What´s your function mosquito junction?

Mosquito Burrito

I agreed to help Renan, a neighbor of mine, plant some corn and do some work on his finca (farm). It´s really just a small plot of land that belongs to his mother-in-law where he´s growing beans and corn. I get there ready to go with my boots, some pants I don´t mind getting dirty, an old army undershirt and my little orange camel-back that everyone is simply amazed by. Seriously, they ask me about it all the time. How much was it? Where did you get it? How does it hold water? Can I have it? On and on and on. I take it with me everywhere I go because I can fit everything I need inside. Water, obviously, my rain jacket, an umbrella (and yes I need both), a dictionary (don´t laugh, I really do need it), a small notebook to write names, new words or random information and the keys to my house; which I´m proud to say I´ve only lost once. We go thru his wife´s grandmother´s yard full of chickens and walk a bit down a muddy path to the field of dreams, I mean field of beans. (Ok, that was uncalled for) He shows me how to plant the corn using a stick that he jabs into the ground, pushes it forward, throws in a couple of seeds and moves on. He ties the bucket of seeds around my waist and I´m off like a Russian racehorse. About half a second later I´m covered in mosquitoes like Bill Clinton was covered in shame after that whole Monica Lewenski thing. I curse myself for not bringing any repellent which is sitting comfortably on the floor of my room. And you ask ¨Why didn´t you bring it Sean?¨ And I reply ¨Because I´m an idiot butthead.¨Actually, I wanted to experience life as a true Panamanian farmer who doesn´t have the luxury of mosquito repellent……….yeah…………that´s it…………..experience the culture kinda thing. To be honest, I haven´t been bothered much by mosquitoes here, so I didn´t even think about it. I will now though. I finished my corn planting and met Renan under a tree where we had our things. He looked at me and then told me to go home. I had mosquito bites all over my arms, my neck, even my face. I had one under my eye that he found particularly interesting. He told me to go get a hat, a long sleeve shirt and come back if I felt like it. I walked all the way back home, probably a little over a mile, dug out the one long sleeve shirt I brought, grabbed my hat and repellent and started again like a brave civil war soldier heading back to the battle after losing an arm due to a cannon ball blast………..ok, maybe not exactly like that……………more like a Peace Corps volunteer going to plant some beans……….but still just as impressive.

They´re all gonna laugh at you

I spread some fertilizer over the beans as another friend was spraying poison to kill the weeds. We didn´t stay long because, if you can imagine this, it began to rain. We went back to Renan´s mother-in-law´s house where she made us lunch. A fried egg, rice with beans and potato salad. They were all joking with me, pointing at my mosquito bites and saying how Panamanian blood is boring to mosquitoes, they want American blood, it´s sweeter. They talked about this for what seemed like forever, joking and pointing and laughing. I was just laughing too, saying – It´s true, I´m sweeter than the rest! They had a really good time laughing at me……..I mean, with me……..They had an even better time getting me to say new words. Half the time I think I was cursing and didn´t know it. They would say something, I´d repeat it and then they´d all laugh hysterically. I felt like the clueless dork on the playground who doesn´t realize that all his ¨friends¨ are laughing AT him. At least I´m accomplishing goal 2 of Peace Corps Panama. To learn and share in the culture of Panama. Don´t feel too high and mighty over there in the states. I promise, if you come to Panama, they´re all gonna laugh at you.

Reservoir Dog

Gorbachev

My host mom, Juana, has a small bear that she calls a dog. She's had him since he was a pup and she's pretty much the only person that he tolerates. Even her family won't go near him. If they come by the house and she has him tied up out front, they make her take him to the back porch before they'll come in. They call him: GORBACHEV, the Russian Bear. Okay, maybe not the Russian Bear part, but his name is Gorbachev. Don't ask me how he got that name because most Panamanians know as much about the previous political leaders of the Soviet Union as I do about nuclear fission. Anyway, he's got reddish blond fur, a nasty snarl, an even nastier bark, and he doesn't like anyone to get within 30 yards of the house except Juana. She gets a big kick out of everyone that comes by when Gorbachev is out front because they won't go near him. They just stand there and wait for Juana to remove him from the premises. She usually does this giggling to herself the whole time; to be honest, I think that she loves the fact that ol' Gorbachev doesn't like anyone but her. Actually her son-in-law told me a story the other day about how Gorbachev bit his hand one time. He won't go near him either. After a few weeks of being there all the time I figure he's getting used to me though. He doesn't bark at me all the time anymore-although he does still look at me as if to say “If Juana weren't here I'd rip your damn arms off you filthy peace corps gringo.”

Laundry Duty

I'm one of the few very fortunate PCV's to have a washing machine. Hold on there a minute chief; it's not as easy as in the states, but at least I'm not washing my clothes with a rock in a stream that people use as their personal toilet. And yes, this happens....often. First, I have to walk down to the bottom of the yard, open up the water line and fill the tank. Once the tank is full, I put a small pump inside and run an extension cord to my bedroom window. I disconnect the water line that's running to another tank located above the house and connect it with the line that runs to the back of the house. I then take the end of that water line and tie it to another tank on the back porch that is next to......the washing machine! Once the pump fills that tank, I take a bucket and start filling up the washing machine to do my laundry. BTW, all these water lines are just lying on the ground. It's not like they're gonna freeze and bust and if one breaks you don't have to go through the hassle of digging it up!

The Attack

Bad idea #1: I decide to do laundry. I begin the whole process and head to the back porch where Gorbachev is lying there like usual. He gives me that look at first and then after recognizing that I'm not going to rob the place, that I'm just washing my dirty underwear, he lays his head back down. I go about my business and at some point realize I need some hangers. Gorby's just lying there, so I figure rather than walk all the way around the house, I'll just step around him and go through the back door. This was bad idea #2. I raise my foot to step around him when suddenly he springs into action like a ferocious jack-in-the-box......maybe jack-in-the-box isn't such a good metaphor.......think evil jack-in-the-box........that's possessed........by something evil. He let's out a growl and grabs onto my foot like it's a dime store chew toy. I let out a holler as if I'm being mauled by a mountain lion and Juana comes a runnin. Gorbachev lets go when Juana arrives and gives him a scolding. He and I glare at one another, me saying “You stupid mutt! I've been here for a month! I'm in the PEACE CORPS for Pete's sake! I'm not gonna take anything!” and him saying “I told you not to mess with me you filthy peace corps gringo!” She asks if I'm ok, I say yeah and then she laughs out loud for about five minutes and says “He's a wild one!” and throws her hands up in the air just laughing the whole time. Thankfully I was wearing sandals. Usually I walk around barefoot, but there was a lot of mud due to the never ending, why does it never stop, I've never seen anything like this in my life, rain. He tore my sandal and I had a small place on the top of my foot where one of his teeth had been, but nothing bad. We still glare at each other, me saying “I remember what you did” and him saying “You remember what I did.” Why couldn't she have a poodle?

Alright, well.......he looks a lot meaner with a foot in his mouth

What I probably looked like during the harrowing attack

I Can´t Kick That High Dang It!

Well, three weeks in site and I´m still alive. I drank the water and I even drank milk straight from the cow. Well, I`m not really sure to be honest with you. My host mom came home yesterday with a Pepsi two liter bottle full of milk. She said her sister`s husband has a farm in a neighboring town and the milk came from one of his cows. She was telling me how much she loved it and that it was great and wanted me to try some, but not too much because sometimes it gives people a stomach ache, but that she was used to it and it never bothered her. So I put my big boy pants on and chugged down a glass. No stomach pains yet. But there were chunks of fat in it and it kinda reminded me of orange juice with pulp. There was a gritty kind of texture to it, as if there were little tiny little pieces of sand in it. I had some more with my cereal and some platanos for breakfast. It was good.

I`m living with a host mom named Juana in a nice little home in the mountains. The town is located at about 3,200 feet so the climate here is much cooler than the lowlands. Great weather for sleeping, which I`m finally doing again - YAY sleep! For the moment I´ve got in-door plumbing, an in-door bathroom, electricity and tile floors. Oh yeah - I´ve got it good. The pressure on the water is pretty much non-existent because she doesn`t have a water line into the house. Instead she has a raised tank that she pumps water into and then it flows down to supply the house. And there`s no fridge, but compared to people living in the comarca I`ve got it made in the shade.

On the other hand, Juana does think I`m a little crazy. I`ve been running to the baseball field and back three or four times a week, which I`m guessing is about two miles. This is considered very odd behaviour and I get a lot of strange looks when I´m running. I`ve also been using some of those crazy exercise bands I tucked in my luggage. She looked at me like I was an alien the first time I used them. She was like ¨What are you doing?¨and I said that they were for exercise and then she just stared at me for about 20 seconds like I had just cut up a cat with a butcher knife and was feeding it to children - then she went back in the house. She also gets frustrated with me sometimes when I don`t understand what she`s saying. Sometimes I can look up a word or two in the dictionary or just figure it out with hand gestures or by using different words. Sometimes I throw my hands up in the air and we just let it go. And sometimes I nod and go - Oh....si... - like I understand, even when I don`t.

She`s really nice though. She loves to garden and has tons of flowers, plants and herbs around the house. She even sells them to people or to businesses in town. She also has a few plantane, banana and orange trees. She uses the herbs to cook with, make tea and even bathe with. She was showing them to me the other day and was picking all the herbs and asking me to smell them. Then she took one and said something like - Oh this one smells really good, it`s not normal, but I like to bathe with it¨and then she just laughed and laughed and I was like ¨Really?¨ and she said ¨Yeah, I bathe with it!¨ and then she laughed out loud again wiping her eyes. It was pretty dang funny. She also sells Avon, which I got a big kick out of (who knew there was Avon in the mountains of Panama) and she makes all sorts of little decorative bath towels, hand towels, sheets, pillow cases, table clothes and that sort of thing. She gives them to her daughter who sells them at the bus terminal in the city. And she LOVES tele-novelas. Her favorites are El Fantasma de Elena and Alguien Te Mira (The Phantom of Elena and Someone is Watching You). They`re just hokie soap opera`s, but we watch them a lot at night. It`s really pretty fun and great practice for my Spanish. Plus we talk about what`s happening on the show as if it were really important. Great fun.

I`m pleased to report that I taught my first English class the other day for an after school program and I think that it went really well. At least I think the kids enjoyed it, but who knows. The schools are kinda crazy here. The kids just do pretty much whatever they want and the teachers do too. Eat and drink in class, use their cell-phones, talk in groups, get up and walk right out of class and come back 10 or 15 minutes later....it`s pretty much pandalerium. One day after observing a class, the teacher told me she had to go to town and I could wait in the library and she would come back to get me for the next class. I wasn`t in the library five minutes when a student came and said that the teacher had told her to come and get me. I said - ok, what do you need? - And then the girl said ¨She said you`re supposed to teach our class today.¨ I was like ¨What!?¨ But I went anyway and just asked them for their names, age and where they were from in English. It`s crazy, they`ve been taking English since elementary school and more than half of them couldn`t say a complete sentence in English. No wonder Panama`s education system is so poorly ranked. When I taught my after school class I laid out some ground rules first. No talking when I´m talking, no getting out of your seat whenever you like, if you need something or don`t understand raise your hand. And then I said - and no cell-phones! If I see a cell-phone I´m going to take it and you can have it back after class. They had this kind of dumb-founded look on their faces, but they did what I said and the class went really well. At one point a girl from outside came to the door (which you can´t close) and started talking to a girl in the class. I went to the door and asked her what she needed. She said she needed to talk to so and so. I told her no, she`s in class now. She just looked at me and said ¨no?¨ I said ¨no.¨ Then she stared at me for a moment as if to say - Are you joking? - I told her she could talk to her friend after class. I turned around and all the students were staring at me like - Oooo, he´s tough - But that`s how it is here. They`re used to doing whatever....crazy.

I also took my first Tae-kwon-do (sp) course. The instructor is a 16 year-old girl at the high-school. She teaches mostly little kids, but I figured it was a good opportunity to get to know some kids in the community and get in shape. Unbeknownst to me, in Tae-kwon-do you don´t use your hands to strike your opponent. Arms and hands are only used to block with, so everything is kicking. Well, first off, during our warm-up stretches I had some 12 or 13 year-old girl pushing down on my back trying to ¨help me¨ touch my face to my knee, which at the moment is an impossibility. Then the instructor had me kicking this pad she was holding for an hour and a half. And it kept getting higher and higher which made it very difficult to hit since I was using my foot! That was two days ago and I´m still sore. I wish I had some pictures because no doubt they`d be hysterical. Me yelling ¨Kiop!¨ and kicking a pad held by a girl 18 years younger and a foot shorter than me. But it was fun and should definitely help my flexibility. They were really disappointed at my stretching abilities, or lack thereof, and seemed genuienly distraught that I couldn`t even come close to doing a split. Guess I`ll have to work on that. Chao for now, or should I say......Kiop!!

I hope that's not a jaguar!

So as you might have guessed from my last blog, no one wanted to go hiking through the jungle with Sean. Well, the first one really wasn't the jungle. In fact, Metropolitan Natural Park is just north of Panama City. I got a late start that Saturday afternoon because Stephen and Phil wanted to see the University of Panama. Why, I don't know; and more to the point, why I went with them I still don't know. I guess I figured one of them might join me in my park adventure and I went to the University as a good will gesture. We wound up walking WAY too much even making our way back to the ambassador's house. Now I've been there twice, but only once on purpose. We finally (after some help from varying locals) made it to the University campus and just walked around looking at all the buildings. Really not much to speak of. I wouldn't include it in a tour if you ever make it to Panama City.

Afterwards, we decided to indulge Phil's appetite for Indian food. He was looking for some restaurant in his Lonely Planet travel guide. Turns out the restaurant moved a few years ago; about the same time Phil's book was printed. We only happened upon the place after we had already given up on finding it. But trust me, we looked and looked and looked far longer and walking far further than I wanted to. We also just missed getting drenched. No joke, you could literally see the wall of rain pouring down 100 yards away, but we were lucky enough not to bare the brunt of it.

Once we finished our meal, which was nothing much to speak of, Phil and Stephen headed off in one direction and I in the other. I cost me four bucks to get into Metropolitan Natural Park and then another buck fifty to purchase a trail map which was completely unnecessary. Although, the map shows five different trails, it's really just three. And unless you're a slow mover you can finish the trails much sooner than the map suggests. The main draw for me, and the only reason I might suggest you go there, is the magnificent views of the city that two of the three trails provide. I wouldn't even bother with the Momotides trail unless you just have time to kill and want to extend your stay. I saw a few birds and an animal the Panamanians call the “painted rabbit”. My description won't do it justice, but it kinda looks like a rat, only brown, about the size of a cat, and not much tail to speak of.....something like that.

The ferocious Painted Rabbit!

As I was finishing the second trail I walked up on a man and two women working with a long black net. I couldn't help but ask what they were up to. One of the girls said that they were biology students at the university and were studying bats. “Bats?!” I said, my mind still filled with the memories of living with such a bothersome creature in my bedroom for the past six weeks. I started to tell them they need not stretch out their net there, just go to my house. But, I didn't feel like re-telling the whole tale and they seemed busy with their work, so I continued on my way.

The next day I got up early, fixed my pancakes at the hostel and headed out for Soberania National Park. I took a taxi, but the driver took me to the Metropolitan Park instead. Once there, he called someone to try to find out where the National Park was. After that didn't work he asked a security guard if he knew the way. This sounds somewhat ridiculous considering Soberania National Park is massive, covering 48,000 acres and is seriously only about 20 minutes away. However, several taxi drivers don't know where anything is in Panama; you just have to keep asking until you find one that does. The whole mess could've been avoided had I taken a couple of Diablo Rojos, but I wasn't sure how to get there and I wanted to get there quickly. For future reference, just take a bus towards Gamboa until you get to Soberania on the left.

I paid five bucks to enter the park, which was also completely unnecessary. I feel better if I think of it as a donation to keep the park up and running for future generations. Anyway, I spoke with the woman at the park headquarters for probably 30 minutes about where I intended to go after studying the map she handed me. She was very concerned that I was alone and suggested just one trail which I of course agreed to take, having no intention of following her advice. She could apparently see this on my face and pretty much said “You're going over here, aren't you?” I said “Yeah, probably.” She wrote my name and phone number down and then gave me three different numbers to call if I needed anything. She kept telling me I needed a guide, but there wasn't one on Sundays and it's easy to get lost and it will take me 6 or 7 hours to do that trail and blah blah blah..... I just asked if the trails were marked, she said they were, so off I went. That being said, if you go to Soberania National Park, there are a few things you should do. I speak from experience. Do go with someone else. Do wear long pants. Do wear hiking boots – tall ones – up to your knees if you've got em. Do take rain gear AND an umbrella. Do take water and food. Do go in the DRY season.

I caught a Diablo Rojo after walking towards Chilibre to the entrance of the Las Cruces trail. The trail map says that this particular trail is “difficult”. Some of you know that I like to hike. I've been all over Mountain Lake, the Appalachian Trail, several trails off the Blue Ridge Parkway, trails in Virginia, North Carolina, South Carolina, Tennessee and even a four day hike through the Andes in Peru to Machu Pichu. This trail was not difficult. It was treacherous. Dangerous at times. Thirty seconds in I realized I was in the jungle and a few seconds later I heard a grunting sound and what seemed like an elephant running through the woods. After I had calmed myself, I decided it must have been a boar. It occurred to me just then that there are four different kinds of wild cats in Soberania. None of which are often seen, but I'm feelin' lucky. My shoes were drenched after just a few moments. Note that October is NOT the dry season and there was just a tad bit of mud on the trail. I've never been to Vietnam, but I can see why the U.S. Government trained its soldiers in the jungles of Panama in preparation. One, just to acclimate to the many sounds emanating from the forest. Birds flying right up in front of me nearly taking my breath away, the little painted rabbits running around and monkeys that sound too much like wolves. At one point I thought a jaguar was gonna jump out and attack before I realized the large thuds around me were just the monkeys in the tree tops above knocking food down to the ground. Not to mention the “trail” was often times a creek bed or a very narrow, muddy, rocky, crevice. More than once I said “this can't be right. Are you serious? This can't be a trail.” If it weren't for the moldy little plastic strips tied around a tree every so often I'd would've sworn I was just walking around the jungle. Several times I wished I had brought a machete. After an hour or so, I came upon a small challenge. There was a river cutting my trail in two. Not a nice little creek or stream - “Oh how nice.” A fricking river. I seriously said out loud “What the !*#$? How the %#!* am I supposed to get across this?!!” I knew I wasn't going back the way I came through all the mud and water and weeds. It took me about 15 or 20 minutes to make my way up stream, find a place where I could jump across a six foot section of river onto a large rock and pray that I wouldn't slip and fall in and be swept away by the current.

The little creek I had to cross. You can see the trail on the other side.

Yes, this is the trail....nuff said.

I should´ve worn boots.

Believe it or not this was the good section.

It took me about another hour before I made it to the point where the Las Cruces trail intersects with the Plantation Road trail. At which point, I promptly thanked God for answering my prayers of not being eaten by a giant cat, drowning, or losing myself in the Panamanian jungle. More prayers were to follow. Once I made it to the Plantation Road trail I thought I had it made. But more fun was on the way! Oh joy! Once again much of the trail was like sloshing through a muddy creek bed. And then it started. In Panama we call it rain. In Virginia we would call it a horrendous, thunderous, tropical downpour of epic proportions. Imagine the heavens splitting apart and water falling down as if you were standing under a waterfall. I quickly retrieved my little Colombia rain jacket from my little orange backpack which provided significant cover from the elements......HA! Like using a cardboard box to defend yourself from a hurricane. I finally made it to the highway and walked another mile or so to the trail with the waterfall that the kind lady at the park headquarters had wanted me to take in the first place. I was stopped by a couple of police officers who no doubt were wondering what a soaking wet American was doing walking down the highway. I asked if the waterfall was ahead, we chatted for a few seconds and they were on their way. I made it onto the trail and once again came upon an impassible river crossing and this time, since it wasn't far into the hike and it was just a small loop trail anyway, I decided not to take my chances. I returned the way I came and went down a small path leading to the waterfall. To my surprise I found the two cops waiting with their dual sport motorcycle like it was a joke between friends. “Fancy seeing you here” kinda thing. I took my pictures of the unimpressive waterfall and began a conversation with the moto-cops. They too were surprised that I was hiking alone and asked me all kinds of questions; where was I from, what was I doing in Panama, why was I alone, did I have any food or water, and on and on. I took my torn, wet map from my jacket pocket and shared where I had been. They were again taken aback that I was traveling solo. Panama is more of a tight knit family kind of environment whereas Americans are more independent. Sometimes this cultural difference is quite apparent.

At one point I slipped and braced myself on a tree like this one. Yes it hurt and yes I had to pull the needles out of my hand. One went in and broke off. I had to dig it out with a knife once I got back to the hostel.

I started back to the park entrance and must have walked at least two miles before I finally waived a taxi down. Even though it was a five minute ride, the driver wouldn't let me pay. He said he was going that way anyway and I guess took pity on me considering my appearance. I'm surprised he even let me in the cab. My legs were covered in mud and I was literally dripping wet. I thanked him for the favor and almost stayed at the corner bus stop, but decided I should inform the woman at the park entrance that I had made it back in one piece. She genuinely seemed happy to see me, but commented on my appearance. She gave me a new trail map and showed me several pictures of different animals in the park and asked me about my journey. I told her I thought I had heard a boar, I saw several birds, howler monkeys, a couple of painted rabbits, a sloth, and lots and lots of ants – going great distances – like hundreds of yards with little green leaves. They don't actually eat the leaves, but eat the mold that grows on the leaves in their nest. Weird. We chatted for quite a while before I hopped on a Diablo Rojo. I had to pack and get ready for my last night in the city. After all, it was Halloween....

El Presidente

Training has come and gone and it seems more like a few weeks since I arrived rather than a few months. We had our swear in ceremony last Thursday, the 28th of October 2010. It was really a spectacular experience. Everyone was dressed to kill and the men were sporting their best bigotes (spanish for mustache). For some reason, (just for humor´s sake) several of us decided to grow a mustache, which is extremely popular in Panama, to celebrate the occasion.

The Mustache Kings

If you´re gonna grow a mustache, do it right.

We were staying at the City of Knowledge in Clayton and escorted by bus to the ambassador´s house. That´s right folks, the ambassador of the United States of America! Take that! There were guards at the gate, one of which looked under our bus with a mirror, I assume checking for bombs or Robert DeNiro. There was a blockade at both the entrance and exit that rose electronically from beneath the earth and descended likewise to allow our passage. The house was grand with an expansive foyer, dining area, conference room and sitting rooms. We took a quick picture of the group before we were hurried inside by a small Panamanian woman who seemed very anxious, wearing a look of great concern like she might break apart and crumble at any moment. She was talking rapidly, saying the President was arriving and that we absolutely must go inside immediately. We of course obliged and then spent the next forty or so minutes milling about, taking pictures and talking amongst ourselves, as well as with current PCV´s who had come to share in the festivities. I recognized the ambassador, Phyllis Powers, a rather tall women with wavy blond hair, from watching the news and seeing her picture in the newspaper. She had only been in the country a couple of months after serving in Iraq the previous two years. I could see that she wasn´t very interested in the conversation that was taking place around her, most likely small talk and pleasantries that she certainly must be accustomed to after years of dinners, meetings, celebrations and ceremonies much like the one she was attending that night.

Tom Selleck and Ambassador Powers

When Ricardo Martinelli, El Presidente de Panama, finally arrived, we were seated in the conference area where there in the front was placed a long table with three chairs. The ambassador to the left, Martinelli in the center, and the PC Panama Country Director, Brian Riley to the right. There were American and Panamanian flags present and a podium with a large emblem of the United States; similar to the ones that I´ve seen on the news when a government spokesperson makes an address or announcement to the media. This one however, was emblazoned with the words: United States Embassy Panama.

Two people were selected from Group 66 to represent us on this occasion. Diana spoke on behalf of CED (Community Economic Development) and Elliot represented EH (Environmental Health). They both did an excellent job and the President even gave two thumbs up to Diana as she took a seat following her speech. She even worked in, much to my surprise, and quite eloquently, certain things that others had asked her to, including brujas (witches) and the use of just one arm. We were all given the microphone and asked to say our name, where we were from, what our project was, and where we would be serving. I was a little nervous as I took the microphone, never imagining I would be talking in front of an ambassador of the United States or the President of a nation. Not so nervous, it turns out, as Joe from EH who started to chuckle for several seconds before gaining his composure to make his statement. Everyone laughed; it was pretty funny. Kevin from Arkansas also received a thumbs up as Martinelli graduated from Arkansas. He later told me that when they spoke, Martinelli indicated he was flying to Arkansas that night to attend the homecoming of the University. The country director and ambassador both gave their speeches and received much applause. When Martinelli took the podium he handed an aide (perhaps) a few sheets of paper; possibly a prepared speech, I do not know. But he began to speak without any kind of notes, making several jokes and seemingly speaking from the heart about his country and some of the issues that we would face in the next two years.

Ricardo Martinelli President of Panama with Sean Sumner President of the Mustache Association of the Americas.

This is where I laid out my 10 point plan to Martinelli. If he follows it exactly Panama will be a world power in less than three years.

There was a small reception afterward where we were able to speak with Martinelli personally and have our picture taken. I was asked several times what we were talking about after I seized the opportunity to chat with the President. Although it couldn´t have been more than a minute, it was a longer conversation than most were able to garner. When I told him I was from Virginia he said something, not exactly sure what to be honest, about a high-school in Staunton. I told him my sister lived in Staunton and he replied that they have an excellent school named Mary Baldwin. I proceeded to tell him that my sister taught there and we spoke briefly about the area. He even mentioned that it was the birthplace of Woodrow Wilson, which I of course confirmed. At that point he could´ve said that it was the birthplace of the Smurfs and I would´ve agreed. Nonetheless, it was a great experience and one that I never imagined I would have. Later I spoke briefly with the ambassador and believe it or not, most of the conversation centered around that stupid mustache I had agreed to wear for the evening. (I shaved it off as soon as I returned to Clayton) I was hoping to have a little more time with her as I´m sure she has a wealth of knowledge and experience in Foreign Service. Unfortunately she was whisked away, no doubt on more important matters than my mustache.

Everyone has an inner mustache. You just have to have the courage to let it out.

The reception was short due to protocol dictating that the President can´t go until everyone else is gone. We loaded up the buses and most of us headed to a Lebanese restaurant downtown appropriately named ¨Beirut¨. We then broke off and spent the night dancing and celebrating, which we thought was much deserved. The next morning most people left for the beach, a few of us lingering behind in the city for various reasons. Several aspirantes mentioned going to the beach after swear in for a weekend of partying before going to our sites. I said ¨who wants to stay and go explore the two national parks close by?!¨ I´ll give you one guess as to who went to the beach and who went trudging around the parks by himself. But, that´s another story for later.

Chicken Dinner

My host dad having a five minute conversation with a chicken. He was basically asking her why she wasn´t laying eggs. ¨You know if you don´t lay some eggs soon we´re gonna eat you. You don´t wanna get eaten do you? You better start laying some eggs! Lay some eggs dang it!!!¨ Something like that, only in Spanish. It was hilarious. He´s such a funny guy.

Panama Canal, Panama & Casco Viejo

So after nearly two months in Panama I finally saw the famous Miraflores locks of the Panama Canal. Phillip (another PCV) and I left early one Sunday morning on a Diablo Rojo to Albrook and then took another bus to the locks. We couldn´t have timed it any better. We watched a quick 8 minute film about the canal in general and then were fortunate enough to see not one, but two large container ships pass through. Absolutely amazing considering the technology that was around when American construction began in 1904. The first ship was such a tight fit that it literally scraped the sides of the canal. The ACP, or Panama Canal Authority, is constructing a larger set of locks to accommodate larger ships and to deal with congestion. There is also a museum located on site that´s full of information. When and how the canal was constructed, the people involved, the transfer of the canal from U.S. to Panamanian hands, and the current construction underway. The canal employs about 6,000 people and charges a premium for ships to pass through. One of the ships we saw paid $90,000 for the use of the canal. No wonder there´s such a markup on our products! If you want to know a little bit more about the canal, check out the ACP´s website at PanCanal.com or just look it up on Wikipedia. The ACP website has live cameras that monitor the locks if you want to see ships pass through on-line.

Now that's a tight fit!

After the canal I set off solo to Panama Viejo to check out the museum there (not much to speak of) and the ruins left behind from the 1500´s. At least one person out there will get a kick out of knowing that I spent four or five hours reading all the plaques that explain the history behind the ruins and taking lots of pictures of some really old rocks. One of the coolest things there was an old church bell tower that has been partially reconstructed. You can ascend the tower to catch a bird´s eye view of the city and the numerous skyscrapers that seem to be growing faster than kudzu.

Some old rocks and a big dork.

After Panama Viejo was literally overrun by pirates and burned to the ground, the city relocated to what is now known as Casco Viejo. I´ve visited the area a couple of times now and although most of the neighborhood is poor and full of empty buildings, there are signs of hope. Some of the buildings have been renovated, the Presidential Palace is located there, along with other government offices, and the national theatre of Panama. There are some restaurants and businesses in the area as well. Of course they cater to foreigners and charge eight bucks for a cheeseburger and four bucks for two scoops of ice-cream when I can get the same two scoops in Chorrera for 35cents.

Casco Viejo

Nevertheless, if you´re ever in Panama you should make it a part of your itinerary. It reminds me of the French Quarter in New Orleans. Well, the architecture and location next to the water; not the jazz music and heavy drinking. And while you´re here don´t forget Panama Viejo, the Miraflores locks, and you can see them all using the public transportation of the Diablos Rojos! Enjoy the ride!

Hato Chami

Greetings to all! It´s strange how time passes so quickly. It seems like forever ago that we had our tech week in Hato Chami, but that´s what I want to talk about. Hato Chami is in the comarca Ngobe-Bugle (No-bay Boo-glay). It´s basically the same as an Indian reservation in the states. They´re still a part of Panama, but they have their own laws and leaders, or caciques as they´re called.  Some of the older generation only speak their native language, but most speak their own language as well as Spanish. We were only there for a week, but it left a great impression.
It´s an hour and a half chiva ride from San Felix to Hato Chami. A chiva is just a pick-up truck with a big metal cage attached to the bed. They cram in as many people as possible (usually 15) and then take off up the mountain. The road conditions are brutal. It´s kinda like walking on river rock which makes the ride there pretty bumpy. There are also good size ditches carved into the road due to water run off, not to mention the landslides of rock and dirt that form quite the obstacle course for the driver. Four wheel drive is a necessity.
Tall boots are also a necessity. When not on the main road through town (river rock city) you´re slopping through lots of mud. I reluctantly bought a pair of boots literally at the last possible minute before jumping into the chiva. I was upset at the time to spend the $9.50, but I guess I got a good deal because there were plenty of other volunteers who paid as much as $15 in the city. Trust me, it´s a huge expense on the Peace Corps budget. However, after arriving on site I realized I had definitely made the right decision. I can´t tell you how many people fell multiple times because of the road conditions and the sheer amount of mud.
I stayed with a host family that was super nice, very accommodating and just a lot of fun. The conditions in the comarca are pretty harsh compared to Santa Clara. There´s no electricity in the community except for the school which has some solar panels. There is running water, but it´s intermittent (at least during my stay) and was a shared tap in the center of four different homes. Most of the laundry and bathing are done in the small creek which is a short hike down a pretty slippery, muddy, rather steep path. The homes are made of wood and have roofs made of zinc or some kind of large leaves that I can´t remember the name of. (Think tiki-huts) There were no walls inside the house and dirt floors are the norm.
Most people in the comarca can´t afford beds (or mattresses I should say) so they either sleep in hammocks or on boards. I slept on boards on a raised platform-to keep away from the creepy crawlies. While several volunteers complained of the cold nights due to the altitude, Hato Chami is at roughly 3,000 feet, I was most comfortable. Sometimes in Santa Clara I lie in bed and sweat, so this was a nice reprieve. Actually, the views from Hato Chami of the surrounding mountains are quite stunning and on a clear day you can see all the way to the Pacific Ocean. The air is cleaner, the temperature is cooler, and there´s no plumes of smoke billowing forth from the thunderous Diablos Rojos. But, I digress. In the morning I traversed the muddy slope down to the creek to bathe and then changed clothes in my sleeping bag, which was a little difficult; guess I shouldn´t have bought a mummy bag.
My host mom cooked our meals using a propane tank and gas cook top. They also have an outdoor kitchen and prepare meals there with firewood. Just preparing meals can be an all day labor intensive effort. First you have to find the firewood (which most likely entails chopping it down and then cutting it into pieces small enough to carry) gather it all up and carry it back home, which is probably a 30 minute hike. Then you have to go to the creek, carry the water up the narrow, muddy path afore mentioned, start the fire to boil the water and find whatever you can to drop in. It´s not like you can just drop by Walmart and get a pizza to pop in the microwave. They eat a lot of plantains in the comarca because they´re cheap and plentiful, but unfortunately aren´t very tasty or nutritious. They´re MUCH better when you deep fry them.
A lot of people go to bed very early because it gets dark a little after six. I tried to stay up till at least nine most nights, but it was a little difficult because the family was used to going to bed earlier. There were some volunteers that went to bed as early as seven. My headlamp came in very handy, although the Ngobe´s didn´t seem to need them. My host mom cooked in complete darkness and the kids all ran around barefoot with no lights and somehow managed not to take a mud bath. How?....I really don´t know.
While we were there, they broke us up into small groups and my group worked very briefly with a sugar cane farmer who belongs to a co-op with several other members. They plant the seeds, grow the cane, care for it, harvest and then process it into a liquid. They run the stalks of cane through a machine called a trapichecomarca for next to nothing. How they make a profit I have no idea. There are other businesses in the area as well, including an artisan co-op that makes bracelets, handbags, dresses and other articles of clothing, which is also a very labor intensive process. They rub down leaves to get the strands of cloth to work with if that tells you anything. There´s also a bee keeping honey business and a couple of restaurants. Hato Chami is a hub or trade center of sorts, but trust me, it definitely doesn´t seem that way.
I also helped my host brother with his English homework and he taught me a few words in Ngobe. All the families gave all the PCV´s (Peace Corps Volunteers) Ngobe names. Most (actually I think everyone) just had regular Ngobe names that didn´t have any real meaning. However, after telling people my Ngobe name, they would usually laugh and joke around with each other and give me funny looks. My host family named me ¨Krodgy¨ which basically translates as ¨thin one¨. Who would´ve guessed that I would come all the way to a comarca in the middle of Panama and I´m still the butt of skinny jokes. The kids would say my name, laugh and then run away. I had a lot of fun with them though.
Actually, one of the reasons I was placed in my site was because of the work I did in the school in the comarca. I taught a third grade class which consisted of 8-13 year olds about indigenous culture in Panama. Go figure. That´s what the teacher wanted so that´s what we did. Apparently the higher ups were impressed with my two hours of teaching experience and decided that I should be working with youth in the schools. We´ll see how that goes. They´re definitely putting a lot of faith into me based on two hours of my life, but when I came here I did agree to go wherever they felt my skills would be needed most. So....looks like I´ll be teaching; at least some of the time. By the way, if you were wondering about the age difference I mentioned earlier (my class was 8-13 year olds) it´s because some kids leave school to help out at home, work in the coffee farms, they can´t afford the materials to go to school, or the just didn´t pass into the next grade. Many of the parents are illiterate, so students often don´t get much help at home. They do get a couple of meals at school, which is a big help. Some kids bring their own bowls from home and those that don´t are given cups to get crema-basically a corn pudding kind of drink. They get a pre-packaged lunch from Brazil that´s supposed to have some nutritional value since most of the kids don´t get the nutrients they should.

Me and the Fam

Ngobe girls playing soccer

It`s better than a Serta!

Kids lining up for crema

More family fun!

Girl from my third grade class. Ain´t she cute.

Jobs aren´t exactly in abundance in the comarca either, so many of the men work in the coffee fields in Panama or Costa Rica during the harvest season, which begins in September and ends in December, then return to the comarca. I had several talks with my host mom and her son about the lack of jobs in the comarca, electricity, water, road conditions, the health center in town, the schools and American culture. Although most people there are living in extreme poverty, they seem genuinely happy and are a joy to be around. They were overly nice to me, took me into their home and offered to share with me everything they had. I can honestly say that it was a humbling, moving experience that I hope to carry with me for a long time to come.

Panama Chicken

Play this four times in a row every 30 seconds from 1am until you get up in the morning and you too can experience life in Panama.

Diablos Rojos

Diablos Rojos. Sounds mysterious and exciting, maybe even a little dangerous. But it’s actually what they call public transportation in Panama. It literally means “Red Devils.” I’m not sure why they’re called Diablo Rojos, I just know they get me where I need to go. And there’s no such thing as a full bus. They just keep packin em in until there are literally people hanging off the steps and doors outside the bus, hanging on for dear life like it’s no big deal. I’ve been on buses where I’m the one standing on the steps, hoping that I don’t fly out the door when the driver whips around a curve and I’ve seen buses go by with people hanging on to the doors like it’s nothing. Imagine cramming 10lbs of crap into a 5lb bag and you’re beginning to get the idea. They’re pretty cheap though, 25 to 35 cents depending on where I want to go and they’re pretty reliable I guess. To be honest, I’m not sure how the system works. I think the driver actually owns the bus, or works for someone who does and they keep the money that is generated from the passengers. They’re basically old school buses from the States that were in such disrepair that we sold them to Panama so they could use them for public transportation. And I must say that even though they’re crowded, hot, loud (sometimes), completely obnoxious, and their diesel fumes can be overpowering, I love them. The owners of these buses take pride in their ride and trick them out like you wouldn’t believe. It’s seriously awesome. It’s like a contest they’re having to see who can have the most pimped out school bus. It’s the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. First of all, they chrome the wheels like a pimped out Cadillac Escalade. Then they put on a wicked paint job all over the bus. Front, back, sides, inside and out. They add painted fins and bulbs on top of the bus to give it that shark like charm, add some huge chrome exhaust pipes that extend past the roof of the bus, custom mud flaps, chrome figurines on the hood, and flashing lights inside and out. When it rains or it’s dark outside it looks like Christmas when the bus rolls by because of all the flashing lights. In addition to the paint job inside the bus, they have boa like feathers all over the windshield with some sort of suave saying in Spanish, lots of dice hanging down from the giant mirror that spans the width of the bus, more scented pine trees than you can buy at the dollar store, and long streaming tassels on the steel poles at the top of the stairs that strippers would fight over. Tack on a kickin stereo system and you’ve got one bangin bus.

Three Weeks In

Well it’s been three weeks since I arrived in Panama. The first week I shared a home with three other PCT’s (Peace Corps Trainees – or Aspirantes in Spanish) at an old American military base in what is now called la Ciudad de Saber or the City of Knowledge. I remember when I arrived thinking the living conditions were a little rugged, but looking back it was like staying at the Ritz. There was an indoor shower, indoor toilet, air conditioning and the works. I’m now living with a host family in the town of Santa Clara in the state of Panama. It’s kind of funny; they don’t call Panama City, Panama City, they just say Panama. But Panama (the city) is in Panama (the state) which is in Panama (the country). There are other capitals in other states that also have the same name. Like the capital of the state of Bocas Del Torro is Bocas Del Torro. Beats me.


Anyway, I live with Senor Lazaro Moran who is 87 years old and his wife Maria Rodriguez who is 60. They have a dog, a parakeet, more chickens than I can count and 4 kids. The parakeet runs around the house most of the day, but at night they keep him in an old toaster oven. It’s pretty funny. The first time I realized it was one morning when I was brushing my teeth outside and I kept hearing this pecking noise like someone tapping glass. It took me a second to realize that it was the parakeet tapping from inside the toaster oven. Pretty funny. Anyway, they actually live in between two of their kids. Their daughter Vernuir lives within 30 feet to the left with her husband Jose and their daughter Natalie. Their son Tereso lives within 30 feet to the right with his wife Maria and their son Adias. Both are housing PCT’s. By the way, if I ever say “my dad” I mean my house dad here in Panama. I’ll try to use house dad or house mom to make it easier for you guys to differentiate. They’re really very nice and I have enjoyed my time here with them and am looking forward to staying with them for the next couple of months. Maria doesn’t talk very much, Lazaro talks a lot, but I don’t understand a word he says. At first I thought it was me, but some other PCT’s who said they can understand their parents (house parents that is) came by one day and after talking to him, they were both like “We didn’t get a word of that”. Let’s just say he’s hard to understand. For example today I went to Victor’s house (another PCT) and met his house mom and pretty much understood everything she said. We had a great conversation for like 20 minutes. It was amazing. But as soon as I came home and my house dad started talking he might as well have been speaking Chinese. That’s how much of an accent he has. I’m beginning to catch a little bit of what he says, but it’s tough.

They live in a small home made of concrete floors, concrete walls and a zinc roof. They have a shower, but it’s outside and for the first week I lived here, they didn’t have any water. Their daughter and some others in town actually went to the representative for the neighborhood to complain about the water situation. I was invited to go along, but I stayed out of the conversation-I thought it would be better that way. They don’t have an indoor toilet, but there is a latrine at the top of the hill that they share with their son Tereso and his family. And for some dang reason every single latrine that I’ve been in is only five feet tall. This can be a little frustrating for someone who is six feet tall. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve hit my head since I’ve been here. In every single latrine, on the busses, on this dang wire that hangs down in my classroom and on one of the busitos (little busses) around town. But back to my house. They have a washing machine! It’s a very small one that has a separate spinner, but it does a good job and Maria doesn’t have to wash the clothes by hand. My room is small, but I have a light which is nice. Other PCT’s have fans in their rooms which I would kill for. It’s been difficult sometimes to sleep at night when you’re lying in bed sweating-but I’m getting used to it. It also stinks when I have to put on my clothes, my shoes and my headlamp whenever I wake up in the middle of the night and have to climb the little hill to the pit latrine, but I’m getting used to that too. Plus it’s good exercise……right? One night their son Tereso came by with a scorpion that he had killed. He told us he found it in the latrine and it was at night. He showed it to his folks and they were like “wow!” but not in a good way. They talked about it with him for about five minutes and it clearly wasn’t something that they were happy to see. Now I’m careful about where I sit, especially at night. And I shake my clothes and shoes before I put them on just in case. A mosquito net is also a necessity, but I can’t really say that mosquitoes have bothered me that much here in Santa Clara. Plus I’m taking medication once a week to hopefully prevent me from getting it. Every Sunday is malaria Sunday. YAY!! Malaria Sunday! What else is a little odd about life in Panama? Oh, there are definitely some big dang roaches. I bout scared the devil out of myself the other night. Lazaro and Maria had already gone to bed so the light was off. I had my headlamp on and was on my way to brush my teeth when I tilted down and my headlamp was shining on this giant cockroach in the sink. I kinda jumped back for a second…..and then I smashed it with my shoe…..what a mess. And little lizards are pretty much everywhere. It’s not uncommon at all for me to go into my bedroom and see live 5 or 6 little lizards just chillin on the wall. It’s actually pretty neat. They look like decorations until they start to move.

Alright, this post has definitely gotten out of hand. Plus it’s late and I’m beat. It’s about 9:30 which is very late here in Panama because the sun goes down early and rises early. Your body just kinda makes you go to bed at 9 here. I’ll try to post some pics of my house and some different things if I can figure it out. It may take a while folks. Until next time!

A view from Piedras Gordas (Fat Rocks)

30 minutes

Okay, I only have 30 minutes before my bus leaves Chorrera and goes back to Santa Clara, so I will try to be quick. We just returned from our first on-site vist. Originally I was supposed to go by myself, but unfortunately another PCV (Peace Corps Volunteer) got sick and had to be taken to the hospital in David (a big city in Panama). So....another aspirante (we´re called aspirantes until we actually swear in as PCV´s) named Jack had to come with me because his host was in the hospital. As it turns out another aspirante was also hospitalized in David after having some not so clean water..or something like that. But forget about all that. I had a great time staying with my host volunteers Kate and Bracken and enjoying the town of Vallerequito outside of the provincial capital of Las Tablas. There's actually a town called Vallerico which stands for Rich Valley before you get to Valleriquito which means Little Rich Valley. And what a view! Beautiful green mountains all around and the people were hilarious. We spent most of our time making fun of everyone. What I mean to say is that the locals made fun of us and we made fun of them and we all had a grand ol time. What makes Valleriquito so unique is that many moons ago a large company was paying the local farmers a certain amount for their milk. However, this amount would fluctuate frequently depending on market conditions and so forth. They also decided that Valleriquito didn´t produce enough milk in the summer months (when there´s no rain) to purchase any milk at all. So.....the local farmers created a group-about 17 or 18 and decided to create a cheese factory even though they knew nothing about cheese. A PCV about 17 years ago helped them to get started and now it´s up and running and earning money and is a great success story for the people of Valleriquito. The farmers get a fixed price per liter of milk that they bring in every single morning and the Quesarilla (Cheese factory) makes fresh cheese every day. They employ about 4 women in the town  who come in every morning, clean everything, measure how much milk each farmer has brought in and records it in a notebook - and one of the farmers oversees the operation. It was really cool to see how a PCV 17 years ago helped start something that is providing jobs for so many people. Not only jobs, but a sense of accomplishment, ownership and pride. It was truly awesome. And of course all the farmers coming in made fun of me for taking pictures of them riding in on their horses and unloading the milk. They actually have a nickname for Bracken-the PCV living in the village. They call him Pollo Americano, which is American Chicken. He´s actually trying to obtain a laptop or computer for the factory because they have 17 years worth of information, but it´s all handwritten in notebooks. If they had a laptop they could enter in all that information to have a better picure of their business operations. Right now they sell cheese as far away as Panama City which is about 5 hours away. Pretty impressive for a little town in the mountains. They are also selling all they cheese they´re making. Right now they´re not looking to expand, but there is definitely potential in the future which is exciting to see. Well that´s all I have time for now, but I´ll try to post more later. Chau!