I've been a distance runner for the past seven years. I've ran in countless 5k's, many 10k's, and several half marathons. I've broken my femur, ankle, and tail bone as a result of running. The amount of scrapped knees I've received while running is not even in the realm of normalcy; neither are the black eyes or scratches taken to the face. I've endured long months of training and even longer track and cross country practices. I am a well seasoned runner, having had my fair share of outrageous experiences whilst hitting the pavement and trails. There was the crazy, drunk man in the woods of River Forest, Chicago. There was the crazy, drunk man who chased me in Austin. There was the time I quite literally sacrificed my own body to save my dog, which is also how I happened to break my tail bone. There was the time I got bit by a snake. There was the time I ran into a stop sign. There was the time I ran into a bicycler. There was the time I ran into a water fountain. Sadly, there was the time I actually ran into a tree. And, there was the time I got lost in the mountains of Honduras. Believe it or not, these aren't even half of the crazy stories I have from my days of running.
Although I knew that running in the Philippines would be a tad bit more difficult, there was never a question of if I would continue with it. Simply put, if I don't run, I will go crazy. And, in true accordance to my usual stubborn self, I figured that I was an experienced enough runner to handle anything that this country threw at me. I was, of course, wrong. I'm almost always wrong. But, I am constantly learning, so I thought I would share a few guidelines that have helped me along the way.
1. Always, and I do mean always, stop to absorb the beautiful scenery that surrounds you.
2. Embrace the fact that children will follow and chase after you. They will tire eventually. Unless they don't. In that case, you have a new running buddy.
3. Don't feel too defeated when the small Filipino child who's running in tsinelas is faster than you. It will happen.
4. Realize that the cars, trucks, motorcycles, and trikes will not move out of your way to avoid hitting you. Nope. Instead, they will simply honk the horn to make you aware that you are about to be hit.
5. If there's a suitable rock climbing spot, you should definitely stop and try it. You'll probably fall and look ridiculous, but it'll be fun.
6. Wear shorts that won't fall off. If your shorts do fall off, although I'm fairly certain that this kind of predicament is one that could only ever happen to me, it will be the most embarrassing moment of your life. Accept it.
7. Challenge yourself by running up the plentiful hills and mountains. It will hurt, but you'll feel like a badass afterwards. And, it makes going downhill that much better.
8. When you trip and fall, everyone within 400 meters will come out of their homes to ask if you're okay. Or, in my case, to ask if you're alive.
9. Have safe drinking water ready for post-run. If you don't, someone will offer you some, you'll ask if it's okay to drink, they'll say yes, which may be incorrect, and then you'll get amoebas. And then you'll want to die.
10. Avoid the dogs at all costs. Just trust me on this one. If you don't, make sure you're faster than they are.
11. Remember, it's more fun in the Philippines, running included!
Saturday, October 26, 2013
Sunday, October 6, 2013
Spreading Peace and Fighting Amoebas
Okay, I'm ready to talk about it.
I can confidently say that amoebas are actually and literally the work of the devil. I know this because I experienced them during my third week of PST (pre-service training) and I can honestly say that it was one of the most traumatizing events in my short life.
Most people get amoebas from unknowingly drinking impure water or from bad food. I happened to get mine by drinking the buko juice from a street vendor. You're probably wondering why I would be so dumb as to drink said buko juice from a street vendor in the Philippines and my response to that would be nothing. I have no reason, I'm simply an idiot. Many people told me that I shouldn't drink it because it's often made with unfiltered water and ice but, being my stubborn self, I insisted that I would be fine. I have never been so wrong.
Amoebas like to dwell in your body for weeks at a time, just waiting to make their surprise attack. You think you're fine since nothing happens after the first time you drink the buko juice, so you just keep drinking it. But, little do you know that those creatures are forming one giant amoeba that will get you when you least expect it. Little bastards. Mine made itself known on a Sunday afternoon, right in the middle of my host sister's videoke performance.
I felt uneasy in the morning but figured it would pass. It did not pass. I did my laundry, the Filipino way of course, and then sat down to spend some time with my host family. My stomach started to ache more so I excused myself to take a rest in my room. I laid down for about five minutes, still thinking that it would pass, when the first wave hit me. No sooner had my sister started to belt out "how do I get you alone," I was doubled over feeling like that was how I was going to die. I went back to my bed, telling myself that it would go away, and within three minutes I was back in the comfort room. It was most certainly not going to pass. After about eight rounds of this I finally decided to call PCMO. The on-call doctor answered, I told her my symptoms, and she asked me if I got a new cell phone. I was terribly confused by this response and told her no, I had not gotten a new phone. She told me that the number came up as unrecognized and I explained to her that PC had put the wrong number for me on the master handout that was given to all volunteers with everyone's phone numbers. "Oh sige, sige," she said. I was baffled as to why this matter took precedence over my feeling like my insides were exploding, but I went with it. She told me to take a medicine for the pain and to call back if it didn't subside. I took the medicine, threw up the medicine, and called her back. It was then that she told me to go to the hospital.
I called my neighboring volunteer and told her what was happening and she showed up in my room shortly afterwards. My host mother came in at that same time and started doing the sign of the cross over my entire body while sprinkling holy water on me. Then, my LCF (language and cultural facilitator) came into my room and began packing up some of my belongings. I was pretty delirious by this time, making trips to the CR every few minutes, and remember asking her if we were going on vacation. After I was all packed up, our driver Bong, yes Bong, showed up to take us to the hospital. I laid down across the front row seats and quickly rolled out of the seats the first time we came to a sudden stop. This, to say the least, did not help the situation my stomach was currently facing. We had to pull over a total of eight times so that I could puke on the side of the road with random Filipinos watching in both disturbance and disgust, I'm sure. At one point I was throwing up next to a cow and a flock of roosters. So strange.
When we finally got to the hospital I stumbled in saying that I wanted to die. The nurses laughed and ushered me to a bed. I was asked many questions, all of which I said yes to because I had no idea what I was saying. So, on some paper somewhere in the Balanga Hospital, I'm both married and a resident of the Philippines. They took my vitals and decided that I needed an IV. If you know me at all then you know how I responded to that decision. "No, no please don't!" I screamed while sobbing
and saying that I was fine and could go home, while then puking into the bedpan. I loathe needles. I'm terribly embarrassed about how I reacted, but I promise that, in the moment of being in a foreign hospital with amoebas, everything seems so much more dramatic. The nurses laughed and
told me to relax while they took off my bracelets and looked for a vein. I must clarify that Filipinos
typically laugh when put in tense situations; it's in no way done out of malice, it's just what they do. I'm pretty certain that I passed out when I saw the needle go into my vein because the next thing I remember is being wheeled down the hospital. Soon after I got to my room the nurses were telling me that I would be joined by another woman. They told me this repeatedly and seemed to be really excited about it and I kept thinking okay, I don't care, I just want to lay here in misery. But, it turns out that the person I would be sharing my room with was another volunteer with amoebas, too! And, that next day we were joined by another volunteer with the same little devils.
I stayed in the hospital for three long days until the Dirty Lisa's, as we coined them, decided to leave. It was by far the least amount of fun I've had while here in the Philippines and I do not recommend them to anyone. There are many risks involved when becoming a PCV, and amoebas are definitely one of them. It has become a joke as to who can complete their service without contracting these monsters and bets have been made for who's most likely to not get them. As horrible as the
experience was, it makes for a good story and now I know to stay away from the buko juice.
Mabuhay sa Philippines!
I can confidently say that amoebas are actually and literally the work of the devil. I know this because I experienced them during my third week of PST (pre-service training) and I can honestly say that it was one of the most traumatizing events in my short life.
Most people get amoebas from unknowingly drinking impure water or from bad food. I happened to get mine by drinking the buko juice from a street vendor. You're probably wondering why I would be so dumb as to drink said buko juice from a street vendor in the Philippines and my response to that would be nothing. I have no reason, I'm simply an idiot. Many people told me that I shouldn't drink it because it's often made with unfiltered water and ice but, being my stubborn self, I insisted that I would be fine. I have never been so wrong.
Amoebas like to dwell in your body for weeks at a time, just waiting to make their surprise attack. You think you're fine since nothing happens after the first time you drink the buko juice, so you just keep drinking it. But, little do you know that those creatures are forming one giant amoeba that will get you when you least expect it. Little bastards. Mine made itself known on a Sunday afternoon, right in the middle of my host sister's videoke performance.
I felt uneasy in the morning but figured it would pass. It did not pass. I did my laundry, the Filipino way of course, and then sat down to spend some time with my host family. My stomach started to ache more so I excused myself to take a rest in my room. I laid down for about five minutes, still thinking that it would pass, when the first wave hit me. No sooner had my sister started to belt out "how do I get you alone," I was doubled over feeling like that was how I was going to die. I went back to my bed, telling myself that it would go away, and within three minutes I was back in the comfort room. It was most certainly not going to pass. After about eight rounds of this I finally decided to call PCMO. The on-call doctor answered, I told her my symptoms, and she asked me if I got a new cell phone. I was terribly confused by this response and told her no, I had not gotten a new phone. She told me that the number came up as unrecognized and I explained to her that PC had put the wrong number for me on the master handout that was given to all volunteers with everyone's phone numbers. "Oh sige, sige," she said. I was baffled as to why this matter took precedence over my feeling like my insides were exploding, but I went with it. She told me to take a medicine for the pain and to call back if it didn't subside. I took the medicine, threw up the medicine, and called her back. It was then that she told me to go to the hospital.
I called my neighboring volunteer and told her what was happening and she showed up in my room shortly afterwards. My host mother came in at that same time and started doing the sign of the cross over my entire body while sprinkling holy water on me. Then, my LCF (language and cultural facilitator) came into my room and began packing up some of my belongings. I was pretty delirious by this time, making trips to the CR every few minutes, and remember asking her if we were going on vacation. After I was all packed up, our driver Bong, yes Bong, showed up to take us to the hospital. I laid down across the front row seats and quickly rolled out of the seats the first time we came to a sudden stop. This, to say the least, did not help the situation my stomach was currently facing. We had to pull over a total of eight times so that I could puke on the side of the road with random Filipinos watching in both disturbance and disgust, I'm sure. At one point I was throwing up next to a cow and a flock of roosters. So strange.
When we finally got to the hospital I stumbled in saying that I wanted to die. The nurses laughed and ushered me to a bed. I was asked many questions, all of which I said yes to because I had no idea what I was saying. So, on some paper somewhere in the Balanga Hospital, I'm both married and a resident of the Philippines. They took my vitals and decided that I needed an IV. If you know me at all then you know how I responded to that decision. "No, no please don't!" I screamed while sobbing
and saying that I was fine and could go home, while then puking into the bedpan. I loathe needles. I'm terribly embarrassed about how I reacted, but I promise that, in the moment of being in a foreign hospital with amoebas, everything seems so much more dramatic. The nurses laughed and
told me to relax while they took off my bracelets and looked for a vein. I must clarify that Filipinos
typically laugh when put in tense situations; it's in no way done out of malice, it's just what they do. I'm pretty certain that I passed out when I saw the needle go into my vein because the next thing I remember is being wheeled down the hospital. Soon after I got to my room the nurses were telling me that I would be joined by another woman. They told me this repeatedly and seemed to be really excited about it and I kept thinking okay, I don't care, I just want to lay here in misery. But, it turns out that the person I would be sharing my room with was another volunteer with amoebas, too! And, that next day we were joined by another volunteer with the same little devils.
I stayed in the hospital for three long days until the Dirty Lisa's, as we coined them, decided to leave. It was by far the least amount of fun I've had while here in the Philippines and I do not recommend them to anyone. There are many risks involved when becoming a PCV, and amoebas are definitely one of them. It has become a joke as to who can complete their service without contracting these monsters and bets have been made for who's most likely to not get them. As horrible as the
experience was, it makes for a good story and now I know to stay away from the buko juice.
Mabuhay sa Philippines!
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