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They say that you’re not a real Central American traveler until you’ve been super sick. Check.

I got some sort of intestinal parasites and learned that IV’s are truly wonderful things. But that’s not the important lesson here.

I had to leave one of my homestays to go to the hospital, so I missed out on a few days in the campo. As I was making my way back, I ran into some people from a different homestay who worriedly inquired about my health.

Not an hour after arriving back in the community, an earlier host father showed up to see me and ask how I was doing. I was blown away, but also confused how people in very disparate communities (two to four kilometers away, over mountains and tiny trails) had heard the news so quickly. Continue reading

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