The past week has felt like months. I’ve only been in Panama for a
week. Nine days ago, I landed in
Panama City, stepping off the plane into thicker air, a new culture and my new
world. Six days ago, I moved in
with a host family. On Monday, I
started language and technical training.
These numbers of days are almost meaningless. Time passes so differently – it’s at once so much longer,
and barely believable.
On Sunday, I moved in with my host family, who I will be
living with for the rest of training.
On the description sheet, four people were listed: Mama Olga, Papa Teno,
Michele and Juan (hijo). When I
arrived, about twelve people were at the house – four plus children and the
rest adults. Rushing to help me
with my bags (did I over pack?
I’ve so far used everything except for the things I brought for living
on my own), I was shown to my room.
Michele, the hija, said, “This is my room!”
A rush of movement took over as Michele finished taking her
things out of her room – leaving about half of her clothes and all of her
stuffed animals. After I had put
down my suitcases, I was ushered out of the room into the kitchen to eat. The retreat aspect of training was long
and time consuming, with 12 hour days and little sleep, and all I wanted to do
was sleep. I sat down, forced a
few bites before my eyes began drift downward. With my funny accent and my fading consciousness, I tried to
explain my exhaustion to my new family.
The looked at me and, while I think they understood what I was saying –
it’s the accent that’s different, not the words – encouraged me to eat
more. I sat there and stared at
the plate for moments before…
“Hola!” I turned toward the door and saw my friend enter, carrying her Spanish-English dictionary. Introducing her to my family, Mama Olga offered her a plate of food. She goes onto explain to the two of us that Sally would be eating all her meals at my house, as per an agreement between Mama Olga and Tio Chevo. As we continued eating, she told us that she would go on to introduce us to her whole family. We began “pasear-ing” through the community, meeting her whole family, including Mama Cheva, the 80 year old matriarch of the family. By the third house, my eyes again began drooping and I almost begged Mama Olga to let me home to nap.
Unpacking, sleeping and eating dinner were the only other
things I did that day. We started
classes the next day.
Instead of boring you with the day to day events of classes,
let me tell you my daily schedule.
I wake up around 6 am and stretch out on our patio. After stretches and exercises, if I
have not showered the night before, I shower (outside in cold water), dress and
eat breakfast with Sally. We head
to language and culture class at 8, which lasts until 11:45, eat lunch at Mama
Cheva’s with another trainee (who lives with Mama Cheva). We all head together to the Technical
class after lunch and stay there until about 5:00 pm or so. Finally, we return to our homestay,
hang out for a little bit, eat dinner then I sit in my family’s hammock and
play with their dog.
Already, there are a few things I’ve learned about Panama
culture:
1)
They love making fun of you. My host family makes fun of me for
anything from talking in my sleep, my size (both height – tallish – and weight
– slight), classes, studies, accent and anything else they can think of. It’s a sign of affection.
2)
They never sleep – or so it seems. My host brothers “me molestan” for
hours and hours before I finally say, “Tengo sueno, voy a dormirme”. They just sit and talk and talk and
talk and talk and talk.
3)
The coffee is fantastic. Locally harvested, locally prepared and
the best thing you’ve ever tasted in your life. I swear.
Imagine the best coffee you’ve ever tasted, and make it a religious
experience. That’s the coffee
here.
4)
Women are so nice, and young men will probably
ask to marry you. Come up with a
funny response.
5)
I’m probably the luckiest person in the world to
be here.
No comments:
Post a Comment