“The first condition of understanding a foreign country is to smell it.” – Rudyard Kipling

Invasion of the gringas

I think it’s kind of ironic that the hottest days the Midwest has seen this summer (hot enough to make the Spanish version of CNN here on tv) are happening during some of the coolest, rainiest days I’ve been here.  I’m not laughing at you guys…but then again, I definitely don’t feel sorry for you either.

I realized after reading some of the notes I scribbled down quickly to remember from when Mom and Coleen were here have already been mentioned.  Oops. So how about some of the more random blurbs from the jumbled mind of Tere Nelson*?  

1) Just for the record, the two Nelson women adjusted well to a week of stifling temperatures, little air conditioning, and pretty much zero English. They ate their very first bowls of sancocho, suffered their first Panamanian sunburns, (which, oddly enough, appeared on all of us after a day of clouds and rain. Thanks European ancestry.) and made it through the Panamanian customs at the airport alone. I only had to threaten revoking my translating services once or twice. So I’d say it was a successful week.

2) Being in La Villa de Los Santos during that week of Corpus Christi was WEIRD. Why? Because I have never seen so many white people here before.  There were at least 10 to 15 other tourists there besides us.

3)  None of the other tourists proved to be as popular  though.  While sitting down in the park during the celebrations, a man with a large microphone sat down next to me, asked if I spoke Spanish, and, upon hearing my affirmative response, stuck a big camera in our faces and began to interview us.  Strangely enough, on our very last day (keep in mind we were at a hotel in Panama City and NOT in La Villa), I was randomly flipping through the channels on the tv in the morning for about five minutes before having to leave for the airport and stumbled on a program featuring the priest from the church in La Villa.  What appears next? Our short, 30 second interview of course.  What are the odds? And coming home later the next day, a friend of Vanessa, a woman at the gym, and a fellow classmate all told me they had seen the footage.  So yes, I am now famous (never mind that I only said about two sentences and caught a grammatical error or two while watching myself again).

4) And you know who else is more famous than I thought? The Royals. That mediocre baseball team I’ve never cared about somehow made its way to Panama because during that week I saw a kid wearing a blue cap with the big, white “KC” plastered in the middle.  I started walking after him, gesturing toward his hat and telling my Mom and sister to look when I noticed he was giving me a weird stare and slowly moving in the other direction.  I guess it’s not really a good idea to point at a stranger while talking in another language.  Now that I think about it, it might weird me out too.

5) Speaking of hometown memoirs, we also passed a guy wearing a K-State shirt. Disgusting.

6) Something else disgusting – while sitting in Pedasí (the town you hit right before all of the beaches) waiting for a certain festival that was happening that weekend to start, I noticed the sudden appearance of a nasty stench coming from the general direction of my sister…or so I thought.  I looked over at her, immediately accusing her of tirándose un pedo (you can all guess what that means), but then noticed there was a group of giggling kids about five feet away from me looking at something that had just exploded on the ground.  When one of them passed by, I asked what they had popped and a boy responded simply: “biochemical.” Hmmm. Well that sounds awfully safe.  About fifteen minutes later, they were back with another one.  They gathered around, threw it on the ground and this time a little girl proceeded to step on it.  We heard a loud popping sound and some kind of fizzing chemical leaked out of the aluminum bag.  The girl picked it up excitedly and ran over to us. She squealed, “Here, smell this!” and then proceeded to shove the thing right underneath my nose so I could take a whiff.  People around us laughed as she ran next to my Mom and sister doing the same.  I picked it up after she ran away, read the front and saw that my initial suspicions were somewhat right: “FART BOMB.” 

Before you even ask, I didn’t bring any home with me.  My four younger brothers don’t need the help of any biochemical in our house.

7) I’m just going to admit right here that I have no idea when the word “Mom” should be capitalized. And I’m too lazy to look it up.  Pretend like you haven’t noticed…

8) Moving on, I rented my first car in a foreign country.  Well, my mom rented it and I drove it illegally.  And what’s a car rental without getting stopped by the Panamanian police at least once? Don’t worry, they were checking everyone’s ID’s on that road. I think I even had a leg-up on everyone else because mine was in English. The cop tried to decipher the writing for about 10 seconds before handing it back to me and telling me to enjoy the rest of my vacation in Panama. Pays to be a gringa sometimes.

9) except when you’re in Panama City and get ripped off by Chinese people.  Let me explain: here in Panama the Chinese immigrant population is surprisingly huge.  They run these little stores called “Mini Supers” that are literally EVERYWHERE. We walked into one in Panama City to buy a phone card for me and a bag of Hershey Kisses to split.  I placed the candy on the counter, asked how much, and got “cinco dólares” back as an answer. Woah woah woah. Espera un momentito. FIVE DOLLARS???  I was so baffled by the price for the bag of Kisses that seemed to be growing smaller and smaller every second that I pulled out the money and paid instead of doing what I should have done: turn around and march to the shelf to put them back.  Thanks for being so kind fellow foreigners.   

I think that about does it for my mental checklist.  Sorry to end on an angry note.  It still fires me up just thinking about it. But next week I have the joy of playing host again to one of my best friends from high school Señorita Abby Hannifan.  Plenty of adventures to come…

Not a bad view to wake up to, eh?

*It’s kind of weird to hear people call me by my full name “Teresa” (Spanish spelling…I’ve just accepted the fact that no matter how many times I insist that my name has an “h” in it, no one here will ever spell it that way).  I’m known to everyone here as “Tere” instead.  (Or “Teresita” to the woman I see during the week at the gym) It’s sort of endearing and I’ve come to like it.  But if anyone back in the US ever calls me “Terri” I will explode a Fart Bo, er, Biochemical bag under his or her nose.

“Twenty years from now you will be more disappointed by the things you didn’t do than by the ones you did do. So throw off the bowlines, sail away from the safe harbor. Catch the trade winds in your sails. Explore. Dream. Discover.” – Mark Twain

Damas y caballeros (ladies and gentlemen), I have bad news: my accent is officially changing. 

When I first got here, it was all about trying not to talk with the admittedly sometimes comical Spanish ceceo (Spaniards pronounce some of their c’s and z’s as th’s…por ejemplo: “graTHias” instead of “gracias”…After four months abroad and a year of watching too much Spanish television, I accidentally fell in love with the dialect…which, unfortunately to a lot of Americans, sounds an awful lot like a speech impediment) and instead develop a more neutral and inconspicuous accent. Newsflash to me: Panamanians don’t have a neutral accent. At least here in La Villa anyway.  Instead, I’ve started noticing that when a lot of them speak, they drag out their sentences with this looooong whineyyyyyy tone. At first it was funny.  But starting just a week or so ago, I began noticing that I was doing it too. Now, no matter how much I consciously tell myself before I even open my mouth up to say something, the ending sentence will inevitably come out as a drawn out whimper of some sorts. So.  In my life as a Spanish speaker I’ve gone from talking with a lisp to sounding like a bratty two-year-old.

I’m finally here to give you your history lesson on the tradition and two week party that is Corpus Christi here in La Villa de Los Santos. I’ve never really been big on history so I’ll try to include everything and keep it short n’ sweet.

Believe it or not, this fiesta dates all the way back to the year 1246, when the now beatified Juliana de Mont-Cornillon had a series of religious visions about the presence of Jesus in the Eucharist.  It was quickly extended throughout the Church by Pope Urban the IV.  Here in La Villa, the celebrations officially start on the day of La Santísima Trinidad (Holy Trinity) which is actually a week before Corpus Christi.  At approximately noon on that Sunday, we meet these guys for the first time:

The dreaded Diablicos Sucios (“Dirty Devils”…no Dad, not the vacuum cleaner. I’m stopping you before you can make that corny joke you probably had prepared).  With their elaborate masks and cool castanet playing, they easily became my favorites of all the Corpus characters.  So the Diablicos come running through the streets as the church bell in the square goes crazy, setting off fireworks and coming together for the first official danza (“dance”): evil has been released. 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5tx6RK5h3cU&feature=related

Fast forward to the following Thursday (Mom and Coleen’s first day) – the festivities all start with Mass in the church.  Before the priests and bishop enter, ALL of the characters of Corpus Christi come in first…a grand total of seven separate, elaborate processions down the center aisle before the poor, sweaty altar boys can even start choking on the billowing incense they have to hold in the extremely crowded church. 

One of the processions entering

 

 After the loooooooooooooooong Mass, the procession passes through the beautifully adorned streets of the plaza square. The Santeños work for hours creating these alfombras with petals and seeds and make some of the most impressive designs I’ve ever seen:

It’s almost kind of a shame to see it all destroyed by the procession that walks around the plaza. The priests and bishop, accompanied by the many dances, carry the Eucharist around the park to all four corners, stopping at each one to pray and venerate the Blessed Sacrament at an altar placed there. 

Let’s go through some of the characters, shall we? First, it’s important (and interesting) to note that this part of Corpus, the “folkloric” part consisting of the different dances and characters, started as a way to convert the indigenous people of Panama to Catholicism. They somehow managed to stick around even up until today.

1) Danza del Gran Diablo y los Diablicos Limpios (“Dance of the Great Devil and the Clean Devils)

Before entering the church in the procession, these devils first ask St. Michael the Archangel for permission and, after receiving the go ahead, turn their masks to the side while they dance down the aisle as a sign of reverence and respect for the Blessed Sacrament. 

 

2) Los Diablicos Sucios

You’re all acquainted with these dudes by now, whose main objective in the celebration is to scare the faithful and remind them of the presence of evil. The masks they wear are sold for a LOT of money and, according to some friendly Panamanian woman explaining things to me in the church, win “all kinds of prizes.”

I know it’s weird, but my heart melted seeing little kids dressed in the elaborate devil costumes come by dancing.  

3) Danza de la Montezuma Española (Dance of the Spanish Montezuma)

This was the part in the procession where I looked at my sister and we immediately started giggling at the same time. Why? A procession of Spanish conquistadors and indigenous women marches in together…EXCEPT they aren’t actually women, just Panamanian men all dressed in the same bright red dresses, makeup and long brown wig.  And trust me, these were some of the ugliest women I have ever seen (my favorites were the ones brave enough to keep their mustaches. It was kind of like they were saying to the rest of the world, “Look, I may be wearing this awful baina (code for “thing”) but I’m still manly enough to grow facial hair.”)

This dance relives the happenings of the Spanish conquest and provides ample opportunities for wisecracks. 

Unfortunately I didn't get a great picture of them coming in...

Side shot...why am I in a dress again?

4) Danza de la Montezuma Cabezona (Dance of the Big-Headed Montezuma)

If that sounds like a horrible translation...it’s because it is. My other two choices were “pig-headed” or “bull-headed.” So I’ll let you pick your favorite. I didn’t really get this dance.  Another long procession of men dressed in women’s clothes but this time accompanied by guitar players in more traditional Panamanian outfits. All I know is that they are called “big headed” because of the fat crowns they wear on their heads.

5) Danza del Torito Santeño (Dance of the Bull)

**I didn't get a picture of this, only video. This is the best I could find: https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJ3_l7t9zFUNuHDQRZKm8Cz6HcSvmL5tjxs4QgwI5pOg5cH5VnsnRXeWoDZw_cuJGUxdfF72HIWjkSw348aMS5TCUODPXLw_7N2DoqPKjCVAXA0DIZm5P7s3uFk_2wQj8oQA7WOIb3_8E/s320/EL+TORITO_jpg.jpg

Supposedly the purpose of this dance is to demonstrate the work of the local farmers.  I just discovered that the bull in this dance always has a local or national “problem” written on its side (different every Corpus Christi).  This year’s word? El goloso.  In Spain it meant a sweet-toothed person, but here someone described it to me as meaning gluttony.  And on that note, I’m going to go take a break to eat an avocado…

Okay back. Moving on…

6) Danza de las Enanas (Dance of the Dwarves)

This was another dance that made me giggle. Apparently it was started after a tribe of African Pigmy people that first arrived in the area looking for gold and, because of their small size, could enter places normal people couldn’t. How it works: the person inside the costume wears suspenders with the dwarf costume attached that reaches approximately up to his belly button.  He then covers the rest of his body with a colorful cone complete with two eye slits cut out on top.

7) last but not least, Danza de los Gallotes (Dance of the Vultures…more or less)

Thank goodness for the internet because I had no idea what this dance was either.  According to my trusty website find, the men in this dance dress up as vultures and parade around a donkey they assume to be dead.  When they swoop in to take the first bite, the donkey, who is only sleeping, gets up and gives them an endless butt-whipping.  

 

Phew. I’m pooped.  Needless to say, it was a lot of tradition to absorb and comprehend in a few weeks.  I’m definitely thankful I got to witness it all though. Soon to come: part two of the adventures of the Nelson women in La Villa de Los Santos…

I’ll leave you with this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VSlaLx-fnnk&feature=related a great summary of the sounds and sights of Corpus Christi.  ¡Que lo disfruten! Enjoy!

I'm not dead.

Happy Fourth to everyone!

If you’re feeling sorry for me for having to miss out on all of the fireworks and hot dogs, don’t get too emotional just yet.  The Panamanians just finished celebrating Corpus Christi last night, and I got to sit in the plaza square with my host mom for a few hours watching fireworks, eating chorizo on a stick (aka – a spiral cut hot dog) and listening to the música típica of Panama.

Fireworks: Good – but a little excessive, starting in the afternoon and going until 5 or 6 in the morning…for pretty much two straight weeks.

Música típica: BAD. VERY VERY BAD. I think I’ve realized by now that it’s obvious I don’t have Panamanian blood in me because I cannot stand the traditional music of this country. It’s a nightmarish combination of shrill accordion and this weird wailing sound Panamanian women can make. I can’t describe it. You’ll just have to find out for yourselves: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yqz0ANWZuY8&feature=view_all&list=PL0F7343FF1F83B5B8&index=13 …scroll to about 1:50 to get a small taste of the yelping and tell me it doesn’t sound like that woman is in pain.

The ONLY song of música típica I’ve come to tolerate is this one: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=os-cISyDbzE (the lyrics: “si me quiere que aguante, si no que vaya pa’ lante”….. or loosely in English “if he loves me, he better put up with me. If he won’t, I’ll let him go”….if you listen carefully, you can catch some more wailing in the background)

Seeing as I’ve got my first presentation in psychology class on Wednesday and some other homework to make up (class on Friday was cancelled due to partying so now we have a four and a half hour ethics class this week. Olé. Not.) I’m going to end it here. Expect that IOU coming your way sometime this week.

Invasion of the gringos at the international surfing competition this past week on the beach. Just in time for the 4th!

“Like all great travelers, I have seen more than I remember, and remember more than I have seen.” – Benjamin Disraeli

After almost seven years of Spanish classes, I have learned one very important lesson: YOU have to be the one to make it fun.  If I hadn’t figured this out pretty quickly, I think I would have dropped out before I had to learn the dreadful subjunctive tense (which doesn’t really exist in English…making it all the more weird and complicated sometimes).  So throughout the many made-up dialogues, practice sentences, and long essays required from various courses, I learned that there’s nothing more fun than adding in a little surprise humor for your compañeros or unexpecting teacher.  Which brings me to tonight: another regular, ol’ boring night stuck in Spanish class.  Our profesora was teaching us how to write a memorandum using the proper technique and proceeded to explain that we would each be writing one to read out loud within the class period.  My mind started buzzing right away for creative topics, and I finally decided on taunting my fellow Panamanians a little…(as written and translated by yours truly)

*Note – for all of you non-soccer fans (myself included), there’s another game between Panama and the USA tomorrow…and to give you an idea of how important it is to people here, a boy in my class told me he skipped the geology test I had yesterday to have a beer and watch Panama defeat El Salvador.

“Date: June 21, 2011

To: The faculty and students of USMA

Subject: Free day tomorrow

The president of USMA wishes to communicate to the students of USMA that tomorrow, the 22 of June, there will be no night classes due to the fact that La Villa will be celebrating the victory of the United States over Panama.

Every United States citizen that lives here will receive a golden crown, and it is expected that all Panamanians will celebrate them eagerly until the early hours of the morning.”

The teacher laughed out loud when she proofread it for me (brownie point for me), and I got some more laughs and playful boos from the other students.  It made the two and a half hours go by a lot faster tonight.

This past Saturday marked the beginning of one of the biggest celebrations here in La Villa: Corpus Christi.  My experience was a whirlwind of loud drumming music, men dancing in strange devil costumes, fireworks going off starting at two in the morning, and one giant question bubble in my head reading “what the heck is going on???” Thanks to my first round of tests, presentations, and preparing to be a tour guide for mom and Coleen, I had very little time to do my homework on the weeklong celebration.  So take this as an “IOU” note and enjoy the pictures in the meantime. 

All I know is that this thing is called a "Diablo Sucio"...or "Dirty Devil." Good potential Halloween costume.

A few quick anecdotes I want to share:

I like to go to the Mass they offer in the village church during the week in the evening when I can, which is usually said by the more soft-spoken priest of the parish.  Last week when it was my turn to receive Communion, he looked at me and smiling bashfully said: “um, dee Body of Christ?” in English.  It came out as more of a question but I appreciated it all the same. 

Last Thursday while working at the clinic once again, a man who always waves to me on the street when I pass by came in (I think he works there) and gave all of us students and nurses a small piece of candy…or so I thought.  Turns out it was a cough drop which they sell here for 5cents as pieces of candy.

One of my favorite things about Panama is seeing the old men in the streets wearing their traditional Panamanian hats: http://farm5.static.flickr.com/4088/5090595329_9b6f6c4897.jpg.  And trust me, they LOVE their hats.  Rain or shine, they’re wearin’ em’.  All they do is put a plastic trash bag over it when it’s drizzling and they go on about their day.  At first I thought they wore the rims of their hats flipped up just because, but a friend from school later on explained the old tradition to me - if a guy has the front and back end of his hat flipped up it means he has a girlfriend or wife. But if he walks around with only the front up, he’s soltero and looking. Watch out ladies.  Unfortunately the tradition died out over the years, and the men just wear their hats however they please…which I guess is a good thing, otherwise there would be a lot of old, single Panamanian hombres I’d have to be avoiding.

Countdown until mom and Coleen get here: less than 24 hours! Forgive my absence and lack of blogging while I entertain them.  Hopefully I’ll have some good stories from their visit (I warned them that if they’re not nice to me I won’t translate anything…muahahaha). Ciao!

The crowded plaza square watching the diablos sucios dance...which will be even more crowded this week when the celebration is in full swing

“Wandering re-establishes the original harmony which once existed between man and the universe” - Anatole France

Tonight I got in trouble for the first time in my college career for talking during class.  So the girl I was talking to and I spent the rest of the time passing notes back and forth and scribbling short messages about how much we don’t like the class…only to find out after that we have an extra makeup class this Thursday.  I think the word “karma” is the same in English and Spanish.

Today is June 14. Which means that as of today, and probably about this time, I have officially been in Panama for a month. How did that happen?

I think this past week has been my busiest so far, with two full clinical days, an upcoming test on Friday, a paper also due Friday over a movie in Ethics, slight panicking after not being able to understand the movie in the loud classroom, (resolved later with the help of youtube) and meeting more people in the meantime.  After walking to USMA last Wednesday only to find out that class was canceled that night, I spent two hours introducing a few fellow students to the wonders of Google Earth.  They were dumbfounded.  We got kicked out of the school at nine (when it closes) so one of the girls, Aranys, suggested that I go with her and Juan Carlos (he works at USMA but is close in age to us) to get pizza.  They were going to take me to one of the best pizza places in Chitré.  Excited and starving, I eagerly got in the car for the ten minute drive and watched as we pulled up to an exotic, fancy, one of a kind…Domino’s. 

I didn’t have the heart to tell them that Domino’s is (in my mind) far inferior to Pizza Hut back in the States, so I pretended like it was a first real treat for me.  

Saturday I spent the day on a shopping excursion in Chitré.  I’ve been there several times but never in the middle of the city center alone so it was kind of an adventure for me.  I walked into a movie rental store and was approached by one of the workers who asked me if I spoke Spanish.  I launched into my now memorized speech about how I’m from Kansas, am here during my vacation studying, live in La Villa, go to USMA, blah blah blah.  The worker lights up when I mention Kansas and tells me he studied there for a year…which makes him about the fourth or fifth person I’ve met in Panama that somehow has ties to Kansas.  What can I say? I can’t escape home even if I try.

Definitely a lot colder than it looks

I finished the weekend off in the region of El Valle about a two hour drive from La Villa.  I was told by Ana María (my official tour guide as always) that it was a mountainous region and the weather would feel “more like the US!” (aka – cooler) Well, I don’t really consider 80 degrees “cooler” but I’ll take what I can get.  The scenery was incredible and we visited a famous landmark in Panama called La Roca Pintada, which is basically a rock speculated to be over 35,000 years old and painted by ancient Indigenous people over 1,000 years ago.  Our tour guide left us there (and by the way, all of the tour guides were little kids) after we coughed up the dollar for the two minute explanation and we were on our own to finish exploring.  We hiked up a few more rocks (oh yeah, I had originally thought we were headed to the beach that morning so I was wearing flip flops. I don’t recommend it) until we finally reached a waterfall with a small pool underneath.  Ana María’s boyfriend yanked off his jeans revealing swimming trunks underneath and I decided I would be crazy not to get in too, even if the water was freezing (so my dressing for the beach paid off after all).  Just as I waded in to join him, it started to rain making the spot look even more exotic and scaring off the other tourists so it was just us three.  By far my favorite part of the day.

Funny sidenote – I know a lot of Hispanic people are notorious for being short, and while Panamanians aren’t exactly midgets, I have yet to meet a woman taller than me.  The whole time we were climbing up the rocks Ana María and her boyfriend were constantly making comments about how wide my steps were. You would think this would be kind of a self-confidence booster but I feel more like a giant between the two of them. (see below)

I don’t know if I mentioned this before, but I am somehow enrolled in a geology class.  I don’t know how it happened exactly.  My teacher isn’t even Panamanian – she’s from Bulgaria and has as weird of an accent as I do.  Regardless of how I ended up in the class of five, it has come to be one of my favorites.  And, to my surprise, I even learned something useful the other day. (Useful to me as a nursing student anyway. Not hating on any of you rock or earth lovers out there) While listening to a part of the presentation about what to do during an earthquake and giggling at the strangely worded phrases (they kept repeating  the word “aplastado” which translates more or less into “plastered” or “crushed”… “they found a school of Chinese children plastered under their desks,”… “if you decide to hide under the bed during an earthquake you will be plastered too,”…I looked over once at a boy sitting next to me and realized I wasn’t the only one smiling at the nonchalant usage of the word) I learned that contrary to what I’ve always been taught, you should NOT take refuge under a doorway. You should instead find a large object (such as a bed), get on the floor next to it, and assume the fetal position. That way, if the roof collapses or something heavy falls from the ceiling, it will make sort of a triangle with the large object next to you and you will be saved from being aplastado. 

Alright. Bed time.  Countdown until mom and Coleen get here: one week.

A man at a random coconut stand on the side of the road.  For just a few cents, he'll drill a hole into those huge things, give you a straw and let you drink the water inside.

“All travel has its advantages. If the passenger visits better countries, he may learn to improve his own. And if fortune carries him to worse, he may learn to enjoy it.” – Samuel Johnson

On the bus ride to the hospital yesterday morning we almost hit two stray dogs and a chicken.  I guess you could say the landscape here is a little…different.  I decided to run outside for the first time a few days ago and ran past two horses grazing in a field, a bunch of cows standing around chewing grass, a few houses, and a giant bull standing on top of a pile of dirt.  And that was all on one street.

Going back quickly to the clinicals:

I don’t think I’ve written anything about the actual hospital itself, which is actually a lot more modern than I expected it to be…but still nothing compared to some of the technology we have back in the US.  Consisting of three floors, cheesy elevator music that plays in the halls, and some passages that lead outside, Hospital de la Vigila wouldn’t stand a chance against the almighty Barnes Jewish Hospital. (For all of you non-St. Louisans…if that’s even a word…here ya go: http://www.siteman.wustl.edu/uploadedImages/About_Us/Partner_Institutions/Barnes-Jewish-Hospital-aeri.jpg) I can’t believe I spent all last semester complaining about working in SLU Hospital with paper charting (I think it will be the LAST hospital in America to switch to computers) when there is no computer to be found here in literally any hospital.  And some of the basic 10 Commandments of nursing school back at SLU don’t really seem to exist anymore:

1) Thou shalt never recap a dirty needle…seen it done several times here. Eek.

2) Save your back by always raising the bed…although if we had crank beds back in the US for every patient like they have here I might ignore this one too

3) Thou shalt always wear gloves when working with body fluids…self-explanatory.  

4) You must attend some kind of seminar or training that lasts no less than five hours on the importance of patient privacy…not complaining about this one.

Don’t you like how I said “quickly?”

One thing I really like about this little town – anywhere I go to sit for a while there is always someone that comes up to talk to me. Example: today I was back at my favorite refresquería (http://www.spanishdict.com/translate/refresqueria) by school drinking another malteada and doing some homework when a boy in my ethics class sat down at the table and just started talking. Just simple, natural conversation for about an hour. I’m amazed every day at how friendly everyone here is.

But while we were talking, I was watching a woman dressed in what looked like to me very traditional Panamanian clothes walk by with a small boy.  They crossed the street, came up to the patio we were sitting on, and the little boy walked directly over to me smiling and saying “ayuda, por favor.”  (or “help, please”) I was a little confused about what was going on because the woman (who I assumed was his mother) had sat down to watch.  The little boy walked over to the guy I was talking with who then proceeded to pull out a quarter and put it in the small bag the boy was carrying…which is when I started to realize that I was having my first encounter with poverty here in La Villa.  My friend from class later on explained to me that they were indigenous Panamanians (complete with a language even he couldn’t understand) and that this kind of thing happens quite a bit, even though it’s prohibited by law to have a child do the begging.  

Some new Panamanian friends having a "traditional" Panamanian

 lunch

But to lighten the mood a little bit, this past Saturday I traveled with a group of about 15 students to the University’s farm about an hour and a half away from Los Santos.  We spent the day with a bunch of law students from Panama City (who, by the way, immediately greeted and started talking to me in English. I’m so glad I chose to get away from the city for that exact reason).  And you could definitely tell they were law students (no offense dad).  They proved to be extremely talkative and very animated actors as they taught us the techniques of debating (why we went to a farm to learn all of that I have no idea).  Obviously this was all done in Spanish for everyone else there…which means I had to participate in spontaneous discussions/arguments in front of about 30 people (students from other USMA schools in Panama came too) who all spoke perfect Spanish about light, casual topics such as affirming or denying the existence of God.  The whole day was kind of an adrenaline rush. 

Finishing up here with another one of my new favorite Panama sayings:

To say “that’s cool!” or “that looks great!” or “oooh, I really like it!” (basically anything along those lines) you say “Que pretty!!!”…or loosely translated “How pretty!”…but the pretty is pronounced “preeee-teeeee.” Spanglish. It’s everywhere.

Happy 27^th anniversary mom and dad! I hope you don’t spend it missing your favorite child too much. 

Speaking of new friends, this little guy was at our house to greet me a few days ago. Little kids are the cutest when they speak in Spanish.

“When we get out of the glass bottle of our ego and when we escape like the squirrels in the cage of our personality and get into the forest again, we shall shiver with cold and fright. But things will happen to us so that we don’t know ourselves. Cool, unlying life will rush in.” – D. H. Lawrence

Today it rained for almost eight hours straight. 

This whole week actually we’ve practically been living in a monsoon.

The good: it makes the weather much more “fresco” (or “cooler”) as everyone here says.  I’ve been able to leave the house without starting to instantly sweat.  Tuesday in class (after it had been raining the whole day for about six hours) a guy sitting behind me tapped me on the shoulder and asked, “Tienes mucho frío?” or “Are you cold?”  Their mouths dropped open in amazement when I told them I was actually still a little bit warm – I mean come on, it couldn’t have been any colder than 75 degrees.  I looked around the room, and sure enough the rest of the students were all bundled up in sweatshirts and long-sleeved tees like it was the middle of winter.  Look who’s laughing now.

But of course the bad: mosquito bite count is through the roof. I don’t know how they manage to pick the weirdest places to get you.  On the end of my pinky? Really?

Right now I’m sitting in the living room table doing homework (“doing homework” I should clarify) with Césil.  Neither of us is actually talking to the other, but I find it oddly satisfying that the silence in his head is broken by thoughts all in Spanish while mine are purely in English. 

Something else I find slightly humorous: women here like to walk around with curlers in their hair.  It could be the middle of the day and a completely open, public place and they still come with their hair pulled up so tightly in those perfect little circles that it looks like they’ve had a recent face lift.  (Or they could be big curlers too – the other day while at the gym I looked over from my treadmill just in time to see a woman with curlers as big as my fists in her hair pass by. Impressive. Lucky for me the humidity is my nature’s hair curler here.)

Today I had my second day of vaccinating poor little babies in the clinic.  But Monday was the big hospital day.  After a frantic hour of getting on and off two separate buses to the hospital early in the morning, I finally arrived in one piece to el Hospital Vigia.  (And I was already exhausted – navigating Panama’s public transportation is no walk in the park, thank you very much. And you better know where you need to get off because it’s up to you to yell “PARADA!!” (stop) when it comes. Otherwise you’re stuck in an old, smelly, small bus with zero air conditioning and people all around you standing too close for comfort) I met first thing with my new clinical instructor who gave me an extended tour of the hospital.  *Sidenote – did I tell you that all nurses here also have to wear a cofia? Me: http://grupos.emagister.com/alumnos/4/9/5/3/7/foto_4953789b.jpg

I’m working with second year nursing students on a post-surgery floor of sorts.  Unfortunately I don’t think I’ll be doing much since they’re just getting into passing medicine to patients, but that actually suits me just fine.  It was overwhelming enough just getting being in a hospital world completely in Spanish.  So not too much to report just yet but I did notice that men and women are completely separated in different areas on each floor.  Interesting.  And, on our little tour through the ER, I got to see a guy with a small chunk of wood sticking out of his bloody shin.  Wish I could work there instead…

Some of the Panama landscape we passed on the way...definitely surpassed all my expectations

Sunday (backtracking here) was spent at a small laboratory near the beach called Achotines where we (Ana María, Chavalín, Dinah and I) got to tour their facility known for its extensive research in all kinds of sea plants and animals.  They actually partner with a university in Miami to do their research.  I caught the gist of the tuna/algae/rotifer cycle the guide was talking about, but was more happy to stand in some of the coldest air conditioned rooms I’ve been in since first stepping on Panama territory.  I also saw a monkey in the trees surrounding the laboratory.  Can’t say that’s a regular occasion in Kansas. 

Walking back from the bus stop after the day at the beach, I was stopped by three girls and their brother playing in the front yard.  “Excuse me miss, but are you Colombian?” asked one of the girls, referring to me as “usted” or the formal version of “you.”  (For those of you with little Spanish, there are two forms of you and, depending on what country you’re in, usted is used for older people, people you don’t know very well, or persons deserving respect.  In Spain they almost NEVER use it…so for her to be referring to me as “usted” sounded really really really weird to me) I couldn’t help but smiling – my first reaction: “do I look Colombian to you???” But of course I didn’t say that. I explained I was from the US and the girls all looked at each other with wide eyes and half open mouths...making me smile even more.  So, before leaving my new friends, I made a deal with them: I’m going to teach them English and they’re going to help me with my Spanish.  Perfecto.

I think I’m going to end it here seeing as I’ve had to pause every two minutes to scratch a newly appearing mosquito bite.  Happy June to everyone! 

Where's Waldo?