If you find yourself in Panama the 11th of March, make sure to stop by my beach, playa la Barqueta, for first annual artisan's fair! It's amazing how fast a seemingly crazy idea can turn into a full-blown project once you put your mind to it. I've been working hard organizing and promoting this fair that will take place next weekend, one of many events that will contribute to ecotourism revenue in the area. Fifteen art vendors from the area will be coming to sell their art, in addition to local food vendors, a folkloric dance group performance, and a discoteca dance for all at night. Many tourists (local and international) arrive to the beach, especially during the dry season. We hope to establish a permanent local market in the future in this site.

Some of the proceeds from the fair will go toward the sea turtle conservation project, specifically the construction of a new sea turtle hatchery that we will be constructing before the next nesting season begins in June. I will be posting a link to a website in the near future, for all those interesting in contributing to the project from home. My community counterpart, Marcial, and I will be travelling to Bocas del Toro this month, where the Caribbean Conservation Corporation (CCC) is holding a training seminar about correct management of sea turtle conservation projects. I am excited to finally see some mature female sea turtles! March is the primary nesting month for the Caribbean Loggerhead sea turtle, and the seminar will take us to one of the main nesting sites in Bocas del Toro.

My Panama Verde youth group is going strong so far, although with the start of classes next week there may be a few changes. The kids are excited about all of the activities so far, which have included an ecotourism lecture and visit to the beach, a community garbage clean-up and today an a jewelry-making lesson from a local artisan. We collected shells and decorative seeds to make into jewelry, possibly selling some art at the fair next weekend. I enjoy working with the youth (this group ages 12-20), and they keep me busy with visits and mini-dance parties in my house.

On Monday I'm off to a partner's conference in the province of Panamá, again taking Marcial away from his first month as a park ranger for ANAM. I look forward to seeing my friends again and taking a little break before the fair next weekend! ¡Que va!

This entry has no theme. Little educational and/or serious life reflections will be covered, so you're in for a treat! The picture above was taken of the Panama City skyline from Hotel Plaza Paitilla Inn, a hotel with great views for a good deal, in case you ever happen to be in the area.

Walking the streets of David earlier today, my sunglassed, no-nonsense stare and purposeful gait were interrupted by a lot of bulla a few blocks ahead. It was a parade, complete with a band: drums beating and horns blaring loudly, stopping the erratic movement of traffic if only for a moment. Although the display turned my head, this occurrence is not completely unusual, November being the month of the Fiestas Patrias (all celebrations involve numerous, lenghthy parades). However, as I scoured my memory for any mention of a November 17th holiday, I saw the sign. No, not The Sign, but a poster announcing the Grand Opening of the new American Style clothing store. Why wouldn't a grand opening call for an all-out parade? This is Panama, and I'm discovering any opportunity to make noise will be pounced on with zeal. I didn't go into the store, but had a sudden, almost irrepressable urge to run in and denounce the validity of the advertisements that screamed, "Authentic American Clothing!".

Being an American in Panama is interesting. "American" is a class in and of itself, since so many rich gringos have migrated to the area to retire, bringing with them their American-earned dollars and high standard of living. I promised nothing serious so I'll end the commentary there.

The other day I tried sugarcane for the first time. I have to admit, I was slightly disappointed. It was sugary, but far to woody for my taste. Being a chewing gum addict, I can't imagine chomping on thick cellulose for more than a couple seconds, sweetened or un.

In slightly older news, BusinessWeek placed the Peace Corps at #38 out of the 50 best employers for college grads, a little behind big investment and banking corporations, but ahead of Teach for America and the IRS. It's somehow comforting to have someone else (however random) confirm my choice of employer. Or did they choose me? Hmmm.

I'm looking forward to going up to Cerro Punta for a massive Volunteer get-together next week. A Thankdsgiving celebration will be held in the Parque Nacional de Amistad, said to be one of the most beautiful areas in the country (who can rank them, there are so many beautiful places!). I'm excited to celebrate the holiday with some American food and friends, in a cool climate that will provide additional authenticity. Happy Thanksgiving!

I can't leave the house without getting my feet dirty. There is earth everywhere. Not imported, transplanted, water-sucking lawns, but dirt: dusty, muddy, dirtying. It gets on my clothes and doesn´t come out. It becomes caked on my sandaled toes, to be brushed off before entering the city landscape, where only manufactured gasoline-exhaust dust is socially acceptable.

Around my house grow trees and plants that from this same dirt that produce edible items ranging from the mundane root vegetable to sweet, juicy, tropical fruits. Stores do exist for luxury items like milk and the oil that my host abuelita uses to fry everything in sight. I tend to seek out the grocery stores more often than the locals, not quite weaned off of their abundant wealth of imported choices. I enjoy feeling an attachment to the earth, and I am truly excited to begin an organic garden, compost pile and composting latrine when I move into my own little place.

There are endless ways to become re-attached to your own parcel of the planet:

1. "Live Consciously, Buy Wisely, Make a Difference" - Check out the New American Dream.
This is a comprehensive site of ways to "green" your life. Save fuel resources by buying from local merchants (find your closest stores and markets with this map!). Turn the Tide by making nine simple lifestyle changes, including replacing one car trip a week with an alternate mode of transport.

2. Don't know any alternate transport methods? Find them and become an advocate for public transportation. It will not only contribute to the health of the environment, but an improved tranport system can improve your own health as well. If you can't get there by public transport, think about carpooling or ridesharing. Of course, there's always walking or biking, if you are lucky enough to live in such a place where such things are possible without risking your life. If there are no sidewalks, form a group to lobby for better walking conditions!

3. Turn waste into yummy foodstuffs. Fancy bins aren't neccessary to compost organic wastes, and there's even indoor non-smelly wormbox methods if you don't have space for a pile. No better organic fertilizer to be found (except maybe the future compost from my sawdust bucket toilet that will most definitely make for some extra-juicy tomatoes next year).

These are just a few options to quench that Earth-Zen craving you didn't even know you had. There are a world of ways to break those Wal-Mart Superstore-inspired habits, even inside the confines of the ultra-comfy cushions of the American consumer society. Be inspired by the dirt.

Querida the talking parrot was there to greet me with a loud squawk upon my return from Panama City last week. My host abuelita asked me if I was going to buy a parrot when I move to my own place next month. She is very concerned about my living alone and lejos, even though the house is just around the corner. I have developed a certain attachment to the bird, and will be back to visit and converse with it once the move is made. For now, I´m waiting for the owner of the house to return from his work on a nearby island so he can begin finishing the place. Right now it has no sink, shower, latrina...virtually nada.

I was comforted by the parrot´s greeting after an exhausting week in the city...a nice welcome back to the tranquilo lifestyle in the campo. I made the 14-hour round trip bus ride with intentions of getting a little work done in the office headquarters, and seeing some friends that were in town for a conference. Both of these goals were accomplished, but the change of lifestyle from 9pm bedtime to going out with friends in the American-esqe cuidad left me without much energy for our regional meeting in the mountain town of Boquete. Nonetheless, the meeting went well, and I was encouraged by meeting some of the veteran volunteers. The director of the entire Panama program came to my site the next day, and I may have been deliriously tired. Remembering the day arrives to my mind in snapshots, like a dream, one of which is the parrot singing his greeting to me as I stumbled in the door, forgetting to pay the taxi driver in my excited and tired state. What amazes me as I reflect on this day is that arriving to my host family`s house after almost a week away actually felt like coming home.

It looks so easy, the business of being a kid. What synapses in our brain die as we age? We stop growing, eventually (except our noses, ears and waistlines: the uglier parts), learn and move at a slower pace. The older we get the more pruned our brains become, shedding the "unneccesary" connections. Essentially, what appears to be simplicity in childhood is actually complexity, unrefinement, the happiness of a brain yet unformed but forming by a small world of experience.

Yesterday I spun in circles with my arms out until I got so dizzy I fell down. The second-grade girls next to me fell down a few seconds later, while my head spun in a spun-drunk dizzyness, the nauseous feeling finally fading about an hour later. The girls got up right away, ready to invent some other game involving a tennis ball and a pair of plastic flip-flops while I sat in the grass wondering if I ever truly thought that game was fun and needing a small helping hand to get up. Evidently a few of the nerves connecting my enlarging ears to my brain have died, making the sense of equilibrium harder to acheive after a good spin. If I spin like this every day can I re-learn to not get quite so dizzy?

Every day here is a humbling experience. Struggles range from basic communication (questions like "what did you do yesterday?" to "what is your opinion about the expansion of the Panama Canal?" can throw me into confused blubbering), to running a 13K through the heat of a Panamanian morning.

Saturday I completed my second carerra in Panama. I was proud to come in fourth place in the women´s category; fourth out of five women, second-to-last in the entire competition. In the States, coming in behind almost everyone would most likely have ended my competetive running career. There are a few reasons that my pride was not completely destroyed. First, races here are attended by a small number of "elite" athletes. Sure, two of the women who beat me were in high school, but they have trainers! Seriously, I was asked who my trainer was by more than one person before the race. The other woman who finished out of sight, far in front of me, was most definitely a marathon runner, as were most of the men who competed, including my friend, Marcial. Marcial runs 20K on the beach every morning, and most afternoons bikes another 40K or so. I told a few people he was my trainer since a couple times a week I trudge along next to him for a portion of his sandy workout. Also, although I had goosebumps the morning of the race, by around 8:30am when the race began (a half an hour behind schedule, true to Panamanian time), the sun was out in full force and it was HOT. There was one water stop along the way, and the people with the water decided that they would drive their car about 200m in front of me, pacing with one guy, who had full water priveleges for the remainder of the race. I watched from behind, unable to catch up, panting, struggling, thinking I may pass out before I reached the end. However, I was motivated by the one person behind me (a 14-yr old girl), determined that I would not come in last, or at least that I would finish. And I did finish, completing the last torturous lap around the center of the town amidst staring and sometimes clapping Panamanians who were fascinated by the gringa with the reddish-purple face who was giving them odd looks because clearly she didn´t know the route of the race and there was no one there to give her directions. The best part was the brindis after the race. The Pepsi and hamburger were not traditional post-race fare, but they were awesome! Why didn´t the race people in the States think of this? Who wants a dry, bready bagel and some bland Gatorade when you can have syrupy soda and a greasy, mayonaise-smeared hamburger right after you run 13K?! No better way to rehydrate!

The first race I competed in here was a 5K, where I was almost lapped by the men running (3 laps around the fairgrounds) and actually did come in last because the one other woman running with me dropped out after one lap. So actually I won first prize, two Precious Moments coffee mugs, which truly are precious to me. The mugs are an emblem of the energy that keeps me going through these competitions, a concentrated form of the persistence that pushes me through each day. In the races especially, I am on exhibit, like the monkey on a leash at the agriculture fair... a strange species... a white woman who runs in races!!! The same qualities that place me in the minority status here in Panama (often attracting unwanted attention in the cities) project me to the celebrity class at my site. This can be a daily struggle for an introvert such as myself (read the article behind the link...it´s terriffic!!!). However, being in this environment is like an accellerated class in life lessons... the importance of persistence and humility for starters...just the experience I was looking for when I accepted this assignment. I have to admit, however, that I never imagined I´d learn from sweating gallons, feet pounding on a flat, sunny road through the sugar cane fields of Chiriquí.

***I wrote this sitting in a yeye cafè, chuckling to myself as two gringas behind me ordered the same spinach quiche and cappucino as I had just polished off with pleasure. In the States, I love my imported mangos, coffee and wine.***

My host father in Santa Clara works six long days a week at a chicken factory outside of Panama City. ¨Chicken¨was the one English word my host brothers knew upon my arrival. Over a simple, tasty lunch of pollo y vegetales one day, my host mother casually remarked that even though Panama has a fairly large commercial chicken production business, the choice cutlets get sent to the United States. I hadn´t known the US imported chicken; I assumed most was ´grown´in the States, since driving by the smelly Midwestern chicken farms in my youth. Actually, Panama exports about $433 million of goods to the US yearly, neary one half of its total exports. The relationship of the US with Panama is an ongoing pirate´s tale of invasion, politcal unrest, and the search for true freedom.

During the free trade negotiations at the beginning of 2006, the agricultural minister of Panama resigned, citing worries about more lax health standards on US imports (1). Whether this is true or not remains negotiable, yet represents just one of the many high-pressure negotiations between the two countries. Exports of goods from Panama to the US began in the early 1900s with the conception of the United Fruit Company, a US-based banana plantation, located on Isla Colòn in Bocas del Toro. The successful construction of the Panama Canal under the supervision of President T. Roosevelt further complicated political relations between the two countries, ending in a treaty that handed over full control of the Canal to Panama in 1999 . Tensions reached a pinnacle during Operation Just Cause and the removal of Manuel Noriega in the 1980s, when the US invasion resulted in a greatly disputed number of civilian deaths (300-4,000).

Currently, the gorgeous country of Panama drips with alluring economic potential. Panama faces global pressure to expand the Canal, an issue the country will vote on in an October referendum. Advertisements blatantly insist the economic benefits of this expensive investment, backed by President Martin Torrijos. If managed with care, this project could be a boon to the economy, and even the environment, if measures are taken to carefully analyze the impact and allocate funds to environmental restoration as necessary (2). The tourism industry is growing exponentially, propelled by a flood of US retirees (3). I have already met quite a few of these friendly norteamericanos, many who live in the nearby mountain town of Boquete, and a small group who settled on my beach, La Barqueta. Finally, the US-based company Occidental Petroleum seeks to plant a new refinery on a portion of Puerto Armuelles, at the end of the peninsula that stretches into the Pacific near the Costa Rican border.

As development increases in Panama, the job markets change. Large-scale projects such as those mentioned above employ thousands in construction and tourism-based jobs. Many Panamanians are moving to urban areas to take advantage of the booming markets. However, as half of the country prospers, the other sinks deeper into poverty. Panama has the second-highest income disparity in Latin America, behind Brazil, with 37% of its residents living below the poverty line (2). If a current proposal to dam the Indio river for the expansion of the Panama Canal goes through, an estimated 3500 campesinos will be forced to give up their land (2). Advocates of the expansion rebut that the project will employ many thousands of Panamanians.

However, taking away the land for many of these poor farmers is stealing their right to choose the life they want to live. Others are forced into poverty by competition from larger (often foreign) coorporations and sell their land at a cheap price, only to return months later, broke and begging for a job from the same hotel/restuarant/spa owners that previously bought their land. The oil refinery at Puerto Armuelles will undoubtably boost the economy of the region (much more so the economy of the company), but at the price of the environment and the health of those who live nearby.

Yesterday, I sat in the back of a press conference about the proposal of the new US-owned refinery, held by a group of envioronmentalists from the Chiriquí region. I watched as slides from places in the US were shown as examples of what not to do when managing an oil refinery. A woman gave a passionate speech that brought tears to my eyes about the lack of sustainable options for the poor in the area of the proposed refinery. I have expressed discontent in the past, but for the first time in my life, I was ashamed of my country. A slide flashed by displaying the worldwide impact of air pollution from the US, a red cloud of toxins spreading over the northern hemisphere. I thought of the rejection of the Kyoto protocol and hunkered down further in my seat, avoiding the eyes of any cameras that may pass. I do not feel responsible for companies such as these, but as a norteamericano, I cannot remove myself from the masses, the consumerism that propels these companies to exist in the first place.

The fact is, I am not outright opposed to all large corporations and international development. There are many businesses who due their share to improve technology to be more environmentally friendly, and many rich who dedicate their lives to courageous projects. I am opposed to greed that preys off of the resources of other countries without giving back a fair share. In terms of percentage of GNP, the US falls short of all industrialized countries in terms of foreign aid, only recently moving up from last place by one (4). This is embarrassing. I am against those who blatantly take advantage of the world´s poor and the environment in developing countries where the infrastructure is not developed enough to stop such activities (and are sometimes blatantly encouraged). Panama´s tropical lushness is a fragile environment of intricately intwined ecosystems that daily are being destroyed. Ganadores clear rainforests to produce meat for the world´s fast food hamburger cravings, hotels spring up and erode away pristine beaches, and imports of goods wrapped in plastic fill the streets and air with their harmful biproducts, in a country with no infrastructure for garbage removal or recycling. The fact that many of these unsustainable practices are being done by Americans makes me immeasurably sad...and ashamed.

Living in this beautiful environment is a privilege I cannot possibly take for granted. I feel a huge amount of responsibility being an extranjero from the States. I wish to change the image of our country to one that encourages sustainable development, rather than being labeled as coming from a country that siphons the best of the world´s resources into its own bottomless pit of greed. Of course I can´t do this on my own. Build gardens on your city rooftops, buy locally grown organic produce, make an effort to use less gasoline, and por favor, don´t buy McDonald´s hamburgers. That´s all.

Every night at 7:15 the sun sets and the land is ruled by two types of creatures of the night. Much of Panama, including the community of Los Positos, slams their doors against the mosquitos that come buzzing in droves, and as their abodes are secured against the first creature, the gente turn to stare into the big, ugly eye of the other. Slowly relaxing into well-worn cushions and plastic chairs, they stare, and it blinks back, not menacingly, but seductively. The creature and the people gaze into each other´s eyes until they are as one.

This interaction frightens me more than the risk of malaria and dengue fever, more than the huge waves that can sweep you a mile offshore, and much more than the tormentas that sometimes sound as if they will pound right through the zinc roof at night. It makes me shudder to the depths of my soul to watch this spectacle, that occurs even in the poorest of houses.

The televsion commercials are loud and cheesy, advertising for things that people in the campo don´t need and can´t possibly afford. But yet I watch as people buy them. First program of the night: the extremely sensationalized news shows the images of every dead body the camera could get its eye on that day. At 7, the novelas begin. Amplified soap operas show Latin Americans living as if they were in Beverly Hills or the OC. Myself not understanding the Spanish makes the terrible acting all the more comical, but doesn´t overshadow the psychological devastation.

As my new family watches the Spanish-dubbed movies that never made it in America, I wonder to myself what they did before the TV arrived. Due to the literacy level, very few people enjoy reading for pleasure, so I imagine it was more of the banter about the weather that goes on all day long. I don´t mourn as much for my host abuelitos, who are well into their 80s and would probably be in bed if not in front of the TV, but for the young Panamanians. They see the same wasteful lifestyles as the kids in America are enticed into desiring, but have even less of a chance of actualizing these emtpy wants.

My host mother in my training community confided in me her worry that her three boys would never further their education and get good jobs because they preferred to sit in front of the TV over studying. In Panama, the average education level is 6th grade, because in some places it is too difficult or expensive to transport children to high school. Although it is a law to attend school until the 12th grade, there are not enough high schools to make this enforceable. To those who are more fortunate, such as my previous host family, what a shame to see the opportunity for education go to waste because of the distraction of the TV!

In many places, nature still rules here, covering old house foundations with flourescent green moss and vines after just a few months. Fruit trees burst with their offerings in every other yard, and gardens and local fincas still provide most of the food for those out in the country. But as the TV brings with its intense stare the message of a "modern", urbanized, prepackaged lifestyle, fewer and fewer people appreciate the surrounding land of plenty. I search for insights on how to kill the creature who dominates Panama´s sticky nights.

A series of reactionary essays written shortly after 9-11, Barbara Kingsolver´s ´Small Wonder´is full of passionate reflections about the world, the environment, and peace. The fire within me burns more strongly these days, inflamed by this book as well as the events unfolding around me. Some of these things are beyond control - the ongoing fighting in the Middle East, the daily realization of a world of inevitable inequalities. Others, such as the local fight in my site between a few locals and the owners of the nearby resort, are becoming more within reach as I learn about the area and the people involved. I have to keep reminding those around me that I am not here to fight, but to establish good working relationships, to be diplomatic, and to encourage communication between the community, local agencies, and other outside groups such as the owners of the resort. This is my goal for the next two years, and with a firey spirit, I prepare myself to entire the lucha for peace.

Chocolate-brown eyes question my every step. What am I doing here? I can give the textbook answer: to raise environmental consciousness on a grassroots level, through projects in environmental education and youth groups, ecotourism, and sea turtle conservation. In theory, these ideas and projects are well-developed. However, how do I explain this to the eight-year-old who curiously inquires why I traveled far to visit her pueblo for the next two years? This week I am beginning to learn the value of building relationships, bridging the gap of language and culture, a sometimes frustratingly slow process. Hours will be spent talking idly about the weather, moments of misunderstanding and awkwardness will pass, and ultimately I will be able to call Los Positos my home. I am in Panama to be an ambassador of peace, and perhaps teach a few things along the way. I am already in debt to these people for the amount I myself have learned.

(The photo was taken during a day at Isla Taboga, and island near Panama City, during a brief vacation before arriving to my site)

It´s about a twenty-minute walk from my technical class in the rainforest, up the gigantic hill through Santa Clara, to my host family´s little blue house. This morning, I stuck out my tongue to catch the salty drops of sweat that cascaded down my face and dripped from my nose, drenching my clothes in minutes. Ducking into the house with a quick "Buenas!" to greet the family, I ran into my room to change, attempting to avoid the comments about how red my face was from the hike. Before the door closed completely, my host mother beckoned me, and as I poked my head out, I was greeted by a large, naked, recently plucked chicken that just this morning was running and squawking contentedly around the yard. The laughter of my host mother gave away my shocked expression, and soon the entire family was gathered around to watch my reaction to this odd, somewhat disturbing sight.

As I learn more about the people of Panama, and the work I will be doing, I am increasingly excited about the next two years. The last two weeks of training were a blur, as a small group of us were temporarily relocated to a site near the beach for more specific cultural and technical training. I especially enjoyed technical week, journeying to Isla Iguana- a protected island surrounded by coral reefs, Isla Canas- an island known for its "arribatas", when hundreds of sea turtles come to nest in a night, Pedasi- a chill surfing town where we learned about ecotourism and mangrove reforestation, and Playa Venua - the gorgeous, laid-back surfing beach where we spent our free weekend.

I await my first visit, next week, to my site in Los Positos with great anticipation.

Hola! Finally a few minutes at a computer in Chorrera...We have a day in town today for meetings and limited time for shopping, etc. It´s a nice break from the heat, humidity and family in Santa Clara. There are 3 brothers (9, 13, 14) in my family, and their attention (especially from the 9 year old) is constant. It´s tiring to speak Spanish right now, but I´m anticipating a time when I´ll not only be able to understand people in my family and the community, but respond coherently with full sentences! Tech and language training are intense, 4 hour sessions, long, but necessary. So far, an enjoyable yet overwhelming experience!