Ya'll Ready for This? (Barba Chelas, Honduras)

You're not going to like this... Today was Backward Day.
Another grey, rainy tropical morning. I arrived at 

breakfast to a grim-faced group. 
"We've been robbed," Nancy said.
(A little morning slow) hm. Robbed. Of what? What "we"?
I was asked to return to my room to check valuables.
Oh. Right. I've been robbed. Of my iPod. Otherwise items 

intact. My iPod had been on the bed when I'd gone to dinner 

the previous night.
Meh. Vaguely bothersome. Replaceable items don't phase me. 

Nothing personal.
Wasn't even surprised really. While I'm not accustomed to 

being burgled... Or am I?.... The locks here could be 

opened with a butter knife and a flick of the wrist. I'd 

mentioned it when we'd first arrived.
Really though... No biggy. Replaceable, and all the 

files on my computer at home. Could hardly be less 

offensive a theft.
 
I filed a 10 second report with the Front Desk, and 

off we went! Barba Chelas Clinic! Finally, back on track.
A 20 minute ride took us to the end of the paved road 

at the base of the hills (mountains for you Easterners. 

Hills... Good ones, for the Left Coast). We loaded a jeep 

with the 50lb bags of medical supplies, hygiene items, 

books and toys. And as the truck bucked and slithered up 

the hill, we trekked up in the mud and drizzle of the 

morning. It was a beautiful start to the day. Honestly. 

The walk, while rigorous, was jungly and full of plants 

and birds and varied terrain. It felt great to get some 

exercise and air. We crossed several streams (nothing 

more that 15' across and a foot deep). The only notable 

structure was a large estate... An orchid farm. Otherwise 

the hills and dales had shacks tucked into nooks and among 

the vines and trees. There were organized and wild, groves 

of bananas and cacao. Papayas, passion fruit vines tying 

cacao and pomello trees together. Eucalyptus and bamboo, 

and dozens that look like dinosaur relatives of flora from 

home. The only thing we were warned against was... Jaguars.
I won't tease you. I saw no jaguar. 
 
Slightly damp, but warmed and happy, made it to the Village. 

Village being a loose term here. I saw 1 house, 1 school 

building where we established the clinic, and craning my neck, 

a chapel. The other homes were tucked away along footpaths.
Remember, the Clinic program has changed as we now have no 

Dr for adults. I am on in-take. It is far less taxing than 

my previous job as now it's simple conversations and only 

in Spanish. We had only 178 patients today (9am-3pm) 

- now down to 2 Drs -  which left me some time to play 

with the kids. Sandy, a nurse in our group, brought 

bubbles - a genius move - so a dozen kids age 4-11 

and I, blew bubbles, told stories and ran around the 

yard for a while. Another smash hit was the scores 

of tennis balls we handed out (half of which likely 

ended up in the ravine by days end).
 
We finished the clinic at 2:45 with all patients 

seen to the best of our ability. These villagers 

suffered none of the rashes and bites, coughs and 

diabetes of SPS. Walking those hills daily doesn't 

allow for nearly the same diet and there's very 

little pollution.  No electricity, running water 

or cell phones. The kids attend primary school 

in the one-room school house we were borrowing, 

and for high school walk two hours EACH way into 

town. It sounds like I'm recounting the childhood 

of Abe Lincoln.
The children were friendly, clean, and polite, 

and the whole visit was a joy.
 
On the walk down the hill, I visited the orchid 

farmer. Saw a number of interesting birds, plus 

leaf-cutter ants. The farmer had some wonderful 

parrots (scarlet macaws are native to Honduras).
 
Returned home to learn that the body of Dr Myers 

has been expedited and will be sent to Los Angeles 

Thursday morning.
 
A prompt and easy dinner.
 
Oh! And the hotel owner is going to reimburse me 

for the cost of my iPod. How nice is that!?
And here I am, 9pm, tucked in and safe and well. 

I feel a little like Glinda, a story I told the 

kids as iridescent bubbles floated past their 

heads and outstretched arms.