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.