fait accompli?

Well, I’ve been meaning to update my blog for a while, but I’m being pulled in many directions lately. 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! Enough said.

Happily, my community is still (or, at long last?) inviting me to work. This past month, my host mom has been harvesting a lot of cucumbers, which we had planted together. 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.” 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. 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. 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. I can’t control what happens after I leave, but maybe the shift is more permanent this time than in previous years. 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. She also seems to be getting more saavy about grocery shopping to include healthier choices than when I first arrived. 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.

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. 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. However, of course I went! I have been saying “yes” to everything lately so I won’t have regrets about what I might have missed. I asked Mari, as a way of pushing her to plan and to have a goal, what she wanted to plant. 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. At first she answered, “no se Raquel,” which is standard. Rather than give an opinion, usually the first thing I hear is that someone doesn’t know. I gave a few ideas, and quickly it became clear that she was concerned about how to get seeds. Now, in the past I’ve given her seeds for free and not much has come of it. A combination of her character and her mother’s recent illness got in the way. But I think she’s turning a corner now. 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. 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. 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). I told her this, and she agreed. So we’ll see what she ends up doing. Anyways, after we chopped (with machetes!) for a while, we sat to talk. Since I’ve been busy and she is often at work when I stop by her mother’s house, it’s been a while. I consider her one of my best friends, and we speak very openly to each other. I’ll never forget or discredit her easy friendship, which has made my service so much better.

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). 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. 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.

Somehow the conversation shifted, and she gave me the ultimate gift: confirmation that I have had an effect on someone in my community (her). 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. 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. Yet what I realized I’d been missing was the simple confirmation that I’d reached this goal. 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. 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. Mari had me tearing up at this point. She used all the descriptors I would want used about me, and believe me, I was not prompting her to say any of this. I couldn’t open my mouth because I would have started crying for real. Furthermore, Mari said that she didn’t understand why she and the rest of the community hadn’t supported my efforts more. 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. 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). 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. 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). 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). I feel I can end my service with that one nagging question finally answered. Yes, I changed something for the better. I’m excited to check in, to visit in coming years, and to see how this change may have had domino effects. But that’s getting ahead of myself. For now, I’m simply and completely elated!

Do you see what I see? The identity crisis edition…

22-1-10

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.

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.

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.

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 not a clueless (but loveable) tourist.

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).

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!

Burning Men Festival

I suppose burning effigies as a celebration or ritual is a common thing the world over. I have no idea how I missed this last New Year’s, but Panama has quite a tradition. A few days before New Years, one starts noticing scarecrow-like stuffed clothes propped up against fences and electricity poles. They are made of a man’s clothes stuffed with raked up leaves (not maple or oak, but cashew fruit tree leaves). They look a lot like men just standing around from far off…I’ve been psyched out a few times. This is the theory: the muñeco (literally, doll) represents the past year. So burning it is a way of putting the past to rest, to start over. The men are lit on fire right at midnight (or ok, 11pm, kids get impatient). 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.

Other New Year’s traditions here are: decorating the table with big ring-shaped breads, grapes, apples and pears. I think you are supposed to stay up around the table playing dominoes and bingo until midnight, then eat these things. I read in the newspaper that some people eat 12 grapes right at midnight. They sometimes count the seeds and then those are their lottery or lucky numbers for the coming year. 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. The grocery stores are full of people who rarely leave their homes. 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). 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. But seriously, “Riunite” brand of sparkling flavored wines (looks like Gatorade)? Nighttrain? Yuck. In any case, despite the alcohol, people definitely see New Years as a time to hang out with family. And I have not once heard comments of someone dreading this part of the holidays. There is NOTHING better to Panamanians than time spent with the family. So there’s a lesson for us jaded USA-ers. 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.

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.

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). I’m gettin’ there…

Riding Buses in Panama (21-12-09)

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.

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.

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^th 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.

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.

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^th 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.

my second and probably last vacation as PCV

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!

One of the big advantages of Panama as a tourism destination is its small size and relatively well developed travel infrastructure. 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. I had never seen this part of the city before. We decided to start walking back towards our hotel, which was across the city, essentially. The idea was to walk until we had seen enough of the pedestrian market near the Old City, then catch a taxi. I loved the market! 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). 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. I certainly plan to go back and pick up more before I go home. 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. 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. We kept walking through the city, not really intending to, but eventually landing at our hotel. 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:

We flew to the San Blas Archipelago (run by the Kuna indigenous group), which was very remote. 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. We explained we didn’t mind eating fruit, yucca, fried plantains and fish, which is the local diet. 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. 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. Perhaps true sometimes, but it was strange that we couldn’t convince the proprietors to serve us something they obviously ate themselves. Literally, our guide showed us his house and his pile of harvested yucca. 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...

I loved the boat rides, but definitely felt like I had little choice in what we were doing every day. We knew we were eating breakfast and then leaving at 9am for somewhere each morning, and returning in the late afternoon. A strange and not-Panamanian sense of time and schedule. Not every visitor has this experience, but that was ours. 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. And definitely go with snacks, strong sunscreen (I’m still peeling!) and more cash than you think you need.

Once back on the mainland, we took a 7-hour bus ride to reach the western province of Chiriqui. Chiriqui is known for its high mountains and volcanic soil. It’s where the bulk of the export-quality coffee and oranges and vegetables are grown. 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. Sadly I didn’t really interact with the farmers. It was interesting to see the contrast in people’s standard of living. Even the indigenous farmers (identified by their style of dress) were living in cinder block houses, some had satellites on top! 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. The farmers in these mountains were definitely getting a cash inflow by selling vegetables. So once again I must lament that I haven’t been able to kickstart the vegetable production in my own town. My community is missing out on cash inflow as well as improved nutrition, and it is SO frustrating to see the obvious difference. The mountains suited me a bit more than the beach, probably because the cool air and altitude were a novelty.

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! My cousin convinced me to ride a horse for the first time in my adult life. I was scared at first, but I got the hang of steering away from cars at least!

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. I suppose it was like my fascination with the fresh cool-weather vegetables, so I can’t blame them too much for eating everything. There was also a trip to a coffee processing plant, which was a nice mix of science, engineering and agriculture for me.

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. 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. She was quite a good sport about things, and definitely got a feel for the Panamanian way of life. 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 licuado sin azucar (basically blended papaya and ice, NO sugar). 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!). The two times I’ve had visitors, it’s made me appreciate Panama more for all its diversity and differences from the United States. Which is not to say that it doesn’t still frustrate me in many ways. 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.

taking in my surroundings

Lately I’ve really been conscious of how little time I have left in Panama. 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. 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.

Slingshots

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. Generally they bring water, a machete, and a woven bag called a chakara. 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. He mentions there’s something in the tree (a hawk or other raptor) that kills chickens. Out of the chakara comes a slingshot and his ammo. I was delighted to see him use, in all seriousness, a slingshot to try to conquer the bird. The little boys often carry around slingshots, but I had never seen an adult use one. The young kids are pretty deft with them, knocking bats out of the banana palms and such. 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. 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.

October Update

Hola!

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. 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). 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. The position is essentially three-fold: volunteer support, agency relations and new site identification and development. 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. 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. I read a lot, but that’s wonderful. 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. 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. EEK! It’s a daunting prospect, but I know I’m capable of pulling it off.

I was also preparing heavily for the GRE’s, which I took on Saturday. As prepared as I was for the test, being in Panama was not to my advantage. 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. 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. So, we started 2 hours late because that’s how things work in this country. 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. Or was I? I did have a worry that something like that would happen…like they’d lose the test books or something. 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. 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. 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! 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. It’s not like they get paid to do this, or are going to get fired or otherwise penalized. 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!).

So, those are the two major events that took up my time in the past month. November, as you may all remember from my first blog postings, is a fiesta month, because it’s Independence Day/Country Month. 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. Maybe I will find a way to post the pictures.