My name is Daniela P., and I am a fourth-year medical student at the David Geffen School of Medicine at UCLA, completing my clinical elective in global health. Growing up as the daughter of Peruvian immigrants in Los Angeles, I always felt mostly connected to my heritage. My parents spoke Spanish at home, my mother always cooked with Peruvian styles and flavors, and the sounds of Gian Marco played through our house. Peru was always part of my identity, yet my only real experience of it came from brief childhood visits—a couple of weeks that never felt long enough to understand the country beyond my family’s stories. When the opportunity arose to complete a clinical elective in Cusco, Peru through Máximo Nivel, I knew it was more than a rotation. It was a chance to reconnect with the place my parents left behind and contribute something meaningful to the country that shaped my family’s story.
Arriving in Cusco for My Clinical Rotation
I arrived in Cusco on a crisp evening, the altitude announcing itself the moment I stepped off the plane. A Maximo Nivel staff member greeted me at the airport, holding the yellow smiley face flag I was promised would be there. I was taken directly to my host family in the Magisterio neighborhood. At 11,000 feet above sea level, just walking up a flight of stairs left me short of breath. My host family welcomed me with warm smiles and a steaming cup of mate de coca, a traditional herbal tea and the local remedy for altitude adjustment. Their home was modest, but comfortable with a cozy living area, and a small courtyard where we ate breakfast each morning. I shared my room with Anika, a medical student from the UK, and we bonded quickly over our shared passion for global health and medical training across continents.
Living With a Host Family During My Elective
One of the highlights of living with my host family was the food. Each evening, we gathered around the dining room table for dishes like aji de gallina, lomo saltado, and quinoa soup. My host mother took pride in presenting us with traditional Peruvian dishes, and she always explained where the ingredients came from and which recipes were “truly Cusqueñan.” I often helped her in the kitchen, trying to memorize every step, so I could impress my mom back home. Anika, who had never tasted Peruvian food, became an instant convert, though she clearly enjoyed eating more than cooking. Sharing meals with the family was more than nourishment—it was cultural immersion I couldn’t have experienced any other way. It helped me understand the warmth and the daily rhythms of the people I’d soon be serving in the clinic.
Working in a Local Clinic in Cusco
On my first day, I was assigned to a national clinic that provided primary and emergency care to underserved communities on the outskirts of Cusco. Walking through the clinic doors, I immediately noticed the difference from the hospitals where I trained in the U.S. Resources were limited, equipment was shared, and the doctors and nurses had to work with what they had. Patients often had to wait—some having traveled from remote villages where medical care is scarce or entirely unavailable. I was paired with a seasoned physician, Dr. Ramos, who had worked there for more than 20 years. He greeted me with a soft handshake and a warm smile before putting me straight to work. Because I speak Spanish, I could communicate directly with patients from the start, assisting with triage, taking vital signs, and organizing charts. Anika, who does not speak Spanish, jumped in preparing supplies and shadowing consultations. Very quickly, it became clear that everyone, regardless of Spanish level or background, had an important role in supporting the local staff.
Cultural and Linguistic Lessons in Patient Care
One of my first patients was an elderly woman who walked nearly five hours from her mountain village to seek treatment for persistent stomach pain. She spoke primarily Quechua, the indigenous language of the Andes, and I quickly realized my Spanish alone wouldn’t be enough. With the help of a nurse, who spoke both Spanish and Quechua, we were able to communicate with her and reassure her as Dr. Ramos completed his examination. At that moment, I understood the true meaning of cultural competency—not as a theoretical need-to-have from some lecture, but as a lived reality. Language isn’t just a tool; it is the first step in bridging cultural divides. The more we understand people, the better we build trust, protect dignity, and guide appropriate care. It was the first time I saw how deeply intertwined medicine is with culture, and it shaped the way I approached every patient afterward.
Challenges of Practicing Medicine in Cusco, Peru
While my experience in Cusco was incredibly rewarding, it was not without challenges. The altitude made even simple tasks exhausting at first, and it took 2-3 days before climbing stairs felt normal again. Adjusting to the clinic’s pace required patience, too. Unlike the fast-moving, technology-driven hospitals where I train in the U.S., healthcare here depends on resourcefulness. Lab tests were limited, imaging was infrequent, and much of the diagnostic process relied on clinical judgment and experience. I watched Dr. Ramos and the nursing staff make decisions with a level of precision and clarity that comes only from years of working in low-resource settings. Learning to practice medicine in this environment pushed me to slow down, observe more carefully, and rely on fundamentals rather than technology.
I remember a young boy who came in with severe asthma. His mother had traveled hours to bring him to the clinic. We did our best to stabilize him, but it was clear he needed care and equipment beyond what our facility could provide. We referred him to a larger hospital, yet the reality was painful—many families simply can’t afford the transportation to get there and the cost of accommodations, let alone further treatment. Watching his mother weigh impossible choices was heartbreaking, and it exposed the gaps in public healthcare systems—all healthcare systems—that statistics never fully capture. That moment stayed with me. It reinforced my commitment to working in underserved communities and to advocating for healthcare systems where a child’s chance of survival isn’t determined by income, but by genuine access to specialists and essential care.
Exploring Cusco and the Sacred Valley on Weekends
Outside of my clinical hours, I made the most of my time in Cusco. I spent my afternoons taking Spanish classes at Maximo Nivel to refine my medical vocabulary and better understand the nuances of patient conversations. I also explored the city on foot—wandering through the San Pedro Market, eating lunch in the cafes near the Plaza de Armas, and climbing the ancient stone steps at the ruins of Sacsayhuamán. On weekends, Anika and I ventured further into the Sacred Valley, visiting places like Pisac, Ollantaytambo, and the salt mines of Maras. During my last weekend, I traveled to Machu Picchu, closing out my clinical elective by standing somewhere that has endured for centuries. The city of Cusco, the Andes mountains, and all the amazing history, reshaped my understanding of Peru. This country is no longer just a place of childhood stories, but it’s a living, breathing place of meaning, and I now feel even more connected to it.
Reflecting on My Medical Experience in Peru
As my elective came to an end, I found myself reflecting on how much I had grown—both as a medical professional and as a person. I got hands-on experience that no classroom or simulation could ever replicate, and I developed a deeper understanding of global health that will stay with me throughout my career. More importantly, I reconnected with my Peruvian heritage in a way I never could have imagined. The people I met, the patients I treated, the colleagues I worked with, and the family who welcomed me into their home all reminded me why I chose medicine in the first place. Peru taught me that medicine is more than just diagnosing and treating disease—it’s about building relationships, understanding culture, and making a difference, even when the difference feels small. This experience deepened my commitment to working in underserved communities and clarified my interest in pursuing a career in family medicine with a focus on global health. I know I will return to Peru—maybe as a physician, or simply someone who wants to give back to the place that shaped me. Leaving Cusco didn’t feel like an ending, but rather a new chapter in my lifelong connection to this amazing country.