I awoke with a jolt, thrashing my feet about in the mosquito net to defend myself from my assailant: our host's cat, who amused itself every night by soaring onto the bed to attack my feet. Now fully awake, I sat up and rolled out of bed clutching my aching head. It was early morning and the air was still cool, but in a few hours the sun would climb and boil the water that was our atmosphere.

More than just an annoyance, the heat was a positive danger. A few members of the team had cases of heatstroke at the outset of our trip, myself included, and spending our days trekking to new villages and running makeshift clinics didn't help our health any. After four days in Mexico I'd lost serveral pounds and had extremely low blood pressure. Though I seemed to be adjusting slowly, I would still get hit with headaches and nausea.

We had already done clinics in three different villages and served over 250 people. These village people are some of the friendliest I have ever met, and you are instantly enveloped into the family like they have known you all their lives. Waving and smiling, shouting greetings as you pass, the old men will tie their horses in the street and sit for hours chatting, their cowboy hats shielding their tan faces from the bright glare.

Each day we loaded up the truck and barreled down the dirt roads through the cane fields, passing ox carts, motorbikes, and miles of sugar cane fields lined with heavily loaded mango trees. Coming to bridges barely wider than the vehicle, we could look down as we crossed and see the river through the unevenly spaced metal bars.

Driving at night, the sky would be lit up from the cane fields being burned to prepare for harvest, and by the next morning the sky would be filled with smoke, the sun reduced to a dull orange ball floating above us.

One afternoon we were invited for a meal by a family who lived in a thatched hut. The food was, of course, delicious, but the most intriguing thing was the amazing feat of engineering that was the hut itself. Bamboo poles lashed together were driven into the packed dirt floor, and an intricate support system made up the frame of the palm-thatched roof. In the corner was a small brick stove heated with a small fire beneath. The salivating aroma of fresh tortillas and lentils filled the hut as the soft breeze rustled through the thatch. It was incredibly peaceful and much more suited for the climate than the more modern houses which were made out of cement and corrugated metal.

One night we were especially late in leaving a village named Sabalo, and were told by our translator that there was someone who would feed us. We sat down on benches in the town square and talked as the family restaurant fired up our meal. Night had fallen and it was beautifully cool. Our little team members took off to play soccer with the local boys, and the rest of us eagerly waited for the tiny crackling fire to finish our food.

By the time the cooks handed us our order we were all starving, but those foot-long soft tacos were worth any wait. The star of the recipe was the local salad called Pico de Gallo consisting of onions, tomatoes, cilantro, Cyrano peppers (if you want it spicy), all chopped very tiny. Add lettuce, a dash of lime juice, a local meat imitation made of soy which no Gringo will ever be able to replicate, swath with a fresh hot tortilla and Voila! Taco Bell plummets into the pit of culinary shame. Nothing could coax the tiny cook to reveal her secret, however, and that world-famous taco will forever remain in Sabalo.

This trip is by no means a vacation; it's actually harder physically and mentally than anything I could experience at home, but sometimes that's the only way to "strike gold" in a sense. To quote one of our host's: "In Mexico its is necessary to carry your passport and toilet paper; not necessarily in that order," but lack of toilet paper is worth the simple joy of watching geckos hunting insects around the porch light, making chirping noises like birds. Being exhausted and hungry is worth the smile of a grandma when her hurting tooth is gone, or playing peek-a-boo with a toddler on the street.

I love to travel, but some places are easier (and more pleasant) to experience than others. However, if you are willing to risk a few limbs and lose a few pounds, you'll see parts of the world the "vacationers" could never dream of.