Saturday, September 27, 2008

Darn...

So just as I was coming back to my hotel after sending that last email... I got robbed. Damn. I've now got a new phone and number: 65944311. Since you may be wondering what exactly hapened, and I've had to tell the story about a billion times (and I just found out there might be other versions going around), here's an email I sent to my fam:

I got my ass kicked yesterday, literally, and of course robbed too.

It all boils down to me not making the best decisions. I didn't want to pay $5 for another taxi that I wouldn't be reimbursed for, so I took a bus most of the way to my hostel (Luna's Castle) and then went to grab a taxi from there (Plaza Cinco de Mayo). (Mistake #1) I tried to get one just feet from where the bus dropped me off, but was told by a girl I needed to catch one in the main plaza. That was where I could see all the taxi's going by, so I went with her. We chatted on the short walk and she said she was headed the same way as me.

I was out of site and in Panama for the first time since Swear-In and still coming off my of high of having confianza with my whole community. I trusted her. (Mistake #2) Two of her girlfriends were with us in the cab. We headed in the general direction I needed to go, but not quite.

The cab stopped in a now dusk-lit street and the girls got out. I stayed put and told the cab that he was going to take me to my hostel. He disagreed and the girl told me she would walk me there. Now I was in a quandary... the cab driver was acting like a jerk and she was offering help. So (Mistake #3), I got out of the cab with her helping me out. I take one step as the cab drives off and BOOM!

I'm on the ground with about ten people around me kicking, hitting, and pulling hair. I did my best to hold on to my stuff and put up quite a good fight if I do say so myself, but I was obviously outnumbered... Damn. So they snatched my PacSafe purse (irony) with about $140, phone, ID's, and bank cards, and computer with all it's paraphernalia, about 300 printed pages for my Eco-English class and community analysis, and new meds tucked inside (more irony that I was only in the city for a med visit and come out more battered than before!). At least they didn't open my purse right there, as I also had my Leatherman in there. That could have been bad!

I chased after the dude with my computer, only making it about a block or two with no shoes and realizing that I could be making Mistake #4 if I continued. I swung into a random house with people in it and they took care of me. I was obviously frazzled and they got me water and eventually I sat and waited with them while other members of the family or friends went looking for my stuff. I had on my official Cuerpo de Paz shirt on that they took as a religious mission. One of the guys there was a Pastor, so I didn't correct them.

After I finished the water bottle, I asked for ice for my hands and other battered body parts. Then another offered me a bottle of clear liquid I took as more water. I had it about up to my lips before taking a wiff of the rubbing alcohol. Nope, that would not be good! I poured some on my hands and dabbed my side which stung like no other. They then got some Vic's Vapor Rub which they applied to all my scrapes. It had the effect of Icy-Hot, minus the hot. I don't know if it was exactly a pleasant sensation, but at least it gave my body something else to ponder.

When Peace Corps tells you to remember the phone number to the Duty Officer, sure, it doesn't seem so hard. But put yourself in a situation when you really need it and all I could remember was that it started with a 6. (Before you give me too much credit, all cell phones in Panama start with a 6!) Someone found my purse which had the metal part securing the strap bent out of line (allowing them to yank it from around my body). It was emptied of my phone, cash and credit cards but luckily still has my Purple ID (Foreign Ministry card from the Panamanian government), and my yellow card with all my emergency phone numbers.

I called the Duty Officer, with Greg the Assistant Director on that night, and filled him in on what happened before the phone cut out. Unfortunately the cell phone I borrowed had a private number so he couldn't call back as is protocol. That guy left the house, so I waited... I eventually borrowed another phone (which you can't talk, only text) and got connected with him by him calling yet another phone. It turned out I wasn't in Casco Viejo and was in another shady
area next door. Since the plan of me taking another taxi back to my hostel was happening at a snail's pace, the Embassy security (aka Marines) were alerted and sent to find me.

My hosts were much more concerned about trying to find my credit cards (and shoes) than I was. Oh, in fact, they found a pair of golden sandals they thought were mine and offered them. Nope, those are from one of the girls who jacked my stuff! I really wanted to keep them as perhaps a recuerdo, but when they found my real shoes, I opted for the later. Peter, the Director of Peace Corps Panama, gave me a call letting me know I was welcome to spend the night at his house and also filled me in on the Embassy involvement.

I stressed that I needed to get back to my hostel where Greg was waiting and they finally took me to the street. As I waited with the Pastor, another family member gave me my remaining credit cards I was missing. (I found out later they used my credit card twice at a gas station before the bank canceled it within that hour which makes me believe the taxi driver was in on it...) He decided we were going to walk to my hostel. I nixed that idea after following him for a block and a half. I was no going to walk around in this area, even with an escort. Cab after empty cab drove right past us until one finally stopped. I guess they don't like this area either! We were only a few blocks away from the hostel, but I was relieve to get inside. I had a 10 bill that was evidently too well hidden in my wallet for the thugs to find which I had to break inside and used to pay the cab and the pastor's return fare. $7 left in my pocket.

When I got inside, I asked where Greg was, and bought a beer in the meantime. I located him outside with a phone call and he gave me a big hug when he got up the stairs. He reiterated Peter's offer of his house, though with all the people around the hostel, I declined. He also let me know the plan that I would be filling out paperwork the following day and then need to stay in the city until Monday for more paperwork and processing. He asked if I had any questions, and my only one was if I could still meet up with my friends in the Azuero since I'd have nothing else to do on Sunday. He gave me the green light and said I could even take off late Saturday after paperwork. Yay!

After he left, I he called saying I'd be picked up at 10am by a guy from the Embassy to walk me through the paperwork. Maria Elena, our Security Coordinator, called asking me if I spoken with the Embassy personnel. I told her not directly but would be meeting with them the following morning. Oops, evidently they were still looking for me and everyone was worried. She said she's call Greg and figure everything else.

I spent the rest of the night storytelling with the backpackers and finally finishing my beer that had been waiting for me. I took a shower to clean up my hair and wash the dirt and gravel out of my scrapes. I tried turning in at around 11pm or midnight and excruciatingly made it up the ladder of my bunk bed. Damn, they really got me more than I realized. I didn't sleep much last night for lack of finding a comfortable position on my sore butt. I think I may very well have bruised my tailbone and strained my neck. Well, I didn't do it, but you get the point. hehe

So I was up for good by 5am and just have to wait until 10am. This hostel's got free pancake breakfast and unlimited coffee, so I'll pass the time nibbling since the jerks also stole my new reading book. I think I'll be able to find a new one in the little library here and will pick up a lot more in both the PC headquarters' library and our better one in Chiriqui. I'll be doing lots of reading without a computer or tv! Oye!!! I guess that's probably the worst off I am, and that's not too bad. hehe Peace Corps definitely has your back on these things and I might even be reimbursed for some of my losses!

Thursday, September 25, 2008

I´m Moving!

I’ll be keeping my address, aka Entrega General David, Chiriqui, Panama. Hehe. I love the mail system. They keep it so simple. My house is the first house you get to in the community, so that means my chiva ride is only $.75 instead of $1.50 to my last house family, or $1.00 for anywhere else in town. And my neighbor is the chiva drive, so I can catch a ride more often than the two trips a day. Or I cut about a half hour of my walk down to Potrerillos Arriba. Either way, transportation wise, it is better. It also means that it is a half hour walk back uphill to the center of town. Hmmm.

It has electricity, with a total of three bulbs inside and two outside. Plus it has a flush toilet, shower, and sink inside. The bigger sink to wash dishes is outside. You can think of the house as a square with a wall down the middle that divides the two rooms. The main room is your kitchen, dining room, seating (hammock) area. The lady I’m renting from switched the table on me, so now I’ve got one half the size to store all my pots, pans, dishes, cook, eat, and work on. I’ll have to find a better solution, as it’s not gonna fly. But I can’t blame her, my other neighbors got her to lower my rent from $40/month to $30/month since the going rate in town and what the previous volunteer paid was just $25/month.

The other room has my bed, complete with my mattress atop an old mattress. I feel like the princess and the pea as it is so soft. Maybe it is just normal and I’ve been used to an inch of padding over wooden boards or else springs poking through an ancient mattress. We’ll see if I feel up to moving the mattresses around again. I’ve got lots of hangers for my clothes which I can dry outside on hangers and then just hang them up inside. I’m gonna love it. And then the bathroom is in the back of that room.

All the interior “doors” are curtains. So you gotta be careful if the front door is open, the wind is blowing, and you are sitting on the toilet. I’m going to hunt for some weights I can sew onto the bottoms of the curtains. And I’ve got to find some brighter bulbs, cause these ones aren’t quite cutting it. Shelving is also on my list. Besides from that I’m all set to move in.

I splurged on my moving-in allowance. I bought a fridge for $230: the LG ExpressCool, and I love it! I also bought a $25 blender with a 3 year warrantee and a toaster over for $40 with a 2 year warrantee. I already cooked a bunch of cakes in it and it works fabulously. I can’t wait for pizzas, roasted chicken, and all the other non-fried food I’ve been craving. Then I bought Kirsten’s stuff (mattress and cookware) for $45. So out of my $300 allowance, I’ll probably end up spending $400 to be comfortable. I just don’t do the keeping meat on the counter for days thing that seems to be popular around here. My stomach has told me time and again over these last three months that it just doesn’t work. Therefore although I can get Pepto for free from the med office, I think the fridge is the wiser investment.

Oh man, I called the med office last Thursday asking for more Pepto. She offered sending it with Francisco during his visit yesterday. That sounded great at the time, as it was just because I was out, and not sick or anything. By Saturday though, my stomach was rumbing. I barely made it around town Sunday and stayed in bed all day on Monday. This was all leading up to the time when I needed to be out and about the most for my big presentation.

By Tuesday I had recovered with the help of my host fam’s bottle of Pepto and I took off to David with the chiva driver’s wife to buy my fridge. It turned into a shoe shopping trip, and after waiting in a hair salon, I split to run some errands and make it back to town. The 2:30pm chiva never left town, so the 3pm trip back up didn’t happen and I had to wait until 6pm for the chiva. I got back to my host family at 7pm and started baking at 7:30pm after dinner. I didn’t finish until 10pm popping my half sized cakes into the toaster oven one at a time. But I finished!

The cakes were a big hit. Super moist cakes (out of the box) are not only a lot cheaper than the cakes they all buy for birthdays, but soooo much more delicious than their thick, dry desserts.
My visit went great and my boss was very impressed with all the work I have been doing, especially since my visit was the earliest. Yes! Now I’m off to print out my 25 page analysis and to help my friends do the same since their visits aren’t for another month.

Thursday, September 18, 2008

Goldfish and Gorillas

What do a goldfish and a gorilla have in common? Besides the first letter of the animals’ names, they both make me laugh.

I was waiting for the chiva and chatting it up with some of the ladies in town. One of them cleans the school and mentioned that she finally cleaned the fish tank in one of the classes. It was growing things on the glass, so she gave it a good cleaning with the typical Panamanian cleaners. Then she filled it back up and popped the fish in to swim in the clear tank. The fish decided it would show off a new stroke: the dead man’s float.

We laughed at the error… But then one of the other ladies who works for a family in Potrerillos piped in with her own fishy story. She cleaned the fish tank at her place of work with the same result that she demonstrated with her cheeks puffed out and her once flapping hands coming to a rest at her sides. The family, like any good parents, bought new fish for the tank. The next time she cleaned the tank, the fish floated once again. And the next time. And the next time. Five rounds of fish later, the mother of the household finally let her know that she really only needs to clean the tank with water instead of the harsh cleaners that don’t come out of the gravel bottom. Lol. I think I would have mentioned something after the first fish flopped.

Anyhow after I took the chiva back up to my house, I played soccer with the girls outside. We started off on the patio, roughly three feet by five feet for the four of us. Since obviously that was a little tight for a real game, we continued out onto the yard. Not much of my community is flat, so our field was once again limited. All I had to do was stand in place and kick the ball from one goal through the next. The girls chased after the ball when it went into the corn or by the pigs.

They eventually took off their shoes, and since I didn’t, I retrieved the ball. I ran after it, trapped the ball, and dribbled it back. Nothing to it, right? I’m playing with little kids. Well, that’s what I thought at least. The littlest one at five years old starts waving her arms in front of her like a gorilla, jumping up and down, and parroting, “Choing, choing, choing.” The middle one at seven years old then joined in with the same arm motions. Hmmmm.

The little one then asked me, “Why do they do that?” I was laughing too hard to reply by that point! Need I explain to them that when you don’t wear a sports bra, they bounce? Lol Oh little gorilla girls, you’ll learn.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

Oink!

While I am always quite surprised when a rifle passes by me in my host homes, I know it means pork for the next couple of days. Sr. Omar brought out the gun, which I didn’t know I was living with, and headed out into the night to a neighbor/relative’s house. Sra. Cirila then left in the dead of night a few hours later to what I can only imagine was to butcher what was left of the pig. And without fail, we ate plenty of pork for the next few days. (The difference being that this house has refrigeration, so I didn’t feel as bad about eating the meat after days of gathering flies on the counter of my last host family.)

Ciri asked me if I ate tamales. This is always a tricky question. Sure, I eat them, but it is the hidden treasure inside that I might not eat. I knew I wouldn’t be surprised by pig feet again as they know I don’t eat feet. Visions of delicious pork nestled inside the tamales danced in my mind as I responded with an excited “yes!”

I guess I wasn’t thinking: People raise pigs by fattening them. Therefore the pigs are fat when killed. Therefore people eat lots of fat. QED.

My tamale was filled with a two inch by four inch by one inch chunk of pig fat. There was no meat at all, as you can be sure I poked the jelly-like form. Chorizo is palatable if only for it’s texture as you can crunch into the fried shell as your teeth melt into the nuggets of fat and rip through the skin. If nothing else, the work required to eat chorizo makes it tolerable, not to mention it is smaller. But this was just soft lard. I couldn’t do it.

The first night I ate around it and slid it onto the top plate in the pile of dirty dishes. The second time I was alone in the kitchen and tried to throw it out to door to the dog or whatever animal might find it more appetizing than me. “Tried” is the operative word here. I wound back and released… only for it to hit the overhanging zinc roof with a resounding thud. So much for being stealthy!

You’d think that would be clue enough to keep the lard off my plate the next time. But for breakfast the following morning I found a chunk of unfried, soft pig fat on my plate sans tamale. This time I threw it within inches of the dog that gobbled it up before anyone was the wiser.

Thursday, September 4, 2008

Adjusting Nicely

On Sunday I moved into my third and final host family. It is like a combination of my first two, though only the best parts of each. I am living with a real family again, aka with kids which make for great conversation. The girls are 5, 7, and 11 years old. And my host mom is around more, which makes me feel like I don’t have to leave the house too. My host dad is awesome too and wants to take me to the waterfall on this side of the community as well as Cerro Punta on the other side of the national park. And his brother brought me home in his truck the other day when it was raining. Major points. hehe

I have my own room too. I have a double bed, instead of the single (not twin) beds I’ve been accustomed to. Plus, it is my first mattress with springs in my community. Granted all you can feel are the springs, since there isn’t any padding left in the mattress, but hey, what can you do. The first time I picked up one of the pillows on the bed, I felt like I was lifting a dead animal. I guess the best way to describe the filling is perhaps strips of jeans tied in balls, and just as comfortable… I really have no idea what it is made of or why on earth anyone would make a pillow using it. But I bought my own pillow back in Training, so I’ve got that base covered.



It is a further walk from the rest of town, but the chiva will still drop me off on that side. I´ve finally included a picture of the Toyota Land Cruiser that is typically filled with 20 people (made to carry just 10) and at times is packed with over thirty. It is our own version of those contests to see how many people you can pack in the car, only this is daily with a real purpose.

It’s pretty amazing what you get used to. By now I’ve taken for granted that I will eat whatever is served in front of me. My host families and other community members do ask me what I don’t like to eat. I try not to make my list of things I don’t like eating too long in case that is what they were planning on serving. I do let them know that I don’t eat feet. After a surprise of a piglet hoof in my tamale at a birthday party, I’ve been making sure the community knows that I do not eat feet. Pig feet, chicken feet (haha, it’s not a monkey paw Scott), oh, and cow’s feet are not to enter my digestive system. Honestly though, it is all just skin and cartilage, with hairs of the beasts prinking out. Typically I would say yuck, but I’m learning to recognize that it is yet another cultural difference. I mean, the kids fight over them, so there must be something appealing. I was pasearing the other day as one woman was cutting up a pig’s ears and plopping them in a pot of beans. I’ll have to remember to add that to my list of things I don’t eat.

I mention that they are things that don’t exist in the States, so I am simply not used to them. It seems to hold over most people, though some take it as an invitation to offer the gringo something new. After two months of warding off chorizo, I was finally served a slab for dinner tonight. In the States I would avoid the white of bacon. Here on my plate prepared by my new host mom was a half inch thick, inch and a half wide, and three inch long chunk of fried pork skin and fat. At least she was nice and gave me a small piece! I ate it, thinking of happy thoughts instead of where all that extra fat is going to pegar on my body. That’s another thing, the new question for me is “Have you gained weight?” or “You look más gordita.” Hmmm, yes I do. Could it be meals of pure fat? The fact that just about everything is fried? Or perhaps is the typical meal of top ramen and spaghetti soup, spaghetti with tomato sauce, and rice dinner? I think I’m certainly getting my fill of carbs here!!! So I can’t wait until I can cook on my own and choose what I eat again.

I start my English class on Saturday. I am a little afraid of who is going to show up. I’m labeling the class as Intermediate, but I have a feeling many beginners and little kids sent by their parents might try to sign up. Plus, I’ve decided that since I don’t really want to teach English, I am making it basically an environmental education class simply with lots of English words throw in. hehe I put in a lot of the past month planning topics, vocabulary, grammar, activities, and methods to evaluate the class. I’ve got my fingers crossed it will pay off and run somewhat smoothly. One of the gringo’s in town is going to help me with the first few classes too. After I finalize who I am going to let stay in the class and who has got to go, I’ll be making it official with the Ministry of Education. (At least that’s the plan.)

¿Qué más? Oh, speaking of school, it’s pretty much a mess right now. No construction has happened for the past month. The representante won’t show, and class is still in the rancho communal. The teachers pushed for suspending class completely (which thankfully didn’t fly), and another meeting will be held on Monday to see what they are going to do. People are supposed to come today (didn’t happen) or tomorrow to check everything out, including the possibility of holding class in the half remodeled school. Oye. I am pushing the Padres to go to the Ministry of Education and get something done about the amount of days the teachers are missing too. So many little projects…

I’m inventorying the vivero too. Admittedly, I stopped after the second day of getting through just four species and over 500 plants when I ran into a monstrous ant nest. I have the worst luck with ant bites, and boy do they hurt! The trees aren’t going to be planted any time soon, unfortunately, so I’ve got time. Man though, one of the guys in town got bit by a scorpion when I was at his house chatting with his wife. He said the pain shot right up his arm into his chest and didn’t go away as we watched his finger turned black. Note to self, do not touch any creepy crawlies around here!

Life is going fine here in Cabecera. Hope this latest update finds you equally well! I miss you all and hope you had a great Labor Day!