This weekend was quite eventful and
I am sure that most all of you have heard about what happened at some point.
After class on Friday, as usual, we went to the beach to watch the sunset. This
beach is one of the longest sand beaches because on many of the other inhabited
islands the sand has been removed from the beaches to make cement. This sunset
was exceptionally beautiful as the sun sank below Cerro Azul, the southern-most
volcano on Isabela.
A group of us started playing
volleyball with some of the local boys, a few of which could speak English
surprisingly well. At some point, besides talking to people involved with IOI,
I came to expect Spanish because we were just immersed in it.
Anyway, that night Anderson, my 11
year-old brother that I thought was going to be on the continent while I was
there, asked me to play soccer with him, my Dad, Mom and Snaider. So I laced up
my new montrail hiking sneakers and we headed to the turf field by the beach,
known as the Concha by locals. Unfortunately people were already playing on the
field, so Anderson and I kicked the ball around on the beach. For some reason
my feet were just slipping and sliding in my 2 day-worn new shoes. The quick
change in direction did not help at all and once we moved to play in the
Concha, my big toe just started hurting more and more.
Other than this, I had a great time! I got to
play a sport that I love and connected with Anderson, which I had been
struggling with since I arrived, especially once he realized that I was pretty
good, at least for a girl. This is saying something because girls on Isabela do
not really play soccer, well at least not competitively.
We got back home and once I took my shoes off,
I saw blood on my sock and my big toe on my right foot was throbbing – Bad sign
#1.
The next day in the afternoon a group of us
went to the surfer’s beach, also known as el faro (because of the nearby
lighthouse) along the road to the Wall of Tears. I had my toes wrapped up in a
band-aid and ran into the water. The waves were spectacular, perfect for body
surfing. By the time I got out of the water and looked at my toe, I knew
something was wrong. When I pressed on my nail, a weird yellow fluid came out –
Bad sign #2.
It was late afternoon by the time I got the
chance to tell someone from IOI and that night I was taken to the hospital to
get it cleaned. Two of the IOI coordinators went with me to translate what the
doctor said. Basically he told me I was going to lose my toenail in about a
week. The doctor told me to come back every day to get it cleaned because with
the sand streets and all of the dirt that we walked through every day the
chances of infection were much higher. Also I was not allowed to go swimming for
4-6 days, which was painful in itself. Who knew playing soccer in sneakers that
are a little too small could have such serious consequences?
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