Just pulled out the tub of chocolate ice cream a friend bought for me today from the freezer. But first I had to move the giant cow tongue sitting on top of it.
It’s been way too long. I know. But things here are finally quiet for the night in La Villa and I figured I’d steal away a few minutes to write while I sit here eating my already melted ice cream and doing laundry (okay, make that a lot of minutes then).
Before I get to the crazy adventures of Theresa Nelson and Abby Hannifan (and just a small preface: all pictures are courtesy of Abby's much more professional camera) I want to first share my newfound appreciation for American movie theaters. Or my newfound despisal of Panamanian ones. (And yes, “despisal” is actually a word. I looked it up por si acaso.) When the last Harry Potter movie came out a few weeks ago on the 14th, I dragged my host bro along with me to see it at the local theater in Chitré. Ticket: $3.50. Popcorn: $2.00…which adds up to a grand total of a small soda back in the US. (So I guess there is one thing the Panamanians got us beat on.) But walking into the movie theater you would have thought you were entering an igloo. Everyone was wearing their heaviest sweatshirts and coats (including some with their hoods on) and still complaining of how cold it was. I had put on jeans for the first time in a while just to conform (basically because Vanessa and Jose both looked shocked when I told them I was, in fact, planning on wearing my usual shorts and short-sleeved shirt. “You’re going to die of cold!” Vanessa warned me…eh. There may be a little exaggeration going on there). Next come the seats – which was the point where I realized that we are spoiled with those big comfy recliner-like chairs we have back in the US. No personal space and zero seat cushion made it a loooooooong two hour movie. But the real fun began when the movie started. The sound quality of the first 15 minutes was so bad the whole theater began screaming, whooping, hollering, and whistling at the poor guy working in the projector room above. I just sat back, ate my popcorn and watched the riot unfold.
The sound finally evened out before anyone started throwing food at the employee, and I thought that the people would settle down and enjoy the movie in peace.
Silly me.
Cell phones were going off, people would clap and cheer any time a “good guy” did something, well, “good” which would quickly be accompanied by a chorus of even more obnoxious shushing. I’ve never been a shusher myself so I had to sit there the whole time quietly brooding in my anger thinking “this would NEVER fly in the US.” Then came the girls sitting behind me. Probably some of the most emotionally unstable people I’ve ever encountered in a public place. One minute Ron and Hermione were holding hands and they would be sighing “Ooooh, qué lindo!” behind me. The next, a sad memory from Professor Snape was being relived by Harry and I heard loud sniffles and choked sobbing behind me. This was the last straw. I turned to Jose: “Are they…crying??” “Yep.” We looked at each other for a few seconds and both started laughing. They were too busy cooing again at another onscreen kiss to notice.
Oh yeah, and what did I think of the movie? Well first of all, it was dubbed (which I could write a whole separate blog entry about. I swear dubbing films and tv shows here is an art). And second of all, when I wasn’t being distracted by crying Panamanian teens or loud Blackberrys, I was too conscious of the guy next to me invading my personal armrest space to pay attention. So I have no idea if it was any good. But don’t worry, I’m already making the fam see it with me when I get back. In English this time.
I shouldn’t have eaten that second bowl of ice cream. Ughhhhhhh.
So my beautiful bestest friend from high school, Abby Hannifan (who was working in Guatemala this summer…check out her blog: http://guatemoleinguacamala.tumblr.com/ and then don’t compare it to mine. Because she is a much better, dedicated blogger and more creative than I will ever hope to be) flew into Panama City this past Monday to spend a few days conociendo (“getting to know”) her neighbor to the south. I picked her up along with our Couch Surfing host, David. And ¿qué demonios is Couch Surfing? you might be asking yourself. Here is the official website: http://www.couchsurfing.org/ But to summarize: basically it’s an organization that lets you get in touch with people around the world that live in places you want to visit. Then, if all goes well, they agree to let you spend a night or two at their place for free. Try explaining that one to your mom: “Hey mom! Just wanted to let you know that I found a stranger in Panama City that is going to pick me up from the bus station and let me stay a few nights at his house. But don’t worry, it’s completely safe!” (It really is though: http://www.couchsurfing.org/safety.html) My Mom is probably the biggest worry wart on the face of the earth (love you Mom) so I actually didn’t end up mentioning it to her until about 10 minutes before my host was going to pick me up.
Text from Liz Nelson: “Who are you staying with tonight in Panama City?”
….a few minutes of contemplation about how to put it gently…
Response: “We’re staying with someone from the Couch Surfers organization. It’s a program online where you can search for people in the place you want to go and get in touch with them to stay for free.” (Relatively mild explanation, don’t you think?)
Text from Liz Nelson: “Sorry I asked.”
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| Balbina Herrera and her publicist were way to happy to take pictures with some gringas |
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| A quick shot of our host and the amazing ice cream shop I made us visit twice |
But see Mom? I’m still alive enough to type this blog entry and scratch my mosquito bites at the same time. David turned out to be a great host (we got a tour of the city and canal completamente gratis, ate some of the best ice cream I’ve ever had and ran into an apparently famous politician here that took pictures with us…can’t beat that) with near perfect English. So good, in fact, he convinced us to stay one extra night to go to salsa dancing lessons with him on Tuesday. So the next night we headed to the casino downtown where the lessons took place (which also happened to be our first time ever in an actual casino) and immediately headed to the very back row of the beginner section. I’ve never had a real salsa lesson before - minus learning the basic steps and a few turns -so it was pretty new to me. The good news: Abby and I could actually keep time a lot better than some of the Panamanians in our group. We mastered the steps they taught us quickly and weren’t fumbling for the beat like a lot of people. The bad news: no matter what we did, we still looked like two awkward gringas dancing. Being able to shuffle with the music does nothing for you if your arms move like blocks of wood and your hips can only stay in one place. Unfortunately when it comes to dancing there is not one drop of Latino blood in me.
We headed back on the four hour bus to La Villa early morning Wednesday. First stop: the Seco factory tour. Panamanians have basically two alcoholic drinks to choose from – a watered down, mediocre beer or Seco, a “bebida fuerte” (stronger drink) similar to vodka. They pride themselves on this product which is made right here in Pesé, a city close to Chitré, so I thought it would be a good thing to check off on my “to-do” list before I leave. The plantationesque (and that’s not a word) factory was beautiful with its sprawling fields of sugar cane used to make the Seco drink (which are cut with machetes by about 200-300 workers during growing season). The tour proved to be pretty interesting and we got to sample a tiny bit of the other drink the company sells called Ron Abuelo, a rum that will cost you just over $150 for a bottle. First and last taste of that stuff.
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| Last one on the right is the expensive one...and no, we didn't drink all of that rum |
We spent the rest of the day goofing off in Vanessa’s house (I think she likes it when she has a full house of people, especially crazy giggling girls) and prepared for the next day, which we spent at the beach soaking up the…clouds. (Abby still got her souvenir sunburn though. Don’t worry) I finally figured out the buses we needed to take to get there on our own, and the second bus we rode on was just us two and the cutest old couple sitting up front I have ever seen. Abby quickly dubbed the situation as “grandma and grandpa taking us to the beach” and when we finally got closer to the actual city, I asked grandpa if he knew of a place where we could rent bikes.
Me: “Excuse me, would you happen to know if there are any stores we can rent bikes at for the day?”
Gramps: “Eh.”
Silence.
I quickly looked at Abby at this unexpected…lack of response and we both had to stifle a mad fit of laughter. We somehow ended up at the bike place after all (so he did understand me) and we rented two cute, matching red and blue bikes complete with baskets on the front for only $7. We explored the beach, drank a banana smoothie, and hunted down a place to eat patacones: http://www.laylita.com/recipes/wp-content/uploads/2008/06/patacones-1.jpg aka: fried and salted plantains that have the consistency of French fries. Abby’s obsessed. I might be too. We already have plans to make them ourselves when we reunite once again in the States.
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| I chose the red one. Obviously. |
The last night was spent watching a movie and eating popcorn on my bed (the American side came out of us) before waking up early the next morning to say goodbye. It’s hard to believe she’s already back in KC at this very moment loving on the Hannifan clan and getting ready for her next adventure: biking across Utah with the family. I’m so happy I could have her here to share my Panamanian life for a few days and not have to be the only gringa wandering around the pueblo.
Guess what?
I only have four weeks here left.
When did that happen?
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