God must know how much I love peanut butter...

Hello friends! I can't believe another week is finished. It was definitely filled with many lessons, both in Spanish and in life.

For one, this past week I learned from my teacher how she started visiting the San Hermano Pedro Hospital. It was quite an endearing, and amazing story. She said that several years ago, she had visited the children's ward at the hospital and had been very overwhelmed, not knowing what to do with herself, being a little afraid of the whole situation. It is understandable; many people are not used to being around children so sick. She told herself she didn't think she could go back, and she didn't. For a while. Later that year, she went with a friend to volunteer at a recovery home for malnourished children. There she met a boy named Jose who did not talk very much and did not like other people touching him or talking to him. He was certainly malnourished, but there was more to it. He couldn't walk and couldn't talk and needed physical therapy almost every day. My teacher volunteered to to his physical therapy exercises because they did not always have a physical therapist there at the malnourished children's center. So she visited Jose very often, and slowly but surely, Jose became much more okay with being around people. Eventually, my teacher found out that Jose had been abandoned by his parents and was being transferred to San Hermano Pedro Hospital where he would probably live the rest of his life. When my teacher heard this, she vowed that she would visit him until the day she died. Ever since, she and her husband have gone to the hospital every Sunday to visit him. On Christmases, they are allowed to bring Jose to their house for the day. It's really amazing because many people at the hospital think that Jose is their kid. Now, because of all the attention and love she has given him, he will let people touch him; he smiles and laughs, even though he cannot talk, whereas when my teacher first met him, he was very afraid of people. After she told me this story, I was utterly amazed. What an unselfish act of love. It's quite beautiful, really.

On an entirely different note, later this week I was walking home from school and I was struck by an incredibly overwhelming craving for peanut butter. For those of you who may not know me as well, peanut butter is one of my favorite things in the world. I have it with one, often two, meals a day. After going without it for three weeks, I think it all built up on me. I actually dreamed about it: how sad is that? The next day, I was walking through Antigua on my way home, and I was looking down while I was walking. All of a sudden, I saw a chalkboard sign resting on the ground that had the word "manteca" written on it. "Manteca" is Spanish (more or less) for peanut butter. I kid you not, I gasped, stopped in my tracks, and marched into the tienda and bought a tiny jar of peanut butter (which cost 5 bucks, probably because it was shipped from the US but I didn't care). It was such a happy accident.

Last night, we had lasagna for dinner because today is my host parent's oldest daughter's birthday, and I guess lasagna is her favorite. It was hilarious though because Rosio, one of the two little girls who lives here, was so funny about it. I went down to get some water and Rosio ran up to me and said "Hicimos LASAGNA!" (we are making lasagna) and she was jumping up and down saying "muy rico" (it's so good!). Her whole face was lit up. And, let me tell you, throughout the whole meal, Rosio was completely ecstatic the entire time, and, even though she is super tiny for a ten year old, she ate more lasagna than I did. I couldn't help laughing, it was so funny. I guess they don't have lasagna very much...

That's all for now...hope all is well with everyone reading this!