Turtle season is at its peak, in conjuction with the downpours that characterize the height of the rainy season. Tomorrow I help host a field trip to the beach through Project AWARE (PADI) with a local diving instructor. We're taking groups of 4th, 5th and 6th graders from two local schools to participate in a beach cleanup, see some baby sea turtles, and try out scuba diving in a pool. It's a great opportunity for these kids, many who live near the beach but most of whom have never had a chance to see a sea turtle (unless by chance it ended up on their plates at one time or another) or know how to swim. We visited the schools today, showing them videos of underwater life, and they're exctatic about the trip.

In other turtle news, the new hatchery that the Peace Corps Partnership Grant funded is a little closer to full capacity every day! Thanks to the generous donations the community conservation group received through the grant program, we have had no problems with dogs or other predators entering the hatchery this year. Tomorrow's release will be the 12th nest to hatch this year, with at least that many nests still incubating in the sand, to be release later on this month and into November! Each time a nest is about to hatch, we publicize the releases through phone calls, word of mouth and emails. The day of the release, local volunteers and I give a short talk about sea turtle biology and conservation. Then, the participants walk down to the tide line on the beach, and each is given a baby turtle to set onto the sand and race to the water. The walk down the beach is important for the turtle to orient itself. The females will return to the same beach 15-20 years in the future to lay her own catch of eggs. She will return, that is, if she is lucky enough to be one of the few survivors. From every 1,000 eggs laid, it is predicted that only 1 will survive to adulthood. The hatchery is the first step to insuring that a few more will survive, as it protects the eggs from invaders such as dogs, poachers, crabs, worms and bacteria. Our hope is that that community education will insure the survival of more of the species, slowly diminshing the level of poaching and contamination, two factors that affect the mortality rate of this endangered animal.

This weekend, CoToMBa (Conservacionistas de las Tortugas Marinas de la Barqueta) will paint 5 ugly cement barriers that dissuade car traffic on the beach. We will be painting the cement posts wil images of turtles and other sea life, with messages about conservation. Other plans in the near future include installing cement posts every 100m along an area of the beach for better scientific tracking of where the turtles lay their eggs, and the installation of multimedia in the area. We already have several videos in Spanish depicting sea life and turtles, thanks to the national environmental authority, ANAM. Altogether, the project has been a success, although there is still more work to be done! Thanks again to all of the donors. The community and the turtles le agradecen (they thank you!).

As the rainy season gathers momentum at the onset of October, the dramatic green lushness of the land threatens to overtake anyone who pauses too long in admiration. Most tourists avoid this time of year, preferring to travel during the holidays and the dry season, from late December through March. They come from northern lands, where rain is associated with the cold, gray mists that saturate to the bone. Here, a warm gush of afternoon rain bursts through the suppressive heat of the day, leaving the air cool, crisp, fresh and so alive you can almost taste the chlorophyll. The thunderous, white-noise aguaceros provide some of the most tranquil moments living in this tropical wonderland. Humid, sunny mornings are followed by afternoons meant for swinging in a hammock under cover from the rain, reading and drinking tea. To me, this is the best time of year.

During the verano, literally translated to 'summer', but more accurately described as the dry season, the country fills with backpack-laden tourists, filing along a 'Lonely Planet'-designated route like leaf-cutter ants along a path: from the beaches of Bocas del Toro, down and up again to the coffee town of Boquete (that recently has taken on the look of a vintage Aspen village without the snow), straight over to Panama City, with perhaps a pause to surf the swells in Santa Catalina, shop for local art in El Valle de Anton, or "gitem somma dat culture" in the San Blas islands. These places are simply lovely, but when I can't help but wonder what impression the tourists have of Panama after bus-hopping (or even worse, driving) across the country from one 'destination' to another. When they go back to their homelands, how will they describe Panama?

Aside from jetting out to some rural village and living with the locals for two years, I feel there are ways to get to know the character of a place in greater depth than the guide books describe. Absorbing how the people and their culture fill the beautiful spaces you're moving through in that refreshingly (or freezing) air-conditioned bus.

1. Be okay with being uncomfortable. The desire for constant comfort is the death of any real experience for a traveler. Panama is a tropical country: it's either very hot or raining. This doesn't mean running around and splashing in the puddles (although not at all discouraged), but take a hint from the locals and wait out the rain at a covered street corning, watching the world go by. When the rain lets up a little, walk around, instead of taking a cab. Getting lost is not always bad, but it can be fun!*

2. Take a hint from the locals. You can be almost positive that the woman getting off the local bus isn't heading to the nearest internet café to write about the old smelly dude that tried to sell you superglu and a sketchy-looking magazine at the restaurant down the street. Without being creepy, follow her or the flow of human traffic into the shopping district of the city. Visit the booming almacenes, their cheap plastic wares vibrating off the crumbling shelves from the decibel level of the reggaeton music (actually meant to attract customers, imaginate). Weave your way through streets packed with $1 rubber sandals and cell phone accesories, and you may end up at a local produce stand, bursting with fresh tropical fruits, greens and root vegetables of all varieties. Duck into a local restuarant for some cheap, satisfying chicken and rice and chicha de piña.

3. Get metido in the campo. If you immerse yourself in a gran cantidad of friendly Panamañians, you may be lucky enough to find yourself an amateur local tour guide, just dying to show you around his home or the local sights. If you're not traveling alone, take him up on the offer*. Just be prepared to go out of your way, and do a lot of the 'nod and smile' as the family pegs you with questions and fattens you up with a mountain of rice.

Since becoming a hybrid of tourist-local after a year and a half in this country, I've learned a little about how I want to travel in the future. Stepping out of the comfort zone of always having a plan is one. The more people you meet along the way, and the farther you go off the beaten path, the better. Expect to be overwhelmed by the lovliness of novelty, and refreshed by a sudden, unexpected rainstorm.

*Be smart, safe and use your best insticts.