5/27/2012

There are two other girls from California living with us in the same house. Because it was their last day staying in Cuzco, we all (with Cataline, too) went out to a bar to hang out. They said they ran across two band members in the plaza and were invited to this bar where the performance is going to be held. Anyways, I had so much fun with these girls. One girl got really drunk and made a scene and of course because we were foreigners we were quite a spotlight.

The next day, I got sick. I think I got a cold or something. I started having fevers and a headache. I haven’t gotten sick in a very long time so it must be the combination of a cold weather,  dirt and high altitude that finally got me. Today I am feeling a little bit better as I am writing my journal but yesterday I’ve never felt that sick in a very long time. I think when you are sick, you start to miss home the most and that’s how I felt. Because I didn’t want to bother my host family with my sickness I just went to my room to sleep, hoping that I would feel better the next day. But, wow it was really cold in my room and sometimes wearing leg warmers, a sweater and a hat do not suffice to ward off the cold in Cuzco. L

It’s been a week since I arrived in Cuzco. I have been volunteering at a mental hospital and there I got to meet other wonderful interns . What I’ve been doing after the first day of working as sort of like a receptionist was visiting patients with schizophrenia, epilepsy, autism and just help them engage in work that psychologists want them to do such as drawing, doing puzzle and so on. They all live in the hospital but in an isolated area (you need a key to open the door to visit them). The place they live in, I feel like, is sort of like a prison because I peeked at their rooms and it’s dark and the bed doesn’t look that cozy. But, the patients are wonderful; they are happy to see me and one patient, for example, who cannot speak was showing me the paintings that previous volunteers drew. Of course, I couldn’t understand a single word of what he was saying but I was happy that he was happy to show me around. Also, there was one girl (women and men stay in two separate places) who was very good at speaking English. Whenever I pass by her she would talk to me in very fluent English. I thought she was working for the hospital but when she started talking to me- how she hates being in this confined area with other patients- then I knew she had a story. She was telling me how her parents put her in the hospital because they thought she was schizophrenic, even though she doesn’t believe that she is. I think this is tragic because I wonder how i would feel if my parents told me that I have some kind of mental illness when I think I am okay? I later shared this with my host parents and they said probably the parents know about  their child. Then I asked her how she learned her English and she said she lived in New Jersey before (no wonder). At first, I was thinking how come when I tried speaking in Spanish to her she never replied back in Spanish, and now I think I know but then again i could be wrong so I would rather not write here.  She is one of the patients that stood out to me the most because she was very friendly to me. I hope that we get to know her more.

I was thinking.. how gloomy the patients would feel living in the condition that they are in. Even though they are labeled as whatever mental illness that they have, their emotions aren’t dead. They know how to appreciate when for example I show a simple act of saying hi to them. They aren’t different than I am. They want to be recognized as fully, dignified human beings  just as much as everyone does. We have a capacity to love and I think it is continuous love and care from the psychologists, interns and whoever is working there that make a difference in patients’ lives.  What am I taking away from these experiences? I have been recently thinking about going to a grad school right after my undergrad.. just a thought.