“All journeys have secret destinations of which the traveler is unaware.” – Martin Buber

I learned a new word this week: lagartija = lizard.

And why that specific word might you ask?  Well, while opening up the curtains to let a little light in my room this past week I saw something dart quickly up toward the ceiling.  Somehow I managed to not scream, yank open my laptop, and google the word “lizard” in Spanish so I could run and tell Jose to “mátala!” (“kill it!”) for me.  Jose was kind of chuckling as he chased it away, asking “te dan miedo??” (aka: “are you really afraid of these little things???”) I wouldn’t exactly call it fear. Maybe just repulsion or disgust.  But I think, given my tolerance for crawly things, I can safely say I’ve been pretty good up to this point.  I’ve learned to keep extra paper next to my bed for emergency kills  just in case something decides to start crawling on the sheets, that the counter will ALWAYS have ants crawling all over it, and the lizards here make a really weird kissing/puckering noise (which means I avoid the area the sound comes from at all costs). Just the other day I poured myself a bowl of Cheerios in the morning and a live bug the size of my pinky fingernail plopped in with the cereal. Qué rico. But none of that means that I still don’t cringe and inwardly give a little shriek in disgust every time I have to deal with the nasty things. 

I have some good news and bad news.

Good news first, shall we?

I can finally understand about 95% of one of my classes! Probably because the room is much quieter and the teacher is actually from Salamanca, Spain.  His accent (for me anyway) is much easier to understand and kind of a breath of fresh air from the staccato Panamanian accent I’m not quite used to yet.  (Then again, I’m also a little biased because I fell in love with the dialect when I was over there sophomore year)  He also seems to be a very genuine, nice person.  He pulled me aside after class and asked me how everything was going so far, blah blah blah.  We ended up talking for 20 extra minutes about Spain, the Panamanian schedule (we both decided they just like to come and go whenever they please…class starting times don’t really mean anything to them), and how he used to be a priest in Spain but decided it wasn’t his calling when he moved to Panamá (where he is now happily married with a few kids).  He’s also very chistoso (“funny” or “joking”) as one girl put it – thanks to my gringoness, he has already become fond of picking on me in class (I have a feeling it will turn out to be my favorite).

It's okay if you're a little jealous

And the bad news of course:

I officially have my first sunburn of the summer. We all knew that it was going to happen eventually (even if the bottle says SPF 483290573920 I still think it’s inevitable).  But I have to say, it was definitely worth the pain.  I spent all day today at la Isla Iguana (“Iguana Island”…and named it for a reason. More crawly things. Great.) with Ana María, her boyfriend, Dinah (the girl from Germany) and another Panamanian friend of Ana María (Lili).  Isla Iguana was an actual island (go figure), meaning we had to take a fishing boat (una lancha as I learned it’s called) to get there.  The water was crystal clear near the coast and the sand pure white…it looked like a Sandals advertisement.  We spent the day eating fruit, climbing rocks, floating in the water, and switching back and forth between English and Spanish (Dinah speaks pretty fluent English and wanted to practice with me.  At times she would switch back to Spanish when she didn’t know how to say something properly in English. Strangely enough I barely noticed the change). Hiking around the island we ran into a Panamanian guide who knew the island like the back of his hand.  He pointed out a large hole in the ground and explained that it was created by a bomb when the gringos used the island to “practicar” during the second World War.  We’re still definitely not winning the “world’s most popular country” contest any time soon. 

And yet even more gross little crawly things on the beach

We rode back on the lancha to the mainland with four barefooted Panamanian fishermen and a few sharks they caught in the water during their successful day at sea…and the whole 20 minutes back I had to listen to Ana María next to me groaning “Ayyyyyy, voy a vomitar” ( = “I’m gonna hurl”). Not exactly what you want to hear from the person sitting next to you in a small boat where the only place she would probably do it was on my bare feet below us.  But thankfully we made it back vomit free.

The inside of the colonial-style church here in La Villa...dog not pictured

At Mass this morning there was a random dog that came and went in the church as it pleased and no one even blinked.  Everything here is pretty much completely open to outside.

I’ve had about five people tell me since I’ve been here that I’m “bien blanquita!” Which is basically an endearing way to say pale.  I’ve also had another five people tell me they are going to dress me in a pollera. If you’ve never seen one before click here: http://www.ivanhoephotographer.com/IvanhoePhotographer.com/Images/Events/PolleraNYC_2006-03.jpg and you can start laughing at the thought.

One week down, 13 more promising ones await! Buenas noches amigos.