The Boys Are Back In Town

Seminario de Negocios

The business seminar in Chorrera went well and I was pleased I was able to work with the same individual I had worked with at the previous seminar. Although Generoso had changed his idea for a business, he had already made the necessary changes to the work we had done previously, so we didn’t get too far behind. Generoso is only about 19 or 20, but he seems to be pretty intelligent and hard working. He lives in the Comarca Ngobe Bugle (if you’ve read my previous posts you already know the Comarca is an autonomous region of Panama where the majority of indigenous people live) where there is no electricity, but he wants to start an internet café with the use of solar panels. Right now people have to travel an hour and a half to Tole to use the internet, make copies, print things off and things like that. He must come from a family of hard working entrepreneurs because his dad, uncle and other members of the family have a furniture shop and tree farm. He’s the only Ngobe I know who owns a laptop.

Generoso and me at the Business Seminar

After the seminar I spent a couple of days in the city just hanging out, spending WAY too much money on food and enjoying all the amenities the city has to offer. Monday night we went to a great bar/restaurant that had flat screen televisions and watched Monday Night Football. Redskins vs. Cowboys. It was great! But the skins lost….not so great.

 San Miguel Centro

I had only planned to spend a couple of days in the city, but a friend of mine, Victor, was changing sites and asked me if I would help him move some things. We traveled to his old site, San Miguel Centro, which is about a two hour chiva ride north of Penonome. (Remember, a chiva is just a pick-up truck with a metal cage on the back where they cram in as many people as possible) It was a pretty rough ride, but the scenery was nice. We were only supposed to be there for a night, but we wound up staying for two because Victor’s girlfriend and her cousin came up as well.

Victor's house in San Miguel Centro

I was fortunate enough to be in town on the night of the founding celebration. It seemed like the whole town was there. Everyone got a candle as we left the church, lighting it from the others around us. We basically did a circle around town ending where we started at the Catholic Church on top of the hill. No one spoke during the procession and you could see the small flames of a thousand candles throughout town. It was really quite moving and reminded me of all those Christmas Eve services back home that I’ve been going to since I was a child.

Founding Celebration in San Miguel Centro

The next day we hiked for an hour and a half to a waterfall in town. The swimming area wasn’t very big, but it was deep enough to jump off a large boulder in the middle of the river without getting hurt. Of course climbing up the boulder seemed pretty risky to me, but the kids climbed up like it was nothing, making me look like a complete nerd when I needed someone to help pull me up. I swear they must have sticky stuff on their feet. One kid amazed me when he climbed half way up the side of a cliff using a jungle vine. I decided not to try that one. We splashed around, did some swimming and headed back to town.

Look paw, I climbed a rock!

I woke Victor and the rest of the gang up around 5:30am the next morning so we could catch the chiva at 6:00. If we didn’t catch that one it could be 9, 10, or even 11 before the next one came along and I had a long way to go to get back home. The chiva finally came around 6:30 and we loaded up most of Victor’s belongings in great big garbage bags. Not very pretty, but it didn’t take us long to pack up all his stuff. From Penonome we took another bus to Capira and then took another bus to his new site, Monte Obscuro or “Dark Mountain”. We made small talk with his new host family and his new host mom showed us the house he would be moving into after a month or so. I really had to start making my way back to David (it’s a 7 hour trip from where I was) but when I mentioned that we had to get going, his host mom said the next bus wouldn’t be for another hour. So…we waited an hour and when the bus came it was full and the driver wouldn’t let us on. After that we tried to find a taxi, but no one seemed to know the number for one. There was nothing we could do but wait yet another hour for the next bus. 

I jumped off the rock and lived! Yay life!

We took the bus from Monte Obscuro to Capira, then another bus from Capira to Penonome (where we both had to stand, staring at the floor because Victor and I are both over six feet tall and the ceiling of the bus is only five feet tall – yes, it was very comfortable…. Victor stayed in Penonome and I hopped another bus to Santiago. From Santiago I caught another bus to David. I wasn’t able to get a big bus in Santiago, which is definitely more comfortable, because they were all full. I was extremely lucky though because one guy told me he had been waiting for three hours and couldn’t find a ride to David. As soon as I stepped off the bus in Santiago, some guy yelled at me “Hey, you going to David?” I was a little leery about following him to a small van parked at the side of a store, but after talking to the rest of the people inside I knew it would be fine. Actually, we didn’t make any stops and the driver flew like hell so we made it into David in record time. It was about 9pm when we pulled into David and I had been traveling since 6am. I grabbed some cheap fonda food (a fonda’s just a cheap dive restaurant) and headed to the hotel T for a good night’s rest.

What a bunch of nerds.

Who needs a land line when there's a pay phone right in town? This is also a very important historical site. It's the very first pay phone in Latin America that Clark Kent used to change into his Superman spandex outfit. Seriously, you can google it.

The Boys Are Back in Town

The next morning I got to the terminal and because of the time, I didn’t know if the bus I was boarding was getting ready to leave or had just pulled. It was weird when he answered “We’re leaving as soon as we’re full.” The busses in Panama are generally one of the few things you can depend on to have a regular schedule. As the bus filled up with indigenous Ngobe I quickly realized that coffee harvest season had begun. Every year starting around mid September, hundreds, maybe even thousands, of Ngobe leave the Comarca and head to coffee farms all over Panama, including the Chiriquí highlands and Costa Rica. The harvest season lasts through mid January and for many of them it’s the only source of income they see all year. It is hard, difficult, manual labor that pays exactly diddly squat. They get two dollars for every bag they fill with coffee beans and the bags are about five feet tall. It would probably take me two days to fill one of them. But if they got paid a decent wage, I’m guessing the world would stop drinking coffee because it would be too expensive. (Yes, I realize that last statement seems like a direct jab at capitalism from someone who is a firm believer in a fair market system)

The upside to a bus made for 20 people that now has 40, is that we made it home in record time. No one got on and we didn’t stop to let anyone off. Two hours fifteen minutes when it usually takes three. The downside is that you have a completely jam-packed bus full of people who haven’t had a decent shower in days, one kid to the right of me who threw up within thirty minutes, the indigenous girl next to me (who was probably 16 at best) was breast feeding a baby on her left knee while the two year old girl on her right knee was balling her eyes out for most of the trip and one of them, or some kid close by, had obviously shit himself. (Side note – it is not uncommon for teenage girls in the Comarca to have multiple children) Of course her kid is not the only one crying. There’s a baby that I would have sworn someone was trying to squeeze the life out of the way it screamed THE WHOLE WAY HOME – OVER TWO HOURS. Other kids were snotting and sneezing, hacking and coughing. The bus was blaring Panamanian tipico music, which is just accordion music with some guy screaming along like he’s being murdered, but they call it singing, no air-conditioning and all the windows, except mine, were closed because it was raining. And then of course there’s the kid in front of me who started puking his holy guts out with about an hour left in the trip. Yes indeed it was a holly jolly ride. I believe every American should experience riding a bus in Panama to appreciate the divine wonder of owning your own vehicle in the United States.

I also noticed probably a dozen landslides on the way home. Most of them I thought to myself “Oh cool, a landslide. It looks like a waterslide at Water Country USA, only its mud. Neat.” But then there were two where I thought “HOLY CRAP!!! WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED HERE!!??” Seriously, major landslides where it looked like the whole side of a mountain had been bulldozed. Thank goodness it had happened while I was gone. Apparently one of the teachers got stuck on a bus going to David for 7 hours just to wind up back in town because of the landslides. Good grief.

I had been gone a little over a week and coming back to town was almost surreal. In a town of about 4,000 people it now looked like there were 10,000 Ngobe. One of them was passed out drunk outside of Jorge and Rosa’s store and another one was sitting in the back of a pick-up truck with dried blood stains streaming down his face. Unfortunately two of the most popular sports for the Ngobe are drinking and fighting. Not casual drinking per se, but drinking so much you pass out in the parking lot of a convenience store and piss yourself kind of drinking. And fighting is just part of their past time. Like baseball for Americans. There’s not a whole lot to do in the Comarca. No bowling alleys, shopping malls, movie theatres, restaurants, tennis courts, basketball courts, pool halls, swimming pools, TV, or anything close. It’s not like they could afford a basketball even if there was a court to play on. Most live in dirt floor homes with no electricity or running water. So, to entertain themselves, they fight. It’s not like an “I’m going to kill you” kind of fight. Most of the time there are rules they follow. They only punch each other in the face and if a man goes down, you back off until he’s back up again. Most Ngobe men I have seen are short, stocky, and muscular. I guess it comes from a lifetime of hard labor and walking everywhere you go instead of driving. I wouldn’t want to get into a fight with a Ngobe who was a foot shorter than me for anything. And after riding all the way home with a bus crammed with way too many people, (let’s not forget the teenage girl breastfeeding beside me, or the crying, snotting, coughing, hacking, vomiting, pooping kids on board) finding one guy passed out drunk in the street, another one with a bloodied head wound, it was good to know….the Ngobes were back in town.

China Town

Nearly every corner store in Panama is Chinese owned. Larger cities like David, Santiago, Penonome, Chitre, Panama City and its surrounding suburbs, have big supermarkets like Rey, Super 99 or Romero. But the majority of stores outside these areas are small convenience type stores that are owned and operated by Chinese entrepreneurs. My town is no exception. There are four places in my town where I can purchase a few groceries, toiletries, plumbing supplies and the like. They are all Chinese owned. Most Panamanians don’t view the Chinese in their communities as being part OF the community. In fact, most people I’ve talked to view them as wealthy foreigners who are taking advantage of the little guy, i.e., Panamanians. People tend to think they’re being “robbed” by the Chinese. I see them as hardworking business men/women who came to Panama looking for a better life, bought a store, and are just trying to make a living like everyone else. However, most people here don’t see it that way.

One of the corner "Chinas" in town

Most Peace Corps volunteers, especially at first, find it distasteful that the stores aren’t even called stores. They’re called Chinas (pronounced Cheenas). People even call the owners, workers and pretty much anyone who even looks like they’re Chinese – China. Can you imagine that being done in the states? Going into a store and saying “Hey China, where’s the shampoo?” It’s done every day here. I can’t tell you how many kids and grown adults come up to the counter while I’m checking out and say “Hey China, how much is this? – Hey China, do you have any ice-cream? – Hey China, where’s the toilet paper?” It’s annoying to me and I’m just the guy standing in line. Well, that’s another issue that I won’t make a big deal of right now, but there is no line in Panama. It doesn’t matter if you’ve been standing there waiting patiently for ten minutes, people just cut in front of you like it was nothing. VERY ANNOYING. Anyway, I made it a point to learn the names of the shop owners and call them by name rather than call everyone China. I tried to explain to a student of mine once that yes, they’re from China, but they also have names, just like you have a name. How would you like it if I called all of you “Latino” all the time instead of using your name? I bet you wouldn’t like that would you? It didn’t seem to sink in. But, then again they don’t view it the way I do. In fact a lot of people have the nickname Chino. It’s not because of any physical features or for any reason at all really. One of my students is nicknamed Chino as well as one of my neighbor’s kids. After awhile you even start saying it yourself because that’s how everyone else speaks. I’ve definitely caught myself saying “I have to go to the China to get some …...” I try to say store, but sometimes China slips out. One of the teachers I work with drops me off nearly every day at the corner store and usually asks me now if I’m going home or to the China.

Jorge and Rosa's store - I teach upstairs

On a side note, being in her car reminds me of being in high-school or college when we would cram ten people into a car to go somewhere. A car here is definitely a luxury that most people cannot afford. So everyone from school (teachers and people who work in the office and sometimes students) crams into her car, sitting on each other’s laps, making general conversation because this is a normal thing and not out of the ordinary. I on the other hand can’t help but keep a smirk on my face until I get out. But now back to the topic.

Elizabeth cooking and hiding from the camera

The day I left to go to Chorrera for a business seminar, I walked to the bus station and then headed to the store to buy something to drink. I noticed it was closed and thought “that’s weird”, but started to cross the street to another store when I noticed it was closed as well. Let me say something here. The shop owners are some of the hardest working people I have seen in Panama. Their stores are open from 7am to 9pm (some longer) and they are there every single day. No days off. And I’m sure they stay after closing to clean and get ready for the next day. The store I go to most of the time is owned by Jorge and Rosa and without fail they are there every single day, all day long, even on Christmas. Amazing. So I was completely confused when I noticed all of the stores in town were closed. I started asking around and found out that five Chinese people were killed in Chorrera (the town I was going to) by some Venezuelan guys. I still don’t know what happened exactly, but apparently they were robbed and killed because (as it was explained to me) Chinese people are seen as being wealthy. After this happened the entire Chinese community in Panama closed their stores for five days in a row as a protest for more security and a unitary sign of mourning. Wow. Now that’s organization that I haven’t seen from anyone else in Panama. They essentially shut down complete towns for five days. I never really thought about how much power they could yield if they came together like that.

Alejandro at the store

Not long ago, Rosa asked me if I might be able to help a couple of her daughters with English. She knows that I work at the high-school every day with an after school program. I told her sure and we set a time; which is another rarity here. What’s much more common is the following:

YOU:“So, what time are we leaving tomorrow?”

Panamanian:“In the afternoon.”

YOU:“Oh, what time in the afternoon?”

Panamanian:“In the afternoon.”

YOU:“Well, like 1pm or 5pm?”

Panamanian:“I don’t know. In the afternoon.”

This happens all the time and is completely frustrating to Americans. There is no such thing as punctuality or even a concept of time here. Even in the schools.

ANYWAY, we use the upstairs of their store as a classroom. I usually stay for a couple of hours teaching basic language skills or helping them with their English homework. I found out while talking to them, that all four had been living in China with their grandparents for the past two years. The two older girls know both Spanish and Chinese (more or less), as do their parents, but the two younger kids only know Chinese. Rosa and Jorge have hired them a Spanish teacher that comes in the afternoon on weekends. The teacher doesn’t come during the week because they don’t have time. They all go to school in Volcan, which is an hour and a half away. They go there, as do a couple other Panamanian kids, because the school here is seen as being so bad that they would rather pay to have their kids attend a school an hour and a half away than send them to the one in town. Among being hard working they also value education. Another trait that I wish more Panamanians would adopt…..Americans too.

Real Chinese food!! Mmm mmm good.... (you have to hum the campbell's soup theme here - that is if it doesn't violate any copyright laws against the campbell soup company - if not, hum your little heart out)

Jorge and Rosa both offered to pay me, but I told them I was a volunteer and my services were free. They argued with me, but I didn’t back down. Jorge made a point to say “We know you get paid a little, but it’s not much and you have to eat too.” (well, something like that anyway) They were both pretty persistent about wanting to pay me, so after a couple lessons I mentioned that I like Chinese food. The next time I showed up they had made me these dough like balls with meat inside – Delicious! The next time they offered me lo-mien. The last time I went they brought out two big bags of groceries. One with two cans of Spam and a 5lb. bag of rice and another full of vegetables. I told them that I really appreciated the offer, but that it was WAY too much. They persisted, so I told them I would take one bag, but I was going to leave the bag with the vegetables because I was leaving town for a few days and didn’t want them to spoil. They finally said okay, but that when I came back they would pack a new bag for me. Oh and they also gave me a piece of cake. I went again this morning and of course they gave me a big bag full of tomatoes, onions, apples and more Spam. I’m not sure why they keep giving me Spam – I’ve never bought it there. Hey, I’m not complaining – I made a Spam and egg sandwich for lunch today. Rosa even apologized for not giving me any lettuce, saying they were out. How ironic that I move to Panama and my best friends are the Chinese owners of the store I shop in. Maybe I should have done my Peace Corps service in China. Okay, I gotta run. Cheers for now. I’ll be writing again very soon. The Ngobe’s are back in town……

Hey Hey! It's Santa Fe!

Santa Fe

We just had another training seminar in Farallon, immersing ourselves in the lush accommodations at CEDESAM. For those wanting a more intimate description of CEDESAM refer to the previous blog. Feeling like I hadn’t slept in three days, mainly because I hadn’t, I was ready to get a move on. I convinced a couple other volunteers, Victor and Debbie, to accompany me to the mountains of Santa Fe.

Santa Fe is a small town of about 3,000 people a couple hours outside of Santiago. It sits at about 3,300 feet and therefore is a lot cooler than the heat at Farallon. We stayed at a neat little hostel right in town made of bamboo stalks and stone. It’s a very open, airy, comfortable place with a big back porch that we used to play dominoes and UNO. I didn’t win a single game of dominoes, but I totally dominated UNO! YEAH! Actually, while we were playing dominoes the resident hostel cat joined us with a bird she had caught. She batted it around, pouncing and jabbing at it for some time, all of us feeling sorry for the plight of the poor bird. After a few minutes I decided it was better for the bird, and for us, if I just went ahead and took care of the situation. Debbie shrieked as I did what was necessary and then we went back to playing dominoes. Yeah, I know, that’s a terrible story, but it’ll make sense later.

We met some interesting people at the hostel. One guy from Belgium who had quit his job and was just traveling around Central and South America until he ran out of money and had to go back home. Another guy from South Texas, who had been in Panama for a month, was getting ready to go back and had stayed in Santa Fe the entire time. Apparently he found it on Google Earth and was charting the town with his GPS. He told a story about how Mexican drug gangs were jacking cars out of his neighborhood and he sat up one night with his 45 waiting for them to come to his house. Nice enough guy, but ……well, I’ll just leave it at that. There was a young couple from Tucson, Arizona who were spending the next couple of weeks touring around Panama. He had come down with a landscaping architecture company to do some work in Panama City. It was really funny to hear him talk about what we have been experiencing for the last ten months. They were working on a beautification proposal for the government with some other Panamanians. He was completely thrown for a loop when he discovered the Panamanians had used crayons to do their drawing of the proposal. He couldn’t get over it. He was talking about how in the states you have to go to school for four years, do two years of apprentice work and then take a yearlong series of tests. And here they do their architectural plans with crayons. The other day in school we were doing an English activity using numbers. There were four separate problems, each having a different pattern that needed to be indentified to then find the answer. I spent an hour going over these four problems and the students could not figure it out. This was not about English, this was about math. And for any of you who know me, you know that I’m about as good at math as I am at trapeze acrobatics, but it took me about twenty seconds to figure out each one. I work with juniors and seniors and this was basic adding, subtracting and multiplication. The teachers had an answer key and still couldn’t figure it out. There is absolutely no critical thinking. Every day I’m shocked at how poor the education system is here. It’s sad. To be fair, there were two kids who got it, but the rest…....couldn’t pour water out of a boot upside down with directions on the heel.

Now where was I? Oh yeah, Santa Fe. The next day Victor and I hit the Bermejo trail, taking a chiva (a chiva is just a four-wheel drive truck with a cage on the back that is used as a shuttle bus for people in the country) through some of the most beautiful countryside I have seen in Panama. We were in a hurry because it was late in the day and we had to go to the waterfall and back in time to catch the last chiva ride back to town.  What a sloppy, muddy mess. Victor completely bit it and smeared mud all over his backside. I laughed. We were going to go tubing down the river, but the guy who rents the inner tubes said that it was raining up in the mountains and it was too dangerous—the currents could rise too rapidly and wash us away. So boo hoo, we didn’t get to go.

Underwearless

That looks cool! I should do that too.

Debbie, Victor and I also did some hiking that morning and within about 15 minutes hit a neat little spot with a couple of waterfalls. Upon seeing a natural rock slide at one of the falls, Victor wasted no time, jumped right in and slid on down. We then spent the next few minutes arguing about whether or not I was a complete Sally, because I didn’t want to go down. Victor was wearing crocs, a bathing suit and had his contacts in, so he didn’t mind getting wet. I on the other hand was wearing running shoes, regular pants and my glasses. But peer pressure’s a real ______  (fill in bad word here) and it looked fun, so he finally convinced me.

Vic gave me his crocs, I stripped down to my skivvies and slid on down into the freezing water below. This was bad idea number one. Then I thought, “Well now that I’m soaking wet I might as well go down again.” This was bad idea number two. The second slide wasn’t really a slide at all. I pretty much rubbed my way down the waterfall and once I splashed into the pool of water below I quickly realized I had torn the seat out of my underoos.

What could possibly go wrong here?

Actually, not only did I rip the seat out of both sides of my underwear, I also gave myself a couple of red skid marks on each cheek. It hurt for the next couple of days, but it was definitely worth it. Debbie was laughing her ass off (at me rubbing my ass off) and we all had a really good laugh at my expense. It would have been completely embarrassing at some point in my life, but now it's hilarious....... and embarrassing. How could giving yourself skid burns and ripping the rear out of your underwear not be funny? It can't I tell you. It just can't.

Oh sure...now he has a bathing suit!

I’m being haunted!

And now we make our way back to the bird I so mercilessly killed with my foot. When I got back home from my weekend away, I found a dead bird in the middle of my house that looked eerily like the bird I had killed in Santa Fe. I don’t have a cat. All the doors and windows were closed. How did it get in there? It was just lying there in the middle of the floor. I think it was some sort of creepy sign that I should just let nature take its course and not intervene in the circle of life. Or maybe it was the dead bird haunting me for not helping him sooner. Although I didn’t really help him….I smashed him with my sandal. Oh well, who knows what it means. Life goes on. Well, for me it does, but not for the bird. The bird is dead. It’s definitely dead. Both of them. I think.

Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah

CEDESAM

I remember when I met my “counterpart” for my community at CEDESAM. Counterpart is in quotations because instead of living in my community she lives ten hours away in Panama City. Not exactly the best counterpart to have. But that’s not the subject of this blog and as you can tell, I am no longer bitter about not having a counterpart…...or a community guide…….or a host family…….or getting kicked out of my house and having nowhere to go…….uh hum. Sorry, I’ll get back on track.

CEDESAM is an acronym for yet another Panamanian agency (there’s only about a million of them) that reminds me of a dozen VDOT workers leaning on shovels watching one guy dig. It’s an old army base that was given to the Panamanian government when we hitched up our stakes and moved out. To say the least, the Panamanians haven’t exactly taken the care that the Americans did in maintaining the facility. It’s located a couple of miles away from Farallon beach. There is a lovely resort there called “the Royal Decameron Beach Resort and Casino” (what a mouthful). It’s right on the beach, has air-conditioned rooms, pools by the ocean, bars, restaurants, a discoteque (club) and of course a casino. But we don’t stay there. This is Peace Corps and we stay at CEDESAM; which is two miles away from the beach, does not have air-conditioned rooms, bars, restaurants, discoteques, swimming pools, or cute Panamanian waitresses that bring you tropical drinks in a hurricane glass with a little umbrella. We cram a dozen guys into a room with no air-conditioning, fans that look like they could fall down on top of you at any moment and sound like nails on a chalkboard, but you don’t dare turn it off because you’ve already lost five pounds in sweat and you’ve only been here 15 minutes. The water only works in some of the showers, and then only half-ass, the shower doors don’t close, three-quarters of the seats are broken off the commodes and we fight with the girls over toilet paper because there never seems to be enough. As you can tell, I love it there. We had IST (In Service Training) there and after a wonderful week at the beach, I decided it was time to head back to the mountains for some fresh air.

El Valle

Phil, John and I hopped a bus to a little mountain town known as El Valle de Anton. The town is actually located in the crater of an extinct volcano that erupted, according to Lonely Planet, “with such force that it blew off its top, creating a crater 5km across – one of the biggest in the Americas.” Being in the crater of a volcano, El Valle is completely surrounded by mountains and forests. It’s a great place to do some hiking, ride a bike, go horseback riding, bird-watching or just relax. It’s also only a couple of hours outside of Panama City, so it’s a popular spot for Panamanians that want to get away for the weekend. There are lots of very nice vacation homes owned by wealthy Panamanians and there is a strong expat community of Americans, Germans and other Europeans.

Sean up, El Valle down

We stayed at the Residencial El Valle, a nice budget priced hotel that’s right downtown, had good size clean rooms, but no hot water—as advertised. There are several nice restaurants in El Valle and we visited a few of them. Los Capitanes is a German owned place that serves a variety of European dishes, Pinocchio’s is a good pizza place, and we hit another Italian place (I can’t remember the name) and of course ate on the cheap at some regular Panamanian fondas.

Nothing but blue skies from now on

I really liked El Valle because it’s a great place to ride a bike. The town, although surrounded by mountains, is fairly flat and a using a bike is a great way to do some exploring. We rode all over town, checking out different resorts, hotels, restaurants, neighborhoods and the like. We weren’t the only ones; more Panamanians ride bikes here than in any other town I’ve seen. It was crazy! Every day looked like some sort of bike rally. There is also a neat little market downtown selling fruit, vegetables, and local handicrafts. Plus, they have a library! Granted, it’s not like the ones I’m used to, but still, I was shocked to see a library….that actually had some books….trust me, it’s a rare thing here.

La India Dormida

Gosh I hope that cable holds!

One of the major attractions here is hiking the trails at La India Dormida “the Sleeping Indian”. Legend goes that there was once a beautiful native princess who fell in love with a Spanish conquistador. After asking permission from her father to marry the Spaniard, she was denied, and promptly took her own life. She was buried in the hills and after several years, the mountain took the shape of her body. The trail we took leads up the mountain past another popular spot called La Piedra Pintada or “the colored rock”. It’s basically a huge boulder with some pre-Colombian carvings. We hiked up and down the mountain and were able to take in some spectacular views of the valley below.



Holy Jungle Wires Batman!

I had the most fun when we took a canopy tour of the forest on a series of zip-lines.There were six different platforms and the zip-lines are several hundred feet off the ground. It was really an exhilarating experience to fly through the jungle on a zip-line with my legs dangling in the air. One of the zip-lines took us right past one of the most popular waterfalls in the area called Chorro de las Mozas (Young Women’s Falls).

Afterwards we went to the base of the falls and did a little swimming with some local kids. All in all a good weekend. Enjoy the pics!

Whoa! That looks like a belly-flop fer sure!

BARU!

Let’s climb a volcano!

A week before I came back to the states, some strange man on a motorcycle, wearing a helmet (and thus concealing his face) showed up at my house late at night and asked me if I wanted to go hike Volcan Baru with them the next day. I said “Yeah, great!” and then he said “Ok, we’ll be here at four” and then took off. I walked back in the house and then said to myself “Wait a minute. Does he mean 4am or 4pm?” To clarify, there are two ways to climb Volcan Baru. One trail starts in Volcan and the other begins in Boquete. From Boquete it’s not uncommon for people to begin the hike at night to make it to the top of the mountain for sunrise. It’s not common to do so from Volcan because the hike is longer and the trail is not as clearly marked, making it more difficult to make your way in the dark. So now I had no idea who I was going hiking with, where we were starting from or even when we were leaving. Confusion is common for me in Panama.

I Will Conquer This Volcano!! AARRGGHHHH!!!!

I gathered my things and set my alarm for 3:30am just in case. No one showed up at four so I went back to bed only to awaken to a car horn beeping outside my door at 5am. I grabbed my stuff and jumped in the colegio van (used to transport high-school students) and saw some guy I recognized from town, but couldn’t recall his name. There were a couple of kids in the van and he said we were meeting more people in Volcan. Well at least now I knew where we were going. There were about 15 of us in total and one of the family members was a guide. We started climbing about 7am and 45 minutes into the hike we took a break. I had heard that it’s an 8 hour hike, so I was a little confused about why we were stopping so soon. After a while it became apparent that most of the people on the hike were not prepared physically for the challenge. After spending half the day stopping every 30 or 45 minutes, some teenagers and I charged ahead. I got ahead of the teenagers near the end of the hike and arrived at the top of the volcano at 3:30pm. The teenagers made it around 4:30 and the rest of the group didn’t arrive until 6:30pm. I did some exploring around the mountain, but couldn’t see very well due to all the cloud cover. The whole day had been a little cool, cloudy, humid and for a little while, rainy, so it wasn’t a surprise that I wasn’t able to see much from the top.

Hotel Baru....Continental Breakfast not included

Solo Sunrise 

We camped that night and even though I had plenty of clothes and a mummy bag, it was still very cold. After all, Volcan Baru is the highest point in Panama at 11,500 feet, so it can be a little chilly, especially at night. I thought I might be joined early in the morning for the sunrise (considering that’s the main reason people come up here), but I was only accompanied by a few people from Panama City. The rest of my group was sound asleep. I guess the hike up wiped ‘em out.


The views that morning were simply amazing. With their sharp peaks and deep valleys, the mountains reminded me of those in Peru. I watched the sun come up over the mountains and the clouds from the day before had disappeared. To quote my Frommer’s Panama guide “the peak is shrouded in thick clouds with such frequency that the chances of seeing the view are not particularly good.” I guess for once in my life I got lucky and was able to see both the Pacific Ocean and the Caribbean Sea. There are not many places in the world where you can see two oceans at the same time. I’m glad that I was able to experience it. For this alone, the hike was worth the effort.

That's one heck of a volcano shadow!



On the tippy tippy top of Volcan Baru. The camerman took the pic just before he fell off the side of the volcano. He will be missed. Poor fellow. At least he saved my camera.



Are we there yet?



You mean I gotta walk back down?.....Aawwww dang.



We left the top around 9am and made it back to the van at 11:30………………PM!!! GOOD GRIEF CHARLIE BROWN!! The problem was that too many people were incredibly sore from the hike the day before; so much so that they could hardly walk. One girl fell, sprained her ankle and literally had to be carried out. Our guide was a complete stud and carried her on his back. The problem was that there was someone else who’s knees just couldn’t take the downhill slope and our guide, Orlando, after carrying Nara out, went back and carried David out. Un-freakin-believable. There were three other girls who struggled to make it out. The last six hours of the hike I was carrying my backpack on my back, someone else’s backpack on my chest and walking backwards to help the girl behind me who could barely move. No, really. I actually had to lift her legs for her over stumps, rocks and other obstacles in the trail. When we came to parts where we had to climb up, I would take her arms and pull her while the person behind her would push on her butt. And this was a young girl (20 or so) who looked to be in pretty good shape. Of the last four hours of the hike I would say that she sat on her butt and slid down the mountain at least half of the time. Her legs hurt so bad that she cried. No kidding. The other two women also had major difficulties getting down the mountain. I thought we would never make it back. It doesn’t help that it starts getting dark early in Panama. By 6:30 you could barely see because of all the tree cover and by 7pm it was pitch black. Good thing I brought my head-lamp! One guy kept saying “Jamas, ni nunca!” which basically means “Never, no never again!” I was dead tired after making it back to the van, but then we went to one of the family member’s homes for a late night snack. I didn’t make it back home till three in the morning. What an adventure!

Just a picture I like......sorry, no good commentary here.

Let’s do it again!..........Really??

Okay, for this I'll go one more time.....dang it.

You would think that after all that, once up the volcano would be enough. Unfortunately I’m a stubborn sod. After having done Volcan Baru from the west, I now needed to conquer it from the east. I got a call from Adam (another PCV) who said he and some others were making plans to climb up from Boquete if I was interested. What the hay…why not? We got into Boquete early in the afternoon and left out at 10pm finally making it to the top at 3:30am. The Boquete side isn't nearly as attractive, nor does it provide the views that the trail from Volcan offers. The “trail” is really a poorly maintained service road with giant ruts that I like to plunge myself into just for fun. Seriously, I fell twice, jamming two of my fingers that still don’t feel right. What a dolt. Of course it was dark and people were making fun of my headlamp for not providing sufficient light. It was working ok to me and I didn’t want to change out batteries that weren’t completely dead. I’m such a cheap-skate! We nearly froze at the top. We huddled together to keep warm and basically had a big group hug for about two and a half hours until the sun came up. Unfortunately the cloud cover was too significant to see much, but having already seen the view from my first trip, I wasn’t very disappointed. We made our way back down the mountain and by the end my knees were seriously sore. I would compare the feeling to creamed corn. I had to stop a few times to rub them down. I started to just roll myself down the mountain. Why did I do this again? Oh yeah……..stubborn sod.



Larry, Moe, Curly and Shep



Oh he's just too cool for school



Sunrise

 

A Merry Tae-kwon-do Christmas

Christmas Vacation

Well, it’s been a while, but what the heck. I was obviously in Panama during Christmas and was able to celebrate with my host mom and some of her family. Actually, for her present, I fixed Juana’s bathroom door that had apparently been scraping the floor ever since the house was built some seven years ago. I guess it didn’t bother her or anyone in the family enough to fix it.

Rub-a-dub-dub

Christmas in Panama is not nearly as celebrated as in the states; or so it seems to me. Shops are open, buses run on their normal schedule, people go shopping or work in their fields. There was no big family gathering for Christmas Eve, then again on Christmas morning and then yet again Christmas night. There was no eating until you felt like you were going to be sick and then falling asleep on the couch. There was no candlelight service at church. Plus, the sun was shining and it was probably somewhere around 90 or so, which kind of steals some of the Christmas spirit out of the air. There’s no need to sit by the fire and drink a warm cup of hot chocolate. There was no tree in the house or presents waiting below. No Home Alone, Christmas Vacation or A Christmas Story playing on TV. There was however a big parade.

Tae-kwon-do….again

This was definitely my favorite part of Christmas in Panama. I had been taking tae-kwon-do classes in town for a few weeks. I was invited to be in the parade with the class, along with the students and volunteers of AFS. The AFS group is made up of two male volunteers and three female students. The dudes - Arne from Germany, who teaches technology in the primary school and Lucas from Austria, who works in the health center. The girls are Sara and Stephanie from Germany and Tiziana from Switzerland. We met at Maria’s house early in the afternoon to make preparations. Once again I was eaten alive by mosquitoes and went back to the house for my spray. Some people never learn.

The man in black

People go crazy over the parade. Every little group has a car in the parade and half the time you have no idea what the group is, because there’s no indication what-so-ever; just a bunch of people sitting in the back of a truck throwing out candy. But what fun! I actually had to buy more bags of candy to throw out because we kept circling around town. Then the kids were literally begging me to give them some so they could then throw it in the road. The trucks could barely get through because the people were so close. It was really a lot of fun. Hope you enjoy the pics!

Have a very martial arts Steven Seagal Christmas

Fun At The Farm

Ok, so I haven’t posted a blog in some time now, but most of you know that I’ve been busy with other issues. Although the events of the following blog happened some time ago, I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

FUN AT THE FARM

I was invited to see the famous Finca Hartmann, which believe it or not is actually in my Frommer’s Panama and Fodor’s Panama guide books. Turns out that my host mom’s daughter, Susana, is married to one of the Hartmann’s. I’ve actually been helping their son in the after school English program. I paid the dollar and took the bus to San Antonio and Susana met me at the bus stop. We walked the short distance to her home as she was apologizing because everyone was gone. Once at the house she started preparing lunch and tossed me the remote. Her son arrived after a while and was working with a friend on his dirt bike. Susana asked him (Alois) to go grab the horse so I could ride for a little while. “Cool” I thought. At least I wouldn’t be watching bad American television dubbed into Spanish….uugghh. Alois brought the horse around and said “Here you go.” I was like, “Here I go what?” I’ve been on a horse all of once in my life. Really? You’re just gonna bring me a horse and say, “There it is, have fun.” What the crap? So I get on the horse and we slowly trot to the end of the drive turn around and come back when Susana says “That’s it?” and I’m like “That’s it what?” She says “You don’t want to ride?” I tell her that I do, so she waves her hand around and tells me to go ahead. The problem is I have no idea where to go, the farm is on the side of a mountain and there are trees and fences everywhere. But I can see that’s about as much instruction as I’m gonna get, so I trot down the drive and we turn left heading down the road until we start to go up an incline. It seems to me that the horse doesn’t want to go up the hill, but what the hell do I know about horses. Once again when we get back she says “That’s it?” This is becoming frustrating. She tells me to ride down that way as she points her finger down the hill. I kick him in the side and try to get him down the hill, but he’s having none of it. He keeps turning towards the field where he usually stays. I can’t get him to go the right way, so Susana leads us by the side of the house thru a gate into a small, narrow concrete block building where another horse and pony are having a grand ol’ time staring at the wall. I have to duck way down and the horse squishes my leg against the side of the building. Apparently my horse and the one stuck in the pen are engaged in an important conversation that I can’t hear because he won’t move past the other horse; he just keeps mashing my leg against the building. I of course am very calmly screaming “Aagghh! Aagghh! My leg! He’s making mashed potatoes with my leg!” Susana looks at me like I’m the biggest pansy ever and that’s when I say “I’m done with the horse”.

I spent the rest of my time watching Alois and his friend beat on a dirt bike motor before deciding they needed some sort of part and leave. I go back inside and watch bad American TV dubbed into Spanish. Uugghh. I can only stand this for so long, so I decide to go for a walk. I make it up the mountain all the way to a cell phone tower where to my surprise I also find a cemetery. Susana was shocked that I walked to the cemetery and asked what I was doing. I didn’t want to tell her that I was tired of watching (you guessed it) bad American television dubbed into Spanish, so I just told her that I liked to walk. We ate lunch and she asked me if I wanted to see the farm. “Of course!”  So she hollered for Alois who drove me across the road to their cousin’s coffee farm. He dropped me off and told his cousin to call him when I was done. Really? Here’s our farm, call us when you’re done. Really?

PERRO!

So what can I do? I just start walking around the farm. One of the cousins who spent nine years in Seattle points me towards a trail. Turns out she married some Italian guy from Seattle who moved down to Panama with her and opened a pizzeria in a town about an hour down the road in Volcan. I had met him about a week or so earlier at his restaurant when I went with another volunteer. Anyway, I started walking as a small charcoal colored dog followed me down the trail. We walked all over that farm together. What a great dog! He was seriously with me every step. If he wandered off for more than a couple minutes I would yell out “Perro!” (which is just dog in Spanish) and he would come running.

Perro!!

The farm is absolutely gorgeous. They grow shade grown coffee and have their own processing facilities on site. It’s really quite impressive and I had a good time checking things out, walking around like I owned the place.



A River Runs Through It, but there`s no Brad Pitt (sorry ladies)



Processing Facilities

I did however get lost and wound up at one of the cabanas where one of the many indigenous Ngobe families live during the harvest season. There’s no telling how many Ngobes work on the Hartmann farm, but there’s a lot. I got back just before dark having walked up and down the same mountain a couple of times trying to find the trail. Only Sean could get lost on a coffee farm.



Somewhere (la, la, la) Over The Rainbow

They also have a little museum when you first enter the farm that has all kinds of insects pinned to the walls as well as some menacing looking poisonous snakes jammed into jars. I tell what’s her name that I’m done on the farm and Alois picks me up and takes me back home.

MOTO PHOTO

The next day I went to a motocross event at the Municipal building in town. I got there about 10am and didn’t leave until 4. They had several races for different classes of dirt bikes and 4wheelers. What a blast! But HOT! I had burned my neck a little the day before hiking around the farm, but I was more than happy to slap on some sun-screen, turn my hat backwards like those damn teenagers (to protect my neck from the scorching sun) and sweat like crazy in my shorts and t-shirt in the middle of December. A lot of the participants were from Costa Rica since it’s so close by. Well, I don’t have a clever ending for this blog, but I do have some neato-burrito motocross photos. Check em out!



Dang I`m Cool!



Gosh I hope I don`t hurt myself.