The Yearning/Craving

KRAMER: Do you ever yearn?
GEORGE: Yearn? Do I yearn?
KRAMER: I yearn.
GEORGE: You yearn.
KRAMER: Oh, yes. Yes, I yearn. Often, I...I sit...and yearn. Have you yearned?
GEORGE: Well, not recently. I craved. I crave all the time, constant craving...but I haven't yearned.

That last line from George about sums up my feelings pretty, pretty good about being away from American food for 14 months. I’m not going to lie, at times it has been difficult, but I’ve never yearned. Just constant craving. With that in mind, here are some things that I’ve craved:

My Mom’s Homemade Chicken Pot Pie: It might even been better reheated.

My Aunt Randy’s Fresh Green Beans: Boy, I’m going to miss these at Thanksgiving.

The Baconator: Greatest sandwich ever? Just kidding, I’ve never had one of these before.

Colasessano Pepporoni Roll: Fresh out of the oven. Covered in sauce and cheese. Mmmmm.

Pad Thai: Preferably from Thai Tanic in DC.

Arby’s 5 for 5 Roast Beef: Yes, I know they cut it down to 4 for 5, but this is my list. So it’s 5 for 5.

My Aunt Rai’s Mashed Potatoes: Whipped perfectly, always. Another thing I’ll miss at Thanksgiving.

A Juicy Steak: At this point, I would take about anything.

A Spicy …

…you know what, I better quit before my craving turns into yearning.

The One Year Left

One of my favorite moments from the Larry Bird SportsCentury – and there are a lot of them – is when Billy Cunningham, the coach of the 76ers of the time asked Red Auerbach, the general manger of the Boston Celtics, why he drafted Larry Bird when Auerbach knew that Bird was not going to join the Celtics until the following year. Red responded simply, “do you know how short of a time period one year is?” Of course, it turned out perfectly for the Celtics. Bird joined them the next year. The Celtics had at the time the biggest turnaround in NBA history. Bird won three MVPs, three championships and went down in history as one of the five greatest players ever.

What does this have to do with me? Well, I can now use the Auerbach quote because I have one year left in Panama. It fits the situation, right? Well, it does in my book.

With one year down, I have to say I have enjoyed my time greatly. And I am looking forward to the possibilities that the second year could hold in store.

With that in mind, it is likely that I won’t be updating my blog quite as much during the next year. Why? Well, because this coming year might not be as (mis)adventurous as the past year. Being more familiar with the territory and repeating a lot of the same things, I likely won’t be repeating the same stories. Plus, I’m not a good enough writer to put a different spin on things and make them more interesting. But who knows. The next year might be even more interesting.

Stay tuned.

The Despadida

Once again, I am going to spotlight my friend, Franco. However, this will be the last time, as this past Saturday, I went back to his community (along with some other volunteers) for his going away party or as they say in Spanish, his despadida.

Franco was one of the first actual volunteers in the field that I got to know. He came in a year ahead of me, where he also lived in the same region I do. Having much in common, we became fast friends. Things got off to a fast start when during culture week, I, along with some other new volunteers, helped Franco carry a pig over to his site. He planned to use the next year to fatten up the pig and then carve it up for his going away party.

So I couldn’t miss the despadidad. I mean, quid pro quo. You don’t help someone carry a pig and not get a couple slices, right?

That brings us to this past Saturday. We made it to Franco’s site in the early afternoon just before the rain arrived. Franco, anxious to get to the party, decided it would be a good idea to walk in the rain. So that meant we had to go down this in the rain:


I somehow managed to slide halfway down it without getting that muddy. A miracle, really.

From there the party’s festivities picked up. The pig was cut up and delicious. There was some dancing and a general festive atmosphere. All the while, the rain continued. The party broke up a little past dark (there is no electricity at Franco’s site) so us gringos headed back to his place. And that’s when things got a bit nuts.

By this time, the trail leading back to Franco’s home was a complete mess. When we made it back to his house, we were covered and mud and looked like we just spent the weekend at Woodstock.

But it was all in good fun. I’m going to miss hanging out with Franco, even if he thinks soccer is the best sport. It’s kind of odd when a friend of yours down here leaves, because they go back to life in the states, while you’re left trying to fill the void.

But enough self loathing. Franco’s got a bright future ahead of him. Good luck, buddy.