An Unexpected Adventure

It started innocently. After school, I wanted to see if I could somehow get a prescription from a local doctor. I didn't know quite what to do, so I took the advice from a co-worker that maybe I should hit the local pharmacy and ask for their advice, so down I went. I spoke probably my best spanish ever and found out that I could take a taxi down to the "Clinica Medellin" where I could meet with a doctor. It would be a simple process I was told.

I get there and ask the receptionist if there is a general doctor there and she says, "No." So, not to be deterred, I head up the elevator to find my own doctor. The building is made up of lots of small offices, with specialists in each. I stop into one of them and ask if I can get a prescription. Well, let's just say that once you begin speaking Spanish, they obviously reply in Spanish, and that's generally when I get lost. So, I talk to several people who all want to help me but don't quite know how. Nobody around, at this time anyway, speaks English, but they put me on the phone with someone who supposedly does. She doesn't. What she does is just speak a little bit slower, which I have some success with. She tells me that she's doing to take down my number and have someone call me who again, supposedly speaks English. I get in the cab, take the call, and get a number that doesn't work. Now, I'm right back where I started.

I go back to the pharmacy and tell the woman about my unsuccessful trip. She tells me that there's a doctor down the street, and I'm thinking that there are no buildings that look, even remotely, like they'd house a doctor. So, I go down there and ask the woman behind the counter if Sergio is around and if he is in fact even a real doctor. She tells me that he'll be there in 30 minutes. In the meantime, I go have my weekly haircut that costs about 5 bucks, and a great steak dinner that costs about 3 dollars. I go back to try to meet with him, and I'm told to go upstairs. This is a totally crappy building, and I'm feeling very skeptical, but I knock on the door and begin in Spanish, and for once in my life down here, someone actually speaks English! I rejoice. He tells me to have a seat and wait for him. I am immediately bombarded by 4 scruffy Colombian boys who are talking to me a mile a minute. I play along, as I can understand some of what they're saying, but not much. Then another guy walks in who speaks some English and I ask him what they're saying, especially the fat kid who's all up in my face repeating something. The guy tells me that this kid's calling me a "fat boy." I look at the kid and say, "Tu eres el nino gordo!", which basically means, "You're the fat kid!" He calls me it again, and I stand up over him and say, "Quieres eso?", which is something like, "You want some of this?" Everyone starts laughing, including what is now quite a crowd of kids and women all enjoying the show. The kids run away, but then come back and start saying something about "fuerte" or "libros" which I'm thinking is something like "strong" or "pounds", so I'm thinking that they think I'm totally buffed, and I play along. So, now they all want to feel my muscles, so I give them my best flex and they go crazy. I have kids and moms all feeling my so-called muscles. Then, I think they might like to see the crazy American's tattoo. They totally flip out! But it gets better. I grab this kid, the fat one, and pick him up against the wall, similar to the way I would manhandle kids on my annual Halloween extravaganza, and yell in his face. The crowd goes crazy.

The doctor finally meets with me, and tells me that he'd be happy to fill my prescription, but that he needs to meet with the poor people who are waiting. When I say poor, I mean no money poor. It turns out that he works for the government and comes down to this office 3 days a week. Now I feel bad that the rich American is making poor Colombians, who probably have legitimate medical needs, wait so I tell him not to worry about it. He tells me that it's OK, but that he needs to run home to get his prescription pad. I ask him not to, and that I'll come back later, but he insists. Then he goes on to tell me that he needs to hurry because he has to go to dinner with some Swiss doctors. I tell him that it's seriously not a big deal, but he continues to insist on doing this for me and tells me to wait for him. So, while I'm waiting, the kids are across the way in this totally run-down library. I go in there and do math problems and play games with them, and that's when it totally hits me: I love working with the poor kids.

This school is fantastic. The kids are fun, and the staff is great (although composed entirely of Estrogen), but the kids here don't really "need" me. They'd be fine either way. The poor kids in this library were saying, "Enseneme!", which means, "Teach me!", which is something I definitely don't hear a lot around here. I could be giving the greatest lesson I've ever come up with, and some may even enjoy it, but nobody really appreciates it the way the poor kids do. The kids here already know that they'll be successful regardless, so it doesn't really matter that much to them. I shouldn't speak in generalizations, but these kids, for the most part, can be really lazy.

In the end, this doctor comes running back, sweating in his suit and late for his dinner, with my prescription in hand. What a guy. Tell me one doctor in the states who'd do that for you. I make a nice donation to his office and he tells me that he'd love for me to come around whenever I want and he'd love to have dinner or a drink to practice his English. This is very much a Colombian thing to do. Everyone you meet wants to have dinner with you, but I think it's just something they say. Who knows? Maybe I'll stop back in to say hi, or maybe to show off some "Rock" wrestling moves.