In the past few weeks, my life has changed from basking in the tranquility of my little house in the country to tackling a set of hurdles on the way to fulfilling a new role.  The first jump was moving from my site, pop 400 to Chiriquí's capital, David, pop 100,000.  During the first couple of days in my new "city" apartment, we hosted 14+ people over the course of two nights.  Life has settled down a bit since then, and I enjoy the occasional visitor.

Training for the role of Regional Leader of Chiriquí has been fun, since I have a month of overlap with the current RL, Liz.  Thus, we share a house and job responsibilities for awhile during a time of adjustment for us both.  This month I've visited several agencies in town, traveled to see four out of seven of the new volunteers in the province, and done a little more paperwork than I'm used to doing.

Finally, I'm proud to say that I finished my first marathon last Sunday!  Looking at the results, I'm happy to have finished 14th in the female division, with a time of 4:11:32.  It was a fun race, and a nice cloudy morning, although raining for the last few miles!  The first day of recovery was rough, but today I can say I'd do another in the future!  I heard a rumor they give prize money to the top 12 finishers in each division, so I have a goal to shoot for next year!  Thanks to all those who were supportive.

Next on the list is tackling the grad school entrance exam and applications, along with a solid waste/recycling project in towen and other RL duties.  It should be a busy few months.  I'm looking forward to a month vacation to the States over Christmas.  In the meantime, in Panama there remains a new adventure to be tackled daily.  Saludos!

Today I walked into a bookstore and felt deeply apprehensive.  The anxiety brewed; a mix of espresso and the overwhelming amount of knowledge around me.  Realizing my state of relative poverty, I questioned my recent choices, contrasting my lifestyle to that being pawned by the bookstore.

 b

At times, cultural idiosyncrasies I learned to appreciate while living in the campo reinvent themselves as sources of anxiety.  For example, in the campo, waiting for two hours for transportation is acceptable.  Few transportation options exist, so arriving late is normal.  On the contrary, in Panama City, waiting a devastating two hours inside a taxi (in a rainstorm with the window open for visibility) going to a dentist appointment is unacceptable. Especially when I must spend my day’s salary on the fare.  Then, arriving to the dentist’s office late, I find the dentist has gone home.  Instead of returning to Chiriquí, I must spend another day waiting for an appointment. The waiting leads me to the bookstore, where I spend exorbitant amounts of money on coffee and gaze at pretty things I can’t afford.

  A deeper anxiety underlies my decision to stay in Panama another year.  Being in the bookstore unearths stresses emerging from being broke and intellectually starved.  Lately, interminable tasks eat away at time usually spent on reading interesting books.  During days spent speaking in Spanish out in the countryside, and nights spent alone, intellectual conversations are rare. I miss parts of the lifestyle in the US: coffee shops, bookstores, hot showers and other luxuries that the average American enjoys daily.  More than these simple luxuries, however, I miss events like those advertised on the posters in front of me: jazz concerts, charity events, photography contests, yoga classes and lectures led by people with lots of letters after their names. These things exist in Panama City to a degree, but I don’t have the time or money to enjoy them during my infrequent visits to the City.  My insatiable thirst for caffeinated beverages is only a symptom of my craving for intellectual life.

  The bookstore with its enticing books about sustainable architecture, novels by Isabelle Allende and Paulo Cuelho, world atlases and travel guides, does not sadden me.  On the contrary, I wish I could stay here, page through the books and sip coffee interminably.  I feel apprehensive because soon I will return to my solitary life in Chiriquí, where I may be thoughtlessly busy for over a year.  I worry the time spent and personal sacrifices made may not be worth the outcome.  The deep roots of this apprehensiveness flag the need stop and ponder my decisions.  What better place to think than over a cappuccino at a bookstore?

b

Written for the Bajareque Times:

“Como estas?” “Bien!”  “COMO ESTAS?” “BIEN!”

The shouts of forty adolescents resounded throughout Alto Boquete May 29th through June 1^st as the first annual Panama Verde Regional camp in Chiriquí was underway.  The Panama Verde Association, in cooperation with several Peace Corps Volunteers, led the camp, “Leaving Tracks,” held at the Franciscan Center in Alto Boquete.  Forty young adults arrived to Boquete from five rural and semi-rural communities in Chiriquí, including Los Pocitos, Alanje, Piedra de Candela, Paja de Sombrero and Bajo Chiriquí.  It was the first trip to Boquete for many of the participants.  “One of the kids in my group hadn’t left the community [Bajo Chiriquí] for five years until I brought him to this camp,” said the Peace Corps Volunteer from Bajo Chiriquí, a community near the Costa Rican Border.  Many young adults in Panama cannot afford to travel even short distances to experience other parts of their country.  The camp, sponsored by the Panama Verde Association, The Rotary Club of Boquete, Café Eleta and Café Almir, gave the young adults a chance to visit a beautiful part of the country, meet other youth from around the province, and participate in educational lectures and community service projects.

 The Panama Verde Association is run by a dynamic, youthful set of staff and volunteers who focus on youth leadership, social stewardship and environmental conservation.  The Association began twelve years ago, when a Peace Corps Volunteers started a youth group in a rural community in Panama.  Since then, the Association has expanded to over 30 youth groups spread throughout the country.  It is currently the only organization in Panama to focus exclusively on helping young adults develop crucial skills such as leadership and political activism that will allow them to become the future leaders of Panama, and have the environmental conscience to help protect Panama’s fragile environment. 

 Besides having fun, the primary objectives of the camp, “Leaving Tracks”, were to strengthen the network of Panama Verde groups in the province, to participate in community service activities in Boquete and to develop projects to carry out in the respective communities of each group.  These objectives were met with the help of local interest groups, including ReaL Boquete, who gave a presentation about the importance of recycling, and ANAM, who educated the participants about reforestation.  The youth performed community service work in the ANAM tree nursery, clearing the area for future planting.  Other activities included a debate about the environmental impacts of hydroelectric projects, the development of community projects and group problem solving games.  The first annual Panama Verde Regional camp was a success, and we now have a strong network within the Chiriquí province to guarantee more events in the future! 

Upon arrival to my house here in Los Pocitos, I was relieved to find the 40-ft tall mango tree in the backyard still heavy-laden with its luscious fruits.  In fact, the mango season had just begun, and the tree had so many softball-sized mangos that I was afraid that this year one might actually make it through the zinc roof during its descent.  Only a 15-ft bamboo pole can reach the lowermost branches, so instead of knocking them down, I wait to hear, and feel, the “BOOM”: the impact of a ripe mango on the dusty earth.  I rush out to seek out the freshly fallen mango amongst the graveyard of the Fallen, which are already being consumed by the bees and ants.  Breakfast is batido de mango con leche.

Tonight marks the first rain in several weeks.  It is hopefully the beginning of a delayed and long-awaited rainy season.  The past couple of days, thunder clouds rumbled by, but produced nothing but noise here on the coast.  This afternoon, I felt the first cool breeze in ages before I noticed the tiny puffs of dust that were lifted up by the first raindrops.  Then, the pitter-patter of water on the zinc became noticeable over the sound of the strong breeze that rattled the roof.  I felt the dense air of the heat and humidity be lifted from my shoulders as the breeze lifted it away and the rain pounded it to the ground.

 In addition to the mangos and the rain, today is even more exciting because the first soursop fruit from the tree in my backyard matured and was captured successfully before it could fall to the ground into a sad heap of its own delicious juices, a fate to which the first few fruits succumbed.  Soursop is my favorite fruit for several reasons:

1. The white, slippery fruit inside is very sweet, creamy and delicious, having some semblance to ice cream, but a bit slimier.
2. Soursop grow large, sometimes bigger than a basketball (today’s was more of a medicine-ball variety),
3. The fruit has an awkward shape, not being completely round, but more soft and lumpy looking, green, and with dull, soft, short spines spaced out intermittently all over the surface of the peel.  It looks like something out of a Dr. Suess book.

Soursop is a tropical fruit, and the first time I tried it was in Australia during a tour of an organic fruit farm.  The farmer was an aging hippie type who lived a subsistence life on his tropical fruit farm, on which he grew tropical fruits from around the world.  The tour was impressive to me, first because I discovered the wonderful soursop fruit, among others, but more so because I was immensely intrigued by the simple lifestyle of the fruit farmer and his wife. 

Continuing on with the fruit discussion, another tropical fruit obsession of mine are the lychee and rambutan fruits.  Here they are called mamones.  There are momones and momon chinos.  As far as I can decipher, the momones are the equivalent of the English word, “lychee” and mamon chinos are like rambutans.  The momon chinos are the juicier, better variety for the following reasons:

1. Mamon chinos are absolutely covered with long, soft spines, green when unripe, which turn yellow, then deep red as they ripen. 
2. They are fun to eat.  You pop open the fairly tough spiny outside, and get squirted by juice unless you know the technique.  Inside there is a slimy, perfectly round seed covered in a thin layer of sweet, transparent fruit, resembling an eyeball in size and texture.  Suck the fruit off the seed.  Spit out seed.  Fun.
3. Regular mamones are stringier and less juicy, leaving your mouth feeling slightly dry.  Mamon chinos are irresistibly juicy and grow in large bunches, making them easy to obtain in large quantities. When I was home in the States, I discovered Lychee juice, sold in a huge Asain wholesale supermarket.  Score.  Further investigation unearthed loads of lychee and rambutan products available in the US of A, a very untropical place for various reasons that I will not describe at the moment.  Other products include lychee flavored gummy candy, also obtained at the Asian warehouse in St. Paul, and freeze-dried rambutans, available at Trader Joe’s.  The cashier at the Asian warehouse promised an import of fresh lychees at some point during the growing season (around August, I imagine), but I doubt the quality of these fragile imports to non-tropical areas. 

The fruit of the tropics is one of the many incentives to stick around Panama for one more year…

Ahh...the comforts of home.  The view out the patio window paints a snowy landscape.  I tap away on my sleek new computer, sip on a cup of Cafe de Eleta coffee and bask in the feeling of relaxed muscles after a hot shower.  It is almost enough comfort to draw me in, enough relaxation, movies, CNN and conversations about the latest campaign news and de moda clothing styles, to make me forget about the other part of my life that awaits back in Panama.

Yet half of my mind is constantly there, following the daily routines of my neighbors, activities of my friends, weather patterns, the maturity level of my mango tree.  I appreciate the comforts of home and the visits with family and friends.  It is refreshing to be here, knowing that I will be going back, for at least 3 more months, if not an extension of an entire year.  Adapting to life in a new place takes time and effort, and now that I am adapted to life in Panama, it will be difficult to leave, whenever that time may come.

I am conducting a social experiment.  I want to know what you consider necessity, to define a standard of living.  Obviously, it depends on climate, etc (in MN we need HEAT!), but describe to me a basic setting where all your needs are met so you are not only surviving, but thriving.  Shoot me an email with your thoughts!

"But all other pleasures and possessions pale into nothingness before service which is rendered in a spirit of joy." - Ghandi

My companions and I have two weeks to fundraise about $2,ooo from local businesses in order to hold a youth camp, "Dejando Huellas", for about 50 youths in the Chiriquí province. I spent yesterday in Boquete, hitting up the local Rotary Club, Alcaldía and local supermarkets, and am in David today to finish up some similar tareas. There are few deadlines with this job, but this camp needs to be held before classes begin mid-March. It needs to happen, along with various other things that need to happen before mid-March, when not only classes begin, but I leave the country for a visit home. Deadlines naturally involve stress, something that I have been lucky not to experience for awhile, since the country goes on hold for the vacation months of November - February.

I reflect on this stress and wonder if it is taking away from the joy of my daily life. In essence, it is not, but there are other more significant traits that may take away from the "joy of service" that I strive for. Since my job is virtually self-directed, not only from day to day, but even to the extent of project selection, stress and lack of joy can only be blamed on myself. Stress can be a good thing, in moderation, since it is a good motivator. However, it is necessary to have a balance, or stress will start wearing on the mind, body and soul, which is bound to reflect outwardly on how one reacts to the world, and thus, how the world reacts to said individual. As of this moment, the stress is good, but I look back to life in the States and wonder if it is possible to keep such a balance.

Moving on, I have found that it is not stress, but pride that most negatively affects the "joy of service". Pride slows learning to the point of making true learning virtually impossible, and interferes with potential and current relationships. It can be a mask for insecurity. For someone involved in a service position, humility is absolutely necessary. I write these statments to remind myself of their validity. I look to the next few months as being productive, because my end date mid-July is looming. My number one goal is to lose the mask of pride and spend as much time as possible in my community. Now that the toughest periods of language acqusition, establishing myself in my community, adapting to a new culture and making new friends are over, I have the next few months to indulge in the joy of service, not without a little stress to get the projects done!

Alto Algorrobo, Chiriqui - A mud house emerges from the red clay earth like a natural geological formation in the deforested hills. Sparse trees provide little shade from the rays of sun that lick the rocky ground, practically still steaming from the drenching rains that departed a few weeks prior. Plodding barefoot up the path with calloused feet, colorfully dressed Ngobe-Bugle women and their sweet, smiling children greet us shyly as we hike up and down steep hills to the local school. Some of the children hike for two hours up and down the steep hills of the coregidora every day to get to the local school where they receive their nutritious crema y galletas for snack and later a mid-day lunch. A friend of mine recounts how in her community nearby, the kids will eat one vitamin-enriched animal cracker for a snack and take the rest of the small government-subsidized packet home to share with the rest of her hungry family.



The poverty in these communities contrasts starkly with the relative wealth of the community I live in, just a few hours away. In contrast to the rich volcanic soil in Alanje, Chiriqui, which provides abundant harvests of rice, beans and corn every year, the ground here is rocky and full of red clay. Some other Volunteers and I debate whether the poor soil here is a consequence of past slash-and-burn agriculture and deforestation, or a natural phenomenon. Either way, the poor soil quality is directly correlated to the poverty of the people in this area on the border of the comarca Ngobe-Bugle, Veraguas, and Chiriquí.



A group of Volunteers and I have been invited to give lectures in two local schools about reproductive health and family planning. This basic education is currently lacking in many areas of the country, since teaching such sensitive topics is up to the teachers to decide, and many ignore it all together. During one lecture to a group of adult padres de familia, many women cover their faces in embarrasment while some of the men snicker and shift in their desks, uncomfortably. However, after a few minutes of our candid talk about how babies are made, many in the room are interested and some even dare to ask questions and thank us for this important education. Although not my main assignment, this event was more personally rewarding than saving a few turtles every now and then. The gift of even the most basic education can change lives.

Some recent pics...

Diving near las
Islas Secas, Pacific Coast of Panama

Painting for conservation, Panama Verde youth group

An Olive Ridley hatchling

Isla Coiba

...See more pics at http://richmond.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2034986&l=1a6e3&id=15802317

A conversation with my (real or imagined?) Parasite

Oh Parasite! Reveal thyself!
I know you are in there you sneaky amoeboid
Slyly skirting the microscope's probing eye
Slithering into the oblivion of muddy latrines

Oh Parasite! Give me some peace!
I plead with you as my stomach bulges
And my guts squish and groan apocalyptically
Can't we work out a deal? You take some you give some?

"But that goes against my nature"
You say as you suck on those succulent nutrients
That I selflessly provide al gusto suyo
"Just keep it coming and no one will get hurt"

Oh Parasite! Depart thyself!
I threaten as my hand reaches weakly for the phone
And the med office is dialed once again
My cry is desperate: Will you ever be gone for good?

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.

There is no average day in my life. I have 2-4 scheduled events that I must attend every week (unless there is something more important to do), which include teaching environmental ed classes and holding community meetings about conservation-related activities. The rest is up in the air, and the flexibility of each day is at the same time exciting and frightening. I was essentially dropped into a community with a general assignment (conservation), with nothing but a sense of responsibility to drive me each day, the only supervision being quarterly reports and meetings.

I own a day planner, not to organize my numerous activities, but to fulfill my Americanized insticts of productivity, and to write something down each day. If this didn't happen, there is a chance that little would be accomplished. Ever. This being said, an average day in Panama may proceed as follows (or be completely different):

6:00 am - wake up with the rising of the sun and noise of screaming neighbor kids or screeching howler monkeys, and debate whether to use the next hour (the only coolish hour of the day) to exercize or continue sleeping

7:00 am - shower and breakfast

8:00 am - read or leave for David city to run errands and visit agencies (once or twice a week)

9:00 am - make lesson plan for environmental ed classes, plan task for current projects, clean the house, phone calls, etc.

10:00 am - teach a class for a couple hours (twice a week)

12:00 pm - lunch

1:00 pm - nap

2:00 pm - visit community members or do work around the house and garden, attend meetings or visit the beach, depending on the weather

6:00 pm - dinner

7:00 pm - darkness falls. alone time reading, playing guitar, listening to music, texting friends, or staring into space, depending on my mood.

For a Type-Aish American, there are some moments when a semblance of structure and routine is sanity, although the hammock is a force that can be difficult to fight.

This is the lifestyle of rural Panama: entirely dependent on the seasons, the weather, the family, and neighborhood gossip. Falling into pace with the culture is to leave the day planner behind and succumb to the forces of nature, whether it be the rain, the heat, a sick kid in a nearby town or the lack of running water for the day. Daily life revolves around these details that become the center of conversation of the day. -"Qué calor, ¿verdad?"
-"Si, va a caller el agua en la tarde..."

The future is a vague hope of winning the Sunday lottery and the past is what got you to the present. Yes often means no, and the word no is simple never used as a response to a request. Mañana may mean tomorrow or next year. Ahora may mean in a few minutes or later this week. The vagueness of these words exemplifies the daily "routine": do what you have to do to make the plata, fulfill your family role, and spend the rest of the day as Dios quiere. Y mañana? Who knows.

This piece was written as a bit of advice to fellow international development workers. If you find yourself confused reading the following, consider yourself invited to Panama for clarification.

***

The dawn breaks gloriously, bright rays of sunshine penetrating blindingly through the miniscule holes in the concrete-block windows. Howler monkeys sound their strangled "ooooah ooooah" cry from nearby, blending harmoniously with screeching rooster crows. It's 6:04am. Just another day in Paradise. You stretch at the thought of a new day and all its potential of simple pleasures that you now recognize with greater depth and appreciation because you are a Volunteer for peace. Today is especially bright because the Big Town is calling. It's an Agency day.

Coffee perculating perfectly over the steady blue gas flame, you rub your sleepy eyes and gaze at the abundant selection of stainged T-shirts heaped hazardously over the suitcase/closet. Goo!* Suddenly, the spotlessness of the day comes crashing down. There is nothing to wear.

Heart beating frantically with the surge of adrenaline, you attack the offending Pile with the zealousness of a crazed chicken clawing for a tasty bicho. The search reveals. Chaco's caked with foul-smelling, unidentified matter, zipoff pant/shorts stained with orangy campo mud, and an ultralight, sweat-wicking, bug-repellent-incorporated sports shirt torn and shredded by a Panamanian-style washing machine/electrocution device. The only vaina left unscathed by the elements is the swearing-in ceremony outfit, really only fit for a funeral. This will not do.

What to do? Before running off to the nearest payphoe to pedir from your parents a new wardrobe from the latest REI catalog, I ask you to consider Going Native. It's cheap, relatively easy, and FUN! Like, seriously, why remain in the 'gringo tourist' category after all the hard work of establishing yourself as the 'la gringa loca quien vive por alla'?

The benefits of Going Native are endless. Respect, for one. People start kissing your cheeck and saying, "ayja la machina, se ve muy bonita hoy." That's in addition to a ten-fold increase of requests to learn organic gardening and worm box techniques.

Entonces? Como puedo yo 'ir nativo'? Facilito, chiquillo. Below is an illustrated guide, complete with an easy-to-understand currency converter ($1 USD = 2.0 Cervesa Panama (CP)). Time to get glam. Cafe duran Frappucino!

That's 52 CP out of your monthly CP budget (estimated: 100 CPs/month). Not bad. Plus, everyone knows that the best accessory is that monte-slashin' figure you've earned. CPs spent on fashion frio y duro es vale la pena, and preserves your svelte figure from the damage of too many Panama bien fria. Chuleta! Time to hit up the almacenes.

*Thanks, A. Sherm

“Obligatory quote: ties the literary work together by linking a deep and often spiritual thought of a person (a menudo ya muerto) with the nonsensical rambling that fills the remainder of the document.” -Anonymous*

Flashback: Scrunched up on the “hump” seat of the bus, I am buried by a number of my own recently-acquired possessions, plus a leg or two of the sick, wailing child that continually squirms off the lap of the large woman next to me. She comprises the squishier, more comfortable half of the emparedado de Angela. The hard, unforgiving, window coated with peeling semi-transparent black plastic, rattles against my right arm ceaselessly. El DeeJay directly behind me attempts to blend a grainy, cell-phone version of James Blunt’s “You’re Beautiful” with the radio’s “Dormir Juntitos” while he serenades me in the ear...”yo bootiful”...only pausing to yell at his friend who happens to be seated directly in front of me.

Surrounded. I close my eyes and take a few measured deep breaths. Suddenly, in my head I begin dictating the scene to myself, and soon I see myself from the perspective of the gallotes that cruise over the bus. There I am, my little self below, a little dot in the mayhem of all that is Panama – and I see that I am smiling. Amazing! Everything looks so distorted from above. The scene that a minute ago had me on the verge of tears is now unbearably comical. Someone’s having a laugh al gusto de nosotros.

Looking back on moments that at the time were frustrating, irritating or even almost unbearable, the humor is now apparent. Sitting (or standing) through endless meetings, being laughed at for saying “sí” to everything I didn’t understand, almost crying over hot soup on a scorching day, waiting at the school for a meeting during a vicious aguacero, waking up to kids peeking in my windows at 6am, my cat getting stolen, diarrhoea explosiva...hilarious!
When the irritation begins to mount, I try to look at the situation from the outside – from the perspective of the construction worker psst-pssting above me, and I write the story in my head, a version to be told over a Panama bien fría. Really, when else in my life will I be suck a rock star? So I flip my hair, stride confidently forward, and I smile.

*Warning: Coffee + wine = creative juices overflowing superflously.

One hundred and seventeen little tortuguitas raced to the dangers of the deep blue ocean during the past month. These baby sea turtles hatched from the first two nests collected this year, and there are two more nests of about 100 eggs each currently incubating happily in the new hatchery. There, they are protected from the crabs, dogs, birds, humans and other predators that are a great risk to these precious lives. The Olive Ridley sea turtle, the predominant species that nests here on playa Barqueta, is in danger of extinction, mostly because of human activities such as poaching and environmental contamination. Volunteers walk (or run) the beach every morning during the rainy nesting season in order to search for recently laid nests that if found are moved to the hatchery to give the little guys a greater chance of survival. It has been estimated that out of every 1,000 sea turtle eggs laid, only one will survive the 15 - 20 years it takes to reach reproductive age. Pobrecitos.

This year our team of conservation volunteers is focusing on refining several processes. First, we hope to keep detailed records of each nest collected, including the amount of time the eggs spend developing before the first turtle pokes its little head through the surface of the sand. This will help us to better coordinate the sea turtle "releases" that are an important part of the educational process. Also, we hope to better organize and develop the ecotourism activities that surround the sea turtles, by advertising more expansively, providing more attractions at the beach, and coordinating with other local interest groups.

In order to expand upon the attractions at the beach while keeping the project educational and sustainable, we are seeking funds for various projects:

1. Posting an educational sign near the hatchery that gives basic information about sea turtles and gives an summary of the conservation activities at Barqueta beach.

2. Developing reproducable posters and educational pamphlets to show during lectures on the beach during the releases and to distrubute to local schools.

3. Making a short documentary about the sea turtle conservation process and playing this video and others pertaining to sea turtle conservation in a designated area near the hatchery in order to educate tourists as well as the general public.

4. Developing and marketing merchandise such as T-shirts and hats with images of sea turtles to sell, with proceeds going towards the project's long-term goals, thus keeping the project sustainable by having a running source of income.

5. Hatchery maintenence and expansion.

YOU CAN HELP!
Follow the link above to contribute to our project! Get involved and we'll keep you updated with photos, news on successful releases, etc. Plus it's a tax-deductable donation. Scroll down to "Panama" and click on the project under my name (the link isn't up yet but should be within the next couple of days). The turtles will thank you :).

The tropical heat was amplified by the fact I was standing on a huge, steaming pile of poo. Literally, it was steaming, as in hot to the touch and radiating upwards as I attacked it with my shovel. Calf-high in horse poo on steroids (aka an organic fertilizer called bocachi), I was happy. The shoveling movements repetetive and soothing to the body and soul, I smiled at my neighbor friend helping me mix the pile. Her little sister of no more than four years gave it a few timid pokes with the shovel and in no time the job was completed.

Considering it costs $20 a sack for chemical fertilizer and anywhere from $0-$1.50 a sack of organic fertilizer (all of the ingredients can be found or purchased locally), I've been pushing the organic variety. Adding in the costs of contamination and dependency the land develops for chemical fertilizer, this locally grown organic fertilizer, bocachi, is the idealistic solution. I'm beginning the revolution poco a poco in the schools, with the students, the one place where there is sometimes have an attentive audience. Plus, we'll have it to use on the new tree nursery and school garden.

All that aside, the revelation that I was happy standing in a pile of poo was made particularly clear due to the dual life I've been living for the past two weeks. Caring for a house of some Americans on the beach at night while working with the locals in town and in school during the day, the contrast between modern luxuries and basic simplicity was pronounced. Having access to high speed internet, washer and dryer, other modern conveniences, and privacy, one would assume that I would be happier here, or at least accomplish more.

Yet, when I'm in my little rural town, I'm surrounded by people, who now consider me a part of their everyday experience. They come over to visit, even when I may want to be alone. They help me when I need it, without being asked or asking for anything in return. They do not know another way of life, racing from one convenience to another in order to cram as many as possible in a day, a slave to a high standard of living. Today, I loved that one of my main tasks was to stick a shovel into a pile of poo and knock it around a little. It was smelly and hot and dirty and real.

This morning, I spent hours getting lost in the internet, accomplishing little but updating a pet project web site (part of me wishes it would have died, like I had thought). I stared at faces of those from far away, and thought about getting in touch with a few. It seems the more time I have in front of the screen, the more lost I become dissociated from reality. I accomplish less of importance and lose sight of priorities, ultimately leading to an unfound feeling of slight depression and frustration. I am glad that my life is no longer that way and it will never be again.

Ten cuidado, convenience can be nothing more than a way to speed through life. Stop and smell the horse poo.

It was si Dios hubiera querido
The aguacero arrived at tres en punto
Panama Verde meeting postponed
for a sunnier afternoon?

A few months ago yo hubiera estado
In the school, sentada, esperando
Worried that I would disappoint - who?

But now as I lay happily in the hammock
Messily making out with a mango
(first of the season)
Regalar-ed during a previous paseo

I feel very content
And much less wet
Since becoming a bit more
*Panameno*

In a few days the travel journal web page I built last year will die. During many hours, I learned the basics about html and web page building in the process of making the unfinished page. It served its purpose, I suppose. Yet, I am sad to see it go. Que va.

Any discomfort from the scorching midday sun was pushed to the back of my mind thanks to the breathtaking beauty of the tropical islands that drifted by as we sliced through the vibrantly blue Caribbean waters off the coast of the province of Bocas del Toro, Panama. During the 3-hour boat ride from Isla Colon to the small indigenous town of Rio Cañas, all I could think of was what may lie beneath the glassy water’s surface: corals, colorful tropical fish, sea turtles?

From March 16-19, four Peace Corps Panama Volunteers and their three community counterparts had the opportunity to accompany Cristina Ordonez from the Caribbean Conservation Corporation (CCC) to Rio Cañas, where she led a hands-on sea turtle conservation seminar. The attendees arrived from various sites on the Pacific coast of Panama, ranging from Isla Cañas in Los Santos, to Puerto Pedregal in Chiriquì. The purpose of the seminar was to train the volunteers and their counterparts in appropriate conservation techniques regarding sea turtle conservation projects. All of the attendees work directly with sea turtle conservation projects in their communities. Upon return to their communities, the volunteers and their counterparts will train other community members involved in sea turtle conservation efforts.

Ordonez, in cooperation with the CCC based out of Gainesville, Florida, has been working in the Ngöbe-Bugle town of Rio Cañas for the past 9 years. There, she conducts night patrols of the 24-km beach in order to analyze the genetics, nesting, and migratory patterns of the three species of sea turtles that nest on the Caribbean coast of Panama: the Leatherback (Dermochelys coriacea), Green turtle (Chelonya midas), and Hawksbill (Eretmochelys imbricata), all of which are in danger of extinction. Over the past 9 years, through educational programs, she has transformed the community into a group of conservationists with a passion for saving the species that frequent the beaches. There are now many community members who help patrol the large beach and collect scientific data that contribute to the conservation project. This is an ideal example of community-based conservation, one that the Peace Corps Volunteers hope to follow in order to set up similar sustainable conservation programs in their communities around the country.

In addition to educating the community members of Rio Cañas about sea turtle conservation, Ordonez and the CCC offer seminars for university students and other volunteers interested in conserving the species. During the 3-day seminar in March, the Peace Corps Volunteers and counterparts received lectures about sea turtle biology, conservation, education techniques, and ecotourism projects. In addition, the attendees were invited on the nightly beach patrols, where important data such as measurements of the animals, number of eggs, and location of nests, are noted for future analysis. March is the first of five months of nesting for the Leatherback sea turtle, the largest of the eight species of sea turtles in the world, on the Caribbean coast of Panama. During two nights of patrols, the attendees took data on eight adult female Leatherbacks who were in the process of laying their eggs on the beach. In the morning, an inventory of the total number of nests was taken. During this time period, about 15 Leatherback sea turtles were arriving to the beach every night to lay their eggs, the largest measuring over five feet long.

The sight of the large, primordial creatures placing their glossy, golf-ball size offerings into the dangerous world was incredible. The mothers breathed heavily, making sounds that one would have expected to hear millions of years ago, during the time of the dinosaurs, an era that the sea turtles have survived. Since only one of 1,000 of the eggs placed into the sand will survive to adulthood, urgent efforts must take place to save the species that are being outrun by their primary predator: the human being. Illegal poaching of the sea turtles and their eggs still takes place, especially in developing countries such as Panama. Increased land and water contamination created by increased population size and economic development also contribute to the decline of the species. Conservation efforts such as those of Ordonez and the Peace Corps Volunteers are crucial in preserving the ecosystems of our world’s oceans.

The first annual Feria de la playa Barqueta was a success! The highlight was a traditional performance by a dance group. The group of kids travels around the country to different events, where they perform four distinct traditional Panamanian dances. Also represented at the fair were artisans who made jewelry, woodworking, dolls, clothing and sweets. Hopefully next year the fair will be bigger and better! After all the hard work to plan the fair, it was worth it to have people ask me when the next fair would be. The event attracted about 400 people, many of which would not have otherwise come to the area. With our efforts to plan the fair and other events, we are slowly defining playa Barqueta as a respected tourist destination!

This weekend I'm off to a sea turtle conservation seminar in Bocas del Toro. Then, next week, I'll have the opportunity to take some notes at the International Feria de David. I'm hoping to make a trip to Colon at the end of the month, to see a different part of the country and enjoy the Caribbean before the rainy season sets it and I begin teaching again. The summer here is at its close, and classes started on Monday. The weather is becoming more humid by the day, and I anxiously await the refreshing rains that will come in May!