The New Team

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

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

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

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

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

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

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.