A day in Paradise. That is what I will call my Saturday. Coraling cows up a hillside may just be another day in the life for a Herrerence but for me it meant a lot more. It meant gorgeous rolling hillside views in the pounding Panamanian sun and cool forested trails that envelope you in green. I learned the language of talking to cows, or more like whistling and kissing noises and a few “calls” I can’t reproduce. Strange animal-like noises produced by the human vocal cords are really big in Panama. They even have contests for gritaring (yelling, but more like a throaty HoooWahh noise). When we reached a point where I was politely told that the camino would get pretty bad and I should dismount, I jumped a barbed wire fence and hacked my way through some bushes with two boys to pick the sweetest oranges I’ve ever tasted. I think I ate about 3. That is a new record in my personal orange consumption in one siting, but I was told 6-8 is the norm. When you find something great you got to aprovechar (my favorite Spanish word learned in Panama, meaning take advantage of a situation but with a more positive connotation that in English. Example, it’s sunny out, got to aprovechar this sun and wash your laundry so it can dry! Aprochevar!) We also brought two sacks of oranges back to make chicha (juice with sugar). My vitamin C count is off the charts.
At one point in our trip when all the cows had been delivered to their grazing area, we all started picking oranges and nancy and I realized how thirsty I was. Unfortunately the juices of 3 oranges didn’t cut it. I longingly looked up at a 35ft palm tree with green coconuts (pipa) and vocalized my desire for agua de pipa. Wish granted. The most amazing feat I have seen thus far in Panama unfolded before my very eyes. Cano, a boy of about 16-17 years of age, stood on the shoulders of my host dad/community guide and proceeded to scale the thick trunk barefoot. Think Mobley from the Jungle Book style. The coconuts were pretty high up and I was wondering how this kid was going to reach them once he reached the palm parts… I mean palm frawns are not all that strong are they? Apparently children of the campo just know how to do these sort of things. Cano made it ok but the next challenge was detaching the young coconuts. Mature coconuts fall pretty easily, butthe green ones are thoroughly attached. Next thing I knew my host dad had found a huge stick and had stuck the tip of a machete into one end and handed it up to the valiant coconut warrior in the sky. He started sawing off a huge branch with about 6 green coconuts. Heavy lil’ suckers too! But, alas Cano was having some trouble. So what is a group of campesinos to do? Well someone busted out a laso and began lasoing the prized bunch of coconuts. With the combined efforts of the tree climber, the machete and the laso technique, the coconuts came crashing down. Next thing I knew, I was being handed an enormous green coconut with a perfectly machete-ed mouth hole, full of lightly sweetened water. I was on my fifth full gulp when the boy finally reached the ground. The rope was involved somehow and lots of literal tree-hugging.
Yet another milestone, my limited experience riding horses just about tripled in one day. Let’s just say I now understand the expression; “get right back on the horse”. Luckily I didn’t completely fall off. My horse named Gazella (REDFLAG when the name is some variation of gazelle) apparently likes to run. I had only gotten her to a light trot and felt very accomplished for doing so. I felt even better about finally making the stick and rope tool in my hand make the appropriate whip noise to get the horses and cows moving. I was happy to learn that the motivation is in the noise rather than actually whipping the livestock. At one point my horse, or I, got cocky. She saw a flat expanse of trail and a bridge up ahead and decided to take me for a ride. Instantly blinded (dang hat), I did the appropriate response, pull hard on the reigns, pray to god, yell out my impression of the call my horse’s owner was yelling from behind me. And …nothing. Where are the breaks on this thing? I lost both my hat and stick/string thingy about a mile back, life flashing before my eyes, trail actually flashing by. I wanted to bail, like I used to do as a child on a bicycle, but that was not an option. The past volunteer broke her arm by falling off a chair, I was not about to break any bones only a month in site. I held on tight and continued to pull with all my might. I could see a point up ahead where the trail began to climb uphill. I was praying she would not want to run this part, and was worrying she had picked up enough speed to do so with ease. What actually was coming out of my mouth were a few English words I had not heard myself speal for some time now. And no they were not prayers. Luckily my companeros don’t speak English.
My prayers were answered and Gazella decided to come to an almost complete stop to scale the hillside. Whew. My hat and pole and string contraption were returned to me by my grinning cowboy friends. No quiero correr, I said. No mas! Regardless of my scare, I rode proudly back into town with a flower in my cow girl hat and a matching one for my horse. We had bonded. She had tested me a bit and I had (just barely) passed. That’ll do rider Natalie, that’ll do.
My day and adventure were far from over. I had yet to attend the nearby baile and bullfight planned for the evening. Upon arrival, I was instantly reminded of my experiences (limited, I promise Dad!) at college frat parties, or maybe even high school parties, where it is considered cool for each person to have their own bottle of liquor, or in this case pure, locally produced Seco. The difference is that at a Panamanian party, no drinking games are required to put down a bottle. Ice, a plastic cup and a lot of entertainment suffice. The bull fight was pretty typical and a bit sad. I did get to see one guy get “golpear-ed” in the face. Score for the bull! The real event was the Cantadera group performing hours of tipico music accompanied by two guitar players. I am in love with this type of guitar picking and wish my brother could have been there to learn their art. This music continued for a few hours, occasionally being interrupted by promoters chalking up future fiestas and a few gritar contests. Yes this contest consists of two men or young boys taking turns copying each other’s call (Hooowahhh or sometimes more creative like Hooahheeeahh). The ones who can call the best got a lot of applause. Love it!
At about midnight (we had arrived at 6pm mind you) the dancing commenced. Everyone dances, especially the drunkest attendees which can get a bit crazy. I was being pulled onto the dance floor to learn the tradition of dancing tipico. I didn’t have too much peña (embarrassment or shame)and really enjoyed myself. It was a very sweaty endeavor and I laughed myself through it. We got home around 3 am and I heard my host dad’s car leave to milk the cows at 4:30. This is the Panamenian way of life.
On another note, finally got to talk to Grandma! Love you Dodeo! Can’t wait to take you to a baile.
Showing posts with label tipico music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tipico music. Show all posts
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
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.
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.
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