(Mis)Adventures of Dylan in Panama

The Finished Odyssey

2010-10-19T07:21:00.000-07:00

So, once again, it has been a long time between takes. But this time, there won't be any promises of future entries. That's because, after a whirlwind last two weeks, I said good to my community, my friends and Panama and returned home to the US of A as I had completed my 27 month service.

That means I'm writing this not from the oppressive humidity of Panama, but from my parents house on a crisp fall day. While I'm not very good at the whole self reflection thing, I do know that my time in Panama was a wonderful experience. Like all things, there were ups and downs, but in the end, it will be something I will always look back on fondly.

My time in Panama was marked with great friendships both with fellow Americans and Panamanians, incredible support from the Peace Corps Panama staff and tremendous times with family and friends when they visited me. If somebody asked me if I would do the Peace Corps again, I think I would have to say no, just because this one was so enjoyable.

Now as I have said goodbye to Panama and start a new chapter in my life, lets take one more walk down memory lane:

My two favorite kids

The daily catch from the port in my community

Mud and Crocs

Kite day

Carnival

My room

My cousin Ryan's visit

Herrera Baseball Game

11,339 feet

My Group - 62

Visit from my sisters

My parents in Panama

My World Map

Kuna Yala

Thanks for the memories, Panama.

The Time In Between

2010-08-05T09:01:00.000-07:00

As you can tell, I haven’t written an entry in quite some time. The other day I was talking with my mom and she was wondering when I was going to post something new. I told her I wasn’t sure. She didn’t seem pleased with that answer. And since I granted her power of attorney over me when I left, I thought it would be best not to upset her. I wouldn’t want to up and disappear with only two months before I return home.

So what’s been happening? Well, back in late June I went home for my cousin’s wedding. To sum up the whole trip in one word, I would go with amazing. The wedding was at the Outer Banks so friends and family converged there for a week of beach going along with the wedding. From the food to family camaraderie, it was just a fantastic week. Everything associated with the wedding was just beautiful. Oh yeah, and a great time.

Here's the bride and groom:

From there, I rode back with my parents to West Virginia and spent a couple of days at home. I was able to see some friends and family that I hadn’t seen in over a year, which was great.

I returned back to Panama in early July and spent the month at my site. With many things going on over the final months, it was great to spend time in my community before everything started to get real busy.

One of those things is earlier this week I had my COS conference. The conference brings together everybody one last time together for a conference where we decide what our next step is, i.e. whether we want to close service or extend. For me, it stood for Close of Service. And it means I’m going to be coming home in early October. I’m very excited for that.

But first I have two months left down here. And I’m looking forward to that remaining time.

The Jumbo

2010-05-27T08:33:00.000-07:00

You may remember me writing a long time ago about buying a pair of Crocs shortly after I arrived in Panama. Because of the rain and mud at the time, I thought it was a practical purchase. Of course, that doesn’t mean I didn’t immediately regret buying the things. Sorry Croc lovers, but they are ugly.

Things changed by the middle of December as we entered the dry season here in Panama. And I quickly realized that there was no need to be wearing the Crocs. So I started examining the footwear of the guys in my community. And soon, I came to find that the majority of them were wearing a type of sandals called Jumbo. I was hooked immediately.

Shortly there after, I went to buy my first pair at the local store. They were $2 bucks. And I was in love. I started wearing them all the time, after all they were comfortable AND cool.

The only hang up is they aren’t made of the finest things and break quite easily. Over the past 16 months, I’ve had to buy four pairs. But this last pair I bought has been good for over four months.

And it’s just not me that loves them. When my brother-in-law was coming to visit, I told my sister to not worry about bringing a pair of sandals for him. He’ll be getting a pair of Jumbos. She quickly fired back that he doesn’t wear sandals. I assured her that he would like the Jumbos.

So of course what happened when we arrived in my community? We went down to the store and he got himself a pair of Jumbos. He took them back to the States with him. And you can bet I will be too. Multiple pairs.

The Mural

2010-05-05T07:23:00.000-07:00

Almost every visitor to my house has had the same complaint- it is bare and boring. Trust me, I would like to spruce it up some, but between limited creativity and limited resources I just don’t have many options. So for well over a year, I had a pretty plain house.

That changed when my sisters and brother-in-law came to visit in February. As I mentioned previously, my brother-in-law is a very talented artist (check out the site, he has a ton of new stuff). That was step one in the equation. Step two was I had some leftover paint from the world map project I did, so there was that. And what do you get when you put the two together? Well, of course, an awesome mural.

The centerpiece of the mural is Dan’s take on the devil masks that are made in a nearby community. Also, there are many things that are prevalent in my community: fish, nets, ants (I have a ton of them!) and boats.

When I went to bed the night Dan painted this, he had nothing started. However, by the time I woke up the next morning, there it was, done. I was pretty blown away by it. And nearly every visitor to my house has been too, including some kids who have just stared at it for a while. However, my favorite was a neighbor who stopped by, liked it, and asked me when I could paint one at their house. Yeah, I’ll get right on that.

The Hike

2010-04-20T09:13:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago, I received an event invite from my friend Haven asking me if I wanted to hike Volcán Barú. Only knowing a little about Barú, I looked up some more information on it. The two biggest things I found out were it is the highest point in Panama at 11,398 ft and if it is a clear morning you can see both the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans. So I said why not and I signed up.

The plan was to meet in David around 6:30 on Friday. From there we would take a bus to Boquette and make our way to the entrance of the hike. Since the hike takes six to eight hours, our plan was to start hiking around 11pm and reach the top around daybreak.

With that, our group of Peace Corps Volunteers and Panamanians that numbered 18 took off for the top. The first thing I noticed was how much cooler it was in the mountains. It’s not that I don’t know this, but after living at sea level in the hottest part of the country you tend to forget these things.

So our group was off. The trail leading to the top was 15km, very rocky and, of course, sharply uphill. At about 2am, I started to get a bit tired. It seemed that taking breaks was actually hurting me, because my body felt like it wanted to lie down and go to sleep. At that point, I decided no more breaks. Other than changing batteries on my flashlight for a couple minutes, I managed to do that. By the time I reached the summit, though, I was pretty worn out. And it was 4:30am.

I decided to try to catch a little sleep. I set an alarm for 6am, which was the time the sun would come up. Well, I didn’t make it to 6am, as at 5:30 I woke up shaking like a leaf on a tree from the cold and wind. But by this time, it was becoming lighter and others were making their way to the top.

It seemed like it happened all at once, because at one point I looked out in the distance and there were both oceans, separated by a narrow piece of land. It was quite cool. What’s ironic is, despite being in Panama for 21 months that was the first time I saw the Atlantic (or Caribbean).

These pictures don’t really do it justice of what it was like to be at the summit. It literally felt like we were on top of the Bocas Islands.

Slowly, the clouds rolled in and you couldn’t see out in the distance anymore. I slept for another hour or so. We headed back down around 8:30am. To me, that was the worst part of the trip. The constant downhill rocky path killed my knees. Where I didn’t stop much on the way up, I stopped like every 15 minutes on the way down. Needless to say, it was a long trip back.

It even started to rain with about 2km left, which added to the the misery. Eventually, though, I did make it to the bottom in quite a bit of pain.

But, looking back, it was quite an experience. Just one I never want to do again.

The Azuero Classic

2010-04-06T09:05:00.000-07:00

Over the course of my life, I have attended hundreds of sporting events. Some memorable, others mostly forgettable. But two weeks ago, I attended the Azuero Classic and it immediately became one of the most memorable events I’ve attended.

What is the Azuero Classic? It is a baseball game between Herrera (the province I live in) and Los Santos (the province directly below Herrera). These two provinces make up the Azuero Peninsula here in Panama. Naturally, because of the proximity of the two provinces, there is quite the rivalry between the two teams.

So that’s the background for the game. The game took place in the Los Santos stadium, which is in Las Tablas, about an hour bus ride for me. For the game, I was joined by four other Peace Corps Volunteers who live in the Azuero. One calls Herrera his home, while the other three live in Los Santos. Additionally we were joined by some community memebers of the volunteers that live in Los Santos. Here’s a photo of the group:

Now we have that out of the way, I feel like this would be a good time to mention that the adult beverages at the game were 65 cents, so the whole crowd was fired up as the first pitch was thrown. None moreso then the respective bands fo each team, who would play when the other team is pitching.

Los Santos jumped on the board first with a towering two run home run that ended up in a graveyard (not exactly McCovey Cove) over the left field wall. With that, the Los Santos crowd exploded and my Herrera friend and I were on the receiving end of some Spanish taunting.

The top half of the next inning saw Herrera put guys on first and second with no outs. However, the Herrera batter lined out to the first baseman who then tagged the guy caught of first before firing to second to get that runner. That’s right, a triple play! Again, the home crowd exploded and I hung my head as I had a lot more things yelled at me that I didn’t understand.

Everything was at a fever pitch when the game turned on its heels in the bottom of the third. With a Los Santos runner on third, the Herrera pitcher uncorked a wild pitch that went to the backstop. Despite no throw, the Los Santos guy went crashing into the Herrera pitcher. And with that, pandemonium everywhere. The Herrera pitcher started swinging at the Los Santos guy and both benches emptied. You can see the brawl here.

But it gets better. The Herrera-Los Santos fans in the stands started to get into it. Since we were right on the boarder of the two fan bases, we got to see beers and beer cans go flying at each other. Eventually the police came up into the stands to calm everybody down.

After about a twenty minute delay, the game resumed. It was hard to match the intensity after that and Los Santos eased its way to a 5-1 win. Leaving the stadium, my friend and I received some more good natured Spanish trash talking. It was quite enjoyable; I just wish I had a good comeback.

The Worlds Collide

2010-03-10T08:14:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite moments from George on Seinfeld was him having to deal with his two separate worlds – Independent George and Relationship George – coming together. No one wanted to see Liar and Bawdy George die, did they? Over the past 20 months, the quirky concept rang true with me. I had two separate worlds – Peace Corps Panama Dylan and United States Dylan. Outside of a brief visit by my cousin, the worlds never collided.

That’s not to say, unlike George, I didn’t want them to, they just hadn’t had the chance … until this past month.

As I mentioned prior, first my sisters and brother-in-law would come, then my parents. And, with that, my worlds would collide. They would come to my community, meet my Panamanian and Gringo friends, and enjoy Panama. Oh yeah, get to see their loving brother and son.

All this happened and a whole lot more.

I planned the trips with the thought that they would get to experience the real Panama – the interior. That meant riding buses, dining at fondas and having a drink at a cantina. We also went to see beaches, mountains, Carnival, coffee farms, a Panamanian baseball game and indigenous cultures.

And, yes, my parents and I went to see the Mira Flores locks of the Panama Canal. To me, it was probably the least interesting thing we did. After all, the Canal is not the part of Panama that I know.

On the flip side, the best time I had during the two visits was a simple dinner (Carnival was a close second). When my parents were in and staying at my house, I had invited the family I lived with for my first three months while in my new community over for dinner. My mom was going to make a nice American dish for them. So they came, Sergio, his wife Clari and their two adorable kids. Overall, the dinner was fantastic. The food was tasty. The conversation was, ok, a bit awkward, after all I had to play the role of translator. But ultimately, two worlds perfectly collided.

The Family

2010-02-02T11:58:00.000-08:00

Growing up, I always knew I had an awesome family. My parents were everything a kid could ask for – caring, responsive, helpful and nurturing. While my two sisters helped guide me along by always staying on top of me about, well, everything. Now over the past year, I’ve added a brother-in-law into the mix and he certainly makes the Sacchetti clan a spicier mix.

However, it wasn’t until I moved away did I realize just how great they were. You see, I never lived too far from my parents and sisters, and something happened over the years. I started to take them for granted. I had a problem with my car, ok, time to call pops. Need a home cook meal, hey mom, I’d like some chicken pop pie. Need to buy some shoes, ok sisters, here’s some money.

I promise you I’m not that lazy, but the crutch they provided started to overshadow all the other qualities that made them so special to me. And sure, all those things above are part of what make them great, but being away from them for an extended period of time I have come to miss all the little things that are hard to describe.

Over the past 17 months, I’ve seen my family one time. That was the joyous occasion of my sister’s wedding back last April. When I went home the first time, it was great to see everybody, but in a weird way, it didn’t feel like I had been gone for too long. Too much had changed in my life that I hadn’t had much time to realize much of anything beside how to live in a whole new world. Well, the past ten months of not seeing them has certainly changed that. It feels like a lifetime since I’ve seen them.

That’s why I’m so excited for the next month. First, my sisters and brother-in-law are visiting then my parents. I’m excited for a multiple reasons. I’m excited to show them Panama and the culture. I’m excited for them to see my community. I’m excited for them to meet some new friends. Most of all, I’m excited just to be with them.

And, no, I won’t ask my sisters to pick some shoes out for me, I don’t have any money. Nor will I ask my dad to take a look over my car, I don’t have one. Finally, I won’t ask my mom to make a good home cook meal. On second thought, maybe that will happen.

The Drawing

2010-01-22T07:06:00.001-08:00

I have a brother-in-law, Dan that is a very talented artist. One of the best things that he and my sister do is make goofy cards for birthdays and such. Being not a very creative person, whenever I get a card from them, my creativity levels sink even lower. How did they come up with this, is the question I often ponder.

For my first birthday down here, they sent me a cute card that had caricatures of my sister, brother-in-law and myself on a beach with my sister holding a dead chicken. It was the perfect card for me in my new country. I liked it so much that I decided to hang it up in my house. Well, my counterpart and dad of the house I lived with my first three months, Sergio saw the card and got a good kick out of it.

So I brainstormed the idea of Dan drawing a caricature of Sergio, his wife and their two young kids. This was back in May of last year. Dan drew the picture and my sister sent it down to me. Except one problem- I never got the package. I finally abandoned hope after 5 months.

Knowing that Sergio and his family would like the drawing, I asked for another one. I resent the picture of the first time his family came to my house and Dan drew another one. This time, I got their package!

Earlier this week I went to their house to give them the drawing. They got a big kick out of it. Probably the best part was the little girl, who is now a year and a half old, not being able to realize that she is the little baby in the photo. But it was a big hit and they have it hanging at their house.

The Bat Attack

2010-01-06T07:40:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned previously, right now is the dry season here in Panama. The weather is fantastic (sorry, I have to tell you that as you guys are freezing and digging out of snow). It is especially great at night, because it cools off to the perfect sleeping temperature. Seriously, over the past couple days I´ve never slept better in my life. Well, other than last year at this time!

So imagine my surprise when I was rudely awaken by something similar to this.

Awesome, right?

The Christmas

2009-12-22T11:53:00.000-08:00

It is the week of Christmas and I’m in Panama, which is a short way of saying it doesn’t feel like Christmas. The slightly longer way is the other day I was talking with my parents and they told me they got 14 inches of snow over the weekend. I told them that earlier that day it was probably 90 degrees. Talk about a contrast.

So while I won’t be playing in the snow this week (I’ll be on a beach!), I wanted to thank all those friends and family who have meant so much to me over the years. While I won’t be spending the holiday season with you, I’ll be thinking about you. Especially, my wonderful sisters, brother-in-law, and parents, I can’t wait for your visit soon!

Stay warm and Merry Christmas.

The Celebration

2009-12-17T08:49:00.000-08:00

These past couple days here have been full of excitement. First, on Tuesday, none other than the First Lady of Panama came to the school bearing gifts and sacs of food for the Holiday season. Then, yesterday, 28 sixth graders graduated from a pilot project of D.A.R.E in a special celebration. As the resident photog, I was there to cover it all.

The visit by the First Lady was quite the scene. By the time of her 11:00am arrival, my community was quite abuzz. Not to mention the entourage of cars that accompanied her visit. Here is her arrival to the school (She is in the middle talking to the director of the school on the left and the governor of Herrera on the right)..

After words by the First Lady, Santa and crew started handing out the goodies..

By the time things wrapped up, everybody was happy, well, save for the few older boys who didn’t get a soccer ball.

The celebration ball kept on rolling into the next day for the D.A.R.E. graduation. While they use the term DARE, they have a different spin on it - Educación para Resistir el Uso de Drogas y Violencia.

It was a neat experience for the kids, as they had the police band play for them..

Walk across the stage to get their medal and certificate..

And cap it off by having a group photo taken by me..

The Dry Season

2009-12-09T12:10:00.000-08:00

Well, it’s the end of the rainy season as we know it down here in Panama, and I feel fine. Even if this rainy season, wasn’t that rainy. This, of course, made this rainy season a lot more hot and humid. Now the weather is in the process of changing. Over the next 4 months, I’ll be living in a climate that each day is the same, i.e. hot, sunny, and windy. To prepare myself for this, I’ve come up with a Pros and Cons list of living day to day likes this. Let’s start with the Cons first…

Cons

Without any clouds, the sun attacks you with more vengeance than the vendetta fueled killings at the end of The Godfather I and II combined. Sunscreen is a constant companion during these times.
Each day I wake up, I feel like Bill Murray’s character in Groundhog Day. Although the dates change, each day feels the same. Sun is out by 6:20am. By 8:30am it gets hot. By 9:30am it gets really hot. By 12:30pm forget about it. By 6:30pm the sun is down and it’s much cooler. Perhaps I can use this time to better myself like Murray’s character and learn jazz piano, ice sculpting and French. Since it’s too hot to do ice sculpting, I doubt I’ll be doing the other two things either. Such a waste, I know.
Because it’s dry and windy, dust blows everywhere. This isn’t too much fun for your eyes or trying to keep a clean house.

Pros:

With the sun always out, it’s pretty easy to keep a nice tan.
Great beach weather. And guess what? I don't live that far from the beach!
After being offered up as a sacrifice to the mosquito gods for the past seven months, it'll be nice not having them around for a while.
You don’t have to worry about making plans around the weather.
The locals will be saying things like ‘bastante sol’ or ‘demasiado sol’ which is fun to hear.
Once again, I don’t have to worry about shoveling snow.

And you know what, that reason alone is impossible to top. That’s one thing I don’t miss about home. Keep shoveling that snow.

The Thanksgiving

2009-12-02T08:49:00.001-08:00

This Thanksgiving marked the second straight year being away from my family for my favorite holiday. Last year, I celebrated the day with a small group of volunteers. This year, more than 100 volunteers descended upon Cerra Punta (up near the Costa Rican border) for a two day Turkeyfest.

After about 8 hours of traveling on Wednesday – which was short compared to some friends – we kicked off the two days with some relaxing and a few drinks. The next day featured dinner around 5, phone calls to family and more drinking and dancing. Somehow, I didn’t get to do two of my favorite things on Thanksgiving – watch football and a post dinner nap. Don’t worry, though, I will more than make up for missing out on those two things next year.

While it was sad to be away from family again, it was great to be with my other family. One thing that made things easier was the surrounding area made me feel like I was home in West Virginia. Cerra Punta is tucked inside the mountains and the landscape reminded me of being near Elkins, West Virginia. We even had a stream running down the outside of our room. Plus, the weather was actually cool there. I was wearing a light sweater Thanksgiving day, which never happens in my community. I’m more likely to be wearing a layer of sweat.

Of course, the main key to any Thanksgiving is the meal. And after some false starts with getting the turkeys in the oven, things tured out very good. Just a notch below my Aunt Randy’s cooking., though.

The Shrimping

2009-11-12T08:47:00.000-08:00

A couple weeks ago, I went with my counterpart Sergio to the shrimp tanks just a little outside my community. My counterpart had been tending the tanks for a couple months and now it was time to start harvesting some of the shrimp.

A couple points of note: Because it had been unseasonably dry during the beginning part of the rainy season, the harvesting of the shrimp was pushed back some. Also, to help feed the shrimp, Sergio would busted up a coconut and throw it into the water. This struck me as strange. But then again, quite a few things strike me strange here.

So off we went. Sergio’s brother Carlo went as well. They were there with their nets and I was there to take photos.

As you can see they pull the net over their shoulder. Wait, why am I explaining this? I have video that explains it a lot better than I would ever do it: (Note- I tried to embed the video, but wasn't successful, so you can watch the link here.)

I just hope my dad doesn't see people wadding around in knee deep water and start having ‘Nam flashbacks.

In the end, we (I use this term roughly, because I did throw the net and caught a couple shrimp) caught about 70 pounds of shrimp. For my work, Sergio gave me a few…

…and they were delicious.

The Despadida, Part II

2009-11-04T09:16:00.000-08:00

Coming off the high of Independence Day here in Panama yesterday, I would like you direct your attention to the fabulous write-up that panablog (RIP) had last year regarding this festive day. You can read it right here.

In my world, this past weekend I attended another going away party (despadida) for another friend (Rob) that lived in my region. Now you might be wondering why all these despadidas all of a sudden. Well, Peace Corps Panama operates on a cycle that features two different groups that come down each year. The odd number groups arrive in April and go to site in July. While the even number groups arrive in August and go to site at the end of October. That means while one new group is coming into site, another group is closing service and heading home. So this past month featured Group 60 finishing up and going home, while Group 64 made their arrivals at site. Meanwhile, I’m Group 62 and stuck right in the middle. Next October, our group will be finishing up and Group 66 will be arriving. Doors closing, doors opening, etc. If the previous paragraph didn’t make sense to you, don’t worry. In the grand scheme of this thing called life, it shouldn’t even make a blimp on your radar screen.

However, here is something that makes sense to a lot of you – a fun time! So let’s talk about that. Saturday, I ventured over (up?) to my friend’s Rob site. Rob and I are both Community and Economic Development Volunteers, so we share that bond. But it goes a step further. We are connected by a river. The river runs through his town and bears that name. Meanwhile, I live at the mouth of the river and have the name of the river in my community’s name as well. In that case, we are like kindred spirits.

Rob lives in a much different site than my friend Franco who was profiled earlier on this very blog. That meant, it was going to be a different type of party, but there was one common theme – awesome Azuero people. Rob’s primary work was with a small savings and loan cooperative. They were the people that put together the party. And quite the party they put together. The master of ceremonies had an agenda and an array of speeches and special guests lined up. It started off with a touching speech from the president of the co-op. He thanked Rob for his work in the development of the community. It was quite a speech. From there, two different groups of dancers stopped by and gave a great show for the party attendees:

More speeches and some wonderful gifts to Rob followed. It was all very touching. It was quite obvious the community had a deep affection for not only the work Rob did, but Rob himself. The cake they made for him really showed it:

On the left is a photo of Rob in his traditional dance outfit of the community. On the right is the depiction of the time Rob rode the bull in his community. Isn’t it awesome? The cake was very good, by the way, too.

I’ll miss Rob, but he’s got a bright future ahead of him. Good luck, slugger.

The Yearning/Craving

2009-10-22T11:00:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-15T13:03:00.000-07:00

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

2009-10-10T09:06:00.000-07:00

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.

The Botfly

2009-09-30T10:50:00.000-07:00

Before I start this entry, I need to warn you, the reader, that this ‘adventure’ is kind of gross. It didn’t happen to me, but to a friend. However, since I’m trying to provide you a glimpse of my life here, I feel like I need to write about it. So if you are eating or get grossed out easy, it would probably be best to end your reading right here. For those who like to take a walk on the side, come on, let’s go.

You may recall my friend, Franco, who was mentioned last month in regards to the world map project I help him with at this site. As noted, he will be leaving Panama soon, because his two years of service are up. He’s done some great work in his community and for that hard work; Panama repaid him with a nice going away gift. Two botflies!

What does a botfly do? According to Wikipedia, Botflies deposit eggs in a host body, or sometimes use an intermediate vector: common houseflies for example. The smaller fly is firmly held by the botfly female and rotated to a position where the botfly attaches some 30 eggs to the body under the wings. Larvae from these eggs, stimulated by the warmth of a large mammal host, drop onto its skin and burrow underneath.

As you can see, it’s not something you want to be dealing with. To compound the problem for Franco, the bits took place right about his upper lip. This led to just a tad bit of swelling:

With his lip looking like he went a few rounds with Roberto Duran, Franco went to have things checked out. Given a variety of medicine, the swelling eventually went down. Then he shaved off his wanna be campo mustache, which left him looking like this:

Not too good. Plus, he said whenever he would get hot (easy to do in this country) the paid would be excruciating. Oh and occasionally, the holes would seep out some blood. So Franco went to Panama City to have it checked out. And sure enough, they were botflies. In his own words, he said the suckers came ‘shooting right out’ at the doctors.

Hello, friends.

Not to worry, though. A week later Franco’s face is basically healed, so his dashing good looks remain intact. Plus there are no term health reminders from this mishap. Well, other than this entry and the photos.

Note: If you want to see a video about a botfly coming out, you can watch this. Again, it’s not for the faint of heart.

The Neighbors

2009-09-23T12:58:00.000-07:00

I have now been settled into my house for seven months. While it’s mainly bare inside and a little beat up on the outside, it’s a just place to flop.

But what’s it like around my house? Well, I have a nice lady who lives very close to me on my left. Sometimes she likes to play her music a Little loud a bit too early in the morning while warming up her pipes to the sounds emitting from her radio, which can wake me up. Other than that, though, she’s great. She even complimented me on some food I gave her one day.

On the other side, is an open field that is inbetween my house and the school in my community. Behind my house is more open field, which is essentially used for grazing of these guys:

Well, hello.

Basically, about one week a month these guys come around and mow down the grass. Like this photo taken from the back of my house:

I never have any problems with them except for the occasional 'surprises' that leave behind a foul odor. Oh and I don't think they help my mosquito problem. But all and all, it’s not too bad.

The Mango Tree Part II

2009-09-17T11:32:00.000-07:00

After a glorious 2 month run, last week my mango tree could give no more. The joy that the tree provided me was unmatched by any other tree I have known. A moment of silence, please.

Thank you.

When the tree was overflowing with mangoes, I would simply get up each morning, go search under the tree and find three or four ripe mangoes that had fallen the night before. They were perfect and ready to eat. And eat a lot of them I did. I was eating two to three mangoes a day over this stretch! Eventually, something happened that I never imagined could happen, I actually started to get a little worn out on them.

Along the way, I started having a building a stockpile of mango reserves. To alleviate this problem, I started giving mangoes away to friends, neighbors and kids that stopped by my house. And I kept giving and giving. All toll, I easily gave away 200 mangoes!

So now, I face the coming month’s mango free. It will be tough. I’m not going to lie. But don’t worry; my orange tree is starting to flourish.

The Music

2009-09-09T12:38:00.000-07:00

This past weekend, there was a little disco in my community. It was a pretty fun time, but what stuck out most to me was conversation with my Panamanian friends about the music.

By in large I feel like I’ve adapted pretty well to the Panamanian culture - the food, the language, the pace of living and the little cultural quirks that come with the country. However, one area I just can’t get in tune with is the music. It’s not that it is bad, or my eardrums are ruined from listening to it at such loud levels, it’s just that I’m picky with my music.

There are a couple types of music that are big here- tipco, Spanish pop and the occasional American song. Tipico is the most interesting and unique of the types. The popularity of this genre of music is captured by the duo of Sammy and Sandra. On the Spanish pop front, I feel, despite being here for over a year, I still hear the same 7 songs even today. I know this isn’t much different that listening to WVAQ in the late 80’s-early 90’s, but one can only take 'Sucio, Sucio' so many times before he or she snaps. As for the American songs that make their way down here, I would prefer these actually didn’t happen. They represent some of the worst that our country has to offer. It only gets worse when someone asks me if I like the song. Quite often my answer is no, and they always follow it up with what type of music I do like. Usually, I answer with the umbrella generic term of rock. Oh so like Linkin Park, is what comes next. Well, no, not exactly.

Thankfully I have my iPod and some cheap little speakers that keep me content. While the speakers couldn’t fuel a Yoke Street block party that starts at 8 and goes all night, they are good enough to drown out the music when I need a break from a neighbor’s blaring speakers.

People will on occasion stop by my house and bend their ear to some tunes. Usually the reaction is favorable. But my favorite musical cultural exchange occurred a couple months back on Father’s Day. Here in Panama, Father’s day is the same day as in America. As I was walking down to the public telephone to call my dad, I was intercepted by a couple friends enjoying their day in the sun. Inviting me over, we hung out on the porch listening to some tipico music while enjoying the atmosphere that the Azureo culture provides.

After a bit, one asks me about American music. This discussion leads me to eventually bringing over my iPod and speakers to jam out on some of my tunes. That’s when the fun started, at least for a bit.

Choosing guitar heavy songs (Dinosaur Jr), my older friends started to get into the first. There may have been some fake air guitaring involved, as well. However, by the second song they had had their fill.

You can’t gritar over the reverb, you know.

The Missing

2009-09-02T11:10:00.000-07:00

This coming Saturday is one of my favorite days of the year and for the second straight time, I will be missing it. What is it? Well, of course, it is the Hampshire Heritage Day in Romney, West Virginia.

I’m joking, of course. This Saturday is the first WVU home football game. And that means I will miss not only the game, but the tailgating.

That first tailgate is always is great fun. The weather is warm. You see family and friends likely for the first time in a while. The refreshments are plentiful and cold, while the food is overflowing. There is a feeling of optimism in the air. Well, until you remember that Bill Stewart is the coach.

Over the past couple years, I had developed a pretty solid tailgating route. I would start out at the house of my friend Michael. He always had a top notch tailgate. Do this math problem to figure out why. Family beverage distributor (lots of beer) + Family Italian Bakery (lots of food) + Great friends = Great times!

From there I would meander up the dreaded Law School Hill to where I would alternate between a family tailgate and friends tailgate. And the good times would continue from there. More food. More cold beverages. More good conversation.

So that’s what sucks about missing Saturday- a festive day with great people.

Drink one for me.

The World Map

2009-08-26T10:32:00.000-07:00

A couple weeks ago, I ventured up to another volunteer’s site (Franco) to help him with a world map project he was doing at his school (i.e. paint a world map on the school so the kids can get a better understanding of the world around them). Franco and I live in the same region, but in terms of how we live, we are worlds apart. For starters, Franco is an Environment Health (EH) volunteer, while I am a Community and Economic Development (CED) Volunteer. The gist of this is Franco - along with the other EH volunteers - live in less developed areas, and often requires a hike to their site, because a road does not go to their community.

Franco is no different. We got dropped off about a 45 minute hike from his site. From there, we had to navigate the hills, streams and tricky terrain to his community.

As you can see, it’s a bit different from the flat ground that I’m surrounded by in my neck of the woods. Once we made it to Franco’s community, we came to Franco’s house. Because the community is so small (about 150 people) there were no open houses, so Franco, with the help of the community, built his own house.

Needless to say, it’s pretty cool.

The next morning we made our way over to the school. We were joined by another volunteer (Hailey) who lives nearby in the region and hiked over to Franco’s community. The three of us worked first to lay out the grid at the top part of the map. This was more difficult than it sounded because the ground which we put the ladders on wasn’t the best, as in it was on a slope and a bit rocky. Nonetheless, we were able to complete the top part of the grid. After that, we repainted the ‘ocean’ on the bottom part, because the first coat didn’t hold up too well. Here Hailey and Franco are working hard, while I’m hardly working:

At the end of the day, we put Franco on the fast track to finishing the map before he leaves Panama in October when his two years are complete.

The Ryan

2009-08-23T13:56:00.000-07:00

I’m sure most of you were wondering where the entry from last week was. Wait, you weren’t? Well, last week I had my first visitor to Panama- my cousin Ryan. He arrived last Tuesday and departed early this morning. Here’s a recap of his time in Panama. I want you to read this.

After being picked up at the airport by new friends here in Panama that I met through the Peace Corps office – Rich and Anne – we went to the Metropolitan Park in Panama City. We hiked around the park to a view overlooking Panama City.

After grabbing a meal in the city, we took an overnight bus to the other side of the country near the Costa Rica border to the city of David. We got into the city at 6:00am and then took a bus north to the Lost and Found Hostel that is located in the mountains of the Chiriqui province. The hostel is just under a mile high from sea level.

Once there, we took a tour of a local farm that grows everything organic. The farmer had a wide variety of things that grew on his farm that ranged from tropical fruits to coffee to sugar cane. One highlight of the stop was Ryan helping in squeezing the juice out of the cane by swinging a log up and down on the plant. It might have been his first manual work in years.

Sadly we didn’t get to do the natural treasure hunt that the place offers because of heavy rains in the afternoon into the evening. We left the place early Thursday morning and ventured back to my community in the Azuero. Getting there in the late afternoon, we grab a typical Panamanian meal at a local restaurant ($1.60 per plate!) and headed to my site. There Ryan got to see my house (he thought it was extremely bare), my community and meet some of my good friends here. He was invited to come back in January when there wasn’t any rain.

The next morning before heading back towards Panama City, we took a walk down to the port in my community. From there, we hopped a bus out of Chitre with the intentions of stopping at a beach along the way. Through a little local knowledge and luck, we came across a deserted beach about an hour and half outside Panama City. This is when the fun picked up. While riding a wave, my cousin got tossed and flipped in a pretty strong one. It turned out he hurt his wrist pretty bad. Needless to say, that ended our time at the beach.

As we were on the bus to Panama City, Ryan, fearing that his wrist was in bad shape, decided that he needed to go to the hospital. After getting some advice from a taxi driver, we landed at one of the local hospitals. After five hours and an x-ray it was determined there was no fracture, just that he jammed it pretty bad.

Even with the wrist injury, Ryan was not going to be deterred from going on Saturday morning to visit my friend Alyssa’s site. Alyssa is a volunteer in an Embera community, which is one of the indigenous groups of Panama. Joined by Rich and Anne, we headed up towards Colon to her site.

There we were greeted by the traditional dances of the community as well as explanations on how they use the surrounding area to live. Ryan and I also got something to the effect of a painted, temporary tattoo that represented a cultural significance to the Embera people.

However, Ryan was in store for one more unique experience. While eating lunch, one member of the community noticed the bandage on his arm. When asked if Ryan would let the gentleman have a look, Ryan, figuring there was no harm, obliged the request. After a quick glance over the situation, the local medicine man started to pull and tug in the efforts of improving Ryan’s wrist. After about ten minutes of ‘physical therapy’ Ryan was pronounced ok, and things should be better in a couple more days.

While I tried hard to give Ryan a great cultural experience, it took a bum wrist to get the full effect. Nevertheless, even without the native medical experience, it was a great time. So come down and see if you can top Ryan’s trip.

The Bull

2009-08-13T11:55:00.000-07:00

Today marks a year in Panama for me. Over this time, I’ve seen and done a lot of things I never would have experienced in the States. After all, I am living in a totally different culture. However, one thing was missing - seeing the running of the bulls.

Now this isn’t exactly like what you would see with the famous running of the bulls in Spain. Instead, here in Panama, the activity features bulls shot out from a gate with a person sometimes riding and sometimes not. There are also a ton of people milling around the ring deciding whether to challenge the oncoming bull or run for their lives. Most cases the people would run as fast as they could for fence and climb it for protection. I’ll let you guess why that choice was most often taken.

And I have to say, I don’t blame them one bit. When you see something like this charging at you, what would you do?

That’s what I thought.

The highlight of the day was when my friend, that lives in the town where the bulls were at, decided to give it a shot and ride the bull. When he went shooting out of the gates on the back of the bull, his hometown folks in the surrounding arena exploded in approval. It was a cool scene. My friend gave it his best effort and lasted about 10 seconds. Afterward as we were milling around the crowd, people were coming up left and right to congratulate him on his ride. That was really cool. The exchange cultures at its finest.

Now, I just need to work up the nerve to go next year. Although, that nerve will likely never come.

The Dylan

2009-08-06T11:45:00.000-07:00

While it might be true that I’m the only white poet warlord in my community, that’s not to say the Dylan brand doesn’t exist outside of me in my parts.

Case in point #1

As you can see that’s me, holding a young child that lives in my community. You might have guessed it, but the kid's name is Dylan! And before you wonder, no it’s not Dylan Jr. It just so happened that there was already someone named Dylan here before me. I guess he was the test run to see if I would work here. It can be confusing for me when I am around him. I just didn’t expect another Dylan around me, especially not a Panamanian.

Case in point #2

This photo is of a hair salon in the bigger city near my community. I’m not thrilled to have my name attached to such an enterprise, so let’s just move on.

Case in point #3

Oh that’s right. A popular, international clothing line bearing my name is prevalent here. It’s quite a hoot, really, especially when I see someone from my community wearing one. The one thing I can’t decide is whether I should be owning and wearing some of these t-shirts. I mean would Calvin Klein be caught wearing a ‘Calving Klein Jeans’ t-shirt? I don’t know; I’m asking you. I could totally see Tommy Hilfiger wearing one of his shirts, though.

Whatever the case, I'm kind of a big deal down here.

The Weeds

2009-07-29T11:20:00.000-07:00

Before the start of the rainy season, I was talking with the guy I rent my house from about various things. During our conversation, he told me about how rich the soil was in my neck of the woods. I believed him to some degree, but when I looked around me, there was a lot of dry vacant area. Of course, it hadn’t rained in nearly five months, so, that didn’t help matters.

Fast forward to present day, and I can clearly see the results of what he was talking about. Because things have really taken off. Everywhere. But probably no better example of this is at the baseball field.

You may recall back a few months ago, I posted about playing baseball in my community. The field where we played had been overrun by weeds and grass, and to fix the situation, the decision was made to just burn down the outfield. Here was the end result:

As you can see, there was nothing left. The situation remained that way pretty much through May, prior to the first rains. Now? Well, let’s just say the scene is a little different:

Hoo boy. As you might guess, not too much baseball is being played now. In fact, the outfield looks more like an Iowa corn field, then an actual baseball field. Every time I head over to the field, I keep expecting ‘Shoeless’ Joe Jackson to come walking out of the weeds and ask me to play long toss. Really, old Shoeless would fit right in with my community because of the whole no shoes thing, which is pretty much standard foot attire for most players, including yours truly, well when I’m batting. My sensitive feet can’t hold up on the outfield.

But, alas, Shoeless hasn’t shown up and neither will another baseball game for awhile. The weeds, however, will continue to grow.

The Bonfire

2009-07-23T13:47:00.000-07:00

This past Thursday, my community had a bonfire as a little fundraiser to help fix the small park in the town. To raise the funds, drinks and food were sold. And, of course, there was the bonfire and really, excessively loud music.

The shindig was supposed to get underway at 7pm, and much to my surprise, the majority of people came at 7pm. This is shocking because, in general, Panamanians operate on ‘Panama Time’ which is a way of saying they move to the watch only my dad would love, i.e. always late. After sometime here, I’ve become adjusted this fact, but it doesn’t mean I’m a fan of it. As total darkness fell upon us at 7:30pm, the bonfire was lit and the food and started rolling.

I realized that help was needed in making the hojaldras, so I volunteered my services to help roll out the dough before they were sent to the pan. Here I am in action (note: you can also see the high and tight buzz I got in the back from my haircut):

As the night rolled on, the big activities became singing/dancing and jumping over the bonfire. After dancing to the newer pop music, some of the older folks made a push for more traditional Azuero music. And, yes, there was even some gritaring.

The party started to fizzle out around 10pm, with all the food and drink gone (money raised!). While it wasn’t a Thursday Ladies Night from college, all in all, it was a good time.

The Haircut

2009-07-16T11:04:00.000-07:00

The other day I noticed my hair was starting to get a bit on the shaggy side. I’ve been keeping it mostly short, because, well, it’s pretty hot here. So I started to weigh my options on what to do. Since my time down here I have done a few different things. A Peace Corps friend cut it, I’ve cut it (oh my), and I have had my counterpart, Sergio, buzz it. As I was thinking about this, I came upon my decision. It was time to get my haircut in a Panamanian barber shop.

I have noted that Panamanian can be very particular about their hair. They love to use razors to make clean cut lines and definitely put time into detail. So I figured I didn’t have much to lose. Besides, in two weeks who would notice anyways?

I made my way into the barber shop with the standard ‘buenas’. The barber got an excited look on his face and pointed to the chair. I was up. While sitting down, I looked around the shop and felt like I was pretty much in an American barber shop. Namely, they had the older barbers and he even older guys that just hang out.

Now it was time to get down to business. I debated whether to ask for the Larry Fine, but in the end decided to keep directions to a minimal. In this instance, my limited Spanish vocabulary wasn’t a hindering factor. I just wanted him to go where the hair cutting spirits took him.

With that, we were off. Right away a big clump of my hair came falling down, and I knew he was going to go short. About halfway through, the barber opened up a drawer, took out five bucks and headed out the door. No word on where he was going or what. After about five minutes, he reappeared. With razors, no less. I was going to the razor treatment!

As the hair cut continued along, I was quite certain that never before had I had so many different clippers sizes taken to my hair. He must have changed around the sizes five times. I did get a little razor action, but no where near what I was hoping for. And in the end, I ended up getting a pretty regular haircut.

But at least I got a lame entry idea from it.

The Gritar

2009-07-08T16:19:00.000-07:00

You may recall, ok, probably not, but back when I wrote about my day in the rice field, I mentioned an activity called 'gritar'. In fact, this is what I wrote:

Another interesting activity is the yelling that occurs about once every half hour. Basically, one person lets out a scream that I don’t even know how to translate it into a typed word. I’m sorry. Come visit me and you can experience it firsthand. After that person lets his ‘grita’ (or scream) out, another person answers that call. And they go back and forth a couple times. Sometimes another person joins in as well. That’s when it really takes off.

Well, now you don’t have to worry about coming to visit me, because a friend of mine put up a video of the activity on YouTube. So, click on this link, and enjoy.

The New President

2009-07-02T15:16:00.000-07:00

You might recall a couple months ago that there were elections here in Panama. Well, yesterday was the inauguration for the new president Ricardo Martinelli. Here is what one paper had to say about the upcoming term for the new president who came into office promising change.

Martinelli, who brought together several opposition parties under the banner, "Alliance for Change," said that he will reduce red tape and offer a leaner, more efficient government.

He said that he will end the tradition of elected leaders "arriving clean and leaving millionaires," which reiterated one of his most popular campaign slogans, and said that the needs of the people will come first in his administration. One of his promises was to provide a pay increase for police officers, viewed as a way to reduce crime, and to give a pension to indigent senior citizens of $100 per month.

Other program outlined by the new president included the construction of low-income housing, the construction of a metro system and the titling of land.

One thing I find funny is the line about arriving clean and leaving millionaires. Because Martinelli is already a millionaire! However, a lot of the things that Martinelli outlined could have a positive effect on Panama, especially the metro system (traffic in Panama City is awful), low cost housing, and titling of the land.

There was one thing that shocked me about yesterday, though. The fact there was no fireworks in my community. I mean, people set them off for anything from celebrating Mother’s Day to having a little fun while drinking, but yesterday there were none. My community was strong supporters of Martinelli, too. So maybe there will be some change in Panama coming up.

The New Team

2009-06-25T16:39:00.000-07:00

When I was a kid, and really up until recently there were only two pro teams that I hated – the LA Lakers and the New York Yankees. While my dislike of the Lakers runs true today (maybe even more so now), I have changed my stance on the Yankees. Yikes.

What happened? Well, about a week or so ago I was talking to my dad, when he asked me if I had seen how the Dodgers were doing this year. I told him, I did, but the team I was now following was the Yankees. After a few seconds of awkward pausing, he belted out “the Damned Yankees”. For a second I felt like I had betrayed my father. Meanwhile, I’m sure he was worried about a lot of things that could go bad for his boy while down here, but I’m sure he never foresaw this doomsday scenario.

So I had/have to explain myself. Or at least try. Prior to coming down to Panama, a friend’s dad had been down here some for business and he told me that everybody is a Yankee’s fan, because Mariano Rivera is from here. I have found this to be pretty true, but there is a mixture more so now than there was ten years ago when the Yankees won their World Series’.

The first family I lived with down here, the dad was a Yankee’s fan. While I impressed him by rattling off last year’s roster for him, I wasn’t sucked in. There wasn’t enough time.

Fast forward to me living in my community, and my good friend who lives across the street who is an older gentleman that is Yankee fan. He and his family own the little store that sells various things to our part of the community. Each morning and afternoon, he’s in front of the store with his Yankee’s cap on while watching the day’s proceedings. I always make it a point to stop by and chat with him each day.

And inevitably we started to talk about baseball. I told him about my one trip to Yankee stadium, and from there it bloomed. Now with baseball season going on, each day I ask if the Yankees won or lost. He fancies himself a big fan of the team even if he can only name Rivera, Jeter and depending on the day ARod, but he’s in the game. These conversations have brought me to where I’m at today, always wondering if they won or lost the night before while secretly hoping they won.

I’m not proud of it, really. But to make amends for my wayward ways I’ve converted my friend into a fan of…

…so you know it’s not all bad.

The Frisbee

2009-06-18T16:55:00.000-07:00

With the rainy season now here, baseball in the afternoon has started to dwindle. While it is a shame that the games have gone away, it is even a bigger shame that playing soccer started to fill the vacuum that was left behind. And in my book that is a big no-no. I just don’t get soccer. I wanted to try to get more into it while I was down here, but it’s just not happened.

So I started to think of other ways to try to stay active and in touch with the kids in my community without having to play soccer. When I was home in the states, my friend Holly bought me a nice Frisbee to take back down here. A couple times, I would bring it to the field and try to pass it with the kids. At first, a couple of them took to it, but their inability to throw it really frustrated them. But they were semi-interested and since I was not interested in soccer, I continued to bring it along.

This past Saturday it was time to make the leap to trying to play a game of ultimate Frisbee. I tried to explain the rules as best I could and had two kids pick teams. With that, I threw the Frisbee to the other team and we were underway. There was some confusion in the beginning in trying to get them to understand when possession changes and you can’t run with the Frisbee in your hand, but after a couple false starts, the game started to take shape.

My favorite moment happened when one of the kids picked up the Frisbee and threw it when it was suppose to be the other team’s Frisbee. I told him that it wasn’t his throw and he immediately picked up what he did wrong. The ‘ah ha’ moment if you will. That was pretty cool to see.

One of the neat things I get to experience is exposing the kids to new things. It is cool to see when kids pick up something new, because they get so excited. The same thing happened last week when I was teaching a typing game to one class. I was working with one girl and when she got the hang of the game, she practically hopped out of her seat in excitement.

I hope to see a lot more of these ‘ah ha’ moments and a lot less soccer.

The Pista

2009-06-11T17:10:00.000-07:00

Over the past couple weeks I have been really enjoying my new bike. No more what seemed to be forever walks down to the port in humid weather while sweating through my shirt. It’s now a nice jaunt at approximately 10 mph.

I’ve even been able to stretch my legs out on a couple longer rides. The exercise has been great. But enough about that. This entry doesn’t need to be approved by Richard Simmons. I think each one of you (what, there is like 10 people left reading?) knows the benefits of exercise. Well, except for my sister Johnna.

Anyhow, what I want to write about today involves my bike and a recently discovered hidden treasure in my community. A couple days after I bought my bike, I was on my way to the port to check out the scene when I was approached by a couple kids also on bikes. They wanted me to follow them, so I obliged and on I went. We took a path off the main drag and came upon one of the few wooded areas in my community.

Confused, I asked what where were doing. I was told to follow. Nervously, I agreed and quickly realized this was some kind of BMX/Mountain bike trail called a ‘pista’ in Spanish.

As we shot through the bumpy first turn, I knew my road bike, with skinny tires, wasn’t up for these conditions. But the kids pleaded I continued, so I continued. From there, the course became more treacherous, so I got left behind trying to nurse my bike back to safety.

Eventually, I came full circle. The kids had a big laugh at my slow ways. I tried to explain how my bike wasn’t made for these conditions. But something got lost in translation. Imagine that.

But the big laugh came the next day when I went to the baseball field in the afternoon. A couple kids approached me and asked if I went on the pista. I told them yes. Immediately, they started laughing and asked if I fell off my bike while riding. I knew at that point I was doomed. They had been told false information, but it didn’t matter. I would have had an easier time telling them Santa Claus wasn’t real then trying to get them to change their mind about my supposed fall. So I said just laughed and said no.

I guess taking a fall is better than thinking you’re married.

Guest Host

2009-06-04T17:16:00.000-07:00

This week, I am turning over my blog to my good friends Jay and Juila of Panablog. No, I am not shuting down and retooling. It's just they have done a feature on me that you can click on this link, and it much better than anything I can write. So enjoy.

Oh, as for my prediction for the NBA Finals. Well, I haven't got to watch a whole lot of the playoffs, but what I have seen, I've been impressed with the Magic. So give me them in six games.

The Bike

2009-05-26T08:40:00.001-07:00

From the first time I visited my community back last October, I have wanted to own a bike. With the terrain here completely flat, nearly everybody owns and uses it to scoot around. During that visit, I saw somebody riding around on an old ten speed road bike. I knew right away that is what I wanted. I told my counterpart, Sergio, that I would like to buy that type of bike. He told me he would be on the lookout for one.

Once I arrived at site, I quickly surmised that I wouldn’t be able to get a bike during my first three months living with Sergio and his family. There just wasn’t enough room for a bike. So I bided my time and walked around the community and down to the port. Sweating a lot along the way, too.

When I moved into my own place at the end of January, my anticipation rose once again. I reminded Sergio I was in the market for a bike and also spread the word to a couple other people. I would look around as well, but I told myself I needed to be patient. Days became weeks then months, and I was still without a bike. I was starting to give up my dream of the old ten speed road bike.

Then one day I was chatting with Sergio when he told me he saw a bike for sale in the next town up. We made loose plans (the only way to roll here in Panama) to go up there sometime over the next couple of days. A few days past and we finally were able to nail a time to go. As we walked up to the store, I saw four road bikes for sale. Having tempered my expectations going in, I immediately became giddy. Now it just came down to which one I would chose.

After looking them over, I fell head over heels for a semi beat up blue Schwin ten speed. Sure not all the gears worked, but that really doesn’t matter. With flat roads for miles, there isn’t a need to switch gears like I would need to in WV.

I strolled back into on my bike like a conquering hero. As I went by people they asked if the bike was mine. You betcha, amigo. Eventually everybody started to ask me the number one Panamanian question – How much does it cost? They love to ask this question about anything. I try to usually tap dance around it, but this time I turned it back on them. A trend soon developed, everybody guessed high. When I told them the actual price, almost everybody had the same reaction, “Jo! Barato” or “wow cheap”.

So with my bike in the fold, I have started to take rides on it to get some exercise. I tried to start running again, but right now it’s just too hot. The air flow from the bike makes for a much more comfortable exercising experience. On my first trip back up towards the next town, I was wearing my bike helmet. As you might imagine, that’s where the fun started. First, I passed a group a 20 something males hanging out. They really didn’t have much to say, mostly because they couldn’t contain their laughter at me. Next I rounded a corner and came upon a group of four. A woman saw me first and was so giddy she started to hit the guy that had his back to me so he could turn to see. That’s right - a gringo riding by with a bike helmet on. Christmas had come a little early this year.

I just took it all in stride thinking to myself – “Safety first. Safety first.” But, really, who am I kidding. I do ridiculous in the helmet. But at least I have my bike now.

The Eating Contest

2009-05-20T12:33:00.000-07:00

A few weeks back, I went to an All Vounteers Conference (AVC) where it gathered all the Volunteers serving around Panama together for a couple days. The conference allowed for a couple things – sharing experiences, getting to know more people, and have a little fun.

That last one is what I’m going to talk about today. One of the highlights of the fun time was the “Campo Olympics”. What’s the Campo Olympics you ask? Well, it was a series of events that pitted each of the different groups of Volunteers. There were five different groups (58, 59, 60, 61, and 62). My group is Group 62 and our chosen colors were green.

Now the events were a mixture of contests that are commonplace in the country side (campo) of Panama. They included a three legged horse race, slingshot contest, chowing down some mysterious food, opening a can of tuna with a knife, skinning an orange with a knife, grita or yelling contest, a dance off, tug of war and finally a banana eating contest.

While the rest of the events were great fun, I’m going to focus on the banana eating contest because yours truly was the representative from my group. Now originally I was not planning to try this one out - I mean who wants to try to scarf down 10 bananas as fast as possible - but nobody stepped forward, so I said I would do it. I do have a history of being able to eat a pretty good amount of food, so why not?

So I was joined on stage with my four other opponents. The 10 bananas were laid out before us and we were charged with the task of unpeeling them and eating them as fast as we could. Giddy up. Or so I thought.

The whistle blew and I reached for my first banana. As I was unpeeling my first one like a nice slow stroll through the park, the person next to me was thrashing through his first two like it was his last meal on Earth. I quickly realized this wasn’t the gentlemen’s banana eating contest.

I picked up my pace, but had trouble trying to chew and digest them fast enough to keep up with my competition. Eventually, I was smoked. I finished 7 ½, before the top three had gobbled and mashed there way through their ten.

I was loser. There was no doubt. I had let the other members of my team down. It was a low moment for me.

Like everything else, I just have to pick myself up and hope to be ready for next year. That is if my group selects me next year.

My First Visit

2009-05-15T07:03:00.000-07:00

This past weekend I mixed things up a bit. I made my first trip to another site from a volunteer in my group. Well, actually volunteers. I went to see authors of the fantastic Panablog – Jay and Julia.

The two of them live in the next province over from me – Veraguas – but it might as well be a world away. After living in a completely flat area for the past seven months, it was a bit of a shock to my system when we pulled out from the bus terminal and immediately ascended up a road that was so steep at time that I didn’t think we had the juice to make it. Reaching the top, you descend down in the valley on a road that makes 19 to Grafton look like a beginner’s course for a driver. Welcome to the other side of the world, Dylan.

Reaching the community, we walked around some and met some people from the community. Jay and I shot some hoops while Julia started on dinner. And what a delightful dinner it turned out to be. I’m not sure how Julia was able to pull it off, as they don’t have a refrigerator (no electricity at their site) and it is not the easiest place in the world to be hauling groceries into. She pulled it off, though. Topping it off with a dessert of apple crisp that immediately ascended to the top of my personal charts. So all those who have made apple crisp for me in the past, the bar has now been raised. Good luck trying to top it.

Later that night, we watched the Larry Sanders Show on their computer, which is powered by a car battery setup that confused the crap out of me. Jay said it took them a couple times to perfect the setup, but now it’s working pretty well. I just nodded my head. Sadly, an electrician, I’m not.

The next day we awoke and hiked back up the mountain to make calls for Mother’s Day. The funny part is we had to call three different time zones (Eastern, Central and Pacific), but we all got to wish our mom’s a Happy Mother’s Day.

The rest of the day was a nice relaxing Sunday. I would be remised if I didn’t mention that I won two of the three games of Quiddler that we played. We watched Frost-Nixon that night and we all disappointed by it. I think Jay even swore off Ron Howard movies for good.

I headed back to my site on Monday morning – thanking my friends for the fine weekend. I hope to do it again someday. I just hope they get better at Quiddler.

Election Day

2009-05-07T09:35:00.000-07:00

This past Sunday marked a big day here in Panama – Election Day. One of the first weeks that I was here in the country, one of the political parties (can’t remember which) was having there primary that day. Since I was new to the country and really unaware of my surroundings, the event passed without me noticing much. This time, it was a totally different story.

For starters, my house is located right by the school, which was the place for voting. So you might say that I was in the ‘eye of the storm’. While this is true, I kept my distance from the events. Opting instead to only peak outside every once in a while to see the ongoing proceedings.

And there were quite a bit of happenings through the day. It all started around 7am when people started to funnel towards the center of the action. By 10am, it looked it there was going to be a day long party. People everywhere. Coolers and drinks. Some tarps for shade. Looking around it felt more like a Saturday September tailgate than Election Day.

The good spirits of the day took a turn around midday when the clouds started to darken. Eventually, they opened up and there was a steady rain. First time I’ve seen prolonged rain here since the beginning of December. Of course, it had to be a day when I did some laundry, but there are worse things in life, I suppose.

Eventually the rain let up around 5pm and the polls closed, but the people remained until around 10pm as the votes were being tallied. Around 11pm I called it a night, with all the excitement gone. Or at least I thought so.

At 1am, I was awakened by the sounds of horns honking. In a groggy state, I thought maybe it was an air drill raid leftover from the Noriega days. But I quickly came to senses when a few seconds later, fireworks started to go off. This all at 1am. I’m not lying. Eventually, the cars went further down the road and the sounds became fainter. I guessed Ricardo Martinelli was declared the winner in the race for president and I fell back to sleep.

The event marked a new era in Panama politics as this is the first time a person from Cambio Democrático party has been elected President. With some certain changes to the country coming, I’m just glad the late night horn honking and fireworks are here to stay. I need a little stability in my life.

You Can’t Wrap Your Arms around a Memory

2009-04-29T06:48:00.000-07:00

When I was thinking about what I was going to write about this week, I had decided I was going to a two part piece on the national election this coming Sunday. I mean it doesn’t get much bigger than an election.

But like most things in Panama, I was thrown a curveball. And the curveball ended up being bigger than the election. The fishing cooperative in my community received news on Monday that they would be awarded the money they had long been asking for.

The joyous news brings to a conclusion of a year of working to try to secure the funding. Led by promises and patience, the leaders of the cooperative hung tough and didn’t give up when that was such an easy option. For that, I’m extremely proud of them.

The size of the funding is pretty outstanding. Fishing equipment isn’t cheap. And there is a lot of work ahead in getting this project off the ground. I’m certain it will be a challenge, but, I hope, ultimately a fulfilling one.

Soon enough the pieces will fall into place. But before all that starts, I can’t shake the image of when we came out of the meeting with the news. The cooperative president – my counterpart Sergio – jumping around like a little kid who just got what he wanted on Christmas Day.

Normally, it would have been a great time for a photo, but I was without my camera. In this case, it didn’t matter. That picture is forever burned into my memory.

It’s something I’ll never forget.

The Mango Tree

2009-04-22T09:16:00.001-07:00

There are many nice benefits of living in a tropical climate. Topping that list is not having to deal with snow. Coming in second is being surrounded by things that are possible in a temperate climate. Like say a mango tree.

As I mentioned before, I have a mango tree behind my house. This is really a dream come true for me. I can still remember the first time my dad bought a mango home and told us before we ate it how great they were. He wasn’t lying. It was love at first taste. So that is what makes right now a special time of the year as this delicious fruit is in its prime season. Which is awesome. The only problem is my tree isn’t as productive as others in the community. There is one tree in particular that has so many mangoes that if it were at my tree I would probably die of mango overdose - which won’t be a bad way to go out when you think about it.

But that’s not to say my tree is a complete disappointment.

It’s just not as good as some others in my community and has been slower to turn the mangoes to ripe. As a result, during the last two weeks, I have been gifted quite a few tasty suckers by a wonderful family across the street. It has only heightened my desire for more.

One other problem with my tree is a lot of the mangoes aren’t easily accessible. The tree is pretty high up and the branches aren’t made for a person of my weight to go climbing up them. You know what this means? Exploiting child labor. However, in my case, I had quite a few youngsters that were interested in heading up the tree and pick off some of the ripe mangoes.

As you might imagine, I was a little scared by this proposition at first. But quickly I remembered a lot of these kids are experts at this sort of thing. So I signed on. Not aware of the Panamanian child labor laws, we quickly agreed to payment for the work in the form of mangoes. Sounded good to me. Them too.

So I took my leadership position under the tree and offered words of encouragement and caution. With ‘cuidado’ (meaning careful) being the most common phrase.

Everything went off without a hitch. The mangoes were picked and pooled together. After everybody safely made it out of the tree, I dispensed the mangoes accordingly. Everyone was happy.

Well, except you the reader in the States, who doesn’t have a mango tree in your yard.

The Trip Home

2009-04-11T13:08:00.000-07:00

As you might gather from the photo, this past week I went home for the first time for my sister’s wedding. It had been nearly eight months since I had left for Panama. A lot had changed over that time. There is a new president. The price of gas dropped by about a half*. The stock market tanked. Unemployment is at record highs. My friend Chris is a college graduate. Friends had bought houses and had new girlfriends. And so on.

(*As I was driving my sister’s car back to her house so I could catch my plane back, I noticed the car was low on gas. Used to $4 dollar a gallon gas, I was thinking it was going to be costly to fill up. Therefore, I set my spending limit at 25 bucks. Whatta nice brother, right? Well to my surprise, it only took 21 bucks to fill up. So, in the end, my sister got a full tank of gas.)

But it seemed the more things changed, the more they stayed the same. My brother-in-law was his normal quirky self. My old office remained a great place with great people. My mom still loved to wait on her son hand and foot. Morgantown was still a fun place at night and my buddy Boff still liked to drink. Most importantly, my family still knew how to have fun.

The family and fun were the best parts of the trip and it all came together at the wedding. It was a great event put together by some fantastic work. Everything fell into place. My sister looked beautiful in her wedding dress. My grandfather tore up the dance floor. And a great time was had by all.

The one downer of the trip was the cold weather. Shocking, since I have lived in 85 degree and sunny weather for the past four months. It culminated when I woke up to snow on Tuesday. Snow. In April. No thanks.

It was only fitting that with each stop back down south, I removed a layer of clothing. Now as I type in the cool evening wearing a basketball jersey, I can look back and laugh at the thought of snow.

In that regards, it’s good to be back ‘home’.

The Opposite

2009-03-30T17:55:00.000-07:00

If you had to press me to answer the question “what is my favorite Seinfeld episode,” first I would ramble on about for about 15 minutes about nothing then realize that this question is the equivalent to “who’s your favorite child”. Since I don’t have any kids, I tackle these questions and eventually, I would reach some sort of decision. The answer on most days is “The Opposite”.

This particular episode is based around George’s decision to say and do the complete opposite of what he normally would do in that situation. It works wonders for him as he meets a lady friend, gets hired by the Yankees and rubs everything in Elaine’s face. It’s a great half hour of tv.

Over my time here, I have come to realize that a number of things have become the opposite of what my life was like in the States. Some examples are the following:

I would be pasty white during winter, now I have a nice tan.

I lived in a place with four seasons, now two (rainy and dry).

I used to have water anytime, now I have it from 9:30 at night till 5:30 in the morning.

My favorite shower used to be the morning one, now it is the late night one.

I used to be surrounded by hills and mountains, now my surroundings are completely flat.

I used to eat fast food a few times a week, now none.

I was rarely reading books, now I am reading them constantly.

I used to have a tv, now I don’t.

I used to lounge on a couch, now it’s a hammock.

My soon to be brother-in-law cut my hair, now I do it. (yikes!)

I used to think getting up before 8am was tough, now I am always up before 8am.

Oh yeah, I used to speak English, now it’s Spanish, well sort of.

So now with my life flipped upside down, I am on my way back to the States tomorrow for my sister’s wedding.

Does anybody if Arby’s still has the 5 for 5 deal?

The Mosquitoes

2009-03-26T14:24:00.000-07:00

Over the past three months, the weather here has been spectacular. Each day is the same - 85 degrees, sunny to mostly sunny with a nice breeze to keep it cool. You can’t beat it. I'll let that sink in for a few seconds...

(no snow)

(no cold weather)

(no shoviling snow)

However, not all is perfect. With the warm weather comes another problem: bugs. Namely mosquitoes. Now you know the critters as the occasional bug that bothers you during a summer day in the forest. I know them as the bane of my exsitence, especially when the sun comes up and the sun comes down.

When I first got to site back in late October, the mosquitoes were pretty brutal. Often times around 6:30 in the evening I would have to go and hid under my mosquito net to avoid the attacks. Slowly as the wind picked up as summer came, the mosquitoes lessened. But that’s not to say they went away. In fact, over the past couple of weeks, the wind has slowly faded and as a result more and more are coming back.

So that sets up some interesting moments in the early evening, especially if I had played baseball earlier. Let’s just say the sweat on my legs is more inviting to the those pesky bugs. That’s when I usually reenact Will Ferrell’s “Get off my Shed” skit.

First, I politely ask the mosquito to be a good little boy and leave me alone. After a couple more times of bothering me, that’s when I usually snap at them and warm them “IF YOU DON’T LEAVE ME ALONE, I WILL COVER YOU WITH RAID AND YOU WILL CEASE TO EXISIT.”

Of course, they don’t listen and things don’t end so well for them. But they usually get a few shots in before all is said and done.

And, yes, I have plenty of bug spray that helps keep the varmints away, but I am not a big fan of putting the stuff on. It just feels gross. So instead I fight my battles with these lowlifes. Sure I lose some of them, but I always win the war.

Speaking of which, a couple have been bothering me while typing this. Time to go find the Raid...

Beisbol Part II

2009-03-16T06:53:00.000-07:00

As I discussed last week, my late afternoons have been filled with baseball. It has been a lot of fun for a couple different reasons. One, I have gotten to know some people better through the games. Two, I’ve learned a bunch more names! Third, and finally, I’ve gotten to make a fool of myself a few times, which they love.

When I first started playing, because I was of decent size, it was believed that I could hit the ball real far. As I walked to the plate, the little kids would say “Dilan, homerun”. I guess even Panamanian kids love the long ball. However, I could never fulfill the wishes of the kids. Between the t-ball size bat and years of swinging a golf club, my swing was all out of sorts and I could only manage some weak grounds to either third or shortstop. Yes, I realize I am making excuses, because the other players my size have no problem launching rocket shots. I am not very good. I am comfortable with that. On the bright side, though, I have been making steady progress.

While I am not the best, there are some pretty good players in my community. My province, Herrera, has won recently dominated the Panamanian Baseball League. So baseball is in their blood. You can tell, too. Some of the hand eye coordination on a couple of the players leaves me astounded. Whether it is plucking a late errant hop on a groundball or throwing up a bat at the exact time to stop a foul ball, I
feel at times we are playing a different game.

With the talent there, this makes for some pretty good, interesting games. Between the hops and the stiff breeze that usually blows, craziness often ensues. Because the games are so short (3-4 innings), they are usually close which leads to a lot of yelling and arguing. And they really enjoy this. My favorite wrinkle is when you want to make a point one usually finishes it with a “jo” for added emphasis. Needless to say when the game is tight there are a lot more “jo’s” and everybody becomes like Lou Piniella. I usually just sit back and with the madness unfold while wishing I could talk that fast. At least I can do a good “jo”.

All of this is in the spirit of the game so you have a lot of instances where people give each other a hard time. My favorite moment for me was after I couldn’t take an opposite field shot over the right fielder’s head. As I was trotting back to the rest of my team, one observant bystander remarked to me “Dilan, mas fuerza”. Or more strength. I just kinda laughed and nodded my head. He was right. I could use a bit more strength.

But in my defense, I was hitting into a pretty good breeze.

Beisbol

2009-03-09T19:23:00.000-07:00

When I was younger, I used to really like baseball. Somewhere around the age of 14, I started to lose interest. Maybe it was I stared to like track (talk about a difference in sports – One you always run, the other hardly), or maybe everybody around me was getting bigger and stronger and I was, well, skinny. Nothing showcased this better than me trying to be a catcher. I stared to catch at 11 and by 14 it was the only position that I enjoyed playing. One problem – I had a noodle arm. A walk or a single was pretty much a double unless you moved like my old Ford Festiva.

Anyhow, I quit playing at 15 and other than playing a year of intramural softball my senior year in college, baseball was restricted to seeing a couple MLB games a year and fantasy baseball. That has all changed over the past couple weeks.

When I first got to my site, I gravitated to the basketball court. After a couple weeks the games became pretty good and fun. That came to an abrupt halt one day when a water tank started to be built adjacent to the court and in the process cluttering the court with junk and making it unplayable.

Without basketball, I turned my attention to the baseball field. One problem. It appeared that the field hadn’t been touched in a couple years as evidenced by the weeds that had run rampant on the field. A few weeks back a group of people got together to clear the field. Using machetes, half the field was knocked down. However, that process became tedious and eventually it was decided to just burn down the rest of field. Well it worked. Kinda. Now the infield has more bad hops than a can of Schlitz. (I wish I was good enough to come up with that line, but I stole it from Joe Posnanski) While the outfield is in even worse shape as my last week my face was nearly mangled by an errant hop.

The view from home plate.

The outfield. I guess it is in better shape than old Yankee Stadium.

But you know what? The games have been a ton of fun. Each day around 5:00 a game starts. They last four innings and the winner stay on to face the next team. All ages plays which leads, in the long run, to a lot of yelling and complaining. This usually occurs over a botched play where the old player will get on the case of a young one. Of course, I have seen plenty of evidence that demonstrates they would not have likely made the play either. But that’s not here not there. And of course there are a ton of arguments over the score and the number of outs.

Next week I will go more into detail about some of the interesting moments that have occurred thus far. First, though, I got to track down and read up on baseball field up keeping.

After all, I can’t afford to have my livelihood in danger of another errant hop.

Honking the Horn

2009-03-01T09:05:00.000-08:00

One of the things that I have really noticed during my time in Panama is people really like to honk their car horn. I mean really like to honk their horn. It doesn’t matter the situation. For instance, a car could be slowly approaching a stop sign at an intersection and appears in no way it will be cutting the driver off in the flow lane the car with the right away will be honking their horn. It’s a sure thing.

But it is just not situations like that. Say a person is walking along the road and has their back turned towards oncoming traffic. That person has nothing to fear, because the driver will surely give the person a courtesy beep that they are coming soon. The constant honking extends to passing by a pretty girl, seeing an old friend and pretty much any other imaginable situation where one can think a good honk is necessary. And some you can’t even think of.

Some people have even taken the whole honking thing to the next level by getting special horns. While I haven’t heard someone yet with a Dixie horn from the Dukes of Hazard (truly a shame), the most popular alternative horn is a siren like sound that wanes for a few seconds. These are the serious honkers.

Trust me, I enjoy a good honk, but with my last car in the States, my horn was pretty weak, therefore I rarely used the thing; opting instead for a well timed middle finger to a lousy driver. OK, that’s not true, but having not driven for over six months the whole horn thing reminds me of the days when I had the power to drive anywhere I wanted.

Now that I can’t drive, I get to experience situations like the following when I was riding in a truck with a representative from a government agency on our way to a meeting in Panama City. Having been taught the standard “10-2” driving position, I watched as the driver have his left hand at the 10 position, but instead of having his right hand at 2, he had his hand resting on the center part with his thumb placed right over the sweet spot of the horn (somewhere I imagine my driver education teacher Mr. White is shaking his head in disgust).

And he took full advantage of his well placed thumb. Over the 6 hours of driving to and from the city, I lost count of the number of times he gave the horn a toot, but I am pretty sure he honked the horn more times over that time period than I have honked a horn during my 10+ years of driving. To pass the time, I would try to guess when the honking situation would come and what it would look like and would it get the person's attention.

Of course, it would have been a lot more fun if every time he honked the horn, he would play the sounds of Dixie. Now that would have really gotten people’s attention.

Carnivale

2009-02-25T08:17:00.000-08:00

Over the past four days was the biggest event in Panama - Carnvial. Basically it is a four day celebration similar to Mardi Gras. The difference is instead of beads and flashing, there is water. A ton of water. Fire hoses, squirt guns, buckets, you name it. Anything that moves water, it is used. Which is nice since it is like 85 degrees and sunny, so the water cools you down.

That's the set up. From there I got together with some of my Peace Corps volunteer friends and we went to a couple 'culecos' where the water is sprayed and had a grand time. At night, we went to the big dances two of the nights. There were live performers and tons of ice and water being thrown around. Quite the scene.

Anyhow, the four days of madness is now over. Next year, I believe, my sisters and soon to be brother-in-law are coming down for the event. It should be a blast.

And I have a year to dry off in between and you can read a poem written by my friend Diego about the expeirence:

Ankle deep puddles
Carnivale liminality
Lost in lights and sounds
Blossoms swirl feverishly
Sunfalls through the water spray.

The Attack of the Gringos

2009-02-17T06:23:00.000-08:00

This past week, my group (62) reconvened for the first time together since we departed for our sites back at the end of the October. The purpose of this was to give an update on how things went for the first three months, receive some additional training and fine tune our Spanish. Or in my case, learn a bunch of additional things that now have me more confused than before the classes. OK, I’m embellishing things some, but really the time spent together was great.

The training ended after lunch on Friday and we all dispersed back to our sites. Well, most of us anyway. Because of the hour that we were let go, and the distance some people have to travel to get to their site, it was not possible for people to get back home. Since I only lived a couple hours from where we were at, I invited my friends Jay and Julia to stay with me on Friday night. (By the way, I have plugged their blog before, but after my sister told me how much better their blog was than mine last week, I feel like I need to do so again) So, they told me they were in. Cool. From there, that’s when things really get interesting. As word spread that they were staying, before I knew it, I had a couple more interested. OK, not a problem. Then a couple more. Now, I am starting to think how I can handle all these people!

When the dust settled, I had seven people coming to stay with me now. Sadly one person had to back out on Friday morning. In any case, it was quite a bit of people. Thankfully, my house is pretty big, but I had a few minor details that I had think about. First, I have a water shortage problem during the day. This wouldn’t be that big of a problem since we would be getting back late and they would be leaving early, but I wasn’t sure if I had enough water that night for everybody to take a shower. Second, we wanted to cook dinner, but my stove is not fully hooked up yet. I have been just using a single hot plate to get me by. What if we wanted to make a big dinner?! Third, where was everybody going to stay? I have bed room for three people, a hammock and a sleeping mat. That adds up to five, which is short of seven. Lastly, what would my community think of all the gringos in the community?

In the end, everything worked out. There was enough water. We opted to make some tacos that were fantastic (I lapped the field eating six!). The sleeping situation was not ideal, but we all survived. Only one person slept directly on the concrete floor. Finally, my community loved the visitors. My counterpart and cooperative president, Sergio brought his little boy over on Friday night and had dinner with us. Then the next morning we went down to the port where we met a couple of boats that were just pulling back into the port after staying out at the ocean during the night to do their fishing. One thing the group of fishermen caught was a sting ray and we got to see them carve it up so it could be sold. I think the group had mixed feelings on that.

Then 9:30 came and the group pulled out to head back to their own worlds. My house became empty and quiet again, but the buzz in my community remained. After cleaning up, I headed out to chat with some folks. They were impressed with my friends and asked when they were coming back.

Soon, I told them. Just let me get my house in order first.

Dancing in the Dark

2009-02-09T08:03:00.000-08:00

You can't start a fire
You can't start a fire without a spark
~Bruce Springsteen “Dancing in the Dark”

When I was just a baby, my parents changed my middle name from Jared to Matteo. My parents made this switch to honor my recently passed away great grandfather, whose first name was Matteo. Now what does this have to do with me being in Panama? Well, it was my great-grandfather that brought the Sacchetti side of the family to America through Ellis Island after World War I.

Having just passed my first six months in Panama, I was reflecting about how I ended up in turning my life upside down during the time and the factors that led me to the change. Of course, there were the obvious reasons – I wanted to help my fellow man, I wanted to challenge myself, I wanted to learn a new culture and language, etc. All those were inspiring and played a big role in leading me down here. However, there was something more that ultimately pushed me to go. It was that ‘spark’ that started the fire. Sure, it wasn’t the feel good reason like the others, but it was the final push that led me to a small fishing town in the Auzero region of Panama.

And that’s where my great-grandfather comes back into the mix. I am sure there were multiple reason to come to America (better life, American dream), but I can’t shake the thought that a big reason that he decided cross the Atlantic with his family was because something inside him pushed him, just like me.

That’s when I stared to think more about our two situations and I realized that this is my version of my great-grandfather coming to America.

In no way am I implying that my voyage is as difficult. For starters, I don’t have a family to take of. And while I get paid a low wage, I never have to worry about where my next meal is coming from. While I’m alone here in my community, I have a great support staff that is watching my back constantly. Finally, if I get homesick, I have plenty of options to turn to (phone, Internet, iPod, books).

At the same time, though, there are a lot of similarities. We both left behind out lives in our native country. We both spoke very little of the new language. We both didn’t know anybody in our new land. Lastly, we both thought the move would be to the benefit of our futures.

I never got a chance to talk to my great-grandfather, but judging that he raised his family and stayed in the States, his dance in the dark proved to be a great move. While, I’m not going to stay in my new country to live after my service is up, I can say that after six months, my own dance in the dark is proving to be a great move, too.

Nobody Beats Me in the Kitchen

2009-02-05T08:22:00.000-08:00

With two weeks down in my new house and nearly everything in place, I have started to settle in nicely and returned to more of a normal life after being treated in a way as a king over the past five months (Yes, Dylan, would like his food right now and his clothes washed, but can you hold the mayo next time). Now all those cooking and cleaning responsibility fall back on my shoulders. In other words, I have got to get myself going again.

The one thing I am really looking forward to over my remaining time here is cooking. I suppose after being held hostage to rice two times a day for five months, I have a strong desire for a little more variety in my life. My Aunt Randy and mom sent me down two great cookbooks and my cousin Colin sent down his fine recipe for pepperoni rolls. I hope to use this latter recipe and tie it in with the youth group in my community. One thing we are to do is help the local people understand our culture, and nothing says West Virginia like pepperoni rolls (mmmm Colasessano’s). So I envision teaching the members of the group how to make them and then we turn around and sell them to the community and hopefully make a couple dollars to fund future projects. On paper it sounds like a win-win for all those involved. Well, that is if I can find pepperoni.

Not only do I want to broaden my American cooking skills, but I want to learn more about traditional Panamanian cooking. These include ajoldres (similar to fried bread), chackies (a type of cookie that is big in my part of the country, and of course the standard Panamanian meal on important days, arroz con pollo (chicken, rice and bunch of stuff added in). Along with these, I hope to learn to take advantage of the orange, mango and coconut trees that are in my backyard.

There should be many highs and lows when it comes to cooking. Anybody that has seen me in action before in the kitchen knows I am prone to a spectacular failure every once in a while. Alas, I’m ready to charge full speed ahead.

Besides if it doesn’t turn out well with the cooking, I can always go crawling back to my host family for meals. This time, though, I just won’t have the guts to ask to hold the mayo.

The Host Family

2009-01-30T05:53:00.000-08:00

As I mentioned last week, I have moved out of my host family’s house and into my own place. After five months and living with four different families, I am finally a free man. The whole experience reminds me of The Seinfeld episode, wait, I can't think of a situation that is similar from the show. The closest I can think of is George moving back in with his parents, but that doesn't really apply for me. It looks like I am going to have to come up with some original thoughts for this post, so if it falls flat, well, you will know who to blame. And it’s not Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld.

Over the past five months, I have divided my time amongst four families. After having a home with the same family for the first 26 years of my life, rotating families like this kind of left me feeling like the plate of stuffing that gets passed around the dinner table at Thanksgiving. I started out with a full plate of eagerness, but by the time the dish gets passed around the table a few times that eagerness is gone and eventually my plate was empty. Pretty soon I started to look forward to the desert, which thankfully came in the form of my own house.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the experience. I did, quite a bit. Each family brought a different wrinkle to the table, but in the end, they all helped me reach my overall goal of becoming acclimated with Panamanian culture.

My journey started out with a family that I lived with in the site of our training in Santa Clara. I lived with a family of four that consisted of the mom, dad, a 13 year old and a 4 year granddaughter. The mom of the house was the one who really took me under her wing to show me the ropes of the Spanish language, which helped me tremendously over the first two months. Also, it should be noted that the mom called her granddaughter “Hurricane” because she could be quite the handful. From there, I bounced around two different families for a week each. Both families were nice and kept me well fed (you can’t ask for much more than that!). The one thing that will stick with me about these two families was the day I left town, the young boy wouldn’t come out to say goodbye because he was in his room crying over my departure.

Finally, I made it to my site, where I lived with my counterpart and his family for three months. My counterpart, Sergio, is the main person of contact I have in the community. In my case, he is the president of the cooperative. His family consisted of his wife, a boy that is two and half and a baby girl that is now ten months old. I am not sure, but the two kids could give any brother and sister combo a run for their money in a cutest contest.

And they are great people too. The wife helped me more with my Spanish and my counterpart has a good sense of humor. One day when I told him that I was starting to get pretty dark, he said “that in two years I would be as dark as Barack Obama”. Well, he said that in Spanish.

Now I am on my own. And it is definitely different. No more babies crying, no more rice two times a day, and no more Spanish soap operas nightly. I don’t miss the first two, but I do find myself occasionally longing for soap opera fix (I liked the Spanish practice, ok). Soon, I will get to start to tackle some of the things I want to get to over the remaining 21 months. I’ll tackle those subjects in upcoming entries.

First, I am going to enjoy some peace and quiet.

Ballad Of A Thin Man

2009-01-22T09:47:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow marks the day I will be moving out of the house of my host family, and into my own house. Since one door will be opening, while another closes, I thought it would be good to take a look back at the past three months in my new home. To do so, I`m going to use some of the lyrics from the Bob Dylan song ¨Ballad of a Thin Man¨ to help me out.

You try so hard
But you don't understand

Even though my Spanish has improved quite a bit, there is a lot of times, I still just don`t understand. The Spanish language is a bit more complex than I thought it was. Present, Past, Imperfect, and Subjective all lead to a bunch of different conjugations of verbs.

And you say, "Oh my God
Am I here all alone?"

Yup. I’m here all alone. However, I’ve never thought of it this way, but there has been times when I wake up and it takes me a second to remember just where I am. It’s kind of a weird feeling as you might imagine.

Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel
To be such a freak?"

I feel like this happened to me sometimes when people would see me for the first time. In a lot of ways I felt like a freak.

To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

With my salary, this year or next I won’t be writing any of these types of checks.

You've been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well read

I haven’t read any of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books, but I have read quite a few. I have read some very interesting ones from Liars Poker to The Omnivore's Dilemma. Coming up next ranges from a book about Robert Kennedy’s life to the movies of Stephen Segal. It should be quite an educational ride.

And he says, "Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan"

I’ll be finishing up my service on October 21, 2010.

And he screams back, "You're a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home"

Instead of some milk, I ‘gave’ someone my bookbag. Or more like it was stolen. The one setback thus far cost me my camera, iPod, passport and some other things. Not fun.

Because something is happening here
But you don't know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

The famous line from the song, gives me a chance talk a bit about the main project in my community. Working with a fishing co-op, we are trying to secure funding to ramp up efforts of the co-op. The group is working with some different agencies and I’m helping them in getting materials ready for those meetings. My hope is some money will come soon. In the meantime, I'm going to try to figure everything else that is happening in my community.

My Day in the Field

2009-01-13T08:11:00.000-08:00

This past Saturday, I had the interesting experience of cutting rice with my counterpart/host family on a small plot of land. Before we delve into the details of the day, allow me to first set the stage.

Starting a few weeks back, my counterpart’s dad started to build a contraption to hold the rice. He built this was various scrap parts that were lying around the house. I have to admit, the final product was some inspired genius – a mixed and matched casket shaped box that looked like it might fall apart, but at the same time looked sturdy as a Great Wall. With the container built, my counterpart, his dad, and I loaded it up in the back of a truck to take it to the rice plot that was about a mile away. This is when I got my first look at the field. It was in a swampy area that had a stream running through the middle of it that acted as a natural divider of the land. As we carried the box out on the field, I had my first taste of mud in some time. Since it hasn’t rained in about a month here, I forgot about the wonders of the slimy stuff. But, since this was swampy land that was slowly drying out, it was a muddy mess.

As we left, my counterpart informed me we would be back on the following Saturday to harvest the rice. During the week, I would see my counterpart’s dad getting ready for the big day. My favorite activity was seeing him sew together bags that would eventually serve as a type of fence for the contraption (I’ll explain more later).

So, now the pieces are in place and it’s about 7:30 Saturday morning, my counterpart and I start walking out to the field. Oh, I’m also carrying my trusty machete. Upon arriving, we are greeted by my counterpart’s dad and a couple other folks who have already started. I’m given a brief tutorial on how to cut the rice. Essentially, the rice grows up in little plots. Sometime the plots have as few as 10 individual stands clumped together, other have as many of 25. The plots are scattered about a foot from each other. So, now to cut it, you grab the plot together in your hand about a foot from the ground and take your machete and cut it about six inches below that. You throw the cut rice into a pile and move onto the next plot. And on and on this goes on and on. The one catch is the further you get into the field, the more water and mud there is.

As you might imagine, it gets a bit tedious. So, there were a couple of wrinkles throughout the day that spiced things up. The first is the traditional bottle of Seco that is brought and passed around every hour or so. Seco is a dry liquor that has a taste that leaves a lot to be desired. I passed on the offer telling them I only drink beer. Another interesting activity is the yelling that occurs about once every half hour. Basically, one person lets out a scream that I don’t even know how to translate it into a typed word. I’m sorry. Come visit me and you can experience it firsthand. After that person lets his ‘grita’ (or scream) out, another person answers that call. And they go back and forth a couple times. Sometimes another person joins in as well. That’s when it really takes off. Going into the day, I knew about both of these work field traditions. However, the third one was new to me.

About an hour or so after I got there and was cutting rice, I had my back turned and was eyeing my next target. All of a sudden, I hear a loud pop. I turn around to look and see my counterpart’s 67 year old dad about to light another firecracker with a huge grin on his face. What he has is an imitation Black Cat. Suddenly there is another “pop”. He lights about four of them then scampers back to his work quickly, almost like a teenager fleeing a scene before any adults can catch him. They really love their fireworks here. On New Year’s Eve the fireworks started before midnight and went a good half hour into the New Year. These weren’t just public firework displays, but anybody who wanted to set them off. I still don’t know how the city didn’t burn to the ground. Anyhow, the fireworks went on throughout the day. It was great.

As the field was getting cut, a couple other folks were collecting the bundles that were left behind and moving them near the contraption where the rice would be removed from their stalks. This was done by taking a handful of the stalks and beating them against the crate. The crate had a couple pieces of wood going across it that would allow the rice to beaten hard enough to be separated from its protective shell. Also, there was a net that over top the wood, so that only the rice would fall into the casket like bottom. And, of course, the bags mentioned earlier helped seal the container by providing a wall that kept the rice from flying everywhere.

Doing one part of the field took pretty much the full day. By the end, I was so covered in mud that it looked like some hippie from a picture at Woodstock, only with a buzz cut though. All and all, it was an interesting day. Sure, I got a couple blisters on my hand from the machete (that’s what happens when you avoid manual labor most of your adult life!), but more importantly I got to help out the family that I’ve been staying with for the past two and a half months. Since they have been nothing but good to me, I was happy about that.

Now I gotta go clean my clothes as part II is this coming Sunday.

What's Your Name Again

2009-01-06T13:28:00.000-08:00

In the Seinfeld episode “The Nonfat Yogurt,” Elaine starts seeing a guy who is an advisor for Mayor Dinkins. (Yes, another Seinfeld reference. This won’t be the last either; as I’m convinced during the shows illustrious run they put their own unique spin on nearly everything that happens in daily life.) Elaine pitches to the guy, Lloyd Braun, that everybody should wear name tags in the city.

In the show, the idea is a huge failure, but I think it might have some legs in my community. Because one hurdle I’m trying to overcome is remembering people’s names. I have identified two reasons why I’m struggling with the names:

In some cases, it is the first time I have heard a name, so I have no past recognition on my part. For instance, one guy in my town is named Faustino. It took me a couple times hearing the name before it started to click. On the flip side, one lady is named Jamie, and since that is the name of my older sister, I haven’t forgotten that one.
My brain is overloaded trying to listen and think in this foreign language that there just isn’t anymore room for something like a name.

Of course, there is a whole other twist to this tale. Most folks have a nickname that they go by, but when you first meet somebody, they will give you there real name and not their nickname. In one case, a member of the co-op first name is Angel, but everyone calls him Purre, which is his nickname. So, when I first got to site and people would ask me about Purre, I would have no idea who they were speaking of. None. Eventually, I put two and two together, and was able to see what was going on. And it’s getting better across the board, as I’m picking more names each day.

Still, it would be fun to do my best Frank Costanza impression around my community as I look at name tags, ”Hola, Conception”, “Buenas, Miguel”, “Adios, Adrian”.

Of course, there would be the whole issue of whether the name tags would have their first name or nicknames on them. So, maybe I’ll just avoid this political disaster, like Mayor Dickens should have.

Living in Three Worlds

2008-12-31T10:24:00.000-08:00

During my Election Day blog, I talked a bit how jarring it was to move back and forth between my English and Spanish world. After being at site for two months, I have come to realize that I have three different worlds that I live in – my Spanish world, my own little world, and my gringo world.

Obviously, my Spanish world is when I’m in my community and interacting with the folks here. Interacting is a good way to describe it, because saying talking and listening would leave out the big portion of finger pointing and hand gestures that help me to fully understand something. My favorite gesture is the finger point to the sky that represents the person is interested in the United States. Yes, it took me a few times to catch onto this, but now I’m good to go. Being in my Spanish world can be mentally exhausting, but the challenge is fun.

The second world that I know is my own little world. This expression came from my dad when he used it to describe my cousin once. Many years ago, my dad, my cousin and I went to a mall after Thanksgiving where my cousin lived. After my cousin navigated us to the mall, we started to walk to the entrance of the bookstore. As we neared the door, my cousin started walking really fast oblivious to the situation and pretty soon he was well ahead of us. This lead my dad to remark, “there goes Ryan into his own little world”. Now I find me in my own little world often as this is when I’m listening to my iPod, reading a book, or using the computer. Similar to my cousin, when I’m in my own world, I tune out the world around me.

Finally there is my gringo world where I’m talking with friends and family back home or hanging out with some other volunteers here in Panama. The gringo world is a nice change of pace, because it reminds me of life back home in the States.

Each of the three is a different from the next and as a result sometimes shifting between them can be difficult. For instance, during Thanksgiving when I was in Santiago, I had taken the bus there and jammed on my iPod in my own little world. After getting dropped off, I had a ten minute walk to the house where we were celebrating Thanksgiving. After stopping for a king sized Snickers, I started on my way. A few minutes later , I encountered two other volunteers. As we started to converse, I barely knew how to act at first. My own little world was disturbed and it took me a couple minutes to snap out of it.

Speaking of which, I’ve been in my own little world long enough, time to go back to my Spanish one. Now that’s the one that is toughest to switch my mind into.

All I Want For Christmas

2008-12-21T15:49:00.000-08:00

I remember as a kid, each year, my sisters and I would make lists of things that we would want for Christmas. The excitement in writing those lists was nearly as great as Christmas morning. There was a certain joy in comparing lists and racking your brain in trying to complete your list. It’s like the child’s version of coming up with a political bill. You get to think through the parts of the list. You seek input from friends. After the list is drafted, you go around and make your case to parties involved in the process. Ultimately, though, the final say is out of your hands. You just have to wait and see if the items in the list pass. Sometimes there’s joy. Sometimes there’s disappointment.

As I’ve gotten older, I really don’t write down my Christmas wish lists anymore. I would usually keep little mental notes and when asked I would jog my memory and tell Santa my family. This year, though, my wish list is pretty empty. My Mom keeps asking me in emails if I need anything, and since my first care package was sent, my answer has been nope. I have all the material things I need down here. More importantly, I have all the things in my life that make it great- a great family, great friends, a great new community, a great host family, a great opportunity to do some work that can really improve the lives of people. I can’t ask for much more.

Of course, I wouldn’t be completely truthful if I said I didn’t want anything for Christmas. My sisters are sending me some books and I’m sure my parents will come up with something interesting. Naturally, it would nice if that goofy thing that CNN introduced on Election Night, where someone is beamed into a location from somewhere else, were available it would be nice to be there for Christmas Dinner. However, since that’s not possible, the one thing I want for Christmas is to see the Celtics-Lakers Christmas Day game.

Having caught only brief moments of basketball this year, I can’t miss this showdown of the rematch of last years NBA Finals. That’s why, just like I was 12 again, I’ve already got my plan laid out on how to watch the game. I’ve got my lines already rehearsed in Spanish to get the game on the television. Now I just have to wait and see.

Hopefully, this wish ends in joy. Feliz Navidad.

Seeeeeecrets

2008-12-18T06:57:00.000-08:00

There are some things that are best kept to yourself – like your social security number or admitting that you enjoy Joey Lawerence’s catchphrase “Woah”. Being in Panama I had a chance to keep something I did away from the folks back in the States. However, one day when I was talking to my sister, I decided to come clean – I had bought a pair of Crocs.

You see, this is a big deal, because in the past, both my sister and I had ridiculed our cousin after he bought a pair and then had the audacity to wear them out in public. So, naturally, when I broke the news to my sister, she went nuts on me. Pretty soon I was trying to defend myself in much the same fashion that my dad did when he was contemplating buying a Subaru Baja. At that time, he used words like “practically” and “versatile” to try to sell me on the car. I wasn’t buying it and I fired back that the car drove stiff, had bad sightlines and, most importantly, hideous looking. He held strong and went ahead with the purchase, so I knew if my dad could defend his auspicious decision, if I held my ground, I could do the same.

I started off telling her that it can be quite muddy here and I’m going to be living near water, so the Crocs are very “versatile” and “practical” (those buzzwords again!). Eventually, she reluctantly came around to my point of view. Of course, that doesn’t mean I actually like the things, but I have to say thus far they have been pretty useful here.

And that’s where they will stay – here. Unlike my dad and his Baja, my purchase of the Crocs was not a long term one. When I’m cleaning out my stuff after my two years are up, they will be the first things discarded. That’s why I’ve started a countdown of how many days I have left in Panama. Not because I’m anxious to return home, instead I want to know how soon I can rid myself of these monstrosities.

Only 671 days left.

I Was There in Spirit

2008-12-09T11:12:00.000-08:00

As my sister Johnna mentioned in the comments section of my Thanksgiving post, the family decided to have a little moment for all the family members not at Thanksgiving this year. She sent me the photos, so I decided to post them.

Before we get to them, I should mention this idea was the brainchild of my future brother-in-law Dan (April 4, 2009!). As you can see, they even added in a nice touch of the Spanish speaking beer. Of course, they could have gone the extra mile and gotten one of the four Panamian Beers, but it's the thought that counts. To read more about the types of beer here in Panama, you can check out my friends (Jay and Julia) panablog taste test they did with some other volunteers from our group. It's quite good.

OK, the pictures.

As, you can see I'm hanging out in the photo with some yummy turkey and the beer. The photo is from my eighth grade year and I really don't have a lot to say about it, other than at one time I was a big fan of Zach Morris. So, I thought that outfit was something he would wear.

The second photo features other members of the family that weren't at Thanksgiving as well...

From the left:
My cousin Ryan. Looking extremely gabbish in his senior photo from high school. I can safely report he doesn't sport that haircut any longer.

Me.

My cousin Colin. Ryan's younger brother. The photo is just after boot camp for the Navy.

My Uncle Michael. My dad's younger brother. No it's not a Halloween photo. He was a professional boxer.

If your wondering where those muscles are at on me, well, I wonder about it too.

It's December, really?

2008-12-03T15:10:00.000-08:00

I know the calendar says it’s December, but I don’t believe it. To me, I still think it is late August. Why? Because the weather here is still like it was when I left the states in early August.

Hot.

One of the things about being raised in West Virginia is living in a climate that has all four seasons. Therefore, the weather always told me what time of year it was. Hot weather meant June-August, while freezing my butt off said it was December-March. Of course, the trees would tell me when Fall had come. This year there was no Fall. So, it really didn’t dawn on me what time of the year it was until my mom emailed me a couple weeks back to say they had two inches of snow. Meanwhile, while I was reading the email, I was sweating through my shirt. Something was wrong with the whole thing from my perspective.

But that’s the way things are here. Different. (Note: actual details may not be factual due to the whole language barrier thing) There are two main seasons – rainy and dry. Right now, the rainy season is finishing up, as it last from April through mid December. Soon the sun will be out always and eventually there won’t be a cloud in the sky during late January into February. I have been told it gets really, really hot during this time. This should be interesting, because right now I think it’s really, really hot.

It is that hot weather that makes it impossible for me to believe it is December and Christmas is just around the corner. I know the calendar says it, but I’m not buying it. Christmas has always been cold weather and snow. Not heat and sweat.

That’s why this year I’m leaving my stocking in the closet and will opt instead for sunscreen and a beach towel. However, I will still accept gifts; just don’t expect one from down here.

You know, I guess, I always was the selfish one.

Turkey Day

2008-11-25T07:41:00.000-08:00

Ah, Thanksgiving. One of my favorite holidays. Turkey. Mashed Potatoes. Gravy. Green Beans. Pumpkin Pie. Family. Football. Booze. Cold Weather. Lounging. In many ways it is the American holiday. You lie around watch football and stuff yourself full of food while hanging out with family. Does it get any better than that?

Of course not, but this year, I’ll be putting a twist of the holiday. Turkey becomes Chicken. Football becomes Panamanian soup operas and the cold weather becomes warm weather. I welcome one of the three changes; I’ll let you guess which one.

And so, this year I’ll be celebrating Thanksgiving not with family, but many of the cast of characters that I spent election night with earlier this month.

The plan is for everybody to arrive around noon in Santiago. From there, we will go shopping (you don’t have to be worried about stores being closed in Panama on Thanksgiving. Point - Panama) for our food. From there, we will go to the house of one of the volunteers that lives in Santiago to make the food. I’m sure that cooking everything will run longer than expected and dinner will be a little late (a Sacchetti family tradition!). I’m sure much wine will be purchased and the group will hang out drink it and talk about out new lives and be thankful for what we have. And, I’m sure that it will be a great time.

Come to think of it, the day won’t be all that much different from my day in the States, but at the same time, it’ll be nothing alike.

Confusing Words

2008-11-19T14:27:00.000-08:00

One of the great challenges, and trust me there have been many, in learning a new language is trying not confuse words that sound alike, but have different meanings. To think this was an easy hurdle for me to overcome, well obviously you aren’t that familiar with my foreign language rap sheet and the troubles I’ve had in my past with learning a new language.

To wit, look at the following three words…

hambre (hungry)

hombre (man)

hombro (shoulder)

…three different words, all with close pronunciations, but different meanings. When you’re a relative newcomer to the Spanish language business that is trying to speak and understand things at a fairly quick pace, trying not to mix up words is tough to avoid. If your head isn’t spinning yet, these on for size…

caballo (horse)

caballero (gentleman)

cabello (hair)

…good. Say those three words five times fast and see if you don’t get the words mixed up. Ok, so you didn’t, but at one time this novice speaker did. What can I say?

Overcoming these obstacles is my great task in trying to reach my goal of becoming a fluent speaker in Spanish. I hope that at the end of my two years, I can speak fast, listen faster, and avoid embarrassing episodes like this one:

Late one evening (ok, it was like 7:00pm, but that’s late now) during my fourth week in Panama, I was physically and mentally drained from a long day. However, the father of the family I was staying with was peppering this odd person (me) with questions. Doing my best to answer, I was often forced to simple “yes” / “no” answers due to my lack of vocabulary at the time. When I thought the question of “are you tired” came at me, I quickly responded with “yes” and didn’t think anymore about it.

Well, that was until the next afternoon when the Spanish teacher told me how the whole town thought I was married. You see, it turns out the word for married (casado) is oh so close to the word for tired (cansado). Whoops! Thankfully, my Spanish teacher straightened out the problem, while I just chalked it up to another (mis)adventure in Panama.

Rooting from afar for the Home Team

2008-11-12T14:19:00.000-08:00

(Note: This was written before the heartbreaking loss to Cincy last Saturday. However, the theme of the entry still stands)

This year marked the first time in about 15 years that I missed a WVU home game. Obviously, following the Mountaineers was a big part of my life. I mean think about it. A lot has changed since I had missed a home game. I was a skinny kid with a high pitch voice. The Internet hardly existed, and my friend Jason harbored aspirations to be President of the United States. OK, some things don’t change. However, for me over the past three months, a lot has changed. From moving to a new country to learning a new language, my life has been turned upside down. I’m getting adjusted to a lot of these things, but I’m still finding my way in the sporting world.

I knew going in I was not going to be able to follow the home team that closely. Watching games would be pretty much out of the question, but I figured I would still be able to maintain contact and my passion for West Virginia. However, I haven’t. Maybe it was when I got my passport stamped; I turned in my fans license. Or maybe it is because the people surrounding me don’t know a Mountaineer from a Longhorn or a Jayhawk (actually, there is a teacher at my site that went to Kansas and loves the Jayhawks, but you get the point). I don’t know, but this football season hasn’t been the same for me.

What makes this development more interesting is that this year has been a tumultuous season for the Mountaineers. It started last winter when the decision was made to hire an under qualified coach. At the time, I was not happy about the move. I thought the success of the program over the past couple years was in jeopardy. And as the Mountaineers stumbled out of the gates to a 1-2 start the emails and phone calls started pouring in. When my parents called after one game, my dad didn’t start with, “Hello,” but rather, “I don’t know why they hired Stewart.”

I love it when my dad gets fired up about sports. It wasn’t just him, though. One friend wrote in an email, “Because of the losses and Stew's cluelessness we have become a punch line joke for college football and those who report on the game. It is a tough time to stay positive so it’s good you are out of the country.” Another said, “Let's just say by the time you return, we likely will be a perennial bottom-feeder in the Big East.”

The last email had me cracking up, because two weeks later after a big comeback victory over Auburn this same friend wrote, “…the offense is clicking and all is right with the world.” Now, this friend is one of the most rational people I know. However, if you read just those two emails, you’d think he was of his rocker.

That’s when it dawned on me what I missed the most -- the joy of victory and agony of defeat. If I were back home right now, I’m sure I would have been cursing up a storm after the lost to East Carolina. Instead, I had to go into a bigger city with thoughts that maybe I could watch the game online, but I had to settle for following the game online through Gamecast. When the game ended, instead of being upset, I calmly closed the window and left and went to get something to eat with some new friends. As soon as the window closed, I forgot about the game. On the flip side, I’m sure I would think the team could beat anybody after the Auburn game. To me, that’s the best part about being a sports fan -- following those highs and lows. And I’m missing it 3,000 miles away from home.

I’m sure the passion will return when I come back to the States, but in the meantime I’m going to enjoy watching my friends and family appear to be insane, because who knows how insane they think I am right now.

Vote Early. Vote Often.

2008-11-04T20:50:00.000-08:00

One of my favorite random nights in college was the first semester of my freshmen year when I went to my friends’ (Jonathan and Jason’s) dorm room to watch election night 2000. I knew the night was going to be interesting because both of my friends follow politics like the Europeans follow the World Cup and they have polar opposite views when it comes to politics. But I had no idea it would be THAT interesting. There were many highlights, but none better than Dan Rather turning the evening into his own personal comedy hour. I don’t know if he had somebody write the lines for him, but he was on fire that night. My favorite line was “He swept through the South like a tornado through a trailer park.” When I finally called it a night at 2am, there was no winner. Little did I know there wouldn’t be a winner for a while. A long while.

This election I’m operating under different circumstances. For starters, I’m in Panama in a hotel in Santiago. As you know, that isn’t in the United States. I’m joined by some new friends, Jay and Julia, who have their own blog, which is fantastic. You can read it here. As well as, Jodi, a self described socialist, feminist, atheist liberal. You won’t believe this, but she’s pulling for Obama tonight. Finally, there is Duncan, who is a world class modern living Heian poet that goes by Diego in Panama; because they have problems they have trouble pronouncing his name. Besides, Diego is a pretty freaking cool name. You’ll hear more from him later.

So that’s the setup. Oh, we have some Domino’s Pizza and Budweiser beer. Needless to say, it’s an All-American night even if Budweiser isn’t totally American anymore. With the 6 o’clock hour striking, we have our first polls closing and the CNN political machine springs into action. Just like the States, we get to see the stupid beam in hologram of a correspondent. Like most of you I’m sure, even in Panama it seemed ridiculous. It would be cool if this technology was more readily available, though. For instance, it would have been nice to be beamed into my grandfather’s surprise 80th birthday party a few weeks back. Alas.

As Dana Bush pops on the screen, the group agrees that she looks like an alien. Seconds later we see our first West Virginia graphic. It shows Obama with an early lead. I doubt it lasts, but it would be nice if the result stood.

Sure enough it doesn’t. I left the room to get some wireless internet and talk with my parents on Skype. While chatting with my dad, the news broke that West Virginia was going to McCain. The news barely hit with my old man, because he was chatting with his boy for free, even though he is a staunch democrat who took me and my two sisters out of school to go to the Clinton inauguration because he was happy to see the end of 12 years of Republican rule.

As I head back into the room, I’m reminded of the contrast of the new world I’m living in now. While in the lobby, I’m surrounded by Spanish, but when I head back into the room, I’m back into the English world, complete with a well dressed Wolf Blitzer. Juggling the worlds certainly shakes your equilibrium.

Another interesting wrinkle of the night is I’m surrounded with people from diverse parts of the country. The people range from Kansas to Texas to New Jersey. So, when some state race pops up, every once in a while someone in the room will erupt. For instance, they just popped up a race in Minnesota and Julia who was born there gave the room a lesson that Norm Colman was a “total sleaze ball”. There’s a piece of information that I wouldn’t have known if I was in West Virginia right now.

As the path to the White House for John McCain looks unrealistic, the mood of the room is high. I think we were all expecting Obama to win tonight, but we *didn’t* believe it would actually happen until it did.

Well, at 11:00pm, it’s official! We just cracked up a fresh round of brews and toasted to the U.S.A. Since, this night won’t last as long as the 2000 night, I’m going to hand this over to Diego to put an end to this entry and this night:

Ol’ America
Just have to live free or die
Blue tide rushing in
Cherry blossoms spring anew
Can the shifting sands be real?

Bridging Two Cultures

2008-10-26T14:00:00.000-07:00

This past Wednesday, I was officially sworn in as a Peace Corps volunteer. Now, I’m ready to head to my site for good today. It’s an exciting, yet a bit nerve racking, because I’ll be on my on for good. But that’s what I wanted, and that’s what I’ll be getting.

To prep for this time, Peace Corps sends you off a couple different times during training to help get your feet wet, so to speak. During these times, you get to experience Panamanian culture. Immediately you begin to recognize the difference between the cultures in how certain gestures are done in Panama. For instance, when a Panamanian wants to show how big the size of a fish is, they don’t use both hands like in the States; instead they hold out their arm and then put their hand to the spot of the length. Another favorite is how they handle a situation where they don’t understand what has been said by another. When an American encounters this predicament, they usually raise their brow or shrug their shoulders. Here? Not so much.

What they do, instead, is scrunch their nose a couple times. The first time I was on the receiving end of this expression, I was pretty startled and taken back. I was like, “what just happened?” Eventually, I realized what happened and tried to throw together some broken Spanish again and cross my fingers it would work. It did, I think.

Finally, there is my favorite cultural wrinkle I’ve come across here thus far in Panama. When you need directions to a certain location, usually in the States someone would point a finger in the direction. In Panama, one puckers their lips and moves their head in the specific direction. It’s quite a scene, really.

While picking up these little differences, I would occasionally come across something that bridged both cultures. For instance, one night I was watching a playoff baseball game with my host dad. I noticed he had gotten up and a minute later he came and sat back down. When I looked over I saw he had gotten himself an ice cold brewsky. Immediately, I thought, “hey, I’ve done THAT before. Maybe we aren’t that much different after all.”

With that, I’m off to site.

The Puffy Shirt

2008-10-20T18:27:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite Seinfeld episodes, and there are many, is entitled “The Puffy Shirt.” For those of you not familiar with the plot of this particular show, it centers on Kramer having a girlfriend that is a low talker. During one scene, Kramer, the low talker, Jerry and Elaine are all out to dinner. After Kramer excuses himself to use the restroom, Jerry and Elaine are at the table with the low talker and attempting to make small talk. The catch is that each time the low talker responds they can’t hear her. After asking for her to repeat herself a couple times, they just nod and say yes. So this continues on as Elaine mentions that she is running a charity event and Jerry is going to be appearing on TV to promote the benefit. After Elaine mentions this, the low talker mutters something that is inaudible. Not wanting to go through the whole “what did you say routine” again, Elaine and Jerry quickly said “sure”.

The next day, Kramer comes over to Jerry’s apartment and is holding an ugly, white, puffy shirt that resembles something a pirate would sport. Jerry asks Kramer what’s the deal with the shirt. Kramer tells him it is his and that he agreed last night to wear it during his time on TV. As you might imagine, Jerry is incensed and asks when he agreed to wear the shirt. Of course, it was during the time when Jerry and Elaine just hastily responded yes.

What does this have to do with me being in Panama? Well, two things. The first is I miss watching Seinfeld. It’s my favorite show and nothing else is really even close. The second and more important is a couple weeks back I felt everyday had “Puffy Shirt” potential. Allow me to explain.

For starters, when I arrived in Panama, my Spanish was basically non-existent. During the first few weeks, I was in a pretty sheltered environment where I was able to work on my Spanish without worrying about any potential landmines. That changed during “Cultural Week” where all the new crop of volunteers visits the province where they will be living and spend a week with a volunteer that has already been living in the region. It’s a great week where you really get your first taste of what life will be like in Panama. The one catch is you are staying with a host family that lives in the country.

What that really means is you get to learn to speak like most Panamanians. In other words, fast and the words aren’t fully pronounced. As you might imagine, it was a bit overwhelming, especially considering the father of the house took those two characteristics and pushed them even further. After he would ramble something to me, I quickly realized I was having a potential “Puffy Shirt” moment. At times, I would ask him to repeat what he said, but you can only go to that well so many times before you just start to feel a bit foolish and disrespectful. Sometimes, I got the drift of what he was saying, other times, I would have no idea, but still just nod my head and say yes. Each morning I was waiting for my own puffy shirt with a Panamanian twist, but thankfully it never came.

Now, my Spanish has improved and I’m much more confident and what’s going on in a conversation. However, that doesn’t mean I’m out of the woods just yet. Last week, I went to my site for first time and I found myself lost amid somebody talking faster than the old Micro Machines commercials. I’m hopeful when I return to site next week, I didn’t agree to something outrageous.

There would be a bright side. I’m going to be living on the ocean for the next two years, so if I get stuck wearing a puffy, pirate shirt by ‘accident’ I won’t look completely ridiculous. Just ridiculous.

Getting Started

2008-10-20T18:25:00.000-07:00

Bienvenidos to my blog! As you know, I’m going to be living in Panama for the next two years working with the Peace Corps. As a way to keep everybody in the loop about my experiences, I, like many others, have started this blog.

Now what you will get with my postings is not a day to day description of what’s going on with my life and work. Instead, I’ll be focusing on a particular topic and tie in a variety of things, be it a story or experience from Panama, something back home in the States, or just life in general. The postings will vary in length. If I have something good, I could ramble on for a bit. Other times, it could be short and not sweet and you might utter under your breath, “boy that was a waste of time.” I’ll do my best to limit those postings, but that will fall back on my writing ability, so I can’t make any promises.

That said, the goal is to come up with a posting once every week/week and a half. For those technologically advanced, this will include my parents soon, I’ve added the RSS feed, so that way each time I post something, you will know without having to check the site everyday. If you miss me that much and want to check the site everyday, that’s your decision and I’ll support it 100%.

Please feel free to leave comments with the posts, or if you would like, you can send me an email directly to dylansacchetti@hotmail.com.

One final thing, I have listed other blogs of friends also right now in Panama. Feel free to spend some time on their sites. Well, as long as it doesn’t take away too much time from mine.

Dylan