Noah's Travel Journal - South America, Fourth Entry

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Big Town Revisited

Safe and sound back in a café in Baños, John recounted the behind-the-scenes events of the waterfall drama. As his flat-bottom kayak dove into the pool below the drop, the hydraulics of the falls forced him downward. With minimal surface area, the boat posessed almost no internal pockets of air to help bring it back to the surface. The kayak thrashed around six feet below the boils while John attempted to right himself. Physical exertion rapidly cashed the oxygen in his lungs as he fought to eject from his boat. He broke the plane of the surface only to find that his eyes were the only bodypart that could fully escape.

Instead of being chewed up and spit out downstream, he had been forced behind the veil of water and under a rock shelf with a pocket of air that ranged from five to seven inches in height, depending on the swells of water. By removing his helmet he was able to raise his head and have his face smashed against the low ceiling, stealing breaths between surging waves. 15 minutes of detailed exploring yielded a small ledge hole large enough for Harry Houdini to feel uncomfortable about entering. Cramped in the darkness just above the waterline, John contemplated his escape. Taking the plunge, he dove forward in a futile attempt to breach the wall of water. It slapped him for his insolence and drove him to the bottom with the same icy hand. Kicking hard in what seemed to be a forward direction, John broke through into the downstream current. Enter safety bag...

This trecherous episode, combined with countless others of greater severity stalking me without relenting, were a perfect omens for migrating to other adventures. Bidding farewell to my close friends, the best month of my life and temporarily to my brother was difficult, but I had to play the diabetic trump card. My supplies were dwindling and I needed to venture to Quito to visit a diabetes clinic and recieve a care package from my sponsors, Novo Nordisc and Lifescan.

After staying in a town with a couple of thousand residents, I had forgotten that buildings could rise more than four stories from the earth. I sought refuge from the cars, noise and tourist-priced bread, in a discounted hostal room which shared the same design principles as a public bathroom stall: two paper-thin walls that didn't reach the ceiling shared previously unknown facts about my mother and boxed me in a corner of the common area, plenty of foot traffic sped by outside my door that barely locked, and the only comfortable position on the bed was sitting upright on the matress which lost the battle for thickness to a toilet seat. I pride myself on being a real bargain shopper.

While I waited a couple of days to meet with the over-booked doctor at the diabetes clinic, I read up on the current state of affairs back at home in Hesse's Steppenwolf, and Huxley's Brave New World. Breakdancing on a street corner to celebrate my renewed sense of freedom won me an invitation to a Capoeira (Brazilian martial art) studio the following day. The most interesting experiences always happen by distancing oneself just a little from typical tourist activities.

At long last I am fit into the jam-packed schedule. Dr. Byron Cifuentes' office is located in a renovated apartment apartment building on one of the main streets of Quito, Ecuador. I take a seat in the cramped living room, now converted into a waiting room. The two-bedroom apartment is actually the stomping grounds for two different doctors, based in each of the respective bedrooms adjoining either side of the living room. I have a locked case of low-carb products to watch, nestled in the corner that at one time must have housed the family television; a vast improvement. This doesn't say much since old, peeling paint would have also been a better and more educational adornment.

My mental tyraid against the idiot box is momentarily interupted by a type-2 diabetic making a major financial decision for his health. He has finally decided that he can afford forking over the money for a blood glucose testing meter because he "just can't figure out how to manage diabetes without it." The $27 cost for 50 testing strips injects his resolution with a little dose of uncertainty, but the real sting comes with the receptionist/nurse's recommendation of checking at least three times a day. I can't tell if he is shaken on account of new information, or if he had just supressed the financial nightmare of the recommendation for tight blood sugar control the first time he heard it.

I strike up a conversation with a self-proclaimed chocolate addict who is having trouble controlling her diabetes while still getting her fix. She has come to see if Dr. Cifuentes knows of other pills that might work better with the large quantity of chocolate her body now necessitates to maintain homeostasis. I ask her about her preffered method of exercise only to find that she doesn't have the time for any physical activity. I am ushered into see the doctor midway through my diatribe of praise for regular exercise. Her corteous yet disinterested nods of affirmation make it clear she has heard all of my insights before.

Seeing the man of short stature behind the deep, booming voice welcoming me, makes me feel like I've just unmasked the Wizard of Oz. Dr. Byron Cifuentes is the President of the Ecuadorian Diabetes Foundation, a coalition of 36 diabetes associations spattered across Ecuador. Dr. Cifuentes gives me a brief rundown of the diabetes situation in Ecuador while the patients' din in the living room rivals that of house parties from the apartment's previous life.

"What a day for a match, eh Noah!"

"Indeed it is Doctor. Why don't you give our audience a little expert insight on our two contenders."

"In the Type-1 corner, weighing in at 3% of the diabetic population and holding three specialized diabetes associations nation-wide, the Youth Population! Composed mostly of a younger crowd, they'll be going head-to-head with the Heavy-weight defending champion. In the Type-2 corner, weighing in at a whopping 97% of the Ecuadorian diabetics and holding the title of the other 33 national associations, the rapidly-increasing Adult Population Epedemic!. Unlike the growing type-2 youth epedemic in the U.S.A., this heavy hitter is almost entirely composed of adult individuals. These two opponents have a long history of cooperation and share the common goal of having a successful fight for joint publicity. Only 20% of these fighters' costs are covered by social aid programs so they really need this prize purse. There's still no funding from the state, so relying entirely on private funding has left these two under-nourished and badly in need of combat education."

"You hit the nail on the head, Doctor! I saw evidence of both the financial and educational needs when I was conducting interviews in the lobby before venturing in here to our press box."

"We can only hope that this bout grabs the much needed attention of nutritionists, nurses and politicians. I there isn't more cultural and political importance placed on this leage, there simply won't be any contenders left to duke it out."

"That's an expert evauluation from Dr. Byron Cifuentes, now let's go ringside as the fighters touch gloves..."

In layman's terms: there is not enough financial aid given by the government because diabetes is not a priority and in turn, there is little funding for education programs which would make patients prioritize caring for their own diabetes (cultural and political complacency). Educational and diabetes management tools were exactly what arrived in Dr. Cifuentes' office after some minor delays with the Ecuadorian shipping process. Shannon Hein, the person behind the package, can best be described as a selfless saint. Novo Nordisc is probably not fully aware of the calibur of the person representing their company in my home region of the U.S.A. From day 1 she believed in my mission and has shown her unfaltering support at every possible moment.

When the package was emptied and Spanish educational material covered his desk and insulin flowed out of his office's mini-refirgerator, Dr. Cifuentes had a hard time believing the no-strings-attatched benevalence displayed by all parties that made that Kodak moment possible. After a long week of waiting, I took my little pack of pen tips, insulin and blood testing strips and shook hands with the baffled Oz. I clicked my ruby-red tennis shoes and was whisked out of the city who shipping company had held me captive for 10 days. Just like Dorothy and the gang, I was reminded that my mission was already being achieved and my ability to smite complacency was already at my fingertips. This power over one's reality is an inherent ability in all individuals.

After a wild goose chase around Ecuador filled with travel nightmares, I located my brother in the coast town of Bahia De Caraquez. For the next week we lived and worked with the ecology co-op, Fundacion Planet Drum. The first part of our days was spent on good-old manual labor, reforestation projects where mudslides had destroyed hillsides and induced massive amounts of erosion. Our side projects in the evening included making drums (so foundation could actually posess one) and gearing up for firedancing vs. breakdancing battles (which were to become a constant source of room, board and adrenaline).

Good times and better people flocked into our lives like it was Winter everywhere else. On one particularly memorable day, my two dear friends and I went bushwhacking through dry tropical forest to scout a possible sight for revegitation. After a subterranean clan of bees attacked my fearless leader's hand, it was up to my bladder to bring down the swelling and save the day. We gorged on an orchard's fallen passion fruits to celebrate the inundation of anti-venom. Most likely, the only time in my life I'll be able to get away with peeing on a boss of mine.

As my time in the little outpost of paradise was winding down, we took a day to work in a community-built park and involve a group of children in the watering and clean up process. I went to work pounding in retaining barriers in an eroded hillside while sweating like a pig. I was so mesmerized by the task that I didn't notice the pack of budding ecologists that had gathered behind me to say goodbye. I stood up, towering above the mass of little faces eagerly awaiting a small piece of my infinite wisdom from a far-away land. I knew this was one of those precious moments where I was given the chance to motivate and inspire the next generation of environmental warriors.

"Don't forget, this is your forest too," I proclaimed to the impressionable Ecuadorian youths. They thanked me for my help in the park and headed for the beach. Not only did I sound cornier than a womanizer with a bad pickup line, but it sounded like something swindled from a public service announcement from the Holiest-of-Holy, Smokey the Bear. I bowed and shook my head in laughter and disbelief only to catch a glimpse of my double-ply work pants.

The sweat running unhindered down my sun-burnt, shirtless chest had collected a film of dirt and pooled in my crotch and down through both layers of fabric, but on one leg from the way I had been squatting. The stain was much more symetrical in back. I wondered if any of the children could have taken a message seriously from a crazy gringo who was so excited about saving the environment that he soiled himself thoroughly. Maybe I scared them into wanting the park better maintained so another crazy doesn't have to come through and hammer stakes into the hillside like an environmental John Henry.

I spent my last day getting wooden dowels made for Devil Sticks for a street performance and spending time with the exceptional human beings at the now drum-posessing foundation. A brief stint in the surf town of Montañita left my brother and I with a hermit's mindset of seclusion. We went to the mountain town of Riobamba to stock up on provisions for what turned out to be the heaviest dose of Heaven and Hell ever rolled into one adventure. Seriously, I really hate the cliff-hanger endings, but my hand is tired...