dispatches from a mosquitero

So what's it been like?

Well today I helped my host mom look for bananas and platanos. (that’s not all I did, but just the first thing that came to mind). My mom is hard core I must say. She by far out carries me in the platano carrying contest. She's more like a mule with 3 racismos de guino slung over her back and shoulders. I was walking behind her today on our way out (by the way, the way out is practically silent compared to the way in) and thought how if she fell she quite possibly would be crushed by the number of guienos she had on her back. I was carrying about 50 pounds myself and she had way more than me. And had a machete.

Oh and also I don't know if there is anything better (well there probably is, but at the moment it was pretty awesome) than hiding under banana leaves, while rain drips down from the canopy above, and enjoying a nice fat naturally ripened banana. I actually probably had over 20 bananas today; between the green ones that make up the substance my 3 daily meals and the 5 ripe ones I ate waiting there for the rain to slow. I mean you have to get them before the monkeys do. And monkeys really do eat bananas; it's not just a Curious George thing.

I also went diving for oysters today. We ended up with an overflowing 5 gallon bucket full of them. And I proudly contributed about 5 of those. The three other guys filled it the rest of the way. I think next time I'll be able to give those oysters a better run for their money. (They actually are not just sitting there with their mouths open, that's taunting their doing.) This is the second time I have been out looking in (and depending on) the lake for my food. I kind of feel almost stone age ish about it, especially now with my Indian arm band tattoo. And the fact that us 4 males brought the bucketful of game/food back for the female to put in the other half of the work also made it that much more cave dweller ish.

Anyway, as such I thought I was getting oysters tonight for dinner. Instead I was handed boiled green bananas and fried mini-hot dogs. I questioned (not exactly objecting, just questioning) and learned that although cooked and prepared the oysters are for tomorrow. That's all fine and dandy, although right now I am 90% certain that I will get them for breakfast; with the always reliable guieno verde. And that's not fine or dandy.

Just the other night

Well I guess there is dinner tonight.

After climbing up into the house and not seeing anyone around, I decided to make an early night of it anyway. I swept the floor off, shook out my pad, sheets and pillow, tied up and tucked in my mosquitero, and squeezed in my ear plugs so 5am won’t sound so early tomorrow when everyone leaves for school. But after about 45 minutes of me lying awake wondering if my toes are too exposed to a night ambush by the mosquitoes or even those other 8 legged and far more scary night owls, I not only heard but felt everyone come home. Kind of how I imagine a snake would feel the ground vibrating as I passed near-by. I guess it is the result of the floor being seven feet off the ground and not every board being firmly nailed to the supporting beams underneath. Actually it can feel like a small but constant earthquake in the morning while everyone is busy leaving for school. Add to that, numerous bright beams of light sporadically poring through the empty spaces between the bamboo that make my room “a room,” and you have a terribly frightening set for a PTSD flashback. Anyway, I guess I will crawl my way out of this small sanctuary I have here and eat something for dinner and probably slap myself silly, and maybe kill a mosquito, in the process.

Here's a picture for ya. Looking from my house to the neighbors.

La Casa de Carmen

I thought this place was too good to be true. The similarities of Panama City and the States are incredible. Public transportation is scarcely more prominent than in Portland, as it seems most people here have their own cars. There are no guaguas running from their dirty black exhaust and little if any exhaust cloud to envelope me as I cross the street. The list could continue: drinkable tap water, eatable lettuce, 100 % all the time electricity, hot showers (not that I would ever consider them in this climate), and the plumbing to handle flushed toilet paper.

The hostel I have been staying at for these first few days in Panama City is of the Lonely Planet variety. Full of college aged English speaking backpackers and retired travelers. It even has a resident parrot that wakes me up in the morning and obediently sits on its roost all day long in the middle of the courtyard outback.

As I returned today, I thought to ask the hostel guy in the front where I could do my laundry, expecting to have to hike to some place across town. But he nonchalantly replied “no, aquí mismo. Y tu puedes secar también.” What!? Are you kidding me? You have a washer AND a dryer? Wow, I amazed once again at this country.

Not wanting to wear my last pair of underwear for a week straight as I figure out the laundry situation in my site, I got right to my laundry. The setting selection, soap in, clothes in, door down routine came so naturally to me (I did just come from the states). Finished with that callus causing laundry scrubbing, I grabbed a beer, book, and pack of crackers to enjoy as I kicked back and waited.

About thirty minutes later, my internal clock told me it was about time to throw my clothes in the dryer. So I went over and threw open the lid only to find, not my cloths spun dry and beautifully sticking to the sides of the washing machine, but the whole machine still full of water, stopped half-way through the wash cycle.

“It stopped, eso” I commented to the hostel guy who was involved with something next to me.

“Yeah, I know.”

Ok….and…

An intense waterfall of feelings and oh so tangible memories overtook me. I was seeing, hearing, smelling, and standing in a completely different time and place as soon as he said the words…

“Se fue la luz.”

Utterly speechless. Never thought THIS would happen HERE. This is Panama City, Panama, US of A.

“Oh, ok that’s fine.” I replied nicely, trying to comfort the embarrassed tone of his voice.

As I walked back to my room I passed two Australian backpackers, the kind that would frequent these types of Lonely Planet establishments, one of which smelled like pot. I noticed he was quickly and desperately hammering the light switch up and down.

“Electricity’s out.” I told him comfortably.

“Ah, man! That sucks! What the hell!?”

Smiling to myself on the inside for being such a Peace Corps Volunteer about it, I continued to my room to grab my head lamp.

But it suddenly dawned on me. I am leaving to my site for the first time early tomorrow morning. And half my clothes are stuck half way through their wash cycle. And even of I did take them out and finish the job myself they would never dry overnight in this humidity.

“Ah, man! This sucks!” I think to myself. “Well, I’m going to have to do something…”