Panama!, Van Halen

Finally, after exactly a year, I have arrived in Panama City, ready to begin training for my Peace Corps posting.  It is humid, I am sweating, but I am so happy to be here.


The past few days, while whirlwind, are slightly boring.  The points are - I became a Trainee, I landed in Panama City, I am sitting in a hotel waiting to shower, skype, then go to sleep.


I guess I expected for this to prove a completely different experience.  To land and feel completely new and complete in this adventure.  But I landed more with frustration for the pilot and the wind during our flight, and leg cramps from sitting on three planes in less than a week.  Almost the entire flight was turbulent, and I am admittedly a nervous flyer.  Customs and baggage claim passed without consequence and we got in the busses to make our way to the Peace Corps country headquarters.


Panama city has a fantastic skyline.  It seems ironic to have Peace Corps in a country with such a built up skyline, with hugely magnificent buildings and prominent names.  The Trump Towers, Panama version are currently under construction.  Yet, as you’re distracted by the skyline, you neglect immediately to notice the slums built around the roadways.  Metal siding as walls and roof, women washing clothes in the brackish canal waters.  Satellites and flags adorned the outsides of each metal building.  The stark contrast of the wealth, the prosperity with the poverty of a city, right in front of your eyes in a way you can’t ignore reminds you why the Peace Corps goes into countries.


The poorer Panamanians must be very proud of their country in a way their richer counterparts are not.  Their flag is proudly displayed in the front of their house.  Even in American ghettoes and trailer parks, we do not see this sort of country pride.  I guess in areas like the Midwestern or southern trailer parks, some could be considered proud patriots, but this feels different.  While I do not know the motives of these Panamanians and their flags, the motives of the poorest American patriots is to side swipe another race to bring someone below them.  I have never seen a group of impoverished individuals to patriotic, if even that’s an intention.


Mornings seem easier here - whether that's my imagination or the fact that simply, I'm excited so I require less sleep, I'm not exactly sure.  I wrote the bulk of this last night, but as I sit outside, looking at magnificent buildings, taking it all in, I feel inclined to write more.  It's muggy, but not yet hot.  The point in which air feels heavier to breathe, with more water, moisture in it, but I'm comfortable, if not cool.


This is the only difference I still feel.  The noises are the same as noises in any city, cars driving by, dogs barking (I miss mine) and the birds.  Except it's not the same.  The birds are exotic, the dogs speak Spanish.  The air feels heavier on my skin.  It's a constant reminder that, Toto, we're not in Kansas anymore.  In fact, we're in none of the US states anymore.


Bienvenido a Panama.