On Becoming an Adult

My Little brother turned the big Dos Uno this week. Yes, according to bouncers, bar tenders and ritzy hotels, he has finally come of age. Strange that this week I feel like I have hit a similar milestone. No one checked my ID or gave me a cake. No, but I did get charged $.60 less for cab fare. Don’t worry, I will explain a bit more in detail.


I took my first “mental health day” today. Something that really surprised me (happily) about Peace Corps is their openness, acknowledgment and willingness to address mental health. While I wouldn’t say my stress level was so high that I needed a day to escape anything, I definitely appreciate the free, no questions asked, night out from my site. And yes, I am happy I took it alone.

Flying solo (or sola en espanol) makes me feel like I am finally a grown up. Eating in a new place and navigating busy city streets alone can be stressful. Going to the movies alone is a whole other level. I decided to get myself out of my hotel and off the internet to go see Cars 2 (dubbed of course). When I asked for una adulta por favor at the ticket window, the women asked if I meant two. No una. Cue the music “One is the loneliest number….” I sat alone, ate my pop corn alone, and enjoyed every minute of being lost in a movie I could almost understand completely (all the while being completely alone). Afterwards I took myself out to dinner, AND bought myself some dessert. I felt happy and safe. I didn’t mind the solitude and I wasn’t stressed out about the little things like I normally seem to be when on my own. In a responsible move, I even opted for a Coke Zero over a Bud Lite. On the ride home I was friendly with the cab driver. He must have been impressed by me or my Spanish, or maybe just happy to have someone talk to him about his day, because he gave me sixty cents back from our agreed price at the hotel door. Score!

The little things in my day really affected me. Feeling in my element alone, not being afraid to put myself out there, and being friendly have paid off. I feel older. I feel like I am growing up in Panama, in another language, and it feels pretty good.

The part I didn’t mention was successfully surviving the sales pitches of 3 separate cell phone salesmen at two different companies, in Spanish. Yeah so far, unsold. I have enough problems negotiating cell phone contracts in English. I still feel like owning a BlackBerry while in Peace Corps would be like going against my religion. Vamos a ver.

Only got one photo to load, but at least it's a cute one. This is our town's library built by two former Peace Corps volunteers in El Cedro. 
 

Highlights ... but unfortunately not for my hair

From July 20, 2011

I love it when I stumble upon a good book. I love it even more when I realize that reading the author’s words actually inspires me to write. I recently have had the pleasure of both experiences, enjoyment and motivation, all stemming from one person’s thoughts on a page. Highly recommend “Honeymoon With my Brother” by Franz Wiser.


Today I planted. I trudged through mud with a sack of plantones on my back. I helped measure and fill holes with fertilizer. I liberated baby saplings from plastic bags, and I planted trees in God’s good green earth.

500 trees later, I was dripping in sweat and had mud caked on my fingernails. I was dizzy and my pink water bottle with the colorful flowers on it was dry as a bone. The important part was I made it to the end, hombro a hombro con la gente, and maybe just maybe earned a tiny glimpse of respect.

I worked today with a crew of all men. The majority, del campo, were raised with a curriculum in hard outdoor labor. The “city” folk were environmental and agriculture agency reps, the local authorities with whom I hope to work in my future projects. It wasn’t so much the work that war hard, (well it was, but I liked that part) but relating to this boys club was the bigger challenge. I decided to work hard, attempt a few interested conversations, and really just focus on getting the job done. Hard work seems to speak volumes here. At the end of our workday I felt accomplished. While I didn’t run any meetings, teach any new skills or probably even impress anyone, I made headway. I showed a group of men that, yes, not all women would prefer to stay home and cook the food (while I equally have the greatest respect for those who do, for God’s sake, THAT would be a challenge for me). Beyond that however, I think I showed commitment. At one point, when I really was looking exhausted and a bit sunburned, a few of my work partners told me to go wait in the shade for them to finish. I surprised myself by responding with a defiant “NO, quiero terminar el trabajo” and got back to work planting. Later in the day a man from my community passed me on horseback. I realized he was one of the gentlemen from the mornings endeavors. While I had already showered, changed clothes, and spent about 3 hours in bed reading, he appeared to be in the same condition, probably as a result of a much longer day of labor in the sun. While we had met on many previous occasions and only exchanged trivial greetings, this time he instead called out my nickname “Natty” and trotted off along the road. For one more person, I stopped being just “Gringa.” That felt pretty good.

On a side note: The terms Gringo and Gringa are not meant to be offensive. I truly believe that people use these terms because they have no other vocabulary to express who you appear to be and where you appear to come from. Calling people names for their appearance is one of the few things I do find a bit shocking in Panamenian culture. For example when a third grade girl agreed with her parents that she was indeed “fat” I almost shock the girl’s mother. “What! You can’t instill this negative body image in your child!” But this is my point of view. What is seen as negative in general in our culture is not necessarily the case here. And it seems nearly impossible to be politically correct when people flat out ask you to clarify who a person is based solely on their level of darkness or lightness of skin tone. By the way I still don’t really understand this system when everyone seems tan and brunette to me, but I still cringe when I hear people call their little sister a “negrita.” That’s just my cultural filter for ya! So Gringa, yeah it still offends me a bit when I hear it. Not when I am passing a random small community and a young child yells it out (Hey! There’s a Gringa!), nor when someone refers to the appearance of myself or past volunteers (The other Gringa that was here was named Margarita). What does push my buttons is the more direct use, referring to me as if my name were Gringa. I decided to try this out today when I realized this campo man just was not going to stop. I switched up the conversation and inquired a bit about his farm, his family, his life etc. After chatting a bit more I introduced myself and asked his name. He gave me his full name and I repeated it back (a good strategy) to make sure I got it correctly. Good. Set. We are proper acquaintances now right? Wrong. First words out of his mouth here “Here, Gringa” as he hands me more sacks of plants. Oh well, I tried.



Highlights from the week

I met a grandmother who could not remember how many grandchildren/great grandchildren she had. She laughed and just told me another is expected next month

I introduced two sisters, age 7 and 9, to peanut butter and jelly for the first time. And whole wheat bread. They are hooked. I have created two little peanut craving monsters who know I will continue to keep this stash over the next two years. They also know I have a hard time saying no.

Taught my first environmental lesion on the composition of air and the negative effects of burning forests and trees on the air we breathe. I used dry beans, lentils and corn to represent oxygen, nitrogen and other (and sometimes poisonous) gases, respectively. It went pretty well and the kids invited me to play volleyball after.

The chiva driver (think pick up with two wooden benches in the back… hang on!) has taking a liking to me and has made it his duty to show me around the HUGE corrigimiento, or district, that is pertinent to El Cedro. I enjoy the free rides and breathtaking glimpses of the mountain vistas at sunset. I also get to meet random people who live too far for me to pasear, but who I am still trying to serve. They have interesting stories and live off some very difficult roads. I also get to ride upfront! What a treat!

I watched the same whole-wheat bread and peanut butter munching 4th grader use a machete twice her size to split open a wild coconut. I barely moved from my seat on the patio to help, a brief “Cuidate” was all I could muster. Kids here are tough. She was fine. She still has all 10 fingers and ate the coconut with a spoon. Como se dice Badass en Espanol?

I am starting to like rice. Yes, after nearly 3 months, I find myself not just tolerating, but ENJOYING plain white rice. WHAT?! Ask anyone, I am a noodle girl (props Italian roots). But hey, I guess you can grow to like just about anything. I think the fact that I recently bought hot sauce (best balboa, i.e. dollar spent in Panama thus far), and discovered my host grandma has a stash of some other mysterious Salsa Condamenta (my money is on soy sauce) has contributed in this boost in my rice preference. Plus, after working in the fields all day, beans and rice just plain hits the spot.

My body clock has now adjusted to 6:15. This is actually a blessing as it is later than the time I was waking up before due to a variety of distracting noises (dogs, roosters, cows, people going to milk cows, 5am loud conversations, phones ringing, tipico music). I actually found myself acknowledging the racquet and sleeping on through! CULTURAL ADJUSTMENT HERE I COME!

I am becoming more morena. The sun is darkening my skin despite my use of sun screen, and for some reason not having its normal lightening effects on my hair.

My weekly duro (think homemade Popsicle (icy pole) in a bag) count seems to be on the rise. They are just too good and there are so many new flavors! This week I has duro de nace (pronounced Nancy) and leche de ideal. Sounds exotic, but the later is actually just named for IDEAL brand evaporated milk. So delicious! At 5 centavos these little plastic bags of ice filled joy are the number one reason I am happy my site has electricity. I could give up light and tv, but I could not comfortably live without duros.

A long overdue mental check in

July 17 2011


Suddenly my mind pulls a blank. What the heck did I want to write about again? Oh well I’ll sit here with the tri-layer sounds pulsing through the living room; a mix of frogs croaking in synchronicity with crickets, and the endless blaring tipico pounding out of the local cantina speakers. It’s Sunday night and I have officially been in my site for 2 weeks. It may not seem like a milestone for a lot of people, but 2 weeks is definitely something. Not a turning point, no that’s not the right way to describe it, more like a settling. Things are starting to feel more comfortable. A subtle shift in the right direction? I can never be sure, I should learn from all those self-help and mediation books I have polished off over the years that I should never really go with my surface emotions. You know the ones that rise and fall like waves across a much larger, immobile ocean. If you know me well enough you will know I tend to thrive off the rise and fall. I make the best decisions and get the most work accomplished. I also motivate myself to write.

So here I am, two weeks of life in El Cedro, and I just found out yesterday that El Cedro is an enormous corrigimento rather than just a small community, yet there exists a part of El Cedro, called El Cedro. I know that as the part with the tiendas and the park. I was confused why people in El Cedro (the area in general) would say “I’m going to El Cedro.” Now I finally understand that part. This is just a preview of all the little nitty gritty things that I have to figure out on my own. Seems silly right? Things I will undoubtedly learn along the way. I also calculated today that if I spent just one day REALLY trying to get to know one community member in my giant corrigimiento, I would just about barely meet everyone after two years. So far I am behind.

Rain is a fun novelty for now. Today I walked in the rain on a mission to “pasear,” i.e. go and meet people, wander, walk, or whatever else you want to call it in English. I have not truly found a translation. It can sometimes just mean hanging out on a porch. Peace Corps volunteers tend to Spanglish it up by saying, “My job for the first three months is to go pasear-ing.” I personally love the mezcla of verb usage there. Anyways, yeah back to my attempt to pasear. Well, nobody was around. Yep, I hiked pretty far trying to at least push my limits a bit to start crossing some names (I sadly wouldn’t have remembered anyways) off my hefty list, but alas, it was not to be. The only people out mingling were a bunch of young kids playing soccer in the pouring rain. I stood with my umbrella and raincoat and watched for a while with a huge grin as they slipped and sloshed around the makeshift soccer field. Ah the life of a preteen. I was tempted to join in but realized I was an odd number to their equal teams. Well that was one of the excuses I told myself. I probably could have jumped right in, but been more hilarious then they were. Scoring a goal while simultaneously sliding through 3 days’ worth of mud requires a certain grace and confidence I do not have let alone experience. So instead, I observed and vicariously soaked up their sopping wet zest for life.

I have been thinking a lot today. I returned from a solo trip to the regional capital yesterday with a newly discovered enthusiasm and appetite for everything. (I mean this literally and figuratively, however the appetite thing may relate more to the fact that I spent the previous day and night uncontrollably ill after eating wild coconuts form the front yard with a group of machete wielding neighborhood kids. Oh, but that’s another story.) Like I said, enthusiasm on high. The range of emotion this last week has caught me off guard. A few days previously, coupled with the aforementioned sickness, I felt overwhelmed with anxiety. I was not at all questioning my reasons for being here, but rather feeling full of self-doubt and pressure. Time is ticking, am I making the right impression?, I haven’t pasear-ed enough. I haven’t asked enough really deep questions, and I can’t remember a third of the names! You can probably guess the brigade of damaging mental messages I was under. Getting out to the city did the trick, and sealed me back into a state of appreciation and wonder for my setting and the people in it. That and waiting in a 30 min checkout line the Panamenian equivalent to Walmart (Machetazo rocks by the way). So yeah, I am doing pretty well now.

I made my first real Panamanian friend this weekend. Well that statement is entirely false actually, but what I mean is more like I made a friend with a very nice girl who is not 20 years my senior or junior. This is an exaggeration, but for all intents and purposes, I did hang out with someone my same age that shares many of the same interests, and life passions, which has been a first for me in Panama. Around her and her boyfriend (who I also consider a new friend of course), I surprised myself but acting, well, more like myself! I was making corny jokes and gabbing on with excitement like I do with my friends at home (LOVE YOU GUYS). Living with a middle aged male cattle rancher and his adorably sweet mother is absolutely amazing, however I guess I do keep in some of that spunk that gets out more when I am around people of my same age group. Maybe it’s a comfort level thing. Either way I am glad they all got to see it. Poco a poco ,here I am!

I’ve been thinking a lot, (an understatement) about the “extras” in life. Thinking about how these “extras” differ so dramatically between individual people and cultures, places, and socioeconomic levels. Thinking of life in the suburbs of the United States, these extras can be anything from buying a tv with a few more inches and special features, to hitting up the local beach bar at the start of a long weekend. Here my “extras” come as simple reality for others. It’s just how it’s done in the campo. Drinking hot chocolate made from fresh milk (the cow is about a hundred yards away mind you) and cinnamon leaves picked fresh from the garden, and lots and lots of sugar. Well that’s how it’s done here. Bien rico. (Sidenote: rico may be my favorite new word because it can pretty much describe all things good, delicious, rich, soothing, or even comfortable. I realized this after one of my community counterparts told me the temperature of the shower water was really “delicious [rico]”, my confusion led me to discover the word covers more territory than I had previously thought.) I hope this place never changes, and that by making progress El Cedro and the people here never lose their indulgence for simple, wonderful things that just don’t exist in the so called “developed world” I come from. When did the past inhabitants of St. Petersburg, FL stop raising chickens on their patios! They too are bien rico!

At times I feel like I am falling in love with this place. Falling and panicking. I know I worry too much but sometimes I even surprise myself with the absurdity of my mental jumps into the future. Got to trust the big man upstairs a bit more, huh Natalie? Anyways, yeah falling in love = panic in my book. What do you do when you find what you are searching for? The life you have always dreamed of? The job you didn’t know existed and now can’t believe is your only real priority for the next two years? And, that it’s more of a lifestyle (that you are thrilled to have) than a job? What now? How do you sustain that feeling that you have reached what you have longed for, for so very long? Any advice?

The other half of the love dilemma was, is and will continue to by my ultimate downfall. Boys in general (a few may deserve to be called men) are stupid and my weakness. While everything else seems to be falling into place in life, the irking and insecure mind-brain always seeks out the what isn’t instead of the what is. Thoughts are magnetically drawn towards the lack. While this can occasionally be helpful for motivational purposes, generally it just plain sucks. Note to self: be more positively oriented. How come my dreams of where I will eventually “end up” are intrinsically tied to a man? How can I continue to think this way despite my logical understanding that life is never about “ending up” anywhere? Life just keeps going! I just have a hard time believing the love-life part of life works out the way we are brought up to believe it does. The “good” life, the movie ending. This doesn’t seem to be the case in rural Panama. Nor the case in my family. Maybe being truly happy involves being outside of a relationship. Maybe it just means living fully. I hope I can live fully and find someone to live fully beside me. Vamos a ver.

I saw a commercial last night for a product called Fat Seltzer. Yes Fat Seltzer, people! It’s the newest product to hit panama and the name being in English makes it super “pretty” and an instant hit with those wanting to bajar pesa. The commercial promoted it as Alka Seltzer for fat. Put this fizzy pill in your water and bam! It made me yearn for those cheesy Cortisol commercials with the creepy hot grandma. Almost.

The good, the strange, the random thoughts, there you have it.

I teach my first environmental education lesson this week on air pollution and have to present myself at my first organizational meeting. Life is good.