tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-68577897060837479282024-03-05T19:23:39.033-08:00Lost and Found in PanamaMy adventures continue as a Sustainable Agriculture Systems volunteer in Panama...what will I lose and find here?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.comBlogger55125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-49479179565971375342010-04-15T08:36:00.001-07:002010-04-15T08:49:57.519-07:00The list of 27.Today is my last day of Peace Corps. I can't believe it! Tomorrow I will go back to my site (but as a RETURNED Peace Corps Volunteer, not a CURRENT PCV) to collect my cat, close up my house and give away/sell all my belongings, and to say goodbyes. I have a final breakfast planned with my host family. I will be eating patacones (double-fried green bananas) and boiled yucca...2 of my favorite unhealthy foods that I mostly don't eat any more. Then I head to Panama City, spend the night with relatives of my host family (so they are my relatives too, right?) near the airport, and arrive in Albany on Monday. I am pumped, though it is going to be hard to leave.<br /><br />I thought breaking down the experience and my thoughts into 27 nuggets would be a fun experiment and an easy way for you readers to get an idea of my thoughts as a whole about my time. I have been working on this list for a while, it will never be complete. But you can thank me later for sparing you a loooong winding road through my brain. Why 27? That is the number of months in a standard Peace Corps service. AND I FINISHED IT! Sure I have some regrets, things I wish I’d known from the start, lots more stories, but let’s just leave it at this list, and you can ask me about the other stuff when I get home. And one more thing, if you are going to ask me about my service, the more specific your question, the better I will be able to answer. Could you really answer someone who asked you “so how were the last 27 months of your life”?<br /><br /><span style="font-family:arial;">1. I will always respect the order and fairness of a well-formed queue leading up to a counter. Very few people leave happy when they are elbowing their way for a bus, food or other service. Waiting is annoying, but undeniably fair and I suggest that more businesses in Panama and Bolivia try this technique (so far only banks, electric companies and some supermarkets really have this established).<br /></span>2. If I had one thing to impart that would have a great impact on “development” it would be to encourage the governments of every country to teach children that it is okay to dream, to give them tools to be creative and critical thinkers and to AVOID the traps of teaching and learning by rote which stifle growth in the child and thus in a country’s future.<br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">3. You can´t talk sense into insects.<br /></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">4. How to bathe without water pressure or a bath tub: Fill a bucket of water. Take it to wherever you would normally shower. Use a cup to mete out water over your body. Lather up. Grab the cup by the edge, dip into the bucket WITHOUT letting your soapy hands touch the water. Pour over yourself. If water is limited, use a squeegy motion with your hands to remove excess suds after each rinse with water. For a spa-like experience, boil a small amount of the water with herbs (rosemary, lemongrass, mint, what have you) and add this to your big bucket of cool water, then proceed.<br /></span>5<span style="font-family:times new roman;">. If you believe what you are doing is right, then keep on doing it and ignore the critics. You may end up changing minds with your conviction.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">6. Good friends and neighbors are essential. They are there to listen, to laugh with, to sit quietly with, to surprise with some goodie from the oven or a hunk of cold watermelon that won´t fit in the fridge, etc. They make hard times bearable and good times better. From now on making and strengthening these relationships will be a priority of mine. This isn´t to say I don´t still see myself as independent, but friends help a lot.<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">7. Sometimes behavior change is as simple as pushing someone to consider why and what they are doing. There is a polite way to do this, and I think it comes down to treating everyone like human beings by being honest and up front about things. Honesty is respect and creates a space for cross-cultural understanding. So tell people when they are mis-stepping!<br /></span><span style="font-family:courier new;">8. A big lesson: Sometimes I need to ask for help. I would like to be super woman, but I am not and although it saddens me, I can´t do everything alone. For one, I´m terrible at building fences. Had I asked for help with that in Bolivia, a cow wouldn´t have eaten all my veggies growing in the garden. Clearly, I have a complex about dependency, but I have learned (or, am still learning) that asking for help doesn’t mean I am helpless or not independent.<br /></span>9. Monitoring and Evaluation are crucial to development, to projects of any kind really. Instead of focusing on a final product, recognize small steps, the successes and failures along the way. It´s more rewarding and leads to a much better end product. In this organization, we like to say ¨process over product.¨<br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">10. It´s easy to get trapped inside your head on a bad day; easier still when you are isolated by culture and geography. The key is to get out and do something, especially if it´s physical. My favorite remedy is digging up soil with a pickaxe.<br /></span>11. Walk confidently, upright and imagine a forcefield around you. People will mostly leave you alone. In 2+ years in supposedly dangerous countries, I only had one robbery attempt on my person.<br /><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">12. Cleaning a house in the tropics is not fun, but really important since dust and bugs (and animal hair) seem to accumulate much faster than in temperate zones. Plus, cleaning and organizing can be very therapeutic.<br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;">13. I am a terrible liar, so I found that the best way for me to live is to only do things I am proud of or that I can at least explain. I can only lie if my safety is involved.<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-family:times new roman;">14. There is always more to learn: It took me until March 2010 to realize that ctrl-S doesn´t mean save on a Spanish computer…</span><br /></span>15. My culture generally values creativity and originality, we like to be different and unique in small and often big ways; many cultures are not this way…realizing this was a big ¨aha¨ moment for me, and went a long way explaining why so few people actively seek out the new and different solutions.<br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">16. Some things I will probably have to un-learn: Yelling (common practice, instead of walking over to where someone is. I yell to say “bless you” to my neighbor when she sneezes); constantly talking about the weather; burning trash (fine with me, I hate it!); throwing toilet paper in a trash can next to the toilet; being really really frugal (ask anyone who visited me, I have a very interesting i.e. low price point); keeping a really dense wall up to men who talk to me (give an inch here…and you could be in trouble)<br /></span>17. Things I can do now that I couldn’t before: sharpen and use a machete; speak Spanish; understand Spanish; handwash clothes; survive on less water than I thought possible; sleep in a hammock (but I have to be really tired); identify intestinal ailments; distinguish types of wind and sun (the quality of light, speed and direction of wind, it all means something); wait around without anything to do (ha! only when forced).<br /><span style="font-family:arial;">18. I have drunk too many tiny cups of bad coffee for one lifetime. A shame, since Panama is actually the place where some of the most prized coffee in the world is grown.<br /></span><span style="font-family:lucida grande;">19. There is always more to do, the work is never done. I have tried to let go of the things that were beyond the realm of my time or control, but it hasn’t been easy to hear in my last few days about projects I could have done, had I the time still.<br /></span><span style="font-family:trebuchet ms;">20. Carry the following: toilet paper, hand sanitizer, a washcloth (for wiping sweat), deodorant, a knife, a spoon and a change of underwear….you will be so happy when you suddenly need one of those things and you have it!<br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;">21. Take care of your digestive system and your skin by drinking LOTS of water. (This is also why you should carry TP).<br /></span>22. Life love and death don’t discriminate between what you consider the real world and an alternative experience. It’s all your real life, so you have to just roll with it.<br /><span style="font-family:arial;">23. I do NOT like to be stared at or similarly sized up. The best way to combat it is to stare back. Freaks people OUT.</span><br /><span style="font-family:times new roman;">24. Going to miss: really good smelling air in the mornings (orchids and fruit blossoms in the misty air); people, feeling a part of a community; the intensity of my daily life here; feeling tough and strong every time I struggle and achieve something (like drawing water from a well when nothing comes from the tap just so I can have some tea and a rinse off in the evenings)…let´s call this undeniable self-reliance; hilarious English pronuncitions; the chance to see plants and children I know grow; 35 cent ice cream cones; free bananas.<br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;">25. Things I´m really excited for: trash disposal and recycling; libraries, used-books stores and netflix; good cheese; ice cream in my freezer; so-called ethnic foods; health food stores; feeling clean for longer than a few minutes after a shower; showers and baths that don´t involve either a bucket or a search for water; coffee in a large size, to-go, in a reusable travel mug; no more plastic bags!; being current with news, culture, my friends´ and family´s lives; a job; a job that I can leave at my doorstep if I want to; cool weather; choosing my clothes based on my mood, being able to wear more clothes or less clothes when I want, not having to choose between physical comfort and emotional comfort when dressing (like, if I wore a breezy sundress here, I would be compromising my emotional comfort because of the attention it draws; if I wear jeans and a button-down shirt, I overheat); drinking the water, no questions asked; a drop in my stress level; customer service; no more mid-afternoon heat stroke headaches; cooking for more people than myself (I love cooking what I want, when I want, but I love to share food and entertain guests); my cookbooks; my sharp chef’s knife; and about a billion other things.<br /></span>26. Things I am happy to leave behind: biting ants, termites, tiny clustering ants that show up inside things you haven´t used in a while; ¨gringa¨; power outages and current spikes; cat calls in Spanish; cat calls in English; machismo y racismo; awful radio DJ´s and their sound effect buttons; the heat and a concrete house (we could say it´s an oven…I never tried but I suspect you could fry an egg on the walls at mid-day).<br /><strong><em>27. I used to say ¨give what you can.¨ Now I have realized that sharing is probably more appropriate to my message because it implies equality between ¨giver¨ and ¨receiver.¨ Instead of thinking of having given up 27 months of my life to be a Peace Corps volunteer, I find great comfort in thinking that I have shared 27 months of my life with so many types of people (some who enriched my time with positive experiences, others who did so less directly, though everyone played a part). So my parting lesson for you readers is: share. Share your time, share your food, share work, share your thoughts, your ears, your abilities, your able body, with anyone else who is willing to share. This will make us all better off.</em></strong>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-51496534590819994962010-03-30T09:27:00.000-07:002010-03-30T09:40:41.007-07:00Pura VidaOk, I will admit to not understanding Costa Rica´s tourism (?) motto: pura vida. It means pure life, but that just seems nonsensical to me. Well, it didn´t make much sense until recently. I realized that without some major barriers to life experience (ok, so my computer won´t start up and I have virtually nothing left to read) there is an extreme point of experiencing your surroundings. Probably something similar to a trek through the Costa Rican rain forest...though I am in the hot dry flatlands of Panama. Truly, I feel that I am vibrating at a different frequency, that when the breeze blows and the leaves flutter, part of my spirit is similarly fluttering and enjoying the ride. So, I´m super duper bummed about having potentially lost ALL the photos on my computer (archives which went back to my NYC days), though I haven´t given up hope in the Mac Genii in the USA. However, I´m spending even more time hanging with my community, I´m reading books in Spanish (Gabriel Garcia Marquez...it is quite a challenge but the only novel I have left), I´m listening to the radio in Spanish (generally trying to find a decent station that plays non-80´s, non-DJ sound-effects heavy, non-romantic Spanish, non-religious music), I´m standing in my front door smelling the air (a mix of wonderful blossoms and smoke because we are in the burning-grass season). Obviously, if I had a lot more time left to go, I may not be feeling so free and easy. But I recognize a change in myself: less freaking out about immediate problems, more faith that issues will get resolved in time, a lot more ability to just be purely alive and within my surroundings. Completamente viva (completely alive) doesn´t quite have the ring that pura vida has, but I think that´s a good way to understand it.<br /><br />Stay tuned for my list of lessons learned...which I have to re-write from memory since it was saved only to my computer.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-82762018691860440042010-03-08T06:00:00.001-08:002010-03-08T06:12:58.805-08:00Helados de PanamaDouble posting today! Check below for a more serious article...<br /><br />As long-ago promised, here is my opinion on and a guide to the frozen treats of Panama. If you are ever in Panama, you could use this as a well-researched list. If not, maybe you’ll just enjoy reading my thoughts on this issue.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Duros:</span> Found anywhere with a freezer, often in a small-town kiosk or just out of someone’s house. These are the plastic-bag popsicles. Fruits, drink mix, coconut and milk, or rice-and-milk or rice-and-pineapple are blended up and poured into tiny plastic bags, which go in the freezer. Often you get a choice of <span style="font-style: italic;">“aguada”</span> (half-frozen with some ice in the center) or <span style="font-style: italic;">bien congelado</span> (well frozen). To eat, one bites off a corner of plastic, tries to find a place to properly dispose of the little piece (good luck), and sucks out the melting deliciousness. At ten cents, a serious bargain. Fifteen cents is reasonable especially for something a bit more involved (like if there’s milk, coconut or rice). If someone wants to charge you more, there better be strawberries or something else really special. As I mentioned, there is a major range in flavors. My favorites are coconut and pineapple, and obviously <span style="font-style: italic;">guanábana</span> but it’s pretty rare. I avoid the <span style="font-style: italic;">rojo</span> or koolaid (pronounced coo-lay-ee), the <span style="font-style: italic;">nance</span> (a fruit I just don’t like). The <span style="font-style: italic;">arroz con piña</span> and <span style="font-style: italic;">arroz con leche</span> are made from rice cooked with a lot of water and whatever flavoring, and then blended up and frozen. Excellent choices but hard to come by.<br /><br />Cones and cups: Can be purchased in bus terminals, supermarkets, mini-marts. 30-40 cents, always hit the spot. I have only seen the cheaper national brand, Estrella Azul, sold in this form, but it’s really not bad if you avoid a few deadly flavors. Safest flavors: <span style="font-style: italic;">chocolate</span>, <span style="font-style: italic;">chocalmendra</span> (chocolate nut), <span style="font-style: italic;">galleta</span> (cookie), <span style="font-style: italic;">vainilla</span> (vanilla), <span style="font-style: italic;">dulce de leche</span> (rare, excellent), <span style="font-style: italic;">guanábana</span>. The grape nut (pronounced gray-noo) is a favorite for some, but to me it’s just like a vanilla with flavorless cereal in it. <span style="font-style: italic;"> Casablanca</span> (white house) is a mysterious name for a pinkish ice cream (it has mildly fruity bits in a vanilla base) but I continue to order it since it’s not too bad and I want to figure it out. The ones I avoid are: <span style="font-style: italic;">naranja-piña</span> (orange-pineapple), <span style="font-style: italic;">cereza</span> (cherry), <span style="font-style: italic;">fresa </span>(strawberry), all too artificial in color and flavor. I don’t like the nance fruit, I can’t imagine the ice cream tastes too good, so I’ve never tried it. <span style="font-style: italic;">Neopolitano</span> is a conundrum, mixing two acceptable flavors with a third bad one, and generally it’s the strawberry that overtakes the flavor of the other two. If you have communication troubles, your best bet is pointing to a brown or white in the freezer case and avoiding crazy colors. Cups (<span style="font-style: italic;">tazas</span>) are generally 5 cents more than a cone (<span style="font-style: italic;">cono</span>), but you don’t risk toppling the scoop (most scoopers have not learned proper technique, sadly). My top three: <span style="font-style: italic;">galleta, dulce de leche, Casablanca</span>.<br />Carts: Carts are ubiquitous at parades, but not hard to find on normal days. Di’Bari and La Italianita sell wonderful popsicles, both fruit and ice cream. With these I tend to choose as I would choose a <span style="font-style: italic;">duro</span>, coconut or fruit. I find the La Italianita ice cream to be a little artificial but not bad. My go-to for these is always the <span style="font-style: italic;">guineo</span> (banana). It tastes fresh, sweet, banana-y and not at all fake. It’s like a smashed banana (apparently I was a fan at a very early age, and remain one to this day), frozen on a stick. <span style="font-style: italic;">Fresa</span> and<span style="font-style: italic;"> coco</span> are also winners, but I must admit I have less experience with the flavor range on these carts. As I mentioned, during parades there are more carts, and sometimes you’ll see homegrown operations selling something surely delicious. Make your own judgement about hygiene, but a strong stomach can probably handle this stuff okay. I once had a real winner, something called <span style="font-style: italic;">Helado Tableño </span>which hailed, as the name suggests, from the town of Las Tablas, which is in the heart of one of the dairy-producing areas (the Azuero; Chiriqui also has a lot of good dairy). I’m not sure what made it specifically tableño, but it tasted sweet and creamy, almost like coconut.<br /><br />Gourmet and Supermarket choices: I must admit, I’m a sucker for the gourmet ice creams. Luckily for my waistline, I can’t keep ice cream in my “freezer” (that’s what it is called, not what it does) and the gourmet shops are only in Panama City. However, I definitely have an opinion. The supermarkets and some better mini-marts stock pints through huge buckets of Estrella Azul and a slightly higher-caliber brand called Borden. There are also individual cups and popsicles to be found. I recommend Skimo Pie (that’s right, because of the way things are prounounced, it’s Eskimo pie) in a bind, though it´s nothing close to as good as a Klondike bar. However, if you’re at the supermarket, you have lots of choice. The pint is easy to polish off alone, but I have a fond memory of sharing a chocolate pint of Estrella Azul in Santa Fe with my dear dad when the family was visiting, and being satisfied with half. Supermarkets are your best bet for the better flavors, even for light and frozen yogurt options, which I haven’t tried. Moving up the scale, Bonlac brand is more gourmet, selling very delicious sundae cups (pricey! 85 cents to a dollar), as well as larger versions of the sundae flavors. Dos Pinos is a Costa Rican brand which seems to be on the game with good flavors and light options (however I find their cheeses to be kind of gross), but only sells in larger sizes so I’ve never tried it. And yeah, you can often find Breyers and some other imports, but that’s not why you’re in Panama now is it?<br />As for gourmet shops…La Italianita has some outlets in the malls, but if you’re at a mall you MUST go to Gelarti or Crepes and Waffles. Gelarti is something I’d eat back home, no question. They even have a mint chip! That’s generally my first choice, but those extreme chocolates and even the vanilla varieties are all very satisfying. There are sherberts and sorbets, which I’ve never tried since the creamy ones just call to me so much; I’m sure they’re good. I didn’t so much like the mixed berry compared side-by-side with a chocolate. Priced at 1.75 for a single, large scoop in a quality cone, 2.25 for the second dip, which is overkill generally. Biggest challenge: trying to pronounce the English names of some of the flavors in the way that a native Spanish speaker would understand. Why the names are in English is beyond me…which is why I have never ordered Cookies n Cream. If your Spanish is good enough, just say what it would be in Spanish. Crepes and Waffles is a restaurant with several outlets, in malls and one in the Bella Vista area of Panama City. I have only had it once, when I had a sorbet craving. I forget whether it was mora or frambuesa (blackberry or raspberry), but it was excellent. You can find almost fat-free softserve at Casa de Helados, if that´s your game. Or track down <a href="http://unabuenacrazy.blogspot.com">my RPCV friends Lebo and Michelle in South America</a> for a softserve cone and entertainment. In the rapidly-gentrifying Casco Viejo part of Panama City, there are also a few gourmet shops. I unfortunately don’t recall the name of the one where I stopped, but they patiently let me try their en vogue flavors like albahaca (basil), naranja chocolate (orange chocolate) et al. If you’re in Casco Viejo, you’d find this place as it’s not a large area. However, if you hail from a foodie city, this probably is less special than it is to a deprived PCV. I think my bill was around 2 dollars and THAT you won´t get in San Francisco.<br /><br />So never fear, in Panama, where it is summer all year, you can always get some ice cream!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-18779800410083656522010-03-08T05:48:00.000-08:002010-03-08T05:59:30.957-08:00fait accompli?<meta equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=utf-8"><meta name="ProgId" content="Word.Document"><meta name="Generator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><meta name="Originator" content="Microsoft Word 11"><link rel="File-List" href="file:///C:%5CDOCUME%7E1%5CADMINI%7E1%5CCONFIG%7E1%5CTemp%5Cmsohtml1%5C01%5Cclip_filelist.xml"><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:worddocument> <w:view>Normal</w:View> <w:zoom>0</w:Zoom> <w:hyphenationzone>21</w:HyphenationZone> <w:punctuationkerning/> <w:validateagainstschemas/> <w:saveifxmlinvalid>false</w:SaveIfXMLInvalid> <w:ignoremixedcontent>false</w:IgnoreMixedContent> <w:alwaysshowplaceholdertext>false</w:AlwaysShowPlaceholderText> <w:compatibility> <w:breakwrappedtables/> <w:snaptogridincell/> <w:wraptextwithpunct/> <w:useasianbreakrules/> <w:dontgrowautofit/> </w:Compatibility> <w:browserlevel>MicrosoftInternetExplorer4</w:BrowserLevel> </w:WordDocument> </xml><![endif]--><!--[if gte mso 9]><xml> <w:latentstyles deflockedstate="false" latentstylecount="156"> </w:LatentStyles> </xml><![endif]--><style> <!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:Times; panose-1:2 2 6 3 5 4 5 2 3 4; mso-font-charset:0; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:536902279 -2147483648 8 0 511 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-parent:""; margin:0cm; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt; font-family:Times; mso-fareast-font-family:Times; mso-bidi-font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:EN-US; mso-fareast-language:ES;} @page Section1 {size:612.0pt 792.0pt; margin:70.85pt 3.0cm 70.85pt 3.0cm; mso-header-margin:36.0pt; mso-footer-margin:36.0pt; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} --> </style><!--[if gte mso 10]> <style> /* Style Definitions */ table.MsoNormalTable {mso-style-name:"Tabla normal"; mso-tstyle-rowband-size:0; mso-tstyle-colband-size:0; mso-style-noshow:yes; mso-style-parent:""; mso-padding-alt:0cm 5.4pt 0cm 5.4pt; mso-para-margin:0cm; mso-para-margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:10.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman"; mso-ansi-language:#0400; mso-fareast-language:#0400; mso-bidi-language:#0400;} </style> <![endif]--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Well, I’ve been meaning to update my blog for a while, but I’m being pulled in many directions lately.<span style=""> </span>I’m learning a lot, as always, and trying to give constructive criticism so that future people in my position will not have to be so stressed out!<span style=""> </span>Enough said.<span style=""> </span>
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">
<br /></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Happily, my community is still (or, at long last?) inviting me to work.<span style=""> </span>This past month, my host mom has been harvesting a lot of cucumbers, which we had planted together.<span style=""> </span>She doesn’t need my help with that, but this is part of our ongoing conversation/effort about how she ought to consider her vegetable garden and poultry-raising as her “job.”<span style=""> </span>That is, she has shifted (mentally) from these being on-the-side activities to what she does daily with as much commitment as people who leave their houses for a job.<span style=""> </span>A lot of the seeds I’ve given her haven’t panned out, but we were very pleased to be able to grow enough greenbeans (the short, sweet variety that are considered “quality” here) to collect the seeds.<span style=""> </span>I actually imparted some seed-saving knowledge, that she should let the beans dry on the plant instead of harvesting them green, in order to save the seed.<span style=""> </span>I can’t control what happens after I leave, but maybe the shift is more permanent this time than in previous years.<span style=""> </span>I have to remember that she hasn’t lived in this town as long as the others, so she is, comparatively speaking, only starting out, and so the stopping and starting that has characterized my work with her is probably symptomatic of her being new at this more than anything else.<span style=""> </span>She also seems to be getting more saavy about grocery shopping to include healthier choices than when I first arrived.<span style=""> </span>Hard to say whether this is a direct effect from my nutrition talks with her, but I like to say I have something to do with it.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">My friend and neighbor, Mari, with whom I’ve worked a lot (who also tends to frustrate me with her desultory garden-tending habits) invited me to work to chop down the grass in what should be her garden beds.<span style=""> </span>I was not too animated about going, since it seems all we have done in the past half a year is chop down the grass but never work the soil or plant anything.<span style=""> </span>However, of course I went!<span style=""> </span>I have been saying “yes” to everything lately so I won’t have regrets about what I might have missed.<span style=""> </span>I asked Mari, as a way of pushing her to plan and to have a goal, what she wanted to plant.<span style=""> </span>I told her I wanted to know so that when I’m in the USA I would be able to have a picture of her garden in my head.<span style=""> </span>At first she answered, “no se Raquel,” which is standard.<span style=""> </span>Rather than give an opinion, usually the first thing I hear is that someone doesn’t know.<span style=""> </span>I gave a few ideas, and quickly it became clear that she was concerned about how to get seeds.<span style=""> </span>Now, in the past I’ve given her seeds for free and not much has come of it.<span style=""> </span>A combination of her character and her mother’s recent illness got in the way.<span style=""> </span>But I think she’s turning a corner now.<span style=""> </span>Her daughter is starting school this week (tomorrow, as I’m writing this), and maybe this landmark in her life is causing her to reflect on her goals and vision.<span style=""> </span>Mari now has a paying job, and can definitely afford the basic seeds that are easy to find in Santiago, where she goes fairly often.<span style=""> </span>Besides that, a lot of the vegetables that she has started to buy also have seeds one can cull from the actual fruit (tomato, pumpkin, beans).<span style=""> </span>I told her this, and she agreed.<span style=""> </span>So we’ll see what she ends up doing.<span style=""> </span>Anyways, after we chopped (with machetes!) for a while, we sat to talk.<span style=""> </span>Since I’ve been busy and she is often at work when I stop by her mother’s house, it’s been a while.<span style=""> </span>I consider her one of my best friends, and we speak very openly to each other.<span style=""> </span>I’ll never forget or discredit her easy friendship, which has made my service so much better.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">We talked about her sadness at not losing weight or being in shape (which is harder for her now that she works in an office and isn’t on her feet all day: a major trade-off between country and city life, as we all know).<span style=""> </span>I encouraged her, as I always do, to try some new things, to ask my host mom to be her exercise partner (seriously, both women are trying to get in shape and are a bit embarrassed to exercise alone in public, and I’ve been trying to get them to partner up FOREVER), etc.<span style=""> </span>Though this conversation is one we often have, I’m including it because in the context of what happened next, I’m hopeful that what I am saying is getting through and sticking.<span style=""> </span></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">Somehow the conversation shifted, and she gave me the ultimate gift: confirmation that I have had an effect on someone in my community (her).<span style=""> </span>When I was interviewing for Peace Corps, I said that I’d be satisfied if I changed only one person’s life for the better.<span style=""> </span>Maybe I was exaggerating or just naïve at the time, since lately I’ve felt like I haven’t done anything or enough with my time in Peace Corps, etc.<span style=""> </span>Yet what I realized I’d been missing was the simple confirmation that I’d reached this goal.<span style=""> </span>Mari was talking about how someone else in town (whom I’ve never worked with though I’ve invited her to some things) had been bad-mouthing me to Mari and another woman, saying she had no idea what “that gringa” was here for and everything else bad that still really hurts to hear said.<span style=""> </span>But Mari had defended me, told the third woman (an outsider in the community) that it’s not Raquel’s fault that she’d never worked with woman 1, because Raquel doesn’t force anyone to do anything but is a really good worker, a professional, who knows many things, who will always help IF YOU ASK.<span style=""> </span>Mari had me tearing up at this point.<span style=""> </span>She used all the descriptors I would want used about me, and believe me, I was not prompting her to say any of this.<span style=""> </span>I couldn’t open my mouth because I would have started crying for real.<span style=""> </span>Furthermore, Mari said that she didn’t understand why she and the rest of the community hadn’t supported my efforts more.<span style=""> </span>She saw how hard I tried with the women’s health class (she made it clear that SHE understood it wasn’t a weight-loss class but a health and nutrition class), with the tree planting, with everything.<span style=""> </span>She said the community should have been more involved, because I was trying to make things better for them and without me, things would just always be the same (for example the area where we planted trees would remain treeless forever).<span style=""> </span>Finally, she told me that she really has learned a lot from me (she named everything we’d done together), and plans to make use of the techniques we’ve practiced together.<span style=""> </span>She asked that I send her seeds from home (obviously I will, since what they get here are awful hybrids that they can’t save the seeds from).<span style=""> </span>She told me that her older brother (who I always thought considered me as sort of nuts) and mother (who is indeed a major supporter) were always telling Mari to use what she’d learned with Raquel, because “Raquel, sí sabe” (Raquel, yes knows).<span style=""> </span>I feel I can end my service with that one nagging question finally answered.<span style=""> </span>Yes, I changed something for the better.<span style=""> </span>I’m excited to check in, to visit in coming years, and to see how this change may have had domino effects.<span style=""> </span>But that’s getting ahead of myself.<span style=""> </span>For now, I’m simply and completely elated!</span></p> Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-53067659147536701412010-02-05T08:13:00.000-08:002010-02-05T08:31:26.179-08:00Do you see what I see? The identity crisis edition…22-1-10<br /><br />January is FLYING by. Has flown by by the time I post, I presume. This month I have been visiting many communities as part of the “site identification and preparation” process. Add to that a very quick trip to Panama City, and the normal visits to my provincial capital to see agency representatives and do my personal errands, and you get one tired Raquel. I’m less in love with bus travel this month, seeing as the trips I’m taking are generally much longer and hotter than my normal bus to Santiago…and waiting around for the buses is not that fun all the time. My normally very-healthy body and mind seemed to suffer from less sleep, a lot of time seated on a bumpy road, having to choose between packaged cookies, crackers, or nothing to tide my appetite over, and being anxious about getting things done. I even had an episode where I forgot my ATM PIN in Panama City, resulting in my card being blocked and my having to fix that whole mess. I don’t forget many things, I’m convinced that happened because of my brain being so exhausted.<br /><br />However, the difficult part of that job is behind me. I’ll still be traveling, but with Peace Corps staff in Land Rovers with AC (you also get there a lot faster in a small vehicle that doesn’t stop every few minutes). I’m going to make a real effort to take some days to see the parts of Panama that I haven’t been to (namely one of the indigenous areas that isn’t far from where I live). It was rough having to visit communities on the beach but not having the time to stay and play. <br /><br />The title of this entry points to an interesting inner turmoil of which I’ve recently become aware. I feel quite adjusted to the culture and language. When I’m in my town, I don’t see myself as an outsider, everyone knows me, and I feel comfortable in their houses talking about whatever, interacting with the children, etc. I feel at this point I’ve earned the right to let the Panamanian side of me show. So I bought myself the typical “sombrero criollo” which is not the Panama Hat you’re probably picturing. It has black fibers woven into the braid. Hard to describe. Anyways, I felt happy and like I earned my hat, like I was really integrated into the culture to know that THIS is the real Panama hat (they say “sombrero de nosotros”-our hat). But as soon as I put it on in my regional capital, I got all these stares and comments that were particularly blatant. I’ve gotten used to a base level of unwanted attention, but this was awful! People were making me feel like an imposter! So in this case, I was being seen as one thing (an outsider) just at the moment where I was feeling proud of myself for being so integrated into the culture. Wearing the hat around my community has led to positive comments, people really like the hat and say it looks good on me. I actually don’t like the way I look in the hat, but I need the sun protection and it’s a great souvenir. <br /><br />Interestingly, sort of the opposite situation has also happened to me in my travels this month. I will never claim I speak perfect or even excellent Spanish. I converse well, I have an accent, certain affects (e.g. adding “-ito” to lots of words even when it doesn’t make sense, like asking for a “librita”-little pound-of tomatoes) and a rhythm in my speech that is similar to that in the town where I live. However, I never think I’m fooling anyone into thinking I’m not from the United States or otherwise abroad. So there’s my imperfect Spanish and then there are my looks. I may be tanner than my German and French-Canadian heritage normally permits, but I am still particularly pink-toned. This is why people reacted so strongly to my wearing the Panama hat: it clashed with my appearance. This is why I often get approached by (in my opinion: rude and annoying) strangers saying “u-ni-ted stayte?” Etc. So imagine my surprise when the question was more neutral, “where are you from?” “so are you from the US as well as the volunteers you coordinate?” Like people were trying to figure out if I was from a different part of Panama. It’s true that certain areas in Panama have a higher concentration of more European looking people…but they speak perfect Spanish and it’s immediately clear that they are Panamanian (or Colombian or Costa Rican…people have also asked me that too). I have been asked if my eyes are contact lenses (I’m afraid to touch my eyes, trust me, no contact lenses). I’m flattered and surprised that people would think I am a compatriot. I have to laugh a little bit that sometimes I’m treated as an imposter or foreigner, and other times I have to correct people to assure them that I am also a Peace Corps volunteer from the United States. Obviously, I’m proud of myself for the latter situation. I have nothing more profound to say about the subject of identity and appearance. I’m just happy I can navigate through this country with ease, especially if given the chance to directly interact with someone to show them that I’m <em>not</em> a clueless (but loveable) tourist.<br /><br />In February I start the arduous (but fun since it includes a few Panama City trips which means quality gelato, normal-size to-go coffee and my favorite 50-cents-an-item Chinese vegetarian restaurant) process of “closing service.” Yes, we are that close. I say “we” because even though I’m physically the one here, my family and friends’ support has been integral to my experience. I have no shame in having a countdown at this point…I am proud of myself that I will actually make it through all 27 months of the commitment! And I am not already mentally checked out. I still have work to do and will be doing it until I go (just the other day I started a compost pile with a new work partner in town).<br /><br />Posting this today, February 5th, in the midst of this process. I'm processing all the accomplishments and "learning experiences" that have made up my experience...intense!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-53386763366879889092010-01-04T10:20:00.000-08:002010-01-04T10:28:32.005-08:00Burning Men Festival<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">I suppose burning effigies as a celebration or ritual is a common thing the world over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have no idea how I missed this last New Year’s, but Panama has quite a tradition.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A few days before New Years, one starts noticing scarecrow-like stuffed clothes propped up against fences and electricity poles.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They are made of a man’s clothes stuffed with raked up leaves (not maple or oak, but cashew fruit tree leaves).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They look a lot like men just standing around from far off…I’ve been psyched out a few times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This is the theory: the muñeco (literally, doll) represents the past year.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So burning it is a way of putting the past to rest, to start over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The men are lit on fire right at midnight (or ok, 11pm, kids get impatient).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Poetic and especially dramatic when there are firecrackers (can be purchased for $1/long strand at, you guessed it, the bus terminal) mixed in with the leaves.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Other New Year’s traditions here are:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>decorating the table with big ring-shaped breads, grapes, apples and pears.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I think you are supposed to stay up around the table playing dominoes and bingo until midnight, then eat these things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I read in the newspaper that some people eat 12 grapes right at midnight.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>They sometimes count the seeds and then those are their lottery or lucky numbers for the coming year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There are special stands outside of the supermarkets and, yup, in the bus terminal, that exclusively sell the New Years (also bought for Christmas) foods.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The grocery stores are full of people who rarely leave their homes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Many are men buying very large quantities of alcohol…from beer to the traditional sugarcane liquor called Seco Herrerano, to rum (no national brand), to these extremely horrible liquors that are fruity and/or fizzy but just look so awful and artificial I can’t understand how anybody drinks them (they seem unnecessary given the other available options).<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not to say that the USA tradition of getting super drunk for no reason other than a number on the calendar is all that classy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But seriously, “Riunite” brand of sparkling flavored wines (looks like Gatorade)? Nighttrain?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Yuck.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In any case, despite the alcohol, people definitely see New Years as a time to hang out with family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And I have not once heard comments of someone dreading this part of the holidays.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There is NOTHING better to Panamanians than time spent with the family.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So there’s a lesson for us jaded USA-ers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The children get into it because there are more cousins and playmates around, more sweets and special foods, lots of music, and the chance to stay up all night and set off firecrackers and fireworks for a few days. For my part, I fell asleep early and woke up to the noisemakers at about 11pm, but it wasn't too bad.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> Another thing is "matanza." Yea...that means butchering. I guess it's customary as well to go all out on New Year's Day and slaughter an animal, if you have the means. Many people have chickens and prepare big pots of "arroz con pollo" which is a treat. But some of the more well-to-do families might invest in a pig or a cow slaughter. I'm not sure what the symbolism is, probably has to do with having plentiful food for the new year. But I guess it's just really practical to slaughter the animals you've been keeping all year when there's a lot of extra people visiting.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Also, I believe this marks the last holiday of my Peace Corps service I will have to endure far away from the familiar, pining for traditions of holidays at home (ok, maybe I’ll be sad to miss Valentine’s Day chocolates).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m gettin’ there…<o:p></o:p></p> <!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-72384256605783627342009-12-25T13:13:00.000-08:002009-12-25T13:22:18.950-08:00Riding Buses in Panama (21-12-09)<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Here’s another “what it’s like here” blog postings…trying to do more of these as I soak up my experiences and store them as proteins in my brain.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Short-distance regional buses are extremely convenient most of the year. I can’t believe there aren’t any of these in more rural areas in the States. I have no idea what I will do when I don’t have a car in Vermont and there aren’t any buses to take me to town. Anyways, this is not most of the year, and bus travel is extremely frustrating. But the reasons it is frustrating will give a nice window into how it’s so great most of the year…as my AP Bio teacher explained, “we will learn about the normal by studying the abnormal.” A few primers: the buses are owned by the drivers, I think, but they are regulated and belong to a company (maybe it’s a cooperative thing). There is a team of “ayudantes” (meaning helpers). Each ayudante works a specific bus or two, in a team with the driver. The ayudante loads and unloads your packages, looks and listens for cues that someone wants to get off and takes your money so the driver doesn’t need to be distracted. The prices are standard and printed, and the ayudante is generally good at knowing what a specific mid-route to mid-route fare is. Children and seniors get discounts, and if you carry a child or two or three on your lap or within your seat’s legroom, they go free. I’ve seen grown children (I’d say at least up to age 10) transported this way. You can bring livestock. I’ve seen chickens in sacks, puppies and kittens with their heads sticking out of sacks, and my own kitten was once allowed on in a cardboard box that she kept popping out of.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So today I walked up to the bus stop, planning to catch the 8am. It actually leaves from the main town in my district at a few minutes before the hour, depending on how many people are on it. Fuller means leaving earlier. The few minutes I spend brushing seeds and dirt off myself, finishing dressing and primping (one must look presentable getting on a bus; it’s a respect for the other passengers thing to not be sweaty and smelly when you are in their proximity) are always a bit of a suspenseful game. If there are others waiting, we inevitably begin the discussion. Which buses are running today? The little ones=groan and complaint about how they fill them up so much, the big ones=general happiness because they are almost never too full and they circulate air much better. The little ones are Toyota coasters, the big ones are repurposed school buses. Will it be really full today? If it’s on or around the 15</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> or the end of the month, when people get paid, it will be fuller. If the seniors are getting their bonus checks, it’s going to be REALLY full. Why is it still not coming? This is the most suspenseful question. A little later than 8am could be good, because it means it was waiting a little longer to grab more passengers and so there aren’t too many people riding today. Too early and it’s going to be really full and possibly standing-room only. Today was the third option: much after 8am, because the bus had already stopped many times to pick up passengers and it was consequently too stuffed to pick me up. Generally speaking, there is a seat or standing room for me, but since it’s Christmas season, everybody is going to Santiago to receive and send packages, buy presents and food, etc. Other full times of the year: Easter and Mother’s Day. My next option is to stay at the top of the road for an hour, wait for the next bus. I never do that. I’ve learned some patience, but not much. I could wait half an hour for the bus passing in the opposite direction, and arrive in the starting town in time to secure myself a seat. I have never done that, but today I considered it. What I do do is walk 20 minutes to the Pan-American highway (yup, I’m that close. I’ve sometimes fantasized about packing a bag, grabbing the cat, and flagging down a ride and heading north through Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Guatemala and Mexico into the States…). I could wait for a cab or a ride (known as “bote,” like a boat), but the cab drivers drive a steep bargain for what is only a 20-minute walk. From there it’s generally easy to catch a bus serving a longer route heading to Santiago. Today I think I was out there in the hot sun for 40 minutes trying to get one to stop, but 4 passed by too full for passengers (we were quickly amassing by the side of the road…bad news because a bus driver can’t just let some on and there’s no queue of who was there first). Finally one stopped and I stood for the whole 30 minute trip. I arrived just as the 9am bus from my route was arriving.</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">The bus terminals in Latin America bring me great joy, normally. In our terminal, which is quite small, there are vendors of seasonal produce (right now: tangerines and pidgeonpeas), pirated music and DVDs (generally young guys with fashion tshirts, distressed jeans and gelled hair who mumble: “musicapeliculacomica”), shaved-ice-and-sugar-syrup treats from a cart (called raspado but pronounced ras-pow), newspaper vendors, an agricultural supply store, shoeshines, a butcher, 2 across-Panama courier services, a farmacy, 2 restaurants, several sundry/basic foodstuffs stores, a guy who walks around selling peppermint sticks and Panamanian candies (older guy who yells “pe-per-meeen-eh, man-hares, dulce de laaayche”), a bakery where things actually taste as good as they look because there is a constant demand and thus renewal of the supply, ATMs, lottery ticket sellers, clean bathrooms, and a random touchscreen thing that is supposed to help tourists. My favorite discovery back in my early days was that one can obtain ice cream in at least 5 of these establishments. A cone runs about 35 cents, a cup 40. The ice cream is nothing gourmet, and you have to know which flavors to say no to. The stores only keep one or two at scooping temperature, so you sometimes have to shop around so as not to get the rum raisin (heavy on the imitation rum) or orange-pineapple (it’s neon and gross). I have plenty more to opine on the ice cream, but that’s for another posting. The terminal around major holidays is mayhem. People who generally don’t leave their homes are suddenly all there, crowded and messing up the pedestrian flow. Little kids are running into me and my laptop bag, old people just suddenly stop mid-stride because they. (Syntax joke there…get it?) There are purchases and parcels creating a smaller lane to walk through. More people than usual are crowded to check out the lottery tickets on sale. It’s not joyful this time of year…it’s hot and stressful and makes me grumpy. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <span style="font-family: Times; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">Now, after a day of errands in Santiago (though one clearly does not have to leave the terminal area to do most normal Panamanian errands…I have a different set of needs like wireless internet, the post office and a real supermarket), I have to plan when I arrive back at the terminal. On big bus days, I worry less, and can arrive fairly close to the hour and still have a seat. Today was a little bus day, so I knew I should get there at about 20 past the hour to make sure I could get a seat. Some days I’ve actually gotten there as the previous bus was leaving, on purpose, and staked out a claim on the next bus with a few others. It’s cutthroat. There are certain accepted practices, so getting there an hour early does not mean you have to sit on the bus for an hour until it leaves. Once your packages are stowed (just recently the ayudantes have taken to writing the package destination and number of packages directly on the bags, so now all my eco-friendly bags have marker stains…thanks guys), you can put something on a seat to save it and go get snacks. Sometimes people will sit, get up for one snack, return and eat snack, then get up for another snack for the road, etc. I’m sure I’ve done that, what with all the cold drinks and ice cream and fried green bananas and coffee. I never leave valuables, and today all I had were my water bottle and my eggs (never stow eggs, tomatoes or bananas…or anything else smashable). That would be enough to save a seat though. So I left those on an empty seat (for the first half of an hour the buses are just seats with stuff on them, very few human beings sit in the bus because it’s so hot and because there is so much to do in the terminal). Nowhere had ice cream. It was 2:30pm and probably the heavy flow of hot and crabby people had used up today’s supply by mid-morning. I went to the supermarket across the street, and luckily there were some single-serve sundae cups (much more expensive at 85 cents, but much higher quality ice cream with caramel…mmm). When I returned with my treat, all the seats were full! Including mine! The guy in my place totally had a guilty look in his eye, so I said, what happened, I had my water bottle and eggs right there. He hemmed and hawed about not knowing who they belonged to and how he thought they were for the next seat over (which only made sense because he moved them to the next seat over). But the ayudante, who knows me (they all do, I should really get a frequent rider card with 10</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"> ride free or something) came and used his power on the guy. I think the nosy señora across the aisle thought I was a rude “gringa” who should wait my turn, the way she kept staring at me. She tried to boss a lot of riders around, but I still felt her glare fixed on me especially. I was there first and had saved my spot in the accepted way, so I didn’t feel that bad. It was nice to have the ayudante step in to help me. I’m glad I always take the extra second to greet him and say some generic thing like, “oh there’s a lot of people today, huh?” Without fail, people who don’t live that far away from Santiago but who don’t have their own bus route will wait until a driver starts his engine, and then sardine-pack themselves into the bus, only to stop it 2 minutes outside of town, 3 minutes outside of town, 4 minutes outside of town, etc. So there are people leaning all over the seated passengers, the seated passengers get cramped, and the driver will continue to let people on despite our protests because each passenger means more money for him. That happens often with the little buses which have the obvious disadvantage of being little (fewer passengers fit in the seats). But generally my bus travel is much easier than today. I walk the ten minutes to the road, get on, sit for half an hour (music is generally too loud but I’ve gotten used to it and know most of the songs by heart), get off, do my stuff, return to the terminal, save my place, get ice cream, go back. Today made me appreciate how well this system normally works. And I did get where I needed to go and back home again, so how much can I complain, especially since there was time for ice cream.</span></span><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-20657832734336242902009-12-15T07:45:00.000-08:002009-12-15T08:02:43.373-08:00my second and probably last vacation as PCV<div style="text-align: center;">So I earn a ridiculous amount of vacation vs. a nomal job. Two days earned per month worked (mind you it is a 24/7 job). However, I'm lame and don't think I'll actually use up all the time I accrued...especially since I can't go on any more vacations during my last three months (mid-Jan-mid-April). Anyways, to help me with my little incapacity for taking "me time," my cousin Britta came for vacation!</div><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">One of the big advantages of Panama as a tourism destination is its small size and relatively well developed travel infrastructure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were able to spend a full day inPanama City, where we explored the technical “old city” which is slowly being renovated, but for now is strikingly run-down with a few artsy cafes and restaurants interspersed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had never seen this part of the city before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We decided to start walking back towards our hotel, which was across the city, essentially.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The idea was to walk until we had seen enough of the pedestrian market near the Old City, then catch a taxi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I loved the market!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was another new experience for me in Panama, but reminded me quite a bit of the giant markets in Bolivia (but a much smaller and more navigable version).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I located a big fabric store which sells all the fabrics that are used in the various traditional dress and costumes throughout this diverse country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I certainly plan to go back and pick up more before I go home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There aren’t many specific souvenirs or traditional crafts that one can bring back here, but the specific prints of fabrics do have meaning to someone who has lived here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I purchased a little bit of Veraguas-specific floral fabric and the same kind of fabric that the Kuna indigenous group uses for their headscarves.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>We kept walking through the city, not really intending to, but eventually landing at our hotel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>All in all, it was about four miles of Panama City! And we were waking up at 4:30am the next morning to get on this plane:</p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4qrWFKw7CYumO9VfXevZEC0FDfQ0xB0h7PvVofuKFWL1kTzpmZ8V4bN5EsE1FUMkVzT9a2O4G1iUYbZ1IktE43KBVws7_v5KtyNCM_0YEnf_mp3LtH7aGDKua1cQS8V-zfnjqiAHovsI/s400/IMG_0541.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415490844223376770" /><p class="MsoNormal">We flew to the San Blas Archipelago (run by the Kuna indigenous group), which was very remote.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>In an unfortunate twist of events that we may never really understand, we were told that the island I had reserved us a cabin on was no longer open for tourism, that our options were seriously limited when it came to price (expensive or REALLY expensive), so we ended up somewhere where we were paying double what we had anticipated, and the food was not so good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We explained we didn’t mind eating fruit, yucca, fried plantains and fish, which is the local diet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>However, we ended up with mounds of potatoes (which do NOT grow on or near these tropical islands) and sad seafood half the time, rice and decent fried fish the rest of the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There is a weird idea in many tourist operations in this country that tourists come wanting to eat these specific “gourmet” things like lobster and mashed potatoes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Perhaps true sometimes, but it was strange that we couldn’t convince the proprietors to serve us something they obviously ate themselves.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> Literally, our guide showed us his house and his pile of harvested yucca. </span>But, that was the price to be on amazingly deserted and beautiful beaches, to which we took a boat every day and on which we sat for many hours. There was even a little impromptu oceanside yoga session one day, led by yours truly...<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span></p><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnwrL69vPnvaEnMCEAWQh7ZEIec-oJtcMIVsMIIrlRajhl1gj020JBibX8g_KSu060Hb6XEvgP0gztLHE5b0rt4PqwOouQEuvg3ahvZ0ZSfMD5enSNoURAEyfmRIAe-yJI-eaLE6u55xM/s400/IMG_0565.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415491260628132946" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>I loved the boat rides, but definitely felt like I had little choice in what we were doing every day.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We knew we were eating breakfast and then leaving at 9am for somewhere each morning, and returning in the late afternoon.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>A strange and not-Panamanian sense of time and schedule.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Not every visitor has this experience, but that was ours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I would perhaps recommend going to these places during the tourist season, where more islands would be open and thus one would have more choice in where to stay.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>And definitely go with snacks, strong sunscreen (I’m still peeling!) and more cash than you think you need.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Once back on the mainland, we took a 7-hour bus ride to reach the western province of Chiriqui. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Chiriqui is known for its high mountains and volcanic soil.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s where the bulk of the export-quality coffee and oranges and vegetables are grown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We were actually at one point staying in a town where I could see the same vegetables that make it to the markets and supermarkets in my part of the country—I love that kind of thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Sadly I didn’t really interact with the farmers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was interesting to see the contrast in people’s standard of living.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Even the indigenous farmers (identified by their style of dress) were living in cinder block houses, some had satellites on top!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>In my town, the latino farmers aren’t doing so badly, but they aren’t making much money off their rice crops, if any at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The farmers in these mountains were definitely getting a cash inflow by selling vegetables.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So once again I must lament that I haven’t been able to kickstart the vegetable production in my own town.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My community is missing out on cash inflow as well as improved nutrition, and it is SO frustrating to see the obvious difference.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The mountains suited me a bit more than the beach, probably because the cool air and altitude were a novelty.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></p><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqh85pxgF50IwmB9cuTi-njlsExF-EHrHmfdKkfjDukkfK99JqTOHB5DJWnCqnfyDBzNaEJCXAyff6exhDAnu7nZkqt4Da_Xb1XAcuQLYKX0nGAP6NeY80A5Yj19Vrva-Llx2T21aFHvZl/s1600-h/IMG_0619.JPG"><br /></a></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQb3ghxAtbgOXPrpuUBx7c498DwHnR-FO-4HBBKmviHdHFRtvnHTVutN5iTg0Do_PwmabBWFAgam-dRvOn1TZ_9mu9K0AxC_JCvCvNYRTbE_IyLMgquKw8ufRfmM_jFesuA8iN64BHlZp/s1600-h/IMG_0602.JPG"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilQb3ghxAtbgOXPrpuUBx7c498DwHnR-FO-4HBBKmviHdHFRtvnHTVutN5iTg0Do_PwmabBWFAgam-dRvOn1TZ_9mu9K0AxC_JCvCvNYRTbE_IyLMgquKw8ufRfmM_jFesuA8iN64BHlZp/s400/IMG_0602.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415492051300297634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></a><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun: yes"></span>We visited some wonderful hot springs, which marks the first time I sat in a tub of hot water since I was in the States last December!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>My cousin convinced me to ride a horse for the first time in my adult life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was scared at first, but I got the hang of steering away from cars at least!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjqh85pxgF50IwmB9cuTi-njlsExF-EHrHmfdKkfjDukkfK99JqTOHB5DJWnCqnfyDBzNaEJCXAyff6exhDAnu7nZkqt4Da_Xb1XAcuQLYKX0nGAP6NeY80A5Yj19Vrva-Llx2T21aFHvZl/s400/IMG_0619.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5415492060902309442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="mso-spacerun:yes"></span>The experience was made more interesting by our horses’ personalities; they were a little confused about what their task was and were easily distracted by the yummy foliage at every turn.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I suppose it was like my fascination with the fresh cool-weather vegetables, so I can’t blame them too much for eating everything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>There was also a trip to a coffee processing plant, which was a nice mix of science, engineering and agriculture for me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Between all the activities, there was a lot of bus riding and waiting for transportation to show up or taxi drivers decide whether they felt like taking us somewhere.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was pretty standard for me, but I could tell it was strange to Britta who is used to New York City’s fast pace and availability of goods and services.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She was quite a good sport about things, and definitely got a feel for the Panamanian way of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She was daring enough about eating Panamanian foods (which I actually had been craving after the islands!), and learned quickly how to order a papaya <i>licuado sin azucar</i><span style="font-style:normal"> (basically blended papaya and ice, NO sugar).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It was great to have her visit me and show her support in that way, and I enjoyed showing off how much I knew about Panama (for better or worse!).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The two times I’ve had visitors, it’s made me appreciate Panama more for all its diversity and differences from the United States.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Which is not to say that it doesn’t still frustrate me in many ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m looking forward to going back to the States, but after this vacation I feel an even stronger need to be a sponge for all the Panama-ness I experience, positive or negative.<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-82346987645112669862009-11-14T08:32:00.000-08:002009-11-14T08:34:29.298-08:00taking in my surroundings<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Lately I’ve really been conscious of how little time I have left in Panama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Therefore, I’m trying to spend as much time visiting people when I’m in my community, to soak up as much of the daily experiences that define my life here.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>So my blog may become a collection of these vignettes, since I’ve sort of moved from a project and accomplishment-focused existence to something more like being a part of this community.</p> <h1><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Slingshots</span><o:p></o:p></h1> <p class="MsoNormal">The men who work the land around here, planting rice, corn, beans and having cows all carry a few things with them when they go out into the fields.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Generally they bring water, a machete, and a woven bag called a <i>chakara</i><span style="font-style:normal">.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I never really thought about what was in the bag, but the other day I was hanging out with one farmer (he likes to converse with me…I still don’t understand a lot of what he talks about because he gets going really fast in Spanish using new words and referring to things that I have no context for) and his brother comes up the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>He mentions there’s something in the tree (a hawk or other raptor) that kills chickens.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Out of the </span><i>chakara</i><span style="font-style:normal"> comes a slingshot and his ammo.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was delighted to see him use, in all seriousness, a slingshot to try to conquer the bird.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>The little boys often carry around slingshots, but I had never seen an adult use one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The young kids are pretty deft with them, knocking bats out of the banana palms and such.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m not sure why this little tidbit makes me so happy, but I think it has something to do with elegantly simple technology that is still in use and is still being passed on to the younger generation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Call me romantic, but amidst constant reminders that this country is letting its youth forget its culture (encouraging it almost, for example: the emphasis they put on learning English to be able to be a part of the world economy…seriously, that’s Panama’s 20-year plan as far as I can tell, teach English phrases to kindergarteners), I like knowing that the slingshot is still in use. <o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-2812951933213491322009-10-26T05:42:00.000-07:002009-10-26T05:43:12.354-07:00October Update<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal">Hola!</p><p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p><p class="MsoNormal">In the past month (in which I have not updated my blog), I have been trying to fix my digital camera to take pictures to post here, which really is why I haven’t posted sooner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Anyways, I have been easing into my new Regional Leader role (maybe I haven’t announced here that I am taking on this leadership position, but here, officially, I’m announcing it).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The former leader is still around so I have been learning the ropes from her, but starting mid-November and until I leave in April it’s going to be the Raquel show.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The position is essentially three-fold: volunteer support, agency relations and new site identification and development.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So I get to be somebody important to volunteers, to our local agencies (I have met our Provincial police chief!) and to the office/program directors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’ve decided to take on this role while still living in my site (can’t get enough of that clean air and tranquility), which has meant a lot more time riding the bus to my provincial capital.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I read a lot, but that’s wonderful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s nice to feel like I have a schedule some days, and the rest of my days I can hang out in my town and be okay with not having so many actual projects going on there.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I have seen some new parts of my province, and will be exploring much more of it as I essentially cold-call/visit potential new volunteer communities.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>EEK!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s a daunting prospect, but I know I’m capable of pulling it off.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I was also preparing heavily for the GRE’s, which I took on Saturday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>As prepared as I was for the test, being in Panama was not to my advantage.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I made sure I had a good night’s sleep, and arrived at the school an hour early, just in case I had the location wrong.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This wouldn’t have been any big deal except that the proctor only arrived at 8:30, and it took another half hour for them to tell us to line up to register, then we waited over another hour for them to find a microphone system to be able to read us the rules and announce the time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So, we started 2 hours late because that’s how things work in this country.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I can accept that generally, but in the case of a United States-administered test where a person’s future is (in part) on the line, I was expecting something better.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Or was I?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I did have a worry that something like that would happen…like they’d lose the test books or something.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So instead of being done right at lunch time, the bulk of the test happened between 12 and 2pm, which are eating and siesta hours in my book.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I’m concerned about my score, really, since I was not my fresh in mind, body or spirit when it came to the rapid-fire math questions, but what’s done is done and hopefully my other merits are much more important to any potential program.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>And no, I have no specific ideas, plans or timelines about grad school, I just thought this would be an advantageous situation in which to take the test because I could study and take it on paper…I guess my plot was foiled!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The big kicker for me is that this sort of thing happens constantly, and there is no consequence for the school’s messing this up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s not like they get paid to do this, or are going to get fired or otherwise penalized.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Hopefully my complaint and others’ to Educational Testing Services will prevent this from happening to other people (I also know that this is not an isolated incident, as a friend took her subject tests two weeks ago and similar things happened to her, including the proctor interrupting her during the test to ask how she was feeling, how she was doing with the test!).<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <span style="font-size:12.0pt;font-family:Times;mso-ansi-language:EN-US">So, those are the two major events that took up my time in the past month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>November, as you may all remember from my first blog postings, is a fiesta month, because it’s Independence Day/Country Month.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So I will take out my FILM camera and be snapping pictures because I know I will regret not having records of all this cultural activity.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Maybe I will find a way to post the pictures.</span><!--EndFragment-->Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-27584984194569567772009-09-30T08:18:00.000-07:002009-09-30T08:21:47.445-07:00Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road??<!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">A memory: when my brother and I were young, we would tell each other “why did the chicken cross the road?”-type jokes, but I quickly understood that I could not outsmart him using normal punchlines (i.e. to get to the other side). So I would make up ridiculous answers like “to get to the bench to go to the rainbow land with the pot of gold and then to Bart Simpson land.” I remember saying Bart Simpson land. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Why do I mention this? Not sure, maybe I miss my brother and our childhood. Maybe chickens are a major part of my landscape these days. But that line keeps popping up in my head as a parallel to the question: Why did Rachel join the Peace Corps? I might as well be that chicken who blindfolded herself, took a step onto the asphalt, and ran across propelled by the idea that there was something worthwhile on the other side. I was expecting: learning about tropical/Global South subsistence agriculture, sharing my knowledge to enrich people’s lives, sharing my culture and learning about another culture. As I come up on being in Panama for one year (Oct. 8</span><sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">th</span></sup><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> is the official date, and if Peace Corps had kept their word as things had been when I transferred from Bolivia, I’d be going home that day), I have been forcing myself to think about what I have accomplished and what I have yet to accomplish. In a sense, I have done the aforementioned things. But not on the grand scale that I had envisioned. I had images of working with groups of people who would learn things from me (like doing worm composting or intensive inter-cropping) and put them into practice within their systems of home gardens or farms, all of us smiling and cooperating along the way. That definitely is not the case, and unfortunately not because it’s physically impossible, but because of some more invisible forces. </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"><o:p></o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">Last Friday,</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> in my apparently vain attempt to hold the weekly nutrition/health class (nobody wanted to do it, for the nth week in a row), one person told me that I must be really bored here, with so little to do. In a way, I am, but I haven’t given up. Then she told me how I should have brought in an English language class or something, because agriculture and the “other things” I do are useless here. Or I should have gone somewhere else. Inwardly enraged, I tried to calmly explain for the millionth time to the millionth person here that I graduated from a good university (the BEST, GO BIG RED) with a degree in Plant Sciences, not Teaching English. I explained that it IS possible to do agriculture here, I’ve seen successful gardens in this very town. I didn’t even bother to explain to this person who just told me she couldn’t “do nutrition class” this week for ambiguous reasons that nutrition is in no way useless and maybe the most exigent item on my to-do list, based on what I feel is needed here. Children learning English is not on the list. Of course, the government here has convinced the population that English-speaking Panamanians make money…so all parents want is for their children to get into an English immersion school so they can make money. No matter if they are eating fried hot dogs and a bag of Cheetos for breakfast (that’s not an exaggeration). </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, fantasy; ">What this woman was saying is nothing I haven’t heard or inferred from conversations before, but her accusatory manner, as if I had made the bad decision to come here and desire to do agriculture projects, is what hurt my feelings. This site was not my choice, though I suppose agriculture was and I stand by that choice. But the chicken crossed the road, and got what she got. That joke never says she didn’t like it so she went back, does it? Fortunately for me, I know I’m here for a defined amount of time. I can be miserable or not with what I got, but it will end one day. I’m trying to do things that will tip me to the not-miserable end of things, and sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn’t. However, I have no intention of being bossed around or bullied into doing things I don’t believe in. I plan on fighting the good fight promoting nutrition and gardening for the next 6+ months, and then I will be done. I do think that there is value in finishing what I started, no matter how hard the days are. Thank goodness I’m stubborn like my late Pop-Pop! Then there will be no doubt in my mind that I fulfilled every promise I made to myself and to the Peace Corps. Furthermore, I think I’ll realize later on that a lot of good came from this experience, that I did learn a lot and possibly that I did have an impact on people here. (Side story: When we were in training in Bolivia, we heard a story of a community in rural India. A visitor there noticed that people there had exceptionally good teeth. When asked why, people said it was because in the 70’s, there was a Peace Corps volunteer in the area who always brushed his teeth, so they all started doing so. That volunteer may have never known what an impact he made). It’s just hard to always know what that good is while I’m here, hearing such negativity from people who should be thanking their lucky stars they have an expert (comparatively speaking) in agriculture who speaks Spanish and has only their best interests in mind living in their town for another six months. But even if I’m just a silly chicken on the other side of the road who will never be sure if this was the right choice, I’m glad to be pecking my way along, independent, scrappy and proud. And what separates me from the chicken is that I know one day I’ll go back across the road, changed in many ways.</span></span></p>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-21910577346496842622009-09-10T10:53:00.000-07:002009-09-10T13:53:38.095-07:00My New Job!So I applied for and was accepted to become a part-time regional leader for my province! I am currently going through two days of training, and starting in November I will be taking on responsibilities like visiting volunteers and keeping up a positive and informed relationship with Panamanian government agencies (like the ministry of agriculture). Hooray for defined leadership experience, new challenges and going outside my comfort zone.<div><br /></div><div>More updates soon.</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-19076965871019141602009-09-08T06:54:00.000-07:002009-09-11T20:57:35.440-07:00abc of llano del padreApologies for not posting. To reward you all for your patience, I have been working on a photo alphabet project. My digital camera has stopped working (wish I had one of those sweet shock-proof, waterproof, freezeproof ones right about now, though I don't think they're extreme-heat-proof), so I'm missing a few letters. The idea was to use words that were characteristic of life around my site, and to have the kids engage in the activity and thus be practicing their ABC's. It was fun, and actually hard to get the kids to stop. They would run up to anything, name it, say what it began with, and pose. So here goes, hope you learn some new words!<div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://picasaweb.google.com/RachelMarie.SL/Abecedario?feat=directlink">ABC slideshow on Picasa</a></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-12683621777563666152009-08-07T08:14:00.000-07:002009-08-07T08:43:43.433-07:00vecinas<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 340px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcMMrFTETNVEGwW1ybPmC-lCuWT1Rxp9Pvca_Nf_REaz8xE8JWUsVAPU2YGB-3Fdshhxavipi-tG20pCADmYYnpwEELawfFP55HzSDsh6ursL2cyi7XXrfF7cbxeKyoSco9k9aY60Mj5g/s400/2390057602_3fb04003a0_o.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367247786479299682" /><div style="text-align: center;">one of these is cuter than the other...<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEisVPvy1wAWbxzjUBRwcH8E26AkaTOUoVCRjRNmd2qKqhPY7qW-OsCtvWC9qeGbayEGKkw1S3q1c281D9uY8qtt7cbDfJvAgxbX3TNqeuXcYQGRDQuBNqjULlqzMGcYMhrRhBH6rs1TkcNz/s400/IMG_5104.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5367247788657991890" /><br />Vecino/a: (bay-see-no/na). Neighbor. Though in my case also means friend, and occasional serious favor-doer.<div><br /></div><div>A few months ago on a drizzly and dark night, I got bitten in the spine by a very large wasp. They call it a "congaluna" here. In any case, I thought nothing of it for about 10 minutes, except that WOW it hurts to get a wasp sting there (I'm much more careful about standing under lightbulbs at night now). Then I started itching seemingly uncontrollably in my armpits, knees, and groin. Then I looked at my back and noticed it was all red. Then I couldn't stop itching my major articulations, and I saw that I was breaking out in raised bumps in all of them. Then the itching and breaking out started crawling up my neck, and soon I was worried my throat was going to close up. I could feel the swelling in my ears, it seemed. I was also, stupidly, without any credit on my prepaid cell phone, meaning I could not contact Peace Corps or any other emergency services. My option was to find someone who could do that, but it wasn't necessarily going to happen. I walked through the mud, trying to reach my host family's house (not a short distance). I turned back, and although I didn't want to disturb my neighbor, I had little choice other than waiting to see whether I was going to stop breathing or get better. So I knocked, and shouted it was me. Well, my neighbor didn't have any phone credit, but she ran off to the next house over, to her mother, who luckily did. And didn't think twice about calling Peace Corps for me, even though that meant they wouldn't have phone credit. They spent almost all their credit calling Peace Corps, my host family, and later, the ambulance from the nearby town. I was actually fine, I knew that even before I got to the hospital in nearby Santiago. But having my neighbor there to help me kept me from panicking, that's for sure.</div><div><br /></div><div>This neighbor and I hang out a good amount, just talking and watching her baby (15 month old girl) grow up. I do consider her one of my best friends here. She's always willing to do things like fill up my bucket with water from her much larger tank, when we are all suffering from drought and she has 4 bodies to bathe and cook for, versus my one. I try to make it up to her by lending her a few dollars every now and then (I was uncomfortable about it at first, but she always pays me back as soon as she gets her child support money) or picking up some things for her when I go to the store (again, she always pays me back, there's no free money here). </div><div><br /></div><div>So last night, when I was making banana bread and my gas tank finally went out mid-bake (4 months on one tank, I think it's a record in my town!), I was grateful that her mom is the only other person in town with a working oven and, luckily, a full gas tank. She didn't hesitate to let me into the kitchen so I could finish the baking. Of course, she got a nice hunk of bread. I hate feeling like that's not an equivalent favor (sweets for much more precious gas), but these people really understand giving and what it is to be a good neighbor. Giving is not about getting...it's about filling someone else's need, when you can. I know this is a fairly common theme with me and in this blog, but it always bears repeating, as I am reminded of it in powerful ways every day. There is always something you can give. In the USA, we tend not to be sought out for favors in the same way. However, that doesn't mean we shouldn't seek out opportunities to give, right?</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-73225981628223531782009-07-12T13:25:00.000-07:002009-07-12T13:51:22.737-07:00a hundred trees, yes please!!<p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So of late I’ve been working on two things, mostly.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">First is the exercise and nutrition class that has not been working out so much.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I had 3 weeks in which I had seriously good attendance, and the women who came were totally into it.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The following week only one woman came.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Then the past two weeks NOBODY came.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Once because it was raining, then this last time I don’t know why.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s really hard for me to think that this maybe won’t work out.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I know I’m capable of giving this class, I’m full of good ideas, and think that if the women would really make the effort to go, they’d get a lot out of it and enjoy the time they take for themselves.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But…they just don’t go, and always give reasons that to me seem, well, stupid.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I haven’t resolved how I will deal with this, whether I keep trying to get people to show up, or to forget about it.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Probably the first option, though it’s so frustrating to feel like I’m forcing people to go to “my” class, when I started the class based on a need I observed and which was expressed by many people.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s their class, for them, but I think they see it as they’re doing me the favor of showing up.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Should not be like that.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">On the other hand, we planted around 100 trees in my community yesterday!</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">This is a major success for me.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Here’s how it went.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Early June, as you readers may remember, I made a list of things I wanted to get done.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Out of that, I decided the trees were very important and not too big of a task to take on.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I invited many people, and ended up with a small group of (generally speaking) hard workers, and we decided we could put in the effort to dig holes in the open area around the chapel, and I would get tree seedlings from the Environmental Authority’s extension in the nearby town.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s too late to raise the seedlings to be planted this year. I gave up the idea of making people commit to a tree nursery to be able to participate, but those who have been participating in the effort actually want to do tree nurseries so we don’t have to wait on trees from the Environmental Authority.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So that is actually something we can work on near creeks in the dry season!</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">The Environmental Authority had two types of trees, both can be raised for their valuable wood, but trees are trees and they still do all the important soil-protecting, air-purifying, shade-giving activities before they are cut down in 20 years.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">For those interested in trees, they are known here as Caoba Nacional (</span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Swietenia macrophylla</span></i><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">) and Roble (</span></span><i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Tabebuia pentaphylla</span></i><span style="font-style: normal; "><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">), the latter being very similar to oak.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It’s good to use wood production trees because people see their value.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Plus, they always can collect the seeds and raise more.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">That’s what I love about trees, they are disposed to reproduction, if you just leave them be or put in a small amount of effort, the returns are great.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Not like those dumb vegetables which suck up nutrients and still ask for more.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Grrr.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">But I digress.</span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Our original goal was to plant 50 trees, but digging holes was surprisingly easy.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We did it in 30 minute sessions so people wouldn’t balk at the idea of going to a second work session, and were at our goal after just 3 sessions.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So then the agent who had the trees said it would be fine to bring even more trees (we ended up with around 100).</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So we dug more holes, and set the date for planting.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It went very smoothly, since the holes were already dug.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">One of the group members/diggers has been absent for the last week dealing with an illness in the family, so she had a real excuse to not be here planting.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">However, the very morning that we had agreed to plant, I went to get one of the other planters’ houses and she said she couldn’t because she had to walk with her old mother to the house farther out of town.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">That is one of those excuses that makes no sense to me, it just sounds like she didn’t feel like doing the work.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I’m allowed to believe that it’s a stupid excuse because her mother has been hanging around the house for several weeks and I reminded her yesterday afternoon about the planting, and then all of a sudden she has this extremely important task of delivering her mother to the other house.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Despite being down 2 of 5 adult workers, the environmental group came in the truck along with the trees from the nearby town, and we had the help of my host brothers/cousins.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">We planted all the trees in under an hour!</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">So my overall feeling is good, but I am always left amazed by how I can get lied to and stupid-excused to by people who claim they really want something to happen.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Worse, I can’t help but anticipate that those who didn’t show up (I had invited more than 4 people to be a part of this effort, but they never actually came to anything) will have some sort of issue with the way it was done.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">You can’t not show up and then complain.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Well, here you can.</span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Still, overall I’m very happy there are trees here that weren’t before, that my faithful helpers went home with 4 valuable seedlings each, and that trees may become a constant project for me here, now that we have gotten off to a good start.</span></p><span style="font-family:Times;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">Other news, my friend’s park project that I advertised in June got very quickly funded after that blog post.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I therefore believe many of you contributed, and assure you that it is now in its beginning stages.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">I’ll keep you posted, but for now I want to thank you for contributing, all who did.</span><span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;"> </span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">It means a lot to be supported by people back home.</span></span><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjibYBFuIfxD6X8TO1zZpBPVaPZO9Zhj9BgMpi2sUyGHXemQK54gfzBR589k61GdAzw033v8e6tFhBlwKgB5bEF3MVU1Ytl0-ee9-03lxrpp-sbeSR3hrKUJ5qmZFtjgClniaCRR1hDOdk/s400/IMG_4947.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357677404068640114" /><div style="text-align: center;">Digging holes on the<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic; "> llano</span> (plain, field)<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjquBBr1iOEv_PY2K18kbEYU1lSNcRouiIXyqiJNaAZGpxeo3hnjAYhfwczE0CRt8GdoR7brOD6mHeMw_VtpYzlE8R8XrJY8QKg5rgB9IDG-RUcHn4-_yEPB9FZqzdqcFiPVgg6RRoxyLLG/s400/IMG_5069.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357677407740947314" /><div style="text-align: center;">arrival of the trees (this is my host mother)<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1EVRdpLle-tlHCirz8KaMcfLL0mqVGV2SCG3p-AblXc-VzbHuTzrZ1dEqv_A4Df5d1Bwf6LxVldARVN7Zx-1cgbyyezRUm5wtqn29sAmS5dadJwz91MGSz4z78JayGu9gC3_jRAbQVynZ/s1600-h/IMG_5082.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi1EVRdpLle-tlHCirz8KaMcfLL0mqVGV2SCG3p-AblXc-VzbHuTzrZ1dEqv_A4Df5d1Bwf6LxVldARVN7Zx-1cgbyyezRUm5wtqn29sAmS5dadJwz91MGSz4z78JayGu9gC3_jRAbQVynZ/s400/IMG_5082.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357677432841882322" /></a><div><div style="text-align: center;">Angie and Gordo (who is not fat, so the nickname is a joke)</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPPHaG71Pt63wkmzr0h0vGiF52BHlxlFPEsePLHp-Ju8WkuK3lgDzFLe-oGOE_wW-0WxHTHXzr7Q_GIbbGo9UXPXXxKWk9D-P6cgSX_EItSPzW4dqITq8b4kwh65iS27pXH0RgoqxZkY/s1600-h/IMG_5077.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSPPHaG71Pt63wkmzr0h0vGiF52BHlxlFPEsePLHp-Ju8WkuK3lgDzFLe-oGOE_wW-0WxHTHXzr7Q_GIbbGo9UXPXXxKWk9D-P6cgSX_EItSPzW4dqITq8b4kwh65iS27pXH0RgoqxZkY/s400/IMG_5077.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357677424844013394" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Alfredo and Carlitos</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTk0RYlIH0KarO33G7aCe5WSyNOsclc5aOQhWLvltMOQF2ICSx3nt_XzqKDhH7vyn8QG4JfW8JPpE6fvsgnLLaPv_C0R4knpkjGRkX-rIuy0bnR4OK5u0z7nuXNvT_Kv4X_ihq9VeGF7A/s1600-h/IMG_5078.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgTk0RYlIH0KarO33G7aCe5WSyNOsclc5aOQhWLvltMOQF2ICSx3nt_XzqKDhH7vyn8QG4JfW8JPpE6fvsgnLLaPv_C0R4knpkjGRkX-rIuy0bnR4OK5u0z7nuXNvT_Kv4X_ihq9VeGF7A/s400/IMG_5078.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5357677418738120802" /></a><div style="text-align: center;">Carlitos and Alfredo (this is my favorite pic of the day)</div></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-39831140064775786512009-06-27T08:27:00.000-07:002009-06-27T08:30:54.970-07:00Cochina CochinaCochino/a (ko-chee-no/a): very dirty, ragged, unkempt sort of a lower-class/skankyness connotation; like, if a kid plays in the mud then tries to grab a tortilla off someone’s plate, you yell at them for being cochino/a. The goal, often hard to achieve in ridiculous heat/weather conditions, is to stay kempt and un-cochina…<br /><br />However, I am a bit cochina, though I’m the only one who sees it: my underwear no longer fits because the hand washing stretches it out, and most are starting to get holes, but I’m not throwing them away because as far as I know I won’t easily be able to replace them (there’s no Victoria’s Secret here…and the other clothing stores, I’ve found out, won’t let you try underwear on and I tend to be a XXXL in all the other clothes they carry). <br /><br />This is not a plea for packages of underwear, just thought you’d all enjoy a vocab lesson combined with a little update on my status. That is to say, I’ve been away a really long time, but it took me until I saw my holey undies to realize it. 10 months until I go SHOPPING for new ones and probably have a heart attack from the price.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-15536753205527611022009-06-15T12:35:00.000-07:002009-06-15T12:54:01.609-07:00<div>I have to explain my birthday out of order because that's how the pictures uploaded. All in all a great day, I had two volunteer friends hanging out with me in my site, and this is what we did.</div><div><br /></div><div>Took my host brothers and their cousins swimming in the river. It was still kind of low because the rains haven't been every day (biiig problem since all the crops are just coming up), but it was swimmable. That's me in the center swimming with my 11-year old host brother.</div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_-Ibm1qApVeynCNhPwzHhZ0TahDCiEwpDG2fcAto7FsIcUwuPT3cYv7hpi6csRlE0UizlmCHnmoSMyOhNA0VlcT-mgIOY1T5TPcmgMEOxsL0pKk-mqyWrBlKMnuvT7bSJ5f_5znqZqgT/s1600-h/IMG_4940.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjx_-Ibm1qApVeynCNhPwzHhZ0TahDCiEwpDG2fcAto7FsIcUwuPT3cYv7hpi6csRlE0UizlmCHnmoSMyOhNA0VlcT-mgIOY1T5TPcmgMEOxsL0pKk-mqyWrBlKMnuvT7bSJ5f_5znqZqgT/s400/IMG_4940.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347643310946928498" /></a>Piñata candy collection, from the piñata I provided for the kids.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAx2a9wHmmPRCbwsnSVmoZs97vQHp9vAdwkpVtTd8rmnwV5iedJ4h0MpEHM8O7MMEbUVsSTNjyY1rP_VyO7F8QTT_pmuQDwZjdLRzO-3QDmGZFbcjvvVwmuDe1OcLMJtRIRDmxrFSFc8b/s1600-h/IMG_4930.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeAx2a9wHmmPRCbwsnSVmoZs97vQHp9vAdwkpVtTd8rmnwV5iedJ4h0MpEHM8O7MMEbUVsSTNjyY1rP_VyO7F8QTT_pmuQDwZjdLRzO-3QDmGZFbcjvvVwmuDe1OcLMJtRIRDmxrFSFc8b/s400/IMG_4930.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347643304581421442" /></a>Left: my friend Glenda (since the first day of pre-departure staging for Bolivia in Washington, D.C., to Bolivia, and now in Panama); center, little Veronica almost hits Miguelin in the head while trying to get the piñata with her eyes closed (Miguelin had spotted a stray candy on the ground).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWig7Gk4b0MmKFyBq3Mah3oVXfVzKQOuZJ-VaUHLO99f9HUXXxQI5l_ieKywBbsB9FwNMaaSN9XpOAHJgUBsLsqG76OOYltLh198o96U4P_ouozl-gABWyB4Sl75-_wcDIWqvtd5KP7Dq/s1600-h/IMG_4917.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAWig7Gk4b0MmKFyBq3Mah3oVXfVzKQOuZJ-VaUHLO99f9HUXXxQI5l_ieKywBbsB9FwNMaaSN9XpOAHJgUBsLsqG76OOYltLh198o96U4P_ouozl-gABWyB4Sl75-_wcDIWqvtd5KP7Dq/s400/IMG_4917.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347643301202311922" /></a>Me and the coconut-rum cake with guava filling and whipped cream icing and 24 candles.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ocM2VILGOBdO2xnn2NPkzdx1IuxF4Wj_3Dq34RYmNYiP3h8NJfvui6kP5SM1ghuLWxPZcrKj3g_iK349obv05WzGJWwvfeitXLJA4tT-UfQ-BllzV43w0RkB4dvf8c5hV8rDVZSTXqtD/s1600-h/IMG_4942.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi3ocM2VILGOBdO2xnn2NPkzdx1IuxF4Wj_3Dq34RYmNYiP3h8NJfvui6kP5SM1ghuLWxPZcrKj3g_iK349obv05WzGJWwvfeitXLJA4tT-UfQ-BllzV43w0RkB4dvf8c5hV8rDVZSTXqtD/s400/IMG_4942.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347643291009877618" /></a>Me and piñata. Yes, I've lost weight and am very happy about it.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01iA0-So8qm_8218LhpDbAGrRw-llnAClZCZ6S_ZEF1IjORdIZ1-1SL7YZBfuUJyJnFLIuX7U6ZXUfQBKPf5ifngk0e-KjG_9o7NtPWIKVMyUEWSEWhGcipleV3NF_vygAToKwQ9UDqg/s1600-h/IMG_4908.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh01iA0-So8qm_8218LhpDbAGrRw-llnAClZCZ6S_ZEF1IjORdIZ1-1SL7YZBfuUJyJnFLIuX7U6ZXUfQBKPf5ifngk0e-KjG_9o7NtPWIKVMyUEWSEWhGcipleV3NF_vygAToKwQ9UDqg/s400/IMG_4908.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5347643288850633538" /></a><br /><div><br /></div><div>In other news besides getting older, the women's health class I've started is going well, last week I tried to teach an aerobics/dance routine to a Janet Jackson song, that didn't really work but the women had fun. More on that soon.</div><div><br /></div><div>Thanks always for the support, and thanks for all the recent birthday wishes!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-82115085155571950592009-06-04T08:34:00.000-07:002009-06-04T08:55:00.197-07:00major update-ationi know this is a lot people, but i don't know either way if you read it or not so i'm putting it up here in case you are interested.<br /><div><!--StartFragment--> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">The last part of vacation</span></span><o:p></o:p></p><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 297px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH_LPJvwwv6RHANh5gxLJHcqWNTsqw4f4Da6QPKsq9B5k5_c_KjD8OwNBqrGyDxbR57qpBgFr6c1aglGlmN-FdUgaQ2F4ZYtIIc4GS0RTCPxH-5xVm7PyAzyEpngjIQ0uarCiz_hEnCuo/s400/IMG_4861_2.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343499869802219138" /><p class="MsoNormal">Well, Theodore and I made it through Nicaragua without a hitch, until the last night getting to Managua, when our shuttle SUV sort of broke down and the driver did a typical move where he refused to get help in the very nearby Granada, and instead had another car sent all the way from the town where we started.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So we got stuck on a dark highway for an hour plus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Oh and I got a sting ray sting in the ocean, which hurt a LOT, but I’m oddly proud of the story.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The next day, we got to Panama City, got our temperatures read by a camera (infrared, I guess) because of the H1N1 hysteria (that is what it is), and a few hours later met Mom and Dad, who’d gotten up at 3:30am to make their flight.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Of course, you couldn’t tell that Mom was tired, but Dad was dragging a little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Not ideal for driving around Panama City, but at least we had a misinformed GPS lady ordering us to turn where one can’t turn, stay left when she means stay on the same road, etc.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>We made it to the Panama Canal just before they were closing the doors, phew!<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Dad finally realized where he was, and made a beeline for the observation area.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Nothing like feats of engineering and giant machines to wake him up.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">The rest of the week went something like this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Mom saying her version of “gracias” (pronounced grat-see-ay in her book) any time someone Spanish-speaking got within 3 feet of her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Dad mumbling “bueno” or “gracias” with less frequency than Mom and otherwise grinning and looking at the scenery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Theodore getting attacked by bugs (they ALWAYS go for the ones who are most bothered by it, it’s a rule).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> Me freaking out because things aren’t as perfect as I’d imagined, despite the fact that the rest of the family is assuring me they’re having a good time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Discovering that rice and beans is always better than pizza in rural Panama.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Somehow managing to navigate cities and rural areas of Panama without getting in a serious car crash, despite the GPS lady’s intentions to kill us by driving us into construction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Being at my site for the height of ant mating season, when all the ants fly in massive quantities, attracted to light (the two nights we ate dinner in my site it wasworse than I’d ever experienced, normally the bugs aren’t that bad at night).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span></span></p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Looking back on it, it was a very good time, regardless of how stressed I was with needing to be a part of most interactions and activities because of the language barrier.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> I was so concerned with making things perfect that the above picture is ALL that I took on my digital for the days my family was here. I'm kicking myself. </span>The big highlight was being with my family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It sounds corny, but it’s true!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I couldn’t do this Peace Corps thing without the support of my family (I’ve heard stories of volunteers whose families think this job is irresponsible or worse; I couldn’t handle that), and the fact that they came out to see what it’s like was the ultimate show of support.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I was just so glad to be able to experience our family dynamic, give and get hugs, roll my eyes, and give an insider’s perspective of the “interior” of Panama.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p><p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Garden and weather update</span></span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">It FINALLY started raining for real for real.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It did the day before I left for vacation, and I figured that was the start of it.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But upon my return, I learned it hadn’t done so</p><p class="MsoNormal"> again until the day before.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So almost 2 more weeks without rain!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I guess I took my vacation at the right time, because that might have been it for me and this darn weather.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But since I’ve been back, it’s rained each afternoon or night, and well.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></p><p class="MsoNormal">Sometimes there’s really scary lightning and thunder, so it’s good I can snuggle up to the princess cat who does not like to get her paws wet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She seems to think I have some control over the weather, because when she wants to go out (at any hour of the night) and it happens to be raining, it’s a big ol’ whine fest. When it’s not raining, it’s sunny and humid.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I don’t think it feels as bad as sunny and dry, even though it maybe feels hotter because your sweat doesn’t have anywhere to evaporate to.</p><p class="MsoNormal"><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Despite no rain while I was gone, my neighbor managed to keep my plants alive!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I told her I’d pay her (and did), so that was probably some incentive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>She may have one of the greener thumbs in town, but we never knew it before because she doesn’t keep a garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>But maybe we can do a raised bed for some basics, because she likes vegetables, but is very occupied with the 1-year old.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So my zucchini is flowering (2 female flowers that haven’t quite opened), the broccoli, basil and (volunteer) peppers are holding on, I transplanted some tomatoes, and the lettuce is growing, though spindly and slow due to the heavy shade I have it under.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>It’s that or it gets burned up by the sun.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So…still not eating veggies out of my garden, but I am more hopeful than before that they’re going to give me food.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I had also planted pigeon peas and Jamaica Flower (sorrel, <i>Hibiscus sabdariffa</i><span style="font-style:normal">, used to make a delicious tea or punch with sugar, ginger and/or cinnamon and/or cloves…but it takes until Christmas to mature) back in the beginning of April.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Both germinated, which is great because I now have Panamanian plants in my yard.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I know why they call them pigeon peas now…the pigeons like to dig up the seeds and eat them!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>The papayas are growing, two guanábana (soursop) seeds have germinated, and I’ve been burying mango and avocado pits, but so far nothing has come up.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m going to run out of planting space soon…but I want to get some banana and plantain palms planted too!</span></p>Check out this contrast. I took the top photo right before leaving on vacation, beginning of May. After just a month, not all of which was rainy, the bottom photo shows how things have greened up significantly.<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgggDsWCnbaRCJBJq4Uyp4z0An6qaxOvFbRf2nurzIEARrqwl0GeUIZqWcjTyUkTxz5y8xR9hwAo9Tl8kvqEtr9GH4vQcYpHCgOOhZ21bkku5iDWfx_EGNO4C3-EFmw8AllKYjDrhhn4g/s400/IMG_4636.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343498073005329202" /><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgaLjs7OR5wImUb63CKVh1ettSda4oAk_NiCdJSJaet3bYMk7H5dYAzUwxoutDfIKFngmAkCklphssspKMm5KH_KaXZ2KrFBopME05HxYNThHZhSTX6CrYPDDiRlxFZgVrUACLzvOjMM7OF/s400/IMG_4869.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343498065851716690" /> <p class="MsoNormal"> And check out those giant zucchini leaves!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">Projects planned update</span></span><o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">Last week we had our trimesterly meeting, part of which is turning in a report about our activities, both completed and planned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Even though I had many lines filled out on my completed list, I don’t feel satisfied with those activities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I’m not satisfied because these aren’t so much agriculture or food-security-related activities, which is what I joined Peace Corps to do.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I know, I’m hard on myself and had a major obstacle (drought!), but I need to get real about why I came and what I want to have accomplished when I’m done (less than a year left, incredibly).<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>So, I’ve decided on a few main foci for the next few months.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Briefly listed they are:<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">-weekly nutrition/fitness/self-esteem/”women’s issues” class with whatever women are interested (it may just be a few, but that’s okay with me)<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">-reforestation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Now that it’s raining, there’s no good excuse (many bad ones, however) to not start tree nurseries and plant trees.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I have found a source of trees, my district’s branch of the National Authority of the Environment.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>Now how to coordinate the planting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I also want those who receive a tree donation to commit to having a tree nursery on their property, though that’s a long-term vision because the trees we start now will have to be nursed through the dry season and planted after I’m gone.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>But, if the nurseries are located near creeks, I think this is reasonable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>People do grasp the necessity to plant trees, so I think my job can be getting them from knowing what should be done to taking action.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">-green manures and worm compost.<span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I would like to get at least a worm compost bin completed at my host family’s house.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>Knowing my host mom, she’ll name the worms and treat them with the same love she treats all other living things.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>I can think of a few other households that have a good chance at taking care of the worms, but doing worms does take some setup and time investment and I haven’t located a source for the specific compost worm species.<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">-more veggie gardens!<o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal"> <o:p></o:p></p> <p class="MsoNormal">I turn 24 next week…I suppose events actually have progressed rapidly when I remember that my last birthday I had been in my Bolivia site for just a little over a month, and I spent my birthday morning on my hotel bed in Santa Cruz opening numerous packages from family (…seeing as the Bolivian mail system was trustworthy enough that I actually received them) and hanging out with baby Dracula.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>This year, maybe I’ll go swimming in our river or bake cookies or a cake to share with <i>mi gente</i><span style="font-style:normal"> (my people) or go see a movie in Santiago (are there any good ones out that will reach here?) with some other area volunteers, but I’m not counting on the mail, sadly, and seeing my family last month was really the present I wanted more than anything.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes"> </span>What I can say with quite a degree of certainty is…I’ll be home next birthday, to turn a cuada (the Panamanianization of the word for a quarter dollar) century!<o:p></o:p></span></p> <!--EndFragment--> </div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-51479454885595382552009-06-03T09:12:00.000-07:002009-06-04T09:01:29.649-07:00Help a cause!<div style="text-align: center;">What's this a picture of??? How can YOU get involved in what's going on here?</div><div style="text-align: center;">Keep reading...<br /></div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSbl7zx8fmrfQoJM4rvKAEl2UTNzAqaXdHYcFiy545pHgil1El4mRw_1COM8f1k8BA_jw1N5psekb-kwNlzrJGdb64MVZo19jl2m4oD1HA4WdKunpKXtLvm1-5ZmBjnj934TRY0Ss-F-o/s400/IMG_4894.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343502375773927122" /><br />I´m finally making new friends in my region! I feel like each time I´ve made a friend nearby they´ve left suddenly. Am I cursed? Anyways, I was out helping my closest neighbor (was my second-closest until my first-closest left...) with painting a world map in the school. ...<img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYEn0EU6UghclEYSD8JZRIAvppl0rQlm39_kNYKP6XiyLI3TVgpPeh8R7WW_TFNYZ99FLwILShsHDLxYc2k91lu-_OyTgrwgajwYrTtOI3wMlX9kXQsGQfGkKVs7g9DV5my3QzlHQGlvI/s400/IMG_4890.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5343502370416569042" /><div style="text-align: center;">(my friend and a community helper painting the map...pretty nice right?)<br /></div><div><br /></div><div>...and learned he´s also looking to renovate the town park, but only has 4 months left and is still waiting on funding. This is the type of project where the community puts up about half the funding and then Peace Corps puts a description of the project on their website and anyone can donate funds. I know economic times are tight for most of my readership, but consider donating to this project, I´ve seen the community and I think it´s a worthy donation (plus I don´t forsee myself requesting monetary donations for my community, so if you want an easy way to help out a Panama volunteer, don´t hesitate!). And if the community in Panama managed to come up with 47 percent...consider why the rest of the world can´t manage to get the other 53% donated. There are plenty of projects worldwide you can donate to in this way, but here´s the website for my friend´s project.<br /><a href="https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=525-111">https://www.peacecorps.gov/index.cfm?shell=resources.donors.contribute.projDetail&projdesc=525-111</a><br /><br />The community members are fairly well organized and they have a self-proclaimed group of ¨nature lovers¨who volunteer with the National Authority for the Environment, making the community a more eco-friendly place. So, I think they´re deserving of a park beautification project.<br /><br />Thanks for your support!</div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-70279588772792787762009-05-12T16:14:00.000-07:002009-05-12T16:50:11.812-07:00GranadaTheodore arrived, we don´t have any pictures of us together yet, but it´s been nice having someone else around. Someone who tells me it´s ok to eat at ¨expensive¨(like, 8 dollars vs. 5) restaurants, and someone to talk to and play cards with. I´ve been doing a good enough job keeping him healthy, it seems. We were in Granada for Sunday and Monday. It is another city full of churches and colonial architechture, but it´s different than Leon in the sense that things were pricier (seemed to be a slightly older, wealthier type of tourist and ex-pat residents) and there were more beggars everywhere. Theodore picked up some important safety tips (ducking into stores when being followed) and ¨no, gracias¨(no thanks) very quickly. Granada is also cool because it is on the big Lake Nicaragua-aka-Cocibolca. 10th largest in the world, 2nd largest in Latin America (is Titicaca the first? I can´t remember). It has something called Las Isletas, a group of 365 generally very small islands, which have cool wildlife, some are inhabited by communities Nicaraguans, some are privately owned by wealthy foreigners. I took a nice 2.5 hour tour around some of them. Very fun.<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpgxl7tq4KQUEq5-DH5SWrWTVaIjxhuoRYb1gWmU7Td0DgV8PVdStMGiqXmCCSENQ4M_eRbrkZpxiqtGmfUlRnrs4UnofSfy4GM_iHhjTvrpgcXSS5cQlYSxB1W9p5RYdqwW5hUgvO7Y/s1600-h/IMG_4847%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBpgxl7tq4KQUEq5-DH5SWrWTVaIjxhuoRYb1gWmU7Td0DgV8PVdStMGiqXmCCSENQ4M_eRbrkZpxiqtGmfUlRnrs4UnofSfy4GM_iHhjTvrpgcXSS5cQlYSxB1W9p5RYdqwW5hUgvO7Y/s400/IMG_4847%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335083230435555538" border="0" /></a>A Nicaraguan who lives in the islands. Mostly these people are fishermen or women as a trade, but they are quite poor. An interesting contrast between their small houses and the mansions on neighboring islands. This man was kind enough to show us his catch (the bottom of the canoe was full of live-but-soon-to-be-dead fish). Now, these people are not an indigenous tribe, they speak Spanish, and supposedly have been on the islands for about 200 years (so like, way after the Spanish came). But my tour guide kept saying they were ¨natives.¨ It´s like calling me a native in the United States...Seemed a bit diminuitive or racist to me.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguAi0KuwPTcrLZ0FaZYKRNeX9eMANT1Gd-esnB-5pxZjme4mQMIkxJTSBX6BxPBDAUpltDCWH8IIDCEiQ2aV5843460neGqzVa6DV8TTne0dryF4DF1n0u0XzSwLWkwh8ZoLv9Xqn1Ys4/s1600-h/IMG_4807%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguAi0KuwPTcrLZ0FaZYKRNeX9eMANT1Gd-esnB-5pxZjme4mQMIkxJTSBX6BxPBDAUpltDCWH8IIDCEiQ2aV5843460neGqzVa6DV8TTne0dryF4DF1n0u0XzSwLWkwh8ZoLv9Xqn1Ys4/s400/IMG_4807%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335083226825999138" border="0" /></a>This is a picture of me watching out for pirate ships from the fort on the lookout island (which I hear is not so preposterous to do these days).<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovWZvaRAy-ovvM9hjEpowpyYSe3gKj5iEXKnvwP7a2tg2Lp0t6Rkc6f1I4vj0Ba2tryS9kxHjSP7ICvAIPcjdnJbhQBAi5PbhOrLcqdFgl_Gw4yFLfbA8BCUQMCSh2D6RW0UOKPiUuoo/s1600-h/IMG_4819%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiovWZvaRAy-ovvM9hjEpowpyYSe3gKj5iEXKnvwP7a2tg2Lp0t6Rkc6f1I4vj0Ba2tryS9kxHjSP7ICvAIPcjdnJbhQBAi5PbhOrLcqdFgl_Gw4yFLfbA8BCUQMCSh2D6RW0UOKPiUuoo/s400/IMG_4819%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335083221851529282" border="0" /></a>Monkey on monkey island. They´re not native, but someone put 4 monkeys there just ´cause. And they were awesome.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2cgdEMzLcuXD2o1dBQcs2T5SWSeecLaTWzcIywIlC5bACM7-JbRqQFnaW0hU-xv4kPYztx3cM6QneKc6IXnIeSShTZeicwXhcOc7zypEKxXOxya8Ig-1iZY1cgszDdQu6Q2ToieXRS8/s1600-h/IMG_4779%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjM2cgdEMzLcuXD2o1dBQcs2T5SWSeecLaTWzcIywIlC5bACM7-JbRqQFnaW0hU-xv4kPYztx3cM6QneKc6IXnIeSShTZeicwXhcOc7zypEKxXOxya8Ig-1iZY1cgszDdQu6Q2ToieXRS8/s400/IMG_4779%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335083216209886130" border="0" /></a>When our boat got stuck in the grassy plants. The plants re-aggregate fast, since boats travel through here at least 2 times a day, and yet we had to wait for a more powerful boat to push a path through. Nature wins!<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmrGNYPyJwR8UIOYMfIPPLc7b-ob-mcWc04pDEB1OGLBnW1u4oBRluDyA9POahmKtyQnqC-VfavRSnt5OrQcBwlTl0w9t1oHDScFatJa5qE1RZPuqkaie8sIasoiIKe-WOJ4uh94CT3I/s1600-h/IMG_4764%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLmrGNYPyJwR8UIOYMfIPPLc7b-ob-mcWc04pDEB1OGLBnW1u4oBRluDyA9POahmKtyQnqC-VfavRSnt5OrQcBwlTl0w9t1oHDScFatJa5qE1RZPuqkaie8sIasoiIKe-WOJ4uh94CT3I/s400/IMG_4764%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5335083212679025026" border="0" /></a>Cool church. Looks a lot like the León cathedral, no?Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-32314340077055301892009-05-09T15:15:00.000-07:002009-05-09T15:56:09.455-07:00Masaya, days 3 and 4<div align="center"> </div><div align="center">Masaya has been a less interesting than I´d expected. I guess since the guidebooks came out touting it as the place where hammocks are made and can be bought, it has become the place where tourists go to get ripped off for souvenirs. I´ve had a sort of identity crisis, because in Nicaragua I am a tourist, but I try to be a different kind, one who gets to know the people and care about them. So I thought it would be easy to go visit artisans´workshops to see the handicrafts being made, but I couldn´t really find them my first day. So I went to the very touristy old market, as it´s called, and bought a nice hammock (family size, for that husband and kids I have...it´s the only size that seems worth the money though) and a hanging hammock-weave chair. I´ll post pix of those then I have them hung up in site. Sidenote: I miss my site, knowing people, cooking for myself (this town has very little for a vegetarian to eat, but the fruit´s just fine), Mona, etc. But to ease my pain of being a tourist, I struck up a conversation with the guy who sold to me (I´ve been trying to do this as much as possible, in taxis, etc., as much to prove to them that I´m not the ordinary limited-vocabulary tourist, and also because I feel like becoming a human to people makes them less likely to try to rip me off or worse). He was a nice guy, I ended up paying 50 bucks for both items, which I is a price I´m not embarrassed about. My strategy is always go for the guys who could be my great uncle or something. That age range. And must be pudgy, preferably with glasses, wearing a polo shirt or something with sleeves.<br /></div><div align="center">For the second day, I decided to go where I always enjoy, because I´d felt pretty crummy about Masaya in general (except for a decent burrito for dinner). What do I always enjoy? Farmers´markets, and nature. So I´d read in the Lonely Planet that there´s a second market at the bus terminal (which I needed to locate anyways), and since nothing was open for breakfast yet, I headed over there. And breathed a sigh of relief, and then almost vomited over my 50 cent bag of watermelon chunks because I was near the butchers section which invariably smells more than it should, in any meat market in Latin America. But that market is significantly more real. They have the tourist stuff there, but just being among people going about business as usual made me feel better. I´ll be re-stocking my snack fruit supply tomorrow morning before going to pick Theodore up at the airport. Then I went to nature. An entirely DIFFERENT kind of nature than the usual rain forests and rivers, however.<br /></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"><br /></div><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333959548886158642" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS4ASgiZzlMEPH-r6CzdIk_XF-EpyG0ij615lub5dmxwGWsqfTu0go8VmYILXhCKa9Z-xZghTQYfcjjjNDqlfXYWsV837WTGj4gubQjonDPF9sW-gnMtnGRZzEtUkKVNSwiUtZVbALbalU/s400/IMG_4752%5B1%5D" border="0" /> <p align="center">That´s sulfury smelling smoke, not dust, behind me.<br /><br /><br /></p>Behold, the Parque Nacional Volcán Masaya...or, Masaya Volcano National Park. It´s the country´s only active volcano, not that it´s shooting out lava, but it´s definitely smoking. It´s cool to see, and the visitors center has an exhausting exhibit about what volcanoes are. I took some pictures at the top, it´s now the second volcanic crater I´ve seen up close (first being Haleakala on Maui, which was better, actually). I met a Spanish guy when he was trying to take a self portrait, and offered to take his picture FOR him, and then he took mine for me. So you must thank Roberto for that picture. Then we walked all the way down the crater together. I wanted to go alone, but the park rangers stalk you and sort of matched us up and kept calling us ¨la pareja¨ (the couple) as they were radioing our whereabouts. But he was nice enough, and I was surprised we understood each others´Spanish. Though he corrected my vocab a few times, which is funny because it´s like a British person correcting my American vocabulary. Neither is wrong. Anyways, I suppose I was glad to use my vocal cords for something other than a monetary transaction.<img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333959545665026434" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyAh7csMotYIc5lQyXS7v7UiE6CGNx3faJkTg3C-2SLNw4idu6UyDHnr23DTbAb4RIRC6qiFPFsLoO_WZcJizxYMEDRKLkyf-DahUauZkqaYNFEFwOShMT2kyiRzHqgNXu9NqBqn6FDzU/s400/IMG_4739%5B1%5D" border="0" />Some priest put up a Cross there because the thought was that the Devil lives down there. But since there´s a cross, it´s ok, it´s now a Catholic volcano and the Devil won´t want to come up (i.e. erupt). Though it did in 2001, a little bit.<br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333959544277940418" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRKedu6AYVdTXiYjkh_rU7XqIaQ4Hte6gRXipOMN-NQmpsJegVK6yTSruYCzhBsE8Pb-8c4CXF5-g9JYBRnlKjxWpyn7mUfR5q5wTO6oXoYyN793EWbVAiqrrFRB8CBQsknoaMTW33CNs/s400/IMG_4738%5B1%5D" border="0" /><br /><div align="center">Good precautions.</div><br /><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333959537195113410" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 300px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDpNpMHD0JtjVWwT78YjJ-uCJhRiWE9wbgWEy-ufRbHrQ-kcQC8cJcOFeDRz9ygddxPO8L6Qd_t2-XAby8Ljr-NH_FDIgw6D19EyRa5hSd_m7cavwD3XzanND6d85HvaRjTQWcKnRNkFE/s400/IMG_4734%5B1%5D" border="0" />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-79008186013092629972009-05-08T05:42:00.000-07:002009-05-08T08:13:04.118-07:00Leon day 2<div style="text-align: center;">Sweet Leon Murals: <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2XnMh2VltDKO6ZeWXb4IKiUsjt-omCFO4nQ-KSzwC07h7MsaX_1EiaPM13rhOa2qOTatCmMUniu4JpyJk8vFAMfEK-kWtXgvqe6t50zlmha53-ihhX7dGJU4FxfNkkptNpRZ7W5AANM/s1600-h/IMG_4708%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjV2XnMh2VltDKO6ZeWXb4IKiUsjt-omCFO4nQ-KSzwC07h7MsaX_1EiaPM13rhOa2qOTatCmMUniu4JpyJk8vFAMfEK-kWtXgvqe6t50zlmha53-ihhX7dGJU4FxfNkkptNpRZ7W5AANM/s400/IMG_4708%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333470507988432466" border="0" /></a><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRTjMpAD5b5np4EF8PETGlAv5eNc5e6pbPFnqfpCe_kMb7h5RgGis6Cw6bMhTWIxnyoRjf2AeKj76u1UfOYXrw-LPKOA9xgQe1wWmavW3DX1kYuHliZlQx8d28Vhu8weQWsbcuNMzCL1g/s1600-h/IMG_4709%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmRTjMpAD5b5np4EF8PETGlAv5eNc5e6pbPFnqfpCe_kMb7h5RgGis6Cw6bMhTWIxnyoRjf2AeKj76u1UfOYXrw-LPKOA9xgQe1wWmavW3DX1kYuHliZlQx8d28Vhu8weQWsbcuNMzCL1g/s400/IMG_4709%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333470501412612882" border="0" /></a>The writing on the right translates to: Nicaragua will be free while she has sons that love her.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpwc4kbT92yIU1ASwoZzC5yhwnAP5Q1h81stZKkICASyAjaN3MV-f874MMHIwidU3NCdPTy7JebhP7jdRRUFtaNc4AgZDlmop26LbAzQrYhcb9EU4a0hrOnypy8MZSdLnGVEq_2svkVs/s1600-h/IMG_4710%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLpwc4kbT92yIU1ASwoZzC5yhwnAP5Q1h81stZKkICASyAjaN3MV-f874MMHIwidU3NCdPTy7JebhP7jdRRUFtaNc4AgZDlmop26LbAzQrYhcb9EU4a0hrOnypy8MZSdLnGVEq_2svkVs/s400/IMG_4710%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333470494499284674" border="0" /></a><br />What I did on my second day in Leon:<br /><br />I had 2 fruit juices.<br /><br />I bought fruit in the market.<br /><br />I ate tofu.<br /><br />I walked and got lost and realized my Lonely Planet map is actually all wrong and it´s not just I have a sudden inability to orient myself.<br /><br />I swam in the pool.<br /><br />I tried (one bottle of) the Nicaraguan beer Toña. It was ok, nothing to make me want to drink more.<br /><br />I also got to talk to 2 mothers who lost their sons in the conflicts and revolution a few decades ago. Here in Leon there is a memorial set up with pictures of many fallen heroes (several women actually!), but the coolest part is that at the memorial, there´s always mothers or other people who were there when it all happened. So I sat and asked to hear their stories. I don´t know the history very well and a lot flew over my head because they just sort of talked in a flow of consciousness, but what I did pick up was very interesting. Most striking to me was how these women sort of heard their sons had died, but wanted to go get their bodies but were often prevented. But still, they felt they needed to identify the bodies so they figured out ways to do it. THey also just talked about that time in general, when Leon was bombed and everyone was still in town and they just hid where they could. And one was telling me how she was escaping somewhere and had to trick a guard, but then he gave her food for the kids she had lied to say she had to go take care of. One kept saying how it´s true about the motto: ¨Patria libre o muerte¨ free country or death. These young people (one of the sons was 13) realized they would probably die but kept trying and joining the cause until they completed it. One made it clear that her 2 sons joined voluntarily, and she knew she couldn´t stop them. Admirable (the sons and the mother), if you ask me. Then we started talking about modern politics and how even today they feel that there is tension between the Sandinistas (the party that overthrew the dictatorship) and other political parties. I was grateful to get that opportunity, and also grateful that I´ve never lived through that sort of trauma. Amazing how many people in the world could tell such stories.<br /><br />Headed to Masaya, the heartland of folklore and handicrafts.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-44622659681636876712009-05-07T09:55:00.000-07:002009-05-07T10:06:26.661-07:00SIKE! I can post pictures!<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU9_-KJjKsAwUPUZEw29Qp84HfPWao1FJ3RWBJu5c7sH6VMpXjWUo8cIygFFmP_XMTuUJfOuc4PJmXwYcStWGSruI_V6dInx2F5B09WtI5__b0LV_eOeWr4LjDL281IdwXZABNs6pnJ8/s1600-h/IMG_4697%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgU9_-KJjKsAwUPUZEw29Qp84HfPWao1FJ3RWBJu5c7sH6VMpXjWUo8cIygFFmP_XMTuUJfOuc4PJmXwYcStWGSruI_V6dInx2F5B09WtI5__b0LV_eOeWr4LjDL281IdwXZABNs6pnJ8/s400/IMG_4697%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333128285863941314" border="0" /></a>Fruit! Lots and cheap!<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_tqHPriTKSSAaRFmXnZy-UzYKGZ3wDfURlR3HySYAfcEioOQEDoBSImaGEwmOKB9QiIwJ2gG5Q_S2aHfxtMUgi7X9YwnSPotXP3ms0qhMooHce_yeMacwywpETVOTLxe9UZcUzwY0FRRG/s1600-h/IMG_4695%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_tqHPriTKSSAaRFmXnZy-UzYKGZ3wDfURlR3HySYAfcEioOQEDoBSImaGEwmOKB9QiIwJ2gG5Q_S2aHfxtMUgi7X9YwnSPotXP3ms0qhMooHce_yeMacwywpETVOTLxe9UZcUzwY0FRRG/s400/IMG_4695%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333128280400665090" border="0" /></a>Sandino, General of Free Men<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruHY4hrvX6mzuYb92CN3i__kVDtm6U7IpcoetvgquGttmbtRlcHjUnGzhuYinHbHcyXwPAuZqgkzEbtiV6V6emufrAgcrJNS9bv0WFcqNlmAHDyoUotM4M58l9EjA101EJxa6ZI7RxeE/s1600-h/IMG_4660%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgruHY4hrvX6mzuYb92CN3i__kVDtm6U7IpcoetvgquGttmbtRlcHjUnGzhuYinHbHcyXwPAuZqgkzEbtiV6V6emufrAgcrJNS9bv0WFcqNlmAHDyoUotM4M58l9EjA101EJxa6ZI7RxeE/s400/IMG_4660%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333128276630674786" border="0" /></a>Bell on the Cathedral...just caught my eye<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSKkuV4S1LfheP-vlyi9OrvUm2vSBQzgdaImxtGBt8CVb-XOvaj5z9yJqNjeWQJkpjcTNPpei9HBVeCT-8UveP3bVbq2QoYPFdCViBhfMsn67KFnpreLtuDy2fHKov5krahgZsMyx8GE/s1600-h/IMG_4672%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfSKkuV4S1LfheP-vlyi9OrvUm2vSBQzgdaImxtGBt8CVb-XOvaj5z9yJqNjeWQJkpjcTNPpei9HBVeCT-8UveP3bVbq2QoYPFdCViBhfMsn67KFnpreLtuDy2fHKov5krahgZsMyx8GE/s400/IMG_4672%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333128274129311394" border="0" /></a>One of many such mango stands. All day, they peel and cut mangoes to be sold in baggies. Nicaraguans seem to value fruit much more than Panamanians, but that´s just one person´s impression. And yes, I asked permission before taking this picture.<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8q47JF-dqtlzOKKKj9kqTp0nIQsGjieAD2FcO-f02uCZbG0S-rsyRbsxSUpV-wuYPHyYLF9cUfs4YR1OIERJO7PuGYcby3AdqoJkB7hbJCmRQiptMganhzfn9Fv_HlJzIoqbEDEk_UHk/s1600-h/IMG_4654%5B1%5D"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhL8q47JF-dqtlzOKKKj9kqTp0nIQsGjieAD2FcO-f02uCZbG0S-rsyRbsxSUpV-wuYPHyYLF9cUfs4YR1OIERJO7PuGYcby3AdqoJkB7hbJCmRQiptMganhzfn9Fv_HlJzIoqbEDEk_UHk/s400/IMG_4654%5B1%5D" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5333128268251857538" border="0" /></a>This doesn´t really show how big it is...but it´s massive.<br /></div>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-8679887465119996572009-05-07T05:16:00.000-07:002009-05-07T05:39:19.614-07:00Leon (half) day 1Couldn´t get these computers to recognize my camera, so you´ll have to hold off for pictures a little while longer.<br /><br />After checking into my sweet <a href="http://www.lazybonesleon.com">hostel</a> (REAL beds, for starters), I decided to see what I could see in Leon. I had mostly one place in mind for the afternoon, La Fundacion Ortiz, which is a large collection of art, much of it from Latin America. I had neither properly studied my map nor pointed myself in the four directions of the compass, so I started off going the opposite way, and kept trying to correct myself and doing a poor job. Luckily, the central part of Leon isn´t big, dangerous, or scary. Just confusing until you realize it´s very simple: all the streets are numbered and directioned (like Washington, DC) and the East-Wests are Calles and the North-Souths are Avenidas. Or is it the other way around. However, getting lost was a good way for me to run into like a million churches. I found the cathedral, according to my guidebook the biggest in Latin America, took over 100 years to build, and not at all hard to find, though I wasn´t looking for it. Unfortunately now it´s pretty dirty on the outside and needs renovation, but it´s still extremely impressive. Today I plan to go inside it, but yesterday my thoughts were on seeing other things. There´s a large central square in front of the cathedral, cool to see guys kicking a ball around, vendors with food and random brightly colored plastic toys and knick-kncacks, and people strolling. Since this town houses a university (or a few, not sure), it´s very young and there´s a lot of teenagers with books and art supplies (I think there´s an art university or something like that). In Santiago there isn´t a central square, so being here I felt that I was really in a Latin American city again. So much going on! Another thing I like about Leon: minimal harrassment. People are generally smiley, friendly, but not imposing, just going about their own business. Must be they´re used to lots of foreign tourists, and have learned how they like to be treated (i.e. left alone!). I bought a large green guava for 7 Cordobas (less than 50 cents), and it was tasty, but I prefer ripe ones, so I guess I´ll buy more and ripen them up. In Panama they also eat them just green, I don´t know why. I´d overdosed on mangoes the day before I left Panama, so I avoided fruit mostly yesterday. But today´s going to be a different story. So many types of mangoes and avocadoes to choose from! Also a brown fruit that looks like a bit like a spherical potato, I must find out what that is and how you eat it.<br /><br />Finally found the art museum, but by that point I was indeed tired and my legs hurt and so I sort of rushed through the large collection. I was the only one there, maybe because it was later in the afternoon, and the security guys sort of distracted me by turning on lights in front of me and then shutting them off after me. Felt like I was being followed...because I was! Lots of cool stuff, but honestly I don´t know what to look at in art. I prefered the more modern Latin stuff over the European oils (mostly religious art which I definitely need someone to explain to me since it´s so full of symbols). Had a nice big salad for dinner. Nothing I couldn´t make myself, but nice to not have to. That´s what vacation is about right?<br /><br />Slept very well on a very good mattress, though I´m still getting used to dorm-style hostels. Being a light sleeper is tough when people come in and rustle through their stuff and whisper and flick on and on their flashlights, but I don´t mind it overall (at least here there´s courtesy rules and quiet hours after 11pm). Of course, woke up at 5:30 am with no hope of sleeping again, but thinking about the time change, it´s as if I slept in until 6:30 in Panama, so that´s a good thing. Ahhh all of vacation is a good thing.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6857789706083747928.post-82928691995429886142009-05-06T14:33:00.000-07:002009-05-06T14:36:26.249-07:00landed!safely in Nicaragua. First impressions: definitely less expensive than Panama, but equally as hot (just endured direct sun in a very hot van for an hour). Also, horse-drawn carts and men carrying giant bundles of I dunno what that covered their heads. They must be able to see through the bundles...<br /><br />Managua seemed too run-down to be worth exploring, so I headed straight to Leon to enjoy the artsy funky capital of the revolution.<br /><br />Just wanted to say I was safe and plan to be posting often during my travels. We´ll see if i can get photos up.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04573554747267694347noreply@blogger.com0