I left last Thursday evening for what my country director fondly calls demystification weekend. My fellow aspirantes (trainees) and I were each given a current volunteer site to visit for the weekend. We were given our volunteer’s name and some information on where to meet or find him or her. For some, the trip ended up being an outlandish adventure waiting for a man with a horse that didn’t show up, hiking two plus hours through Panama’s pouring rain and clay mud “roads”, or bouncing four hours down the pot-holed stretches of the Pan-American highway in an retired American school bus. Some aspirantes’ travels led them to unwittingly discover that some provinces have two towns of the same name. Some folks found out first hand that Panamanians love to help so much that the will even offer you directions when they have never heard of your destination.
Although my travels took me to the far-flung Bocas del Toro Province, my getting there was a very mild journey. Nine and a half hours in a comfy air conditioned overnight bus (next to a man who insisted upon calling me ‘Barbie’) and an additional half an hour in a mini-bus brought me to the foot of the hill upon which my volunteer lived. I scrambled up the hill as the sun began to peek over the islands of Bocas del Toro behind me. It wasn’t until I reached the top that the sunlight was bright enough to illuminate the panoramic postcard picture I was standing in the midst of: the fog-hazed mountains of the binational Parque La Amistad before me and an expanse of the island-dotted Caribbean behind me. How does a trainee keep her site expectations at none when she sees a site like that? Aye, Peace Corps, what are you doing to me?
After waking up my unsuspecting volunteer, we passed the morning learning about eachother and what had brought us to where we were, and I learned through a series of anecdotes what I could expect as a volunteer in an indigenous Ngöbe community in the cacao-rich Bocas. My volunteer showed me her tactics for how to eat well and stay healthy (despite the occasional bout of dengue) in the absence of electricity and running water. We made stove-top brownies from the block of cacao bought from a family in the community, and I marveled at the staying power of processed American cheese while munching on a grilled cheese sandwich.
I had the chance to take a few hour long hike to a transmission tower constructed by the U.S. in WWII with another volunteer that lived just down the highway. The hike was refreshing in a sweaty kind of way and little poisonous dart frogs were just about everywhere. The climb up the tower was reminiscent of climbing up the Harvest Store silo back home and I got a little fearful of the heights, but the view made it well worth it. I wish I could share it with you, but I guess my camera battery decided that it would be better for you to see it first hand.
After the hike I returned to my volunteer’s site for my inaugural quebrada (stream) bath. One of the neighbors was down at the stream washing her clothes and her husband was resting on a rock nearby when I made my way down to the steam. Not knowing the protocol, I hung out with them, striking up conversation about the community, the volunteer I was visiting, and cows, mainly. After about 15 minutes, the neighbor finished the washing and told me to go ahead and bathe. She and her husband gathered the clothes into 5 gallon buckets and started heading up the hill. I started dumping water over my head and was about to bid them ‘hasta luego’ when they took a seat on another rock overlooking the stream. Hmm. So I finished my stream bath with a small audience, said goodbye, and climbed up the hill to ask my volunteer about what just happened. Apparently, bathing with an audience is something that I may be getting used to in my future.
I leave you with some pictures.
Although my travels took me to the far-flung Bocas del Toro Province, my getting there was a very mild journey. Nine and a half hours in a comfy air conditioned overnight bus (next to a man who insisted upon calling me ‘Barbie’) and an additional half an hour in a mini-bus brought me to the foot of the hill upon which my volunteer lived. I scrambled up the hill as the sun began to peek over the islands of Bocas del Toro behind me. It wasn’t until I reached the top that the sunlight was bright enough to illuminate the panoramic postcard picture I was standing in the midst of: the fog-hazed mountains of the binational Parque La Amistad before me and an expanse of the island-dotted Caribbean behind me. How does a trainee keep her site expectations at none when she sees a site like that? Aye, Peace Corps, what are you doing to me?
After waking up my unsuspecting volunteer, we passed the morning learning about eachother and what had brought us to where we were, and I learned through a series of anecdotes what I could expect as a volunteer in an indigenous Ngöbe community in the cacao-rich Bocas. My volunteer showed me her tactics for how to eat well and stay healthy (despite the occasional bout of dengue) in the absence of electricity and running water. We made stove-top brownies from the block of cacao bought from a family in the community, and I marveled at the staying power of processed American cheese while munching on a grilled cheese sandwich.
I had the chance to take a few hour long hike to a transmission tower constructed by the U.S. in WWII with another volunteer that lived just down the highway. The hike was refreshing in a sweaty kind of way and little poisonous dart frogs were just about everywhere. The climb up the tower was reminiscent of climbing up the Harvest Store silo back home and I got a little fearful of the heights, but the view made it well worth it. I wish I could share it with you, but I guess my camera battery decided that it would be better for you to see it first hand.
After the hike I returned to my volunteer’s site for my inaugural quebrada (stream) bath. One of the neighbors was down at the stream washing her clothes and her husband was resting on a rock nearby when I made my way down to the steam. Not knowing the protocol, I hung out with them, striking up conversation about the community, the volunteer I was visiting, and cows, mainly. After about 15 minutes, the neighbor finished the washing and told me to go ahead and bathe. She and her husband gathered the clothes into 5 gallon buckets and started heading up the hill. I started dumping water over my head and was about to bid them ‘hasta luego’ when they took a seat on another rock overlooking the stream. Hmm. So I finished my stream bath with a small audience, said goodbye, and climbed up the hill to ask my volunteer about what just happened. Apparently, bathing with an audience is something that I may be getting used to in my future.
I leave you with some pictures.
Where my journey began: Dayton, OH
My host nephew with his cake (I forgot to buy candles, but I decorated the cake with raisins)
Sunrise in Bocas del Toro
180° from the above photo
2 comments:
Well, certainly seems like you're beginning to fall in love with Panama. Which I guess is OK since America really isn't all she makes herself out to be.
Anywho, try to keep the dengue to a minimum please.. although it is nice to know that you're now bathing :) Try to improve your segways though, wasn't sure what kind of pictures I was going to be seeing there, and I'm really not into sharing your communal bathes over the internet.
Great writing and post's - keep on posting.
Your stories are making my recent voyages around California feel like I just visited the local swingset.
Zelin
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