an aroz con pollo, a very comon Peruvian meal (a full bowl of rice with a fried chicken piece on top), we were shown to the mini clinic where we slept on some mats under our mosquitero (mosquito net). The next morning, we got to know the village and waited.....we waited for our equiptment to be shuttled from Cardellera, we waited to talk to various authorities to confirm a village meeting that evening, we waited for the rain to stop (and start up again)---there was a lot of waiting so that I had to remind myself where we were and what we were doing. This wasn't exactly what I imagined community development to be. I had the urge to do something--I felt like my presence needed this kind of validation. Once the village meeting finally occured, I understood my flawed perception of community development. The villagers were shown a powerpoint outlining common health problems in villages, their causes, and solutions (a change in habit or improvement in infrastructure). San Lucas, Ivet explained, was offering a two-year partnership, the first year of which would mainly be identifying problems, realizing their need to change, and setting goals. Health and community training and assistance with constructing ecological latrines and chimmnied kitchens would happen the following year. While I felt the urge to quickly fix the community to my standard, earnest community development involves active participation of each villager. They must be empowered to identify problems and seek and realize solutions. This system is independent of excessive outside support and is, partly due to this self-sufficiency, a viably sustainable practice for a village community. After the meeting, each villager and authority leader signed in a book in which the secretary took minutes of the meeting. We, from the clinic, were also asked to sign. I felt like I was signing the Declaration of Independence. I imagine that their meetings were much like ours that night...with rain and mud outside, boot-adorned folks traveling from around, a dimly lit room, conversation about alleviating problems for a hopeful future. This primative kind of brainstorming, where the community must be stimulated to take charge of their village's health, is harder work than arriving for a day or two to place advancements and disperse medication...but it is definitely worth it when you have left the village and are back in the city or in the States.

Hiking an hour or two into Nueva York to meet with the authorities the following day, we started our trek back to Moyobamba early Friday morning. I found rocky stream beds and ancient paths more enjoyable to navigate than car-torn clay roads, but the scenery was spendid all around. For the first 3 hours of our journey the rain accompanied us. We stopped in Cordellera for saltine crackers and juice in a bodega (warehouse/shop) and continued in the rain, so as not to feel miserably cold in our drenched clothes. Finally arriving at the river port, we didn't have to wait long for a community leader from Nueva York to appear with a mule, loaded with much of our belongings. Once across the river by ferry, we crossed the final stretch into the city (which felt more difficult with all our belongings and equiptment). After 5.5 hours of treking, we arrived at our homes just before lunch, drenched, muddy, but happy to be home. Thus occured my first village experience. I look forward to helping with consecutive meetings in the two communities, seeing and learning from the process.

On my first official day in Moyobamba, after returning from the villages, some of the San Lucas staff gathered at a school for a game of volleyball. Left to right: Laura (holding Boss), a nursing student from Holland spending her year abroad researching the cleft lip/palate project for her international public health degree, Francis, my German house sister spending a year in service under a scholarship to confirm that she will study international development, me, and a sister of Roberto, the volunteer technology specialist and owner of Boss.

The volleyball game on Sunday intensified with each set (I retired after 4 games). Laura completes her pass (if that's what you call it in volleyball) with full force.

The rapids of TioYacu (tio means stream, yacu means cold).

Water is taken from the origin of the river and purified for the local village.

For dinner, Francis treated us to 'maduro con mani o queso,' a grilled plantain--hot dog style--with crushed peanuts or cheese. I like the use of a leaf as green (literally) serving ware.

The touristic site marks the 'starting point' of the river Tio Yacu. Perhaps we will return to swim once the rains pass and sunny days are more predictable.

Passing through Argentina

There are several replicate buildings in Buenos Aires of famous structures from around the world. On the left, just under the plane, is the Argentine 'Big Ben' of England near the San Martín plaza. San Martín is a very important character to many countries in Latin America as he led liberation efforts in many countries during the Spanish occupation.

Belonging in Buenos Aires:

In transitioning from my internship in Honduras to service in Peru, I was fortunate to visit my aunt's family in Buenos Aires Argentina. Most days, I tried to relax (I'm better at busying myself with a task than resting) in the house, enjoying the company of twin toddlers and my aunt. Several days, we went out as a family into the city and on other days I explored the city on my own. Watching various American movies and shows, as well as the Oscar Academy awards for the first time, I felt that I learned more about American popular culture from a American-Argentine perspective (my aunt is from Kazakstan and her spouse is from Argentina, but they both studied and lived in California enought to identify there). I reconsidered what it means to be an immigrant and foreigner when I saw the city's diversity: there are Italian and Spanish descendents and migrants from Bolivia and China. Being amongst a homogenous population of Hondurans and Peruvians for close to four months, I wonder how I will view the diversity of the States upon my return. I also questioned whether one has to identify (or resist association) with a culture or race or whether several of these can be blended. I have found that some prefer to call me Russian while others adhere on me an American label. I am not eager to correct them either way as I am not sure that I reject or accept one or the other exclusively. I do have to admit, though, the business of city life made me yearn for good ol' country community in semi-rural Virginia, my home, where one is unconditionally (or with little choice otherwise) accepted and it is not necessary to categorize and exclude oneself from the heterogeneous population in a certain in-vs-out group. I kept comparing my experience in Argentina to life as I imagine it in Richmond (my home for at least the next four years). I hope that I can find balance between homogeneous and heterogeneous social existence.

One of the major avenues in the city. Taxi drivers (the black and yellow cars) only have to purchase an expensive lisence once, instal a machine to count miles, and paint their car a certain color to be in business.

The city's obelisk is smaller than the one in Washington, DC and you can't rise up in an elevator to its top, but it is placed in the center of a major avenue and hosts many protests.

This statue, dedicated to the Spanish, is also located in the center of a major avenue.

I think cemetaries are more fancy than those in the Untied States in just about any country, but the cemetary in Buenos Aires is like a city of its own.

I noticed hints of Catholicism and Judaism (among other more subtle professons of faith). I was surprised and intrigued by the signs of life (greenery) emerging from some tombs.

Rust and cobwebs are also a sign of life, I think. They represent the physical, chemical, and natural continuation of things. Although grave yards represent death, it seems that life and its processes cannot be escaped on Earth.

There is something very attractive about that color blue. I also like the vine lining the grave.

I wondered who these folks were visiting...or maybe they enjoy visiting the cementary in anticipation of joining their familial grave.

My aunt, her souse, their twin boys, and I went on a weekend walk on the 'Puerto Madero.' This artsy bridge opens to allow large ships to pass.

There are foreign embassies all throughout the city and Holland is privileged with a fountain and interesting statue of a girl with outstretched arms.

The boys love water! They gravitated towards the Holland embassy's fountain and drove their toy cars in the water.

More splashing on the port's walk.

Buenos Aires lunch: caannelloni with tomato sauce and a peach 'liquado.'

A 'casero' (home-made) 'tarta,' a typical Argentine lunch quiche.

The boys enjoy their daily walks to the plaza and often stop to smell or explore.

I think little boys may explore the world with the wheels of their toy cars. These cars (especially one particular red one with a biege interior) is present for bed, bath, and meal time.

Where one brother has found something new, the other has to join. A wobbly brick in the side walk intrigued them on the way home from the plaza.

Planes and such:

I had a blessed flight from Buenos Aires to Lima, Peru, where I had to wait most of the day for my evening domestic flight to Tarapoto, Peru. Likely because I checked in very early, my ticket was exchanged from economy to business class. I was a bit disillusioned at first but enjoyed the hour flight, where I had more leg room than I could use (I could barely reach my personal screen when buckled in my seat). I was surprised with the 'snack' of a fancy salad, two hot rolls, and chocolate mouse pie--served on real plates and cloth napkins. I think I fared pretty well...my only bother was that I didn't know how to put my seat table away (it turns out that the large seat handle opens to fold the tray inside). The flight attendant's name was Tatyana--a blonde hair, blue eyed lady perhaps in her 40's. Her somewhat sharp facial features suggested Russian or European origin. I wondered what she was doing on a TACA domestic flight in Peru, speaking English and Spanish. What kind of cultural/communal confusion does one in her place experience? Did she wonder about the girly who didn't seem to belong in business class?

As I exited the plane and traveled to Moyobamba (just under two hours away in a taxi), I sensed an eagerness to be amongst a homogeneous mass of short, dark, handsome humans. Their warmth and friendliness (the tone of their voice and willingness to greet unconditionally) made me feel a sense of home. I was delightfully ready to begin the final eight weeks of my internship.