ericfranqui

Jamming to this All Night

2012-02-08T23:49:00.001-05:00

Summer's about to end and I feel this song is fairly accurate. It's actually by this pretty chill Mexican singer/songwriter named Carla Morrison.

This probably should've gone in my music blog which you can check out over at:

blogspot.com/musicformina

Some Updates

2012-02-07T01:08:00.001-05:00

Objective fact: There are protests going on throughout Panama. Feel free to read about them here.

Other, less exciting things:

Had my annual medical and dental check-up. Actually, about 18 of us volunteers had our annual dental and medical check-up. In Panama sugary drinks are very popular because there is usually either chicha, which is fruit juice made with ridiculous amounts of sugar or soda. Yes, it is entirely possible to drink neither and just have water, but seriously, who wants to do that? Most people were expecting cavitites. I was one of the lucky ones who came out relatively unscathed.
I lost my iPhone. It happens. So now I'm on a telephone contract with a Blackberry data plan. My Peace Corps Service keeps on getting more and more ridiculous and is in danger of approaching something like a corporate job. I used to be young, care free, now I wear a tie and have a Blackberry. Amazing.
My region's (Ver- 2 da -Aguas) TE team did what is a reportedly top-notch job presenting. Props and a special shout out to Miss Kali Mincy who gave an incredible opening presentation with the goal of motivating English Teachers in Veraguas. My presentation was on Self-Evaluation and why we need to do it. So yo, evaluate yo'self b4 you wreck yo'self.
I am now a bonafide expert on finding my around Panama. Or really just the parts of via Espana that run close to El Cangrego, Urraca, and la Costa. Panama City drives me insane with its road design. In some sick way, much like every time Rick Perry speaks, I love it.
Two weekends ago I had an aspirante (a Peace Corps trainee) visit my site. It was loads of fun! La Feria de Los Dulces coincided nicely with his visit so he got a chance to see flamenco dancing, musical performances and even awkward poetry readings about menstruation, break-ups, and breast feeding. No, but seriously, the poets were two women who would speak about inherently feminime topics (i.e. breastfeeding, menstruation) and this one guy who struggled to find relevant poems so he spoke mostly about his love for his ma and break-ups. Well done sir, well done.
Check out photos:
In the midst of all this business I also helped out with training the new Group 70 volunteers. It's incredible to be there with them as they're getting prepared for their first year of service. The amount of knowledge I and other volunteers would like to impart upon them is...Too much. So we stick to the real stuff.

Ugh. I'm done. Blogging is getting hard. Let's give Twitter a comeback?

Current Desktop.

2012-02-07T00:39:00.001-05:00

Taken in San Francisco de Veraguas on the path north towards El Espirtu Santo.

Scorpions.

2012-02-07T00:14:00.001-05:00

Scorpions are a common Peace Corps Panama encounter. Until now I have been lucky to not have dealt with them first hand. Today one wandered into my my house. Being the manly man that I am I swatted it with a broom until it was fatally injured (and possibly in pieces?) if not dead.

When I was younger, actually right around the time I lived in Puerto Rico, I was deathly afraid of scorpions. Hopefully today we've turned those tables.

Dear Scorpions,

This song is for you:

La Parguera, Puerto Rico - January 3rd and 4th, 2012

2012-01-29T15:01:00.003-05:00

At the beginning of this month my family and I were invited by my uncle and aunt to join them at sea for two days. These are some of the photos that I snapped.

This was the view at dusk from the mangroves

Mangroves serve a crucial biological purpose and contain a great deal of bio-diversity.

Here is a close-up of the mangroves. The water around these was so shallow that you could ride up in a small boat and walk around.

This was the small boat we would take from the bigger boat to ride out to the nearby mangroves.

My brother, cousins and aunt were all riding towards the big boat where we spent the night.

Here is some of the delicious food we at on board. The blackish stuff to the upper left of the table is blood sausage. Uncle Harry described it as "God's gift to man." I agree. It's particularly tasty on chips and as a spread on bread.

This my Uncle Harry, PhD. So that's Dr. Harry to you.

This is my Aunt Patricia, also a PhD, so also Dr. Patricia to you.

Their beautiful daughter Olivia.

Their hilariously awesome, intelligent, and talkative son Galli (pronounced Gah-yee).

Here's Galli pulling Olivia around on the mangroves. He's a very considerate older brother.

This is my younger brother Kevin.

These are my parents.

This is everyone having a good time.

These are my cousins Dianne and Kathi.

This is a bird.

This is the sun rising over the Carribbean. Check out the rest of my photos at:

Current Desktop

2012-01-27T13:59:00.001-05:00

Download the fullsize at:

Taken at la Paguera in Puerto Rico in early January.

Misc. Update

2012-01-26T01:02:00.001-05:00

January has been a beautiful month with the full onset of summer in San Francisco. The other day and I swear this is true, I had to wear a hoodie in the morning it was so cold. My town has been much more active during the summer and it's given me the chance to really appreciate some of the culture and traditions that seem to lay dormant throughout the school year/rainy season.

There is a Spanish phrase in Panama, "Que has hecho de bueno?" -- what good have you done lately. Unfortunately even as a Peace Corps volunteer I am never quite sure how to answer the question so I usually just smile and politely shrug off the question supposing that it is rhetorical. Yet, if someone were to ask me today I would politely respond, "Yeah man! A lot! I've been helping two kids in my community do English. I awkwardly presented a seminar on self-evaluation on Monday to something like 70 English teachers, and I helped out with training of about 30 new TE volunteers in Panama!"

Altogether I've only spent about two weeks in site this month and that's fine by me. Between days I had to take for work in Panama City and my vacation to Puerto Rico, along with a brief detour to the fair in Ocu, I think I'm more or less satisfied with what I've managed to get done in January.

Also, pulled from Facebook:

Eric Franqui

Grilling on the 18th floor. Yeahhhhh buddy.

Like · · Unfollow Post · 5 hours ago near San Francisco

- Douglas Martin try n get high yeah you feel it when you fly
  25 minutes ago · Like
- Eric Franqui I be walking up these stairs, ducking these mad woman's stares, life isn't fair, God gave me a higher fare; story of the tortoise and the hare as I score the touchdown by a hair; sad cops with frowns running all around town sporting hair triggers like Prez Beluski (sp); I get down with Bukowski; like a mouse, but not so modest.
  22 minutes ago · Like
- Douglas Martin yeah i tried bein modest it was an honest attempt but a lot of this is off the dome sensory perception in the haze of a zone burn through trees like im tryn a kill the o zone blowin nothin but home grown you front be walkin home in a box cuz you done begun somethin you cant run
  15 minutes ago · Like
- Eric Franqui I run puns like cartels run guns; got more clocks than glocks; smile like a high school jock while I'm betting on my lucky fighting cock; change of seasons, number two, back to the docks. Scream treason without a voice, abandoning reason without much choice; I theorize on digits; I terrorize the oppositions widgets; open your macbook, I got lazy with this whack hook.
  10 minutes ago · Like
- Douglas Martin yeah we be riding the beat what they be feeding and yeah the studio be a little bit un usual we trading bars from afar its a nother star in the making picture growing up in the middle of the whole world takin notice every word that you spoken little kids be repeatin on the town like it was golden its a new song fuck shut it down let it open

Baseball.

2012-01-16T22:00:00.001-05:00

Anyone who has ever played any sport with me be it volleyball, basketball, soccer, football, or as was played today – baseball, knows that I am a hilariously horrible player. Along with a wonderful lack of hand eye coordination and particularly awkward sense of balance I do not practice any of these sports and certainly did not do so during my childhood. My parents had to lie to me and tell me that instead of attending little league practice, I would be meeting the Baywatch cast. Even at five years old my love for shitty television was a defining feature. Later on in life, during my freshmen year in college I would ‘play’ basketball with the bros. During a basketball tournament I was the only person in recorded history to duck from a ball that was being passed. Seriously, that’s a true story.

Well today, Koji, one of the jovenes in my town invited me to play baseball with him and the neighborhood. Keep in mind that my community is only about 2,000 people and that’s including some of those that live way out in the outskirts, so by neighborhood, it really means entire town. About 25-30 people showed up to play in the square next to our famous salto as I stood in nervous anticipation. There was a lot of noise being made about the English Profe, who would be leaving his man-cave of a home to participate in community sports. Little did the small children with smiling faces know that their beloved English Teacher is an utter sports failure. Adults were present as well as the jovenes and the smallest kid I think was around five or six. From an outsider’s perspective it’s incredible that all these age groups manage to get along for a game up of pickup baseball.

The reality of the matter is that while there is certainly a lot of community appreciation going on anyone with a decent understanding of Panamanian slang will hear some of the abhorrent names that people will call one another. It’s like something one would see in a parody film about fanatical middle school sports parents that crossed the line of eager participating parent to all-out verbally abusing psychopath. That being stated anyone understanding Panamanians in general will understand that the shit-talking, much like what bros may discuss in a heated game of beer pong or just regular ping-pong is irrelevant to whatever follows next.

Adding to the further humiliation of just not being good at baseball I was given a mitt for my left hand, when what I really needed was one for my right hand. My solution to avoid any nasty epic fails was to play the outfield. It was 5^th grade gym class all over again. I chilled with Willis, one of the better students – actually, on paper, the best student of the 6^th grade last year. He enlightened me into his pessimistic thoughts concerning the current baseball game and life in general. Smart kid. He was right about the baseball game, and hopefully will be wrong about the rest of life.

I batted three times and hit a foul twice. Both times I had to be told that I hit a foul because I could not see the invisible foul line. Is that what it’s called? The foul line? The first time I batted was my best and I made it all the way to third base only to be confused and run when I definitely should not have. Baseball may be a great American sport and I myself may be a great American, but we were just not feeling each other today. Must be too much greatness in the ball park.

Thankfully there were no steroids accusations or any serious brawls. Although at one point two ten year olds started swatting one another with their baseball mitts, which made me think of two fighting ladies with Chinese fans.

Despite my initial poor showing coach sees a lot of potential in me becoming a mediocre player given enough time, practice and yelling. I was invited to come tomorrow.

And I was lying about that coach statement. As previously mentioned, it’s a pick-up game.

Untitled

2012-01-08T16:00:00.001-05:00

Wowzers. My vacation in Puerto Rico has been incredible. I feel as I have done enough in ten days to fill a hundred. To make up for a lack of communication I will give a brief day by day run-down.

Tuesday – Dec. 27^th: I landed at San Juan’s international airport and was picked up by my cousin David. He took me to a restaurant called El Hamburguito (the little hamburger) and I enjoyed the best hamburger I’d had in a long, long time. The view of the coast line wasn’t bad either. After driving through and around Viejo San Juan we met up with my Aunt Mimi at Chili’s where we ran quite the bar tab and caught up and talked shit and joked and just had a good time. Also, I had Boston Crab Cakes. Isn’t that ridiculous? More ridiculous was my attempt to watch some Ewan McGregor film afterwards. Ghostwriter? Ghost Rider? I don’t know.

Wednesday – Dec. 28^th: My aunt took me to meet up with my Uncle Hilton and I enjoyed a traditional Puerto Rican mofongo, which consists of plantains stuffed with seafood or meat with a sauce, either creole or butter/garlic type combo. They are delicious. Afterwards I met up with some cousins at Plaza de las Americas (the largest shopping mall in Latin America). My parents, who landed that afternoon, picked me up and in a moment of family awesomeness I shared, for the first time ever, a beer with my grandfather.

Just to let you know who my grandfather is, people know him better as Popeye. When I asked my mom why this was such, she delicately explained to me that Popeye was known for going to the bars, drinking a few, and getting into fights. Of course, existing in the same vein as Chuck Norris or Clint Eastwood, he never lost. Hence the name Popeye. He also had a boat once upon a time, so that may have been related. Afterwards, my cousin David, who has always facilitated corruption of my innocent youth, took me out for a night out in Guaynabo City whereupon after some light barhopping and shit-talking we decided to go to a Christian rap concert to see Vico C perform. I don’t know what the hell that was about. McDonalds while inebriated is delicious.

Thursday – December 29^th: My extended family is divided between the capital city area in the east and Mayaguez in the west. Consequently my trips to the Enchanted Island are divided between the two sides. My dad drove my brother and I to the west end to visit his family. Along the way we stopped at some truly amazing beach side views.

At my grandmother’s house my brother and I just kicked it for a bit and chilled out sharing music and stories and the like. It was nice, it was great, it was the best of times, blah blah blah. It felt like being home. That in itself was incredible. Also, can we talk about how great Netflix is? I liked Netflix before I left the states, coming back, I love Netflix.

Friday – December 30^th : In an effort to acquaint the uninitiated, my dad took my brother and I to Mayaguez. Mayaguez is one of the three major cities in Puerto Rico (San Juan, Ponce, Mayaguez in roughly that order). On this light site seeing trip our dad told us stories and shared with us where he grew up and showed us the school he graduated from and of course had me taking pictures. Being the de facto on-call family photographer in exchange for enjoying the delicious milk of the paternal financial teat while on vacation is not a bad gig by the way. One clutch moment for me was seeing my grandmother’s old apartment that overlooked one of the main streets leading to the town square. The mere scent of the street’s peculiar odor brought back a swath of memories from my younger years.

We drove back down the coast to check out some more typical touristy sites. It was fun.

Later on that night through a weird arrangement with my brother and cousins and insistence from my aunt we went to go see some horrible film titled “War Horse”. I’m convinced that this is a dirty campaign to glorify horses and attempt to bring down Obama’s chances for re-election on the basis that he just signed a bill allowing horses to be prepared for human consumption. In case my sarcasm wasn’t thick enough on that one – I’m joking. Either the movie was truly terrible, or I just don’t care two cahoots about a young man’s strange affection for a horse.

Saturday- December 31^st: Clearly this is a big day. At my grandmother’s house it is a huge event featuring Uncle Alejandrito, who is the family DJ and catering by none other Uncle Hilton, who is the family doctor, elitist, and caterer. There was karaoke; there were delicious pastries, incredible food, scrumptious roasted pork (pernil), and best of all – the presence of all 11 sons and daughters of my grandmother. Mimi, Alfonso (dad), Harvey, Diana, Celi, Harry, Norbert, Hector, Hilton, Alejandrito, and the mysterious Tony were all in attendance. This happens rarely and most often it is my dad who is the culprit for missing out. There was a lot of love in the air. I also got to try out the Puerto Rican version of moonshine – pitorro, which is somehow made with almonds. It was disgustingly sweet. My cousin Kathii has a video that I will force her to upload.

Sunday – January 1^st: First day of the New Year and we went on an excursion to the mountainous town of Yauco. This was my initiation into the dominoes table with my uncles. This is a prestigious table where not only will ruthless games be played, but also cut throat shit-talking. My dad and I schooled two of my uncles, but the next game, which was with my uncle Norbert – the self-proclaimed God of Excel accountant – killed me, predicting my every move like clockwork. On a less interesting note, my brother and I used a borrowed Xbox to beat Call of Duty MW3. Video game quota of 2012 already fulfilled.

Monday – January 2^nd: I returned to Bayamon, but before visiting my Abuelito, my brother, dad, and I took a five hour detour to walk around Viejo San Juan and visit El Morro and some adjoining castle. For the longest time I’ve really wanted to explore La Perla. La Perla (the Pearl) is an ironically named barrio (neighborhood/ghetto) that stands right below the pricey area of Viejo San Juan. It is nestled right on the coast line and stands surrounded by upper middle class wealth. It is also one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in the entire United States and associated territories. While it is not quite as exaggerated as Brazil’s favelas, it would be comparable to that or to Chorillo in Panama City. Check out my pictures of San Juan!

We also had a family BBQ at abuelo’s house. Best moment of the night was halfway through a dominoes game whereupon my brother came to the realization that dominos is a team game. This in turn led to my favorite quote of the trip: “Wait, we’re on teams!?!”

Tuesday – January 3rd: Boat. We drove from Bayamon to Lajas and got on a boat with my Uncle Harry, his wife, and her father. It was dope. Shit got real nautical near some mangroves and we just relaxed, drank fancy drinks, swam in clear water, and for two days lived a life of pure hedonism. Uncle Harry is a great chef and his father in law is a great enthusiast of fine wine, liquors, meats and presumably other consumables. In short, I ate like a king. No, really, things I ate included prosciutto ham (of which Panama/Peace Corps has inconsiderably deprived me of), salmon pasta (it was ridiculously good), freshly baked bread (we baked bread, on a boat!), and a new one for me, perhaps truly God’s Greatest Gift to man – blood sausage. Also, my drinking shelf got elevated and I developed an affinity for champagne.

Wednesday – January 4th: More boating, but as we departed we went to a restaurant in Mayaguez that sits no more than five meters from the coast. The restaurant is known only as Gonzalez. I suspect that it is officially Gonzalez Seafood, but everyone just calls it Gonzalez. Here I enjoyed fish (fresh red snapper?) stuffed with lobster and shrimp, all of which was freshly caught. It was the best meal I’d had all year long. I have eaten some great seafood in Panama and elsewhere, but this takes the plate. It set a completely new standard, so much so that for the first time ever, my brother actually requested to speak to the chef just so he could tell him how great the meal was. Keep in mind that we had already been eating remarkably well on the boat. Even with a raised standard on our palate, this meal was remarkably fucking good.

See the full gallery on Posterous

Thursday – January 5^th: My grandmother’s 71^st birthday was the most important event of the day. Before the ceremonial dinner my family took my brother and I Three Kings Day shopping (more on that later). I re-upped on footwear really seeing as how walking most everywhere and running in the campo has demolished almost all my footwear. Actually, my parent’s concern for my footwear is pretty hilarious. There was a dismissal ceremony for my torn kutaras that were hilariously replaced by a new pair of Rainbows. For whatever reason my mother insisted on getting me a new wallet, so I have that too. If only she would’ve put some new benjies in there.

Dinner was in a coastal town called Aguadilla. Once again in a restaurant that was only a short walk from the coast (although this was non-swimmable). We went to some super fancy and trendy steakhouse that seemed to blow its budget on aesthetics and saving none for staff training. Our waiter was god-fucking-awful. Regardless, I enjoyed a fine skirt steak salad (something Katie had actually taught me to enjoy) and later on walked around breifly to take some pictures of the town’s center.

See the full gallery on Posterous

Friday – January 6^th: Three King’s Day! Second, or really, technically first Christmas! Unfortunately I had slept none the night before seeing as how my grandmother’s neighbors had engaged in an all-night party to commemorate Puerto Rico’s true Christmas holiday. There’s more on this holiday on a different post so I’ll spare the redundant redundancy. I will however take the chance to complain about the 6:00AM parade that the town of Anasco (where my g-ma lives) decided to have. At six in the morning! Unacceptable! All throughout the 6^th I was completely dazed from a lack of sleep.

Sometime in the afternoon we went to my Aunt Diana’s house where my grandmother’s birthday party was consolidated with the Three Kings Day party. Once again, all the uncles and aunts were together as well as all the cousins. I tasted a micro-brewed Puerto Rican beer known as Magna, chatted with an former State Department employee, and dominated dominoes for a bit. You know how I do boo.

See the full gallery on Posterous

At around 6:00pm goodbyes were exchanged and my mother and I got into the car to drive to Bayamon. I was a bit tipsy and chatty while my mom was worried about how long it would take us to get to Bayamon. Route 2, which you take until you hit the highway, was full and we were catching all the bad lights as if it were a favorite pastime. Thankfully I fulfilled one of my goals while in the US of A, which was to enjoy some Wendy’s 99 cent goodness. Turns out Wendy’s is even shittier than I remember it, so I think 2012 may be marked with a long-needed move away from idolatrous worship of the great American Fast Food deities.

When we get to Bayamon my Uncle Carlos, to whom people outside of our family regularly refer to as the legendary Uncle Carlos, was running a salsa percussion group in the street at what he titled the Beto Convention Center. In short, two tents set up to avert rain, three to five guys, interchangeably playing along to salsa coming from an impressive sound system playing traditional Caribbean/Latino-American instruments. Add friends and neighbors having a good time and eating carne asada while dancing salsa and you have a bonafide cultural event on your hands. It was sick, it was cool, it was straight up mad ill; call it the dopeness, but never once the whackness; it’s a hit, total strike out for the other team, whoever they be; total victory in Europe, victory in Japan, victory at your ma’s house, on your daddy’s boat, don’t matter where; wear a suit, come one, come all; bring your family, your wife, your wife’s wife, don’t matter. My vacation in Puerto Rico was been a deeply enriching personal experience as just an incredibly vacation filled with fun turns at every moment.

My real extended family makes the best host family any Peace Corps Volunteer, nay, any one person could ever hope for.

My camera was packed up when I headed down this bridge and I left, but this of course was the iconic bridge you have to take to get to the airport from Bayamon.

Merry Three Kings Day!

2012-01-06T07:39:00.001-05:00

Although I've been on official vacation for the past eight to nine days I haven't really had a free moment to upload photos or post on my blog or do much of anything on the computer.

Today, January 6th, is Three Kings Day. So in the biblical story of the baby Jesus there are three wise men bearing gifts that visit the said beloved baby Jesus. This holiday is in memory of them. It is kind of like Christmas in that there are celebrations the night before and that there are gifts exchanged.

All my life my parents have celebrated both Christmas and Three Kings Day. When I was younger and the school schedules were a bit more lenient they would divide gifts up between the two holidays and as I got older and school Christmas vacations seemed to shrink, Christmas took a de facto priority.

However, Three Kings Day has remained a staple holiday and a reminder of our Puerto Rican heritage. Last night, for my 23rd and his 16th time, my brother and I picked out yerba (grass) for the Three King's Camels.

This song is beautiful.

2011-12-27T09:14:00.001-05:00

And creepy according to Anna, but no one listens to her anyway.

One of my favorite songs of the year re-worked

2011-12-27T08:54:00.001-05:00

(UNITED STATES + TERRITORIES OF) AMERICA FTW!

2011-12-27T07:54:00.001-05:00

It's 7:34 AM and I have been on American soil for all of about 90 minutes. As I flew in and saw the morning lights of the relatively flat Ft. Lauderdale the first thing that hit me was the sheer size of the sprawl. While I don't think I will be privy to the cliche culture clash found in supermarkets when people return (Panamanian super markets are relatively well stocked and offer a surprising amount of variety, sometimes for things I didn't know so much variety could exist), simpler things like CNN are freaking me the hell out. I watched uncomfortably as my native Georgia news network talked about some little girl that's been missing for 10 days. In Panama, I criticize the sensationalism in the news and the over-reporting of violent crimes. Somehow, kids don't seem to go missing for 10 days there. People just get robbed (for Blackberries I hear...) and shot for doing drug stuff (a person both Katie's host fam and my host fam knew was killed in cold blood; over 150 shell casings were recovered). Somehow that seems more rational as far as the logic of human violence goes.

Regardless, I had to stop watching CNN because it made me so uncomfortable. Almost as if it was too localized, but at the same time so separated from my existence. I've grown too comfortable only reading the New York Times and BBC to see what's going on in the world. Watching American communities on TV while in the United States was oddly difficult. Another change is that while in Panama figures of authority can vary in how difficult they will be with you, the idea of loding a formal complaint against one is a laughable offense. My friend Andrew was hassled at a routine government checkpoint by their immigration officers even though he had a two year visa clearly listed on his passport.

Some TSA agent said some stupid stuff and because I personally believe in holding TSA to the highest professional standard possible I filed a formal complaint. The supervisory officer that responded to it was realistic and acknowledged that they have ot hear stupid (and offensive) stuff from passengers all day, especially during the peak seasons where things will slow down. She was polite and respectful and did a pretty okay job of hiding the annoyance of having to be taken away from work to deal with a smelly bearded kid in boating shorts. At the same time, I believe in holding TSA to the highest professional standard possible. If I am to trust these people with protecting me and the millions of travelling Americans (and visitors as well!) and if I am to essentially sign off on invsation of privacy, then I expect them to be polite, professional, and always carry themselves with the decorum that any agent of DHS should maintain. Gotta wine and dine if you want to 69, ya' dig?

Another weird aspect is seeing everyone on their smart phones, in one case (as in the bro right in front of me) two top of the line smart phones. The girl next to me is watching House while her brother plays on his iPad 2. Some other girl is on her e-reader. It's just crazy. And the winner is an older couple both on iPhone 4s. Hilarious. For the first time in a long time, I don't have the fastest computer in the room. That's just weird.

My Panama iPhone gets no service whatsoever, so meh. I might still find a chip to put in it in PR, but I doubt I'll bother. One thing is for certain, just looking around, we are a hilariously beautiful and unique country. It's hard to imagine us if you're just not us, y'know? Also, something refreshing, I've heard at least five different languages since I got here.

Mudding

2011-12-27T01:53:00.001-05:00

"Oye, quieres ir a autocross?"

If you happen to be an educated reader, then you know what's coming in this post. By educated, I mean, if you happen to be from Georgia or those other places in the Great United States of A where mudding is a hilariously fun activity to engage in as a socialized ritual.

For the uninitiated mudding is the act of getting in a four wheel vehicle, typically a truck, and going out into where there is a lot of mud -- so much mud that one would not be able to drive around in a regular vehicle -- and just drive around. There is no real point to mudding other than to just drive, man.

Full disclosure, I have not gone mudding in the United States (a sin for someone who has lived in Georgia for as long as I have) and have only heard about mudding through second-hand recountings of my most redneck friend, Joel Schneider. Please keep in mind that Joel is a vegetarian who would never purposely hurt an animal and has a strong affinity for comic books. the Wire, and hip-hop (not that 50 Cent shoot-em-up garbage the kids be listening to these days, but that MF Doom, that De La Soul, that Tribe, that Wu-Tang Clan...so maybe a little of the shoot 'em up, but the good kind). This is my most redneck friend.

In fact, I was so virgin to the cruel world of mudding that it was not until I was standing at the mud pit that I finally understood what the hell it was crazy redneck Joel had been blabbering about many a fort night ago. Naturally because I have the maturity of a five year old and a fascination with adventure, I decided I needed to get into this mudding business. Not to mention it seemed like an instant way to boost both my crediability as an absentee voter in Georgia and amongst my Panamanian friends.

My Peace Corps protocols explicitly prohibit me from actually driving a motorized vehicile in Panama unless I am on leave. Clearly, as I was spending the weekend in my site there was no leave ergo I could not possibly drive one of these fun looking mechanical monsters. That didn't stop me from getting into one and just going on for the ride. Actually, the one time I boarded was the one time the car got stuck. Peace Corps yo! Stopping your car in the mud!

This seems like a good point as any to mention that in Panama, part of the auto-cross (their term for mudding) is the vehicle modification element. As you can see in some of these photos there is a great deal of decor associated with these cars. This cultural trait does not end just with autocross vehicles, most private vehicles I see around Santiago tend to have custom rims or stickers or labels identifying the family or in one case an F-18 fighter jet for a hood ornament. That one I didn't understand. Point being that these vehicles hold a great deal of pride for their owners.

The place where this spectacular event was hosted was a local finca (farm) owned by my neighbor's sister, who is coincidentally one of the kinder teachers at the Pedro Arrocha (the school I work at). The first thing her husband said to me when I introduced myself as Peace Corps was, "Cuerpo de paz, si aqui hay paz," he then stretched his hand out across his incredibly well kept and scenic land. I shrugged my shoulders conceding that he certainly had a point. Needless to say he's one of my favorite Panamanians.

And of course, the rest of the photos on Flickr:

America!

2011-12-26T19:21:00.001-05:00

In honor of me entering the United States through its Ft. Lauderdale entry point en route to my beloved homeland of Puerto Rico in less than 12 hours.

ohandbelatedmerrychristmas.

Song for Saturday Dec. 17th, 2011

2011-12-17T18:37:00.001-05:00

Last night I hung out with a brombre named Juan. He was actually visiting another friend in Panama and just spending a night in good ol' San Fran. Somehow we struck a bond as we spoke of past failures and successes. There was a song that seemed apt for the moment as we shared a seemingly endless supply of beers and junk food.

Menomena - Dirty Cartoons

Song for Thursday Dec. 15th, 2011

2011-12-15T14:49:00.001-05:00

Anita Tijoux-"1977"

Props to Erica who put this on my bday mix (which was awesome thank you very much). This track was featured on the (incredible) show "Breaking Bad".

Richest Country on Earth

2011-12-14T10:04:00.001-05:00

Let's call it a class war.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/magazine-16037798

On the other side, I'm seeing this as a great oppurtunity to promote compost latrines.

Dec. 14th - A Bachata Song

2011-12-14T09:13:00.001-05:00

Just so it is understood as a point of fact and not misinterpreted in any way, form, or manner -- I am not a fan of bachata. In fact, most of the time when I walk into a room and there is bachata playing or more commonly in Panama, I am riding a bus and bachata is playing, I will prefer to put on my giant, self obsessed dilapidated ear muff headphones. Why? Because I do not like bachata. That being stated, every genre of music must have at least one song I can jam to. In this case the song is "Amor Sincero" by Opalo.

Opalo sounds just like Aventura because contemporary bachata all sounds the same. This however, sounds a little bit better. I'm sure that someone could make the argument that my lack of appreciation for bachata is founded on some notion of social elitism or something of the like. In response to that, listen to 20 contemporary bachata songs. Guaranteed on that list you will find Prince Royce, Aventura, and sadly, despite being immersed in a culture that loves bachata, I cannot think of a third artist. Even such, I am almost certain that this mystery third or fourth or fifth artist would sound extremely similar to the aforementioned (and clickable!) Prince Royce and Aventura.

Regardless, I love this track by Opalo. It's catchy, easy to dance to, and yeah, bro, we've all been there just wanting that sincere love. Also that code switching bit where he says "vete, out; I forget you now, now; don't be silly, clown," is epic if for nothing else how that last one is a pretty deep diss. I get that the culprit described in the song cheated on the lead singer with his best friend in the same room where they used to make love (all of this is in the first stanza of the song), but to call her a clown. That's such an eloquent insult in that he doesn't degrade her with the more common insults that most men would have, but just...Really, clown.

Absolutely brutal.

Tertius Alio (Russian for Incredible Photographer)

2011-12-13T22:46:00.001-05:00

Check out his work over at:

http://500px.com/Tertius_alio

Calendars.

2011-12-13T22:19:00.001-05:00

Hey there! So Peace Corps volunteers in Panama put this AWESOME photos calendar every year. Amongst the photos featured in the 2012 calendar was one of mine!

This one actually:

To grab one of these high-class, ultra cool, super smooth calendars go here > http://www.panamapcv.net/calendar/

Here's the link a few more times:

http://www.panamapcv.net/calendar/

Remember this calendar features all 366 days of the year! Don't get tricked into buying one with only 365 days, then you'll be a real fool. If you're reading this blog you're clearly a busy person with busy person things to do, help yourself remember all those busy person things you're doing with these sweet calendars! Don't use your iPhone's calendar, in fact, throw your iPhone away! Get one of these instead. Better pictures guaranteed!

Song for Dec. 13th, 2011

2011-12-13T17:49:00.001-05:00

Rita Indiana y los Misterios - La Hora de Volve

They're from the Dominican Republic.

Song for Dec. 12, 2012

2011-12-12T14:09:00.001-05:00

Wu-Lyf::Cave Song

It's a shame that I didn't start listening to Wu-Lyf earlier in the year, but eff it man, I'm here. And here is great. Listen to some Wu-Lyf/get your life right. Also, check out this awesome photo:

Jam of the Day

2011-12-11T13:51:00.001-05:00

Onra drops some ill beats. Excellent bedroom cleaning music.

life-update

2011-12-09T13:28:00.001-05:00

It’s been way too long since I’ve even attempted a substantial post about my life in Panama. Very quickly, here are some updates:

- I have constant internet access now via a $10 a month deal requiring only that you purchase a $37 piece of hardware, which I already happened to have in my possession. I will more than likely detail how to do this in another post.

- I moved into my new house. It is not a host home arrangement like my other house was. While I don’t have any pictures ready for posting, I’ll give you some of the highlights:

o A near acre of orange trees in my backward.

o Furnished.

o Sparsely stocked kitchen.

The house is Pragmatic. And I love it.

Other than that, school is wrapping up. My work this week was in conducting exit interviews for a study I’m doing on learning retention rates and the disparity in English teaching between my school, which serves the greater area of San Francisco, and the smaller satellite schools that are found in more rural, difficult to access settings. My goal with this study is to help the 7^th grade English teacher create a curriculum that utilizes this information to better meet the needs of the students.

Oh, and here some pictures from Thanksgiving in Bocas.

Work Out Mix

2011-12-07T13:50:00.001-05:00

I have a friend back home who is known for intense three hour work outs and ish like that. This is a mix at her request.

1. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Beyonce - Lift Off

(Start off strong)

2. Kanye West feat. Kid Cudi, Pusha T, Lloyd Banks - Christian Dior Denim Flow

3. Nicki Minaj - Super Bass

4. Ghostface Killah - Walk Around

(This is clearly a light cool down track)

5. Nas - War is Necessary

6. Beyonce - Countdown

7. Drake feat. Nicki Minaj - Make Me Proud

8. Big Boi - Daddy Fat Sax

9. The Weeknd - The Birds Part I

10. Drake feat. TI and Swizz Beatz - Fancy

11. Kid Cudi - Soundtrack to My Life

12. Kanye West - Power

13. Outkast - B.O.B.

14. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Mr. Hudson

15. Wu Tang vs. The Beatles - Got Your Money

16. Gucci Mane - Lemonade

17. Childish Gambino - Heartbeat

Work Out Mix

2011-12-07T13:49:00.001-05:00

I have a friend back home who is known for intense three hour work outs and ish like that. This is a mix at her request.

1. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Beyonce - Lift Off

(Start off strong)

2. Kanye West feat. Kid Cudi, Pusha T, Lloyd Banks - Christian Dior Denim Flow

3. Nicki Minaj - Super Bass

4. Ghostface Killah - Walk Around

(This is clearly a light cool down track)

5. Nas - War is Necessary

6. Beyonce - Countdown

7. Drake feat. Nicki Minaj - Make Me Proud

8. Big Boi - Daddy Fat Sax

9. The Weeknd - The Birds Part I

10. Drake feat. TI and Swizz Beatz - Fancy

11. Kid Cudi - Soundtrack to My Life

12. Kanye West - Power

13. Outkast - B.O.B.

14. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Mr. Hudson

15. Wu Tang vs. The Beatles - Got Your Money

16. Gucci Mane - Lemonade

17. Childish Gambino - Heartbeat

Work Out Mix

2011-12-07T13:47:00.001-05:00

I have a friend back home who is known for intense three hour work outs and ish like that. This is a mix at her request.

1. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Beyonce - Lift Off

(Start off strong)

2. Kanye West feat. Kid Cudi, Pusha T, Lloyd Banks - Christian Dior Denim Flow

3. Nicki Minaj - Super Bass

4. Ghostface Killah - Walk Around

(This is clearly a light cool down track)

5. Nas - War is Necessary

6. Beyonce - Countdown

7. Drake feat. Nicki Minaj - Make Me Proud

8. Big Boi - Daddy Fat Sax

9. The Weeknd - The Birds Part I

10. Drake feat. TI and Swizz Beatz - Fancy

11. Kid Cudi - Soundtrack to My Life

12. Kanye West - Power

13. Outkast - B.O.B.

14. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Mr. Hudson

15. Wu Tang vs. The Beatles - Got Your Money

16. Gucci Mane - Lemonade

17. Childish Gambino - Heartbeat

Work Out Mix

2011-12-07T13:46:00.001-05:00

I have a friend back home who is known for intense three hour work outs and ish like that. This is a mix at her request.

1. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Beyonce - Lift Off

(Start off strong)

2. Kanye West feat. Kid Cudi, Pusha T, Lloyd Banks - Christian Dior Denim Flow

3. Nicki Minaj - Super Bass

4. Ghostface Killah - Walk Around

(This is clearly a light cool down track)

5. Nas - War is Necessary

6. Beyonce - Countdown

7. Drake feat. Nicki Minaj - Make Me Proud

8. Big Boi - Daddy Fat Sax

9. The Weeknd - The Birds Part I

10. Drake feat. TI and Swizz Beatz - Fancy

11. Kid Cudi - Soundtrack to My Life

12. Kanye West - Power

13. Outkast - B.O.B.

14. Jay-Z/Kanye West feat. Mr. Hudson

15. Wu Tang vs. The Beatles - Got Your Money

16. Gucci Mane - Lemonade

17. Childish Gambino - Heartbeat

Study Mix

2011-12-06T17:17:00.001-05:00

Hey Priya, this is for you.

1. Nicolas Jarr - Time For Us

2. How to Dress Well - Ready for the World

3. Gold Panda - You

4. Baths - Animals

5. Lettuce - Relax

6. M83 - Couleurs

7. MF Doom - Dead Bent (Instrumental)

8. King Geedorah - Monster Zero

9. Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti - Reminiscenes

10. Cliff Martinez - He Had a Good Time

Dedicated to the Members of the Occupy Protests All Over

2011-11-19T18:43:00.001-05:00

Desfiles de Santiago

2011-11-19T15:46:00.001-05:00

http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6105/6364409205_9ffe0f2dc0.jpg

Panama’s month long celebration for its independence is continuing in full swing. On November 9^th Santiago, the nearest major metropolitan center to me, celebrated its own holiday with more desfiles, or parades. These particular parades feature drum lines that come from all over the country to play in one of the biggest shows of the year. Every province has its own day similar to this and is meant to recognize the day in which news of the independence reached the province. Or something like that.

Young men and women parade throughout the street, the former holding the now cliché drum kits and the latter in tight outfits that inexplicably had high rising boots and notably cleavage augmenting tops. Typically I am not opposed to women dressing up in ridiculous outfits that are meant to accentuate the physical features which men find attractive. However, given that most of these girls were probably high school age, I was slightly perturbed. The parades begin around 8:00am and continue onto 2:00am or so the next morning. Ardent Veraguenses will immediately claim that in the past there were more bands, more desfiles, and more buya and that in general it was just an even more awesome party to witness.

Schools from all-around the province and elsewhere play the morning show in what, from what I informally gathered, is a very loosely defined and organized schedule. They begin by entering one of the two major streets that have been cleared in advance for this event and proceed as any normal parade would. Except this parade goes on for hours and hours in what appears to be an infinity cycle. Although I do not believe that bands repeat themselves (hence ruining the term cycle) the shows get awfully repetitive. I also don’t think that anyone, save for the most diehard fans, would stay out there all day and well into the night.

Most people I talked to who were in attendance to this coveted event showed up for a few hours. Some of the jovenes stayed there for a full eight hour cycle or so, having arrived in the morning, and then departed when the night buses back to San Francisco began filling up.

Later at night as the private drum lines begin with typically more impressive shows (including a not-so-shabby rendition of “Thriller”) the bars and clubs, including the infamous Pub Herreano (see two posts back for pictures of that), open up and people begin for an all-night party. The following day, November 10^th is ferriado, meaning it’s a holiday.

Also, pictures from the PH:

The Vultures

2011-11-19T15:35:00.001-05:00

I could not tell you when they showed up. One would presume, and logically so, that I would have noticed them on my way out of the house in the morning. So I presumed, logically, that they must have appeared sometime after I left. Certainly, they must have arrived there before I passed them en route to the cheese factory. They were perched on the gate, at least three or five of them, black birds with tell-tale skinny necks and red heads, vultures.

An immediate worry was Douglas, the house dog. Last night he had to be chained outside and I hadn’t set water or food out for him. Chillingly, the thought that they were expecting his impending death and were circling in preparation for a certain feast came to mind. Certainly a worst case scenario like when you receive late night phone call from home where you think some tragedy has happened, but it turns out that it’s a relative asking for instructions on how to reset the internet router set forth. This particular worst case scenario was put to rest when shortly thereafter I remembered that this morning I heard the landlady messing with his chain which would mean that she would have likely fed him and/or gave him water as she is truly his caretaker. Other than the few scraps of meat and unwanted leftovers, I’ve never really fed Douglas. To further confirm my notion that the landlady had indeed been in the house earlier in the morning I found the kitchen door locked as she tends to leave it.

This last part is a mystery to me because in order to get to the kitchen door one needs to open one gate with a double bolt lock or another gate with two chains and locks. If someone would be determined enough to bypass those locks, then it would not exceed expectations for them to be determined to force their way through a shoddy wooden door with a simple lock. To my credit, I myself have had to force two such doors when keys have been lost. My land lady commented that she couldn’t help but wonder if that came from growing up a military child or Peace Corps training. I neglected to share with her the times I had to break into my own apartment back home having forgotten a key.

My only objectives for the day were to begin work on a presentation for January on how English teachers can utilize quantifiable metrics to measure the progress of their students and their own effectiveness as instructors. One of my pet peeves with projects, or really with anything I invest time into is having data to look at, so naturally I am inclined to motivate professionals to share a similar view. Other than that I was looking forward to making a pesto pizza with some Trader Joe’s pesto a Ms. Gallegos had brought me from her trip to California. Hence my trip to the cheese factory where for $2.25 I could buy what roughly equals a cup of mozzarella cheese. As I made my pizza I stepped out of the kitchen for a moment and stood watching in the living room. Standing on the cool tile, I looked straight ahead and saw the vultures there. They would move anytime I approached the gate, but they could swoop on down and take their post once again.

Fantasy and imagination took over as I pondered if perhaps the birds knew something about my own lifespan that I did not. While I don’t quite say it, I tend to just assume that given the generation and socio-economic class I was born into, I will live to be around one hundred. Faced with the question, even purely hypothetical, that I would die at 23 was a bit of a bummer. Ignorance may be bliss, but cooking is even better. Methodical and perfunctory – I find comfort in recipe packets down here. Betty Croker may not have been someone I thought of very often back home, but here she is a reminder of what I carry in my identity.

Trippy sounds emanated from my speakers; they were my father’s in Iraq, and now they’re mine in Panama. Some new hipster praised album I had picked up during one my recent forays into the city played a song that seemed altogether perfect for the vultures perched on my gate. Maybe the vultures were hipster fauna, their natural black coats meant to conjure images of the badassery we associate with James Dean in a black, leather coat. Their red heads meant to make themselves noticed, distinct as a kid wearing retro birth control device glasses – regardless, they stood in place as I simply stared out. That bitter fantasy came over me again, maybe it’s me they’re waiting for. Maybe they know that this is it, and I’m just too ignorant to notice.

In all actuality my house is off the main road between Santa Fe and Santiago and it’s most likely some delicious road kill that they’re after. They’re still here as I sit typing this in my living room, in fact I can see them right now. Although I understand that animals are not believed to have higher conscience I like to think that they too are capable of existential musings and ponder what I am doing here as much as I think about what they’re doing there.

Photos from Panama

2011-11-19T13:50:00.001-05:00

Erica using that internet at Laurie's apartment.

View of Laurie's window. Taken with my iPhone.

Erica and Laurie iphoning and drinking coffee.

More of Laurie and iPhone.

http://farm7.staticflickr.com/6229/6364316475_f6babfccf4.jpg

Roasted pork at the Chinese markets behind El Dorado. At $5 a pound, this is delicous meat. Ron Swanson would be proud.

A student band performing at the Albrook Shopping Center.

Casino signs light up the night sky.

Ceiling at Shalom Coffee.

Erica at Shalom Coffee.

Shitting Dogs

2011-11-18T12:46:00.001-05:00

It is night time and I’ve resorted to typing emails out on my computer. When people ask what I miss about the United States it feels pathetic to tell them that mostly I miss philly steak sandwiches and constant broadband internet. I suppose I miss driving, but not really as much as you’d think. Taking busses everywhere has a certain effect as far as ameliorating 1^st world consumption guilt goes. Actually, going back to what I miss, I really just miss unfettered access to philly steak sandwiches, no matter what time.

Today my landlady’s dog got loose. His name is Dougal, which I suppose is meant to be an approximation to Douglas. He’s a perpetually dirty Dalmatian and while I suppose he is a good natured dog, I assume this mostly because I assume that most animals are intrinsically good natured. His owner would say otherwise.

It’s not that he will randomly bite a person, it’s just that outside of the people who he interprets as what I conceive he views as family he’s not really afraid of hurting anyone. He jumps on me and my landlady, but never bites. She claims it’s to let us know that he misses us because he has to be chained all day. The unfortunateness of this situation is exacerbated by the fact that the yard he has to be chained up in is huge, upwards of an acre I feel, but I don’t know how to measure these things. I suppose this is unfortunate because he must be tempted with the natural instinct to go explore, roam and claim. Then again, my mom had a friend who left her dog locked up in the bathroom all day because she didn’t want the dog to ruin the carpet. Both of us thought that was particularly cruel.

I first noticed he was loose before I went on my run. Katie Jane and I had been chatting on the phone about nothing in particular when I performed a quick calculation of how many calories could be found in a box of macaroni and ojaldras, which are a Panamanian breakfast that is solely fried dough. The quick consensus was that I should go for a run lest I stop pretending that I care about being fit. These, I suppose, are irrelevant details, but without them, nothing after this sentence would have occurred quite like it did, so in essence in regards to the future onward, it may be the most relevant details.

I walked outside and the dog was staring out to the front of the house; it seemed he was looking for a way outside the gate. There is significance in that he was at the front of the house. My landlady like all proper Panamanian, and I would dare extrapolate to all proper Latin American women, does believe in keeping near perfect appearances. This is perhaps most notable in how people will paint the façade of their home a bright color and leave the rest in naked concrete.

I didn’t blame him for breaking loose. All dogs, regardless of size or breed, -- I would imagine, instinctually want to roam free – unfettered by chains or fences or owners who are worried about being taken to court should the sizeable Dalmatian hurt someone on the streets. Such things happen, I suppose, but the idea of someone being taken to court for that here in San Francisco escapes me.

One of the more persistent rumors surrounding San Francisco is that unhappy owners of untrained dogs or dogs that have hurt someone and are being sought after drive north on Via Santa Fe and stop at just at the outskirts of San Francisco to let the dogs be wild and roam. This tale, regardless of whether it is true or not, serves the purpose of explanation; there are several distinct wild dogs in San Francisco that at night and sometimes in the early morning come out in packs to scrounge for food, mostly through people’s trash. A few times while running or out on a late night walk they’ve run after me and once, when Erica came to visit, they scared her enough to grab my arm.

Hence, I feel that any attack made on a person by any dog would be chalked up to an event of chance and no real justice would be exacted. Then again, you never really know what tomorrow’s going to bring till it’s a bit too late to do much about it.

As I walked out in my gym shorts and shirt, I felt I should do something about the dog, but honestly, I just didn’t feel it was too much of a worry. Despite my land lady’s worries that the dog would undoubtedly engage in a violent rampage, I felt I knew exactly where he would go. My rented room is in a house on a small hill and behind the house to the lower right there is the home of one of my land lady’s relatives where she can be often found. She’s tragically a widow of three years and by her own admission doesn’t have much reason to be home most of the time other than for general upkeep.

It was my belief that the dog would simply seek its rightful owner, the landlady, and that in its process it would seek to harm no one. Thus I began my run putting foot to ground escaping any thoughts of the dog, or really San Francisco in general, or honestly anything but the new Drake album that I had recently been giving a full listen to. For about 30 minutes or so I was disengaged from any discernible function in reality and focused entirely on running and music. I loved it. In general, I love the runs where I can zone out from everything and focus on absolutely nothing.

As I wrapped my last loop around the town and headed back to my home, there was the dog in a sitting position and I saw that he had actually escaped with his leash still on him. This was a deviation from the norm in which he normally escapes by somehow squeezing his head out of the makeshift chain linked leashes. The landlady plans on him breaking any and all chains at some point so she simply keeps one or two in stock to prepare for such a case. My first instinct was to bring him home until I saw that he was actually squatting. It did not seem in my best interest to interrupt a shitting dog.

Walking away, I noticed he began to follow me. Dougal seemed to have had enough of the free world and seemed to want to return home. I led him home and as dogs often do he followed eagerly behind me. For better or worse, in my six months of living in his home, Dougal seemed to trust me enough.

PH 2k11 November - Santiago.

2011-11-12T22:15:00.001-05:00

Mes de la Patria

2011-11-09T20:52:00.001-05:00

November in Panama is el mes de la patria or the month of the patriotism. November 2nd is the Day of the Dead in which a lot of Panamanians travel back to their towns of origin to honor the dead in their graves. Drinking is prohibited and stores will simply not sell you alcohol*, jardins will be closed, and police officers will politely ask you to stop drinking if you are seen publicly drinking.

The advent of the 3rd of November in which Panama celebrates its independence from Colombia, a school band in my community celebrated the official start of festive holidays versus a day of mourning. This year these days happened to fall right before the weekend which meant that the entire country was more or less on holiday from November 2nd until November 7th, which is the Monday when life as we know it is meant to resume.

However, in the days in-between the country goes on an all-out binge fest, estranged children who work in the city and occupy crowded apartments -- they come back to their families to which one would assume that they've been paying some sort of repatriation to their towns of origins. All of this is pure supposing on my part, but I'm sure that it happens. These children who are now men and women and doctors and lawyers and teachers and members of a functioning city organ come back to tend to their cattle, to their fields of vegetables, to see if the buses they lease out are making a profit. This is mind blowing from an social scientist's point of view.

Some mangas largas were exchange, along with hand shakes and smiles and laughs. I celebrated with my town for the first time and it was months overdue. For once, I was viewed as an equal and not this dispatched agent from a foreign land. This invisible wall of the other was slowly broken down as we shared in times -- both good and bad. Integration was achieved.

This is my life:

Day-in and day-out, I work in a school, or at least I try. My stated goal is to facilitate the teaching of English by helping instructors. However, sometimes I need to be reminded that just being her is exposing my community to someone else; something different. I run. I don't eat rice. This is weird enough. I'm male and cook, even bake, even weirder.

Note on the photo: Those are Panamanian flags blowing at the infamous Clayton, Ciudad del Saber. This was a place occupied by the Americans prior to 2000.

Panama City Trip

2011-11-09T18:46:00.001-05:00

Recently my back was giving me issues. I got sent to the city to get some meds, an exam and a heating pad. Here are some photos of Panama City.

First is a picture of me. Looking really surprised.

This awesome picture of a flower has been my desktop.

Laura was also in town.

Runner's path in Panama.

View of the city street at night from the roof of the Hotel California.

Rest of the pics here.

Dia del Estudiante

2011-10-30T19:00:00.001-04:00

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6045/6296465314_b4df19b624.jpg

El dia del estudiante, or day of the student is an odd day of school, that while not quite exactly a holiday, is certainly a festive event for schools in Panama. On this day several students are chosen to be teachers for the day. Rather than wear the traditional blue and white uniform the students don professional clothing and teach classes for the day. The school director, sub-director, and other administrative staff are replaced by students as well and act out their roles. At the school I work in, Pedro Arrocha in San Francisco, the students were chosen by their grades and level. 6^th graders with the highest grade point average would be elected to be the teachers for lower grades for October 27th.

(Me keeping it real with an English and 4th grade teacher, we wore white shirts to simulate the school uniform.)

(Willis is an excellent student. He's actually valedictorian for 6th grade, so he got to be the director of the school.)

(A sixth grade class and teacher for the day. It takes them less than three seconds to go from sitting to that pose.)

As part of the festivities there are skits acting out the acto civico and of course, a commemoration for the day. There is also a cultural act, which is some sort of dramatization, musical number, or other performance designed and enacted by the teachers as a gift to their students. It is also the norm for participating students to receive a gift in exchange for their hard work. Also, as the student teachers wear professional attire in lieu of the uniform, some teacherse will wear the school uniform. Results can be hilarious.

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6037/6296496408_7407703403.jpg
(Making food for 200+ people is no joke. It required four times this much chicken.)

While I was admittedly skeptical as to the concept of letting students take charge of the school for a day, I must honestly say that I was impressed with the end result. I was so skeptical in fact that while on the phone with another volunteer I remarked, “Anarchy, pure unadulterated anarchy over here with the children in charge.” Of course I was joking and being purposely hyperbolic, but I did expect a bit of Lord of the Flies hierarchies to become established.

To my pleasant surprise students were able to manage themselves fairly well with no yelling (a rarity in many Panamanian classrooms) and the children seemed to respect their peers well enough to do the work. To be fair, the assignments the students had to teach were fairly easy and really just reviews. Regardless this seemed like a great way to assign responsibility and teach leadership skills to younger children as well as one of the few immediately tangible rewards children can receive for their good academic work.

Of course no Panamanian event is complete without a brindis. Normally this consists of the traditional arroz con pollo (rice and chicken), but today being such a special day the local mothers prepared papas con pollo (potato salad and chicken). It was delicious.

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6037/6296496408_7407703403.jpg
(Making food for 200+ people is no joke. It required four times this much chicken.)

What really stole the show was…actually another show within a show. The premaria (Pre-K through 6^th) teachers arranged a three part play based on the classic Mexican comedy El Chavo. Anyone who has ever flipped through more than five channels in nearly any Spanish speaking country knows what El Chavo is. As it turns out, so did the students of the Pedro Arrocha school and they loved this. I’ll let the photos speak for themselves.

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6058/6296000911_6017bd5ed5.jpg

Please keep in mind these are teachers who put this together after school and arranged these costumes on their own. Amazing is not a strong enough word.

Digging this.

2011-10-30T17:56:00.001-04:00

I keep thinking how young can you die from old age.

2011-10-30T17:38:00.001-04:00

On October 26^th I turned the mystical age of 23. I am extremely thankful to my family, friends and work colleagues that made me feel extra special on my first birthday abroad since 16. A particular thank you goes out to my English teaching counterparts at the Pedro Arrocha School – Larissa, Militza, Maria, and Argelis who not only took me out for a surprise dinner, but gave me the best cake I’ve had in Panama.

(The picture is blurry because it was taken with my phone. The filling was this ultra sweet paste.)

An extra special thank you to Miss Gallegos who traveled—literally almost half a country – to come celebrate and engage in festivities; there were some close calls concerning her presence, but we’re all glad she made it.

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6239/6295677985_3c5f0fd112.jpg

Thank you to Andrew, Katie, and Jeremy and of course Alvarez, Edward, Eduardo, and Carlos who made my birthday party a complete experience with just the right taste from my old home in Georgia and my new home in Panama.

Y unas gracias a Jason, que si no fuera por el no hubriamos visto el partido de UGA contra FSU (Go Dawgs!).

And of course, a warm bienvenida a Bianca de Grupo 68.

So, um, here are some pictures. Just remember that we’re all consenting adults and exhibited superb amounts of responsibility.

Sunday is Great for Some Dexter Gordon

2011-10-30T15:41:00.001-04:00

birthday art post.

2011-10-26T16:05:00.001-04:00

Renaud Marion.

via: Sweet Station

More photos.

2011-10-21T17:56:00.001-04:00

Flower outside my house during the aguacero.

View from the top of El Salto. One of San Francisco's three main attractions to outsiders.

View from the front.

Photos

2011-10-21T17:19:00.001-04:00

Plant at my school.

A lizard in Bocas (del Toro).

A mix for Priya.

2011-10-16T00:51:00.001-04:00

Priya decided to complain that I had not provided her with new music. Here it is. Download these. Burn them in a CD, in this order. Write clever title on it. It'll be as if I never left.

1. Tallest Man on Earth - Weather of a Killing Kind

2. Bon Iver - Woods

3. Robert Glasper Experiment - All Matter

4. Bruce Springsteen - State Trooper

5. Drake - Marvin's Room

6. St. Vincent - Champagne Year

7. Beirut - Vagabond

8. Washed Out - Amor Fati

9. Feist - The Circle Married the Line

10. Erykah Badu - Green Eyes

11. Wilco - I am Trying to Break Your Heart

12. Girls - Love LIfe

13. Desire - Under Your Spell

14. Crystal Castles - Violent Dreams

15. Florence and the Machine - Between Two Lungs

16. The Rapture - Sail Away

Enjoy.

The Most Unlikely Run

2011-10-15T16:03:00.001-04:00

Yesterday around 6:30 or so in the PM I set out for my evening run. I run, but I wouldn't go as far to qualify myself as a runner. My runs usually hover at around 20 to 30 minutes covering a distance of around 5 kilometers about three or four times a week. You know those people that get really intense about their running and purchase special gear and have all sorts of exercises, that's not me. I buy a pair of running shoes a year and run mostly to offset the young adult onset diabetes that my copious consumption of fast food products has assuredly promised me. Chuck Klosterman knows what I'm talking about.

So I'm running and I'm listening to more mellowed music than usual, Beach House, Grizzly Bear, with maybe some Das Racist to at least keep me interested in the concept of moving. At some point rather than continue one of the tried and true rougts, I simply start running circles around the town square until I break forty minutes. Every now and then, I'll do a 45 minute run, but those are once a week at most. Something happened when I hit the 45th minute, I kept on going.

At this point I was starting to be reminded why running is a physically painful activity and furthermore why it sucks. To counteract this and in an attempt to keep my breathing regulated I started muttering, harder, better, faster, stronger. Then the lights in my town went out. When San Francisco experiences a black-out, which happens pretty frequently, everything goes pitch black. So naturally I keep running because I'm not on the 47th or so minute of what is now going to be a 60 minute run. Every step is a testament of some sort of bullshit deal that I just signed with myself. My mind focuses on credit swap defaults and short selling of stocks for a second and snaps right back into it when the light turns on five seconds later. Right in time as I turn the corner and I realize that reserves of adrenaline had kicked in when everything went dark and lit up again. I start chanting my mantra loud enough so now people on their front porches can vaguely make out what I am saying.

As I walk down the main road, via Nacional, the lights start turning on one by one. I suspect they have a motion sensor, but nevertheless the effect was incredible. As I run down this darkened road, the light posts are switching on as if anticipating my arrival. By this point the Kanye West song (because he clearly influences so much of my life) All of the Lights is playing and I enter some sort of endorphin high where I'm cruising down the road. My feet, just previously lead anvils, were now paper bags being blown in the wind with no particular place or purpose in mind. Enter the 53rd minute and I'm doing another loop chugging up-hill like a train that just can't, but at this point I'm counting seconds till I hit an hour. Apathy takes over and for a second I slow down, I don't know what happens next, but I let out some sort of growl as I find energy reserves and pull them all out at once. My mantra returns and on my second loop there are even more people outside to see what the hell is going on.

Finally, it's over and I stop just by the school. What was meant to be a polite 20 minute jog around my community turned into an hour long moment of personal triumph.

It was nice.

Awesome Epic Win Moment of the Day

2011-10-13T18:38:00.001-04:00

Today I was helping one of my colleagues with her 8th grade English class. About three weeks ago we had decided on teaching the parts of speech via the Beatles' song "Blackbird". Designing this 35 minute standalone lesson plan was pretty simple as the only materials required were lyrics print-outs for each of the students, a word wall made on charla paper with the lyrics printed and some speakers.

The class would begin with a basic introduction of the words song and band, and then we would go into the three basic types of words (adjectives, nouns, verbs). We would discuss the meanings of the word and even enter into a larger discussion as to the meaning of the song and what it means to really be free. Naturally that last higher order objective didn't really come into full play, but whatever.

There were three eighth grade classes on the docket today and by the third one I decided to try something different. It was the second to last class of the day and they were anxious to skip. Instead I got them up and we did an acapella rendition of the Blackbird. 20 Panamanian 8th grade students, after having only heard the orginal once, stood up and started singing the song. We even had a student whose task was to whistle like a bird.

It was mind blowingly awesome.

https://lh6.googleusercontent.com/-Vg_blVGbqpA/Tpdk6orwNuI/AAAAAAAAB4A/g8Aw22...

Here is a photo of the word wall. It was taken with my phone and the case prevents decent pictures. Whoops.

Beyonce Obsession Resurges

2011-10-10T11:43:00.001-04:00

Get More: Beyoncé, Music, More Music Videos

I was obsessed with this track all July through August. She finally made a (killer) video for it.

Dope Sunday Track

2011-10-09T15:01:00.001-04:00

1. Nicolas Jarr - I got a woman

Just listen to this and sit on your terraza and watch the people pasear.

El Salto del Alto

2011-10-07T16:32:00.001-04:00

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6034/6220473905_af2f710caa.jpg

Up on via Santa Fe, right before one of the last bridges en route to Santa Fe there itself, k is a small town to the right called El Alto. This literally translates into The High. En route to El Alto, now on foot, you pass a few houses and one or two small businesses run out of said homes. In view of the bridge to El Alton, one makes another right onto an otherwise unmarked dirt path. There are also two shipment containers that have been converted into some sort of dwelling as evinced by the modified roofs on top. Here the path gets more fun as one is en route to local salto. Soon one will find that during the rainy season of late March to the end of December part of this path is a deep mud pit. Luckily there is a house to the right whose owners are not too wary if one chooses to cross through the tipico barbed wire fencing and come out ahead of the mud. This may be a good idea seeing as how traversing the mud may require knee high rubber boots common amongst the campesinos in Panama.

The path itself consists of light shades of dirty reminiscent of sand. It stands as a brown line in a middle of a lush green that highlights the liveliness of everything around one. Perhaps it is poetic that the path chosen by men is the only thing to appear dead. One continues forward and after a brief stretch downhill, one commits to a long path uphill with few dips during which the many streams feeding into the raging Santa Maria River pass through. Some of these crossings are upwards of three meters wide and appear to be small rivers rather than big streams. Others have a decent enough flow to make one worry about issues such as balance, coordination, and in worst case scenarios – bracing for impact. As one makes progress through the climb one will note that the steepness never really changes except from the gradient of moderately steep to “oh-my-god-how-much-longer” steep. This is exacerbated if one is carrying a loaded hiking backpack. One continues said path for anywhere from one hour to two passing only a few houses en route. Most of the houses are of the family name Soto.

At some point the view becomes incredible as one sees the green mountains of the cordillera that runs through the Veraguas province in Panama. Veraguas is the only province to touch both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. After Santa Fe and there are some mountains until finally one hits the Atlantic. One continues past the breath taking view and turns down an unmarked small path that is defined only by the mere notion that people and sometimes horses occasionally pass through there. Through the path one finally hits a small community that is defined by a few mostly isolated buildings. Electricity does not reach up here and the water is that which comes down from the mountains.

***

Melissa had called me earlier in the week about a potential fact-finding mission and English charla development in an isolated rural community. Free lodging and an incredible view was offered as well as the opportunity to go into the mountains. This hinged on a recent obsession of mine. It is a hard obsession to define because it is based on my own perception of ‘mountain-life’ rather than any particular tangible facet. Perhaps the most poignant way to illustrate the depth of this obsession is to point to the playlist on my iPod titled ‘La Cordillera’ featuring songs by Fleet Foxes, Sam Amidon, Grizzly Bear, Wilco, Bon Iver, Jose Gonzalez, and Bob Dylan. Fall is starting in the Northern home that I’ve left, but it is still, for all intents and purposes, summer here as it will remain during my service.

I loaded up a basic enough kit consisting almost entirely of a change of clothing, water, and camera equipment and the next morning I grabbed a bus towards Santa Fe and got off with Melissa at the entrance for El Alto. What followed is the aforementioned walk.

Upon making it to the small mountain community we were greeted excitedly. Melissa had already been here on her own mini-vacation two weeks prior and this was more of a follow-up so that she could design a curriculum that she would offer the community. Her community contact was a jovial man and his wife. Two years ago they had a volunteer working with agriculture. Only thing was the community contact was quite the expert himself. After a brief period to sit and enjoy some oranges, we went out to view his farm.

(Cacao that the wife is drying to make into dark chocolate to be used for desserts.)

(Yellow cacao on the premises.)

Our host as it turns out runs what one may call a ‘green’ farm. In Spanish he calls it an ‘ecologically concerned farm’. Rather than pesticides natural controls, such as oregano, are used to ward off insects. There are no chemicals introduced to neither the land nor the plants; only a nutrient rich broth like substance that is made of composted organic materials. To assist in production of this liquid (it smells a lot like a dark, rich beer still in the process of fermenting) he has two goats whose purpose is to produce natural fertilizer. Listen to the man speak and he’s the first to claim that the purpose of the farm is not financial, but educational. “What good is this knowledge if we keep it to ourselves?”

http://farm7.static.flickr.com/6159/6221155984_bf3a237a44.jpg
(The gentleman standing next to a rock with indigenous people's drawings on it.)

As it turns out his view on tourism, particularly to his rich and mostly untouched part of the mountain, is more or less the same. After the farm he took us to the house from whereupon we departed to see las cascadas. I’ve seen waterfalls before. I have never seen waterfalls so high that were in the absence of mankind’s touch. Unfortunately because the path was incredibly wet and I planned on dipping into los poses (the pools that form where the waterfalls land) I didn’t bring my camera. While I regret not having pictures to show, I do not regret saving my camera from what I am sure would have been certain doom. Throughout the day he spoke to us in a natural didactic manner reserved mostly for professors, philosophers, and learned astronomers how his goal with attracting tourists is not to turn his land into a massive tourist trap and bring the beauty to waste, but to let people witness firsthand the tangible benefit of preserving the environment.

By now, it is no surprise to listen to people claim that they want to save the environment. My seemingly vapid and admittedly magnificently self-indulging generation has passively adopted the environment as our cause to champion and carry forth. In Panama I have (no joke) had conversations with highly educated and well to do people who explained the importance of preserving their environment while throwing trash out of moving vehicles onto the Inter-Americana. For the first time ever, I went to an ecological awareness (what the hell does that even mean?) convention that was held in conjunction with a Nissan car sale event. Irony is not an apt enough term, but coincidence does not quite fit either.

The next day we woke up and went to work on the farm. The day prior I had helped in the construction of a foundation for a church (ironies of irony), but was anxious to get dirt on my hands. I had often commented that when you compare development assistance funding to military funding the United States, “(the American govt.) will give easily give you the gun to tear stuff down with, but if you ask for a shovel to help build, well good luck.” Yet in my six months of official Peace Corps service (discounting training months) I had not yet held a single shovel. Melissa and I were conscripted to the largely family run farm to help build a plastic fenced for vines to grow on. I am sure there is a proper name for that in a farmer’s vocabulary, but guess who’s got two thumbs and neither of them is green.

At the end we saw our work. We also saw the mountain range before us. Sometimes you just want to go out and build shit.

***

Where we were did not seem to have any name in particular, yet even a week later, the odd synchronization I felt with nature still stands. In the silence, the light breeze seemed to speak to me in such a visceral language that understanding was pure and free of observer bias.

Weekend Jam?

2011-10-07T15:03:00.001-04:00

http://soundcloud.com/woon/lana-del-rey-video-games-jamie

Forms and Spaces

2011-10-03T18:42:00.001-04:00

I just finished filling out my VRF, or Volunteer Reporting Form (that's what it stands for, right?). Although I have only filled it out twice, both times it has been a fairly unpleasant experience. It forces me to catalogue, at least in my head, not only my successes -- of which there are a few, and my failures, of which there seem to be many more of. Both times I have filled out the form honestly and unabashedly because while I may choose to exclude the shittiest part of my day from either a conversation with my parents or a blog entry, the problems and obstructions I face in my work are things Peace Corps needs to know and understand.

I forget what liberally minded class it was where the concept of spaces as environmental variables that affected our forms of being was introduced, but now more than ever, I can attest to that reality. Very few people manage to be the same in every room with every person. Concepts such as community integration seem like baffingly lofty ideals when given certain realities.

Anyway, here is the picture of the bull that knocked out the dude from the last entry.

Here is the injured man being carried away, barely conscious.

And, uh, here's something a bit more cheerful.

Bulls.

People just wanna mess with them.

Campo Cowboy

People in the streets eating chicken in the meat. People on the streets drinking seco (and milk).

Festival in Guarare

2011-10-02T23:40:00.001-04:00

Guarare is a relatively bigger town (according to Panama Peace Corps standards) situated between Los Santos and Las Tablas. Just recently the people of Guarare celebrated a huge festival rooted in folkloric and allegorical representations of Panamanian customs and history. A judicious observer will be quick to note that the folkloric and allegorical presentations to be had are very similar to almost all other major folkloric and allegorical representations found around Panama in very similar festivals. Truth be told, there was not anything there was entirely new or unheard of and I have only been in-country for just under eight months. I am not deriding or belittling the offerings of Panamanian culture, simply saying, been there – done that. Edit: In reviewing the pictures accompanying this post, I will reiterate that this festival is huge and as part of the folkloric tradition, the carts of the parade or desfile are pulled by ox. Also, did you know oxen are basically castrated bulls? New facts like e’rday.

So why go to Guarare? After all castrated animals pulling carts are only so interesting and the carts contain representations of things I’ve already seen a few times. Well, the answer is simple enough. La plata. As in any other country in the world, money is a big mover and shaker in Panama. After waltzing around the Guarare festival for a few moments it became apparent that there is some serious cash invested in it. In all honesty, it’s cool that people open up their pockets in the interest of cultural preservation (with, I’m sure, a bit of one-upping rights…). Walking around the festival I saw not only the people of Guararre, but the gentlemen with the $100 polos and the $8 Kutara sandals, or the women who walked through the mud soaked streets in the 4 inch designer heels that here are just as apt for church as they are for a festival as they are for a shopping trip to the Metro Plaza, nor can the jovenes in their skinny diesel jeans be forgotten as they strolled around with DSLR camera set ups that put mine to shame. I am sure this would be a great spot to insert a line about disparity of wealth in Panama and how as a human being I am disgusted by the avarice and selfishness that our consumerist lifestyles propagate and how fundamental changes need to be made to the system before our humanity vanquishes, but I think I just did. Also, that soap box gets tiring after a while, and I find free markets fun.

(traditonal Pollera head-dress)

Anyway…One of the main events at this festival and my main reason for going, is the bull ring. I don’t support animal cruelty. Actually, I don’t think anyone out rightly supports animal cruelty, or at least they have the common sense to not make that information public, so allow me to rephrase, while I am not actively involved in the ceasing of all animal cruelty in its various forms, I certainly am morally appalled while witnessing other persons commit acts of cruelty be they inflected to an animal or otherwise, so therefore if said act of cruelty is committed to an animal, then I am certainly appalled. I’m not sure if that is any better, so I’ll just call it quits on that one. Bull fighting is a contentious issue; the Northern region of Spain just banned it altogether. I am not a Spaniard nor am I really affected by bull fighting, but from what my more liberally minded and fauna concerned acquaintances have told me, it’s truly a brilliant act of human cruelty masquerading as a traditional art form. Also, the bull fighters look pretty spiffy in those outifts. This bull ring was nothing like that.

Instead it features several intoxicated men inside an enclosed space agitating a bull until it decides to charge at them and they make a big show of getting out of the way and fleeing. All the while intoxicated people in the audience yell and shout and enjoy in the festivity of angering and confusing a bull. At one point I was in the ring myself trying to get photographs. I’ll admit it right here so that no one feels the need to reiterate what I knew, know, and have heard from nearly everyone: that was a stupid idea. For the record I was completely sober and the choice was a conscious risk. Regardless, a bull came out and started being harassed from all sides until it started heading to the giant mass of people I was standing in where drunkards were shouting obscenities and whistling at it. I took a photograph of the bull running maybe a few meters in front of me and right when I look up, I hear a noise. For a split second I saw the bull’s mass in my direct line of sight and naturally panicked. The guy next to me had just gotten knocked out by the bull. There was this collective silence as everyone figured out what had just occurred. Someone had just gotten hit; never mind that the bull was still running around and being harassed in other parts of the coral.

About 10 people tried to help the casualty out of the coral. He was clearly in bad shape, and seemed generally confused by everything. At first I tried to help, but realized that my presence would not really contribute anything positive and probably prove detrimental. For the next hour I stayed outside in the relative safety of the other side of the fence.

That same bull became agitated and decided to call it quits. Luckily this guy was there.

He walked right up to that bull and cut its ear.

Only mildly disturbing.

Soon afterwards we called it quits and went to Mickey D’s in Chitre. All in all, it was a pretty successful trip.

Casco Viejo at Night - Photo Post

2011-09-22T14:41:00.001-04:00

Almost two weeks ago I spent a Saturday night wandering around Casco Viejo in Panama City. Casco Viejo is a really popular section of Panama City. It was built in 1673 following the destruction of Panama Viejo by pirates in 1671. Today it is a UN World Heritage section and the Panamanian government has preserved a lot of the antiquated buildings. It is really similar to Old San Juan in Puerto Rico.

This is a bar run by a dude named Eric. He's pretty crazy.

Light post by the streets.

Don't park.

This is a good bar if you're looking for salsa dancing or live music. Unfortunately, they typically charge a cover and the drinks are pretty pricey. It has a chill, but kinetic ambience to it as if you're sitting on a powder keg for the night. A powder keg of awesomeness.

"There is no money for (trash pick-up) but for illegal highways (there is)."

Most of the 'street art' I see in Panama are poorly designed tags, so this, while relatively simple and subpar to what I've seen in Europe or the states was still refreshing.

Loved this.

I, too, have a lonliness.

Oh, dogs of Panama. I find you everywhere.

Buildings by the water.

I stared at the city that night and thought of the buildings as fingers desperately reaching for god, reaching for greatness, reaching to become something they were not.

Allah?

My life coach is a wall in Panama.

Full res pics here:

More Lana Del Rey

2011-09-10T13:41:00.001-04:00

Almost exactly a month ago I posted a Lana Del Rey video for her infectuous and riveting single Video Games. This is the b-side that will be released with that single on October 10th. So far, I am a fan of Del Rey. Check it out.

via: http://www.gorillavsbear.net/2011/09/09/video-lana-del-rey-blue-jeans/

Some Photos

2011-09-09T14:02:00.001-04:00

This is a front shot of the Hotel Grand Piramidial and the accompanying rest stop. Busses en route to David from Panama and vice versa tend to stop here at all hours of day and night to let customers walk around, grab some food and give the driver a break. This spot offers decently priced typical food and even some wifi (although I don't suspect that's intentional).

Casco Viejo is one of the most attractive areas of Panama City. This picture is a bit aged, from January, my first month here! In the background to the right you can see Simone, Andrew and Erica walking off.

The Pan-American Highway, known as the Interamericana, is an international highway stretching from Alaska to the southern tip of Agentina. It's only gap is -- go figure -- in Panama right in the Darien. I've written about this before, but it's truly an incredible feat that was supported mostly by the United States during World War II. This is a shot of the Interamericana in Santiago at night.

A makeshift no-parking sign.

End of Summer Playlist

2011-09-09T12:54:00.001-04:00

Summer in the United States is drawing to an end and winter here is about to enter full swing (which means more rain for me). So here's a brief playlist to welcome both these changes in scenary.

1. Lykke Li - Silent My Song

2. John Legend and the Roots - Wake Up! (Arcade Fire Cover)

All I'm going to say is that the original never made me feel as amped up as this version.

3.The Beatles- Blackbird

I've recently become obsessed with this song. It's in my English lesson plans for next trimester.

4. Bill Withers - Ain't No Sunshine

Get it, 'cause it's winter down here.

5. Deerhunter - Nothing Ever Happened

I run in the rain to this song.

6. Menomena - Sleeping Beauty

I thought for sure that Menomena was a band destined to American indie rock obscurity (despite a pretty popular 2007 single). Then, in the space of two months I found two people (one of them Panamanian!) that listened to Menomena.

7. Jay-Z and Kanye West - Why I Love You

8. Katy Perry - Last Friday Night

Absolutely.

9. Fleetfoxes - Blue Spotted Tail

10. Beatrice Martin - Wicked Games (Weeknd Cover)

Good for so many reasons.

11. Los Rakas - Hacerte el Amor

Put this on for your lady friends. For your girl friends. For your older, but still attractive female friends.

Thank you Jason Cox/NPR. You both serve essentially the same purpose in my life.

I would play this for either of you.

12. Los Rakas - Abrazame

Twice by the same artist.

In other news, Erica visited and it's been great. I'll post pics later.

New Spank Rock

2011-09-07T14:18:00.001-04:00

Check it out.

Spank Rock feat. Santogold - Car Song by Glazione

Jeff Tweedy Covers Black Eyed Peas - "I Gotta Feeling"

2011-09-07T13:59:00.001-04:00

so. yeah.

Pictures from Last Weekend

2011-09-02T16:29:00.001-04:00

This is Chitre. This is Andrew walking through Chitre. Chitre is a city with a population smaller than that of Santiago or David. Despite the complaint that Chitre does not have as lively a nightlife as Santiago (or David for that matter) I really prefer chilling in Chi-town (what-what, just dubbed it). It feels more like an actual city than Santiago that feels like a small town that someone decided to build a highway by.

I love the advertisements here. I also used to love Pepsi until the doctor told me I shouldn't be drinking it. Dehydration is not fun kids.

I've been playing around with Picasa's other editing functions. I need to get back to Lightroom.

Bass goes on. This is how you win an election.

Pictures of the ocean.

They go well with this song.

I love it when it rains at the beach.

Make shift beach walls.

Sun comes up. This song might work better.

(Actually, I've been a bit sick this week and this song has been my companion in bed.)

So yeah. More pics HERE.

Translated

2011-08-30T10:08:00.001-04:00

Children give sloth.

New Florence and the Machine

2011-08-29T14:34:00.001-04:00

Hey, remember her? She had that song about the dogs and the days or something. Well, she's back.

Chica San Francisco

2011-08-27T11:46:00.001-04:00

Last Friday my school hosted a beauty pageant titled Chica San Francisco. Eight girls from the Junior High and High School levels competed in a pageant for the prestegious title. The purpose of this event was to raise fund for the school band.

Although doors opened at six, the girls were still back stage getting ready for their first performance at around seven. In the photo you can see the the English teacher, Deisy, who organized all of this. The air conditioned teacher's lounge had been converted into quite the dressing room with a stylist and make-up artist on hand to ensure the girls looked nothing short of amazing.

Back inside the gymnasium the judges were already seated as was a good portion of the audience. Above is a radio host and local television producer who served as a judge.

When the girls made their grand entrance they did so masked and were introduced one by one by the host.

Although there were two people on stage the official maestra de ceremonia was the woman in the yellow, who also happens to be the most beautiful high school math teacher in San Francisco :).

The gymnasium was packed and someone even brought their own murga.

As with all school functions a conjunto tipico was absolutely necessary.

The second act performed by the girls was a fashion walk in which they exhibited many of the different fashions. I have no ideas what these fashions were. The one above reminds me mostly of Rihanna.

Once again, I don't know exactly what this is.

There was also a mysterious belly dancer.

Along with the conjunto tipico there was a conjunto congo. The congo dancers were amazing.

Alas at the end of the night there could only be one winner.

The winner and her family.

You can see the entire set of pictures clicking HERE.

Matt On Nickelodeon

2011-08-26T19:06:00.001-04:00

"Remember that nickelodeon show is the lowest form of conversation. It's a false connection because everyone watched those shows when they were 12."

Calle 13 is Great

2011-08-26T18:19:00.001-04:00

I will sing this song to my future wife.

Kids Be

2011-08-26T18:05:00.001-04:00

I wrote this the other day during recess.

Kids be snitchin’, snatchin’ snappin’
Holdin’ hands, pushin’ peeps,
Kids be runnin’, gunnin’, straight-up frontin’
Tough faces, “Relax, they’re just going through phases.”

Kids be screamin’, scratchin’, scrammin’
Lunchin’ mad fast, number one fear is to be last -
Kids be eatin’, readin’, straight-up leavin’
Somber looks, “Relax, it means they’re hooked.”

Kids be steamin’, data streamin’, potentially stealin’
Takin’ notes, Writin’ notes, Losin’ notes, Copyin’ notes – Too many notes, no symphony
Kids be chewin’, shoutin’, throwin’, poutin--
Half toothed smiles, “Relax, this is worth your while.”

Kids be fallin’, failin’, flailin’
Trust in me, together we’re we
Kids be hatin’, lovin’; never once ambivalent
Bell rings, “Relax, at least you know you’ve done something.”

Girl I was just trying to get a nut bust

2011-08-26T18:03:00.001-04:00

Tyler the Creator's pretty contreversial.

I really like this song.

Yo amo a St. Vincent

2011-08-26T17:56:00.001-04:00

Simone says

2011-08-26T17:30:00.001-04:00

"I smell."

Yes you do.

Drones

2011-08-22T19:47:00.001-04:00

Gentle guitar strumming sounding gritty due to a poorly wired amp and speaker set begins to my left. To my right and behind the music of the cantinas begin their nightly competition for king of the street. American pop is churned with reggaeton and bachate. It's the last hour of daylight so every few seconds is a slightly more noticeable gradient of light lost before total darkness swallows us all.

When I first came here in mid March the sky at dusk was what I loved the most. I wonder if it still is. More strumming as a young man sings softly. Brings me back to Forrest Park and Pastor Jose. Or maybe it's just the constant proximity to a church.

Bells rapidly clanging as more light fades all around. Cacophony and disorder everywhere to the point where one would swear that the end of the world were imminent. People walking to the afternoon mass.

Quiet again as the footpaths of people settle. Guitar strumming picks up. World didn't end. Cantinas still blare music. Salvation remains on hold.

Where you taking us Mr. Busman?

2011-08-22T18:19:00.001-04:00

Waterlogged.

2011-08-22T13:08:00.001-04:00

This was taken at Playa Santa Clara in Cocle, Panama in June of 2011.

Jesus H. Christ

2011-08-18T18:47:00.001-04:00

Taken at the church in Los Santos. Lots of really impressive woodwork there. sadly all this makes me think of is Kanye West. That's messed up right?

Pornos

2011-08-18T10:18:00.001-04:00

Unintentionally bilingual. This is why spacing is important kids.

Started Playing with HDR...

2011-08-16T11:51:00.001-04:00

This was taken at the port in Almirante en route to Bocas.

Timing

2011-08-15T08:05:00.001-04:00

Baile ended at six am presumably so school could start at 7am.

A Letter

2011-08-13T09:20:00.001-04:00

Dear Lil' Wayne,

Please feel free to start making enjoyable music again.

Sincerely,

Your disappointed audience.

Bocas Post

2011-08-11T15:06:00.001-04:00

Bocas del Toro made a fun place for a five day trip. Although this is more than expected, it is a pretty pricey place as far as Panama goes. We stayed at this hotel: http://bocastesoroescondido.com/. It was about 7.2 kilometers out of the actual Bocas Town, which mean either a 90 minute walk or a $5 taxi cab each way per person. This isolation raised the cost of our trip, but also meant that we had access to one of the best Bocas beaches with minimal people on it. At most, I think I counted maybe seven people on Bluff Beach.

The town itself is reminiescent of Cozumel in that the tourism focus is strongly felt from the moment you get off the boat and people are offering you lodging deals, tour deals, taxi deals, bike deals -- everything is apparently a deal despite the fact that prices, compared to mainland Panama, are a bit audacious. That being stated, although I didn't hit up the bar scene as strongly as I may have liked, from what I did see, the bars were pretty chill. In fact, if there's anything the island is trying to sell is just how 'chill' it is. For a moment, due to the the considerable presence of foreigners (almost a quarter of the population according to my taxi driver, Jorge), you forget you're even in Panama. It's okay though, there are plenty of Bocas is Panama stickers hanging around to remind you where you are.

Bocas is beautiful, but for what it offers, I feel I can find analogous beaches in less tourism exploited areas. The hangouts, however, seem attractive enough and there seems to be no shortage of parties as every night we were in Bocas Town we were handed fliers to happy hours or free drinks for ladies parties. One thing for sure is that if you're traveling on a budget, you can make Bocas work, but it's recommended to go when you have a fair amount of capital to fund your exploits.

All in all, it was a relaxing vacation and I'm sure I will return to Bocas sometime before my time in Panama is up. Shout out to Erica Gallegos for giving us a place to stay en route and to Alex Blum for giving us an incredible tour of his community. David and Santiago were also hit up, but the only thing I discovered was that David was much more livlier than Santiago and that the two cities should not be cited as equals. David is like the cooler, slightly trendier brother of Santiago.

See the full gallery on Posterous

My town at 6:40

2011-08-10T19:40:00.001-04:00

Three generations walking.

View with Lunch

2011-08-10T13:42:00.001-04:00

At El Mirador, which is about a mile or so from my school.

Live Blog from the Metro Bus

2011-08-09T00:15:00.001-04:00

I am a foreigner in a foreign land. Make no mistake. Despite my Puerto Rican heritage, considerable skill at Spanish, and even my physical traits - I am clearly a foreigner. It is in my accent, it is on my backpack (be it the Lowepro, Timbuk2, or Northface), and it is sometimes in my very demeanor. Anyone with half a working brain or an incentive to note such things would and does take note. Hence why I am grateful for the Metro Bus right now.

Taxi drivers are one of the aforementioned folks with an incentive to notice that I am not from here. To them it means that they can raise their fares and because of an assumed and somewhat legit notion that a. I will not know better and b. that I view the taxi as the best if not the only available mode of transport for me. Taxi fares are almost never listed and the very idea of requiring drivers to post meters on their cars would likely bring forth massive resistance from drivers and possibly even the general public.

Take my current case for example. I am on the Metro Bus to drop Katie off at the airport. A Diablo Rojo could take me there for a quarter or I could pay a taxi about $25, a 10,000% increase in price to get there in approximately a quarter of the time with a considerable boost in comfort and safety. Although I do prefer safety, particularly when traveling with smartphones, DSLRs, ereaders and assorted tools of the modern traveling man, I can hardly justify such an extravagant expenditure unless of course it is a sheer necessity. Luckily there now exists a third option; the $1.25 Metro Bus that offers reasonable comfort (with air conditioning!), a fair amount of safety (driver is plugged into a homebase, bus is lit up, stops are considerably quicker, etc), and best of all I don't have to listen to reggaeton, passa passa, tipico, or baladas blaring from well meaning, but poorly wired speakers. Also, I get to the airport in well under the two hours than the Diablo Rojo benchmark. Hello Modernity, welcome to Panama.

Without getting into the politics of the current administration I will acknowledge that there is a fair amount of resistance to the idea of the Metro Bus because for many people it means a 500% increase in price for transport. It may not seem like much to go from a quarter to a buck and change, but if that represents a dollar you use for food (the price of which is rising world wide) or $12 a week you use for cell phone saldo then the opportunity cost of improved transportation seems a bit higher than the perceived value.

However, the value for me is security, trust, and the avoidance of a headache when I politely inform the driver that despite his insistence that the two kilometer drive is worth $2.50, I know that the normal rate is 90 cents and that's what I expect to pay. Similarly, if you're along the newly opened routes and used to pay for a cab to avoid long, uncomfortable, and potentially unsafe diablos, then you, like I, see the value.

For me, as foreigner in this land, I view the Metro Bus as a symbol of stability, fairness, and progress. It reminds me of Germany where busses were as reliable as death and taxes. It reminds me of UGA where busses saved me from the summer heat or the winter cold, it even reminds me of Atlanta where the Marta could be relied on to get me to the airport without a huge fee.

Dated (with) her

2011-08-08T23:12:00.001-04:00

Interesting phrase. Nice to be reminded why I'm here.

Smurfs

2011-08-08T22:50:00.001-04:00

Can someone explain why this movie is so popular? Just saw quiero matter a mi jefe. Bateman's funny. Anniston's weird. Dude from It's Always Funny is moving up.

Lana Del Rey

2011-08-07T22:08:00.001-04:00

Why didn't anyone tell me anything?

Exit Music For A Bar

2011-07-28T23:39:00.001-04:00

When they start with the tipico and the only woman just left the "dance" club.

Nicki Minaj

2011-07-28T23:35:00.001-04:00

Yep. Just saw the video for Super Bass. Girl is FREAKY.

Untitled

2011-07-24T15:29:00.001-04:00

Yo, Robert Glasper has been one of my latest obsessions 'cause the man's music is just so damn good. Naturally, it was a great pleasure to discover him working with MF DOOM on one of my favorite songs of all time, "Rhinestone Cowboy".

This is dopalicious-oh.

Cults - Go Outside (video)

2011-07-22T12:59:00.001-04:00

Go Outside, by Cults from Boing Boing on Vimeo.

So there's this really cool band called Cults.
I've blogged about them before.
Or mentioned them. You know, in passing.

Check out this sweet vid.

via: http://www.gorillavsbear.net/2011/07/13/video-cults-go-outside-2/

Morning

2011-07-19T10:20:00.001-04:00

Kids love pasting things onto other things.

Kids be Eating

2011-07-18T22:54:00.001-04:00

6:30am - breakfast
9:00am - snack
10:40am - lunch
11:20am - cookies

The Panamanian children will do anything, but starve.

Geeky Linux Post

2011-07-16T17:07:00.001-04:00

Yep running Linux on my computer now.

In other news:

Katie's coming here in three weeks. That should be fun.
Adele covered "I Can't Make You Love Me" - Bon Iver does it better.
I'm still obsessed with Beyonce - - Chris Martin still sucks.
Adult classes are a source of happiness. Went to teaching the class entirely in English this week.

A Better 1+1 Video

2011-07-16T16:31:00.001-04:00

This was leaked by Jay-Z a while back, but I've been Panama since a while back. Check it out.

1+1 by Beyonce

2011-07-16T16:22:00.001-04:00

This is the first track off of Beyonce's latest album - 4. It is incredible.

Life Update (?)

2011-07-06T18:45:00.001-04:00

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After three months of working in a Panamanian school, I still feel more like an actor than I do an actual instructor. Although my role in the school varies from co-teacher to consultant to mentor to IT guy to sometimes even a dollar bin speech pathologist, when I am in the classroom I feel as if I am performing an act. A method actor of sorts as I stand with my ironed shirt tucked in reviewing adverb use or frequency adverbs or components of a sentence in English or simple present versus continuous present tense. How much English I plan on these kids learning after two years of me being in their lives, I really don’t know. Improvement seems hard to measure without any real diagnostics or tools. This is not so much a scientific experiment as it is a culturally enriching experience for both them and me. Furthermore, it is not so much that they are Panamanian and I am not that lends itself to this exchange, but more of the fact that I am 22 years old and working day to day with kids when I had no such intention of doing any such work ever in my life.

See the full gallery on Posterous

When I signed up for Peace Corps, I thought I would be out in some harsh country that embodied the stereotypes of the developing world - no easy access to clean water or electricity, much less internet and cable television. My imagination supposed lone dirt roads travelled exclusively by four-wheel drive vehicles out into bastions of where modernization stood at a standstill. The reality of Panama, at least for me, is that my students all have their basic hierarchal needs met and furthermore good portions of them have televisions, computers, and even coveted Black Berries. McDonalds, Dominos, Burger King, KFC, Pirates of the Caribbean, Transformers, Katy Perry, Coca Cola, Pepsi, M&Ms, Nike, Adidas, iPods, Canon, Sony, Panasonic – these are all things my students recognize, desire, and to some extent in the same fashion Americans and assorted Westerners worldwide, worship.

See the full gallery on Posterous

My first lesson plans aimed at utilizing their knowledge of the outside world to garner interest. Lessons were based on Dragon Ball Z characters, Eminem and Katy Perry songs, and my own experiences abroad. Now, more and more frequently I am diverging from this original pattern in favor for more substantive lessons drawn to and from their everyday experience. Make no mistake; there is still an active cultural exchange between my community and me. Only now, after three months, it is tacit, facile. One of the biggest victories I have had here is my adult class. Two, sometimes three days a week I host a class for adults in my community. This past Monday we introduced and practiced modal auxiliaries and honestly, there, in my shorts, t-shirt and chalk in my hand, I do not feel like an actor. I truly feel like an instructor imparting my own knowledge and along the way picking up new things.

Every morning this semester I wake up around 6:15am, which still feels incredibly early compared to my usual 8:30am wake up time for my last job, even in a country where the sun goes down right around 7:00pm every night. As I prepare myself for school usually with some sort of soundtrack coming from my iPod I run the schedule in my head. Coming down the hill of my house and approaching the school eager children greet me from the windows, ‘Profe’, or ‘Teacher’ they call and I wave and shout, ‘Hello’ or ‘Good morning’. After clocking in, which is mostly a formality seeing as how I am not a MEDUCA employee; I usually greet the kinder students. “Good morning!” and all their eager faces, about 30 to 40, reply, “Good morning!” The dialogue continues and we ask each other how we are. Every morning I tell them, “I am happy to see you!” Never in my life prior to this have had I ever said to someone in the morning, “I am happy to see you,”as a reply to “how are you?” These kids have my undying love.

And dear Jesus, the hugs. My students, particularly the younger ones, absolutely love hugging me. For those of you reading this who know me, know that I am by no means a hugging type of person. Every morning when I see these children they swarm like moths to a light, and hug me and proceed to shout, all at once, when they saw me in the community be it last week, last night, or three months ago in line at the McDonalds. Truth be told, I love these kids. I love this experience, and even though some days can be absolutely brutal in terms of morale or just wondering what the hell am I doing, the affection, adulation, and trust of something like 200 students is hard to compete with. My original purpose of writing this was to share an anecdote of how a sixth grade class I helped teach reacted to positive reinforcement. Instead, I think I summarized how I have reacted to positive reinforcement from my community.

Azuero and Sidenotes

2011-07-04T19:32:00.001-04:00

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This weekend I took advantage of some free time to visit the Azuero region in Panama. Luckily, the Corpus Cristi festival was going on in Los Santos. Corpus Cristi, from what I was able to gather, consists of a series of allegorical performances. These performances tell stories of angels versus demons and are usually enacted by male teenagers dressed in elaborate costumes. Like most Panamanian festivals and ‘folkloric’ (their word translated directly) the colors seem to hit the ROYGBIV spectrum pretty thoroughly.

These dances go on for hours and are occasionally broken up for little mini parades around the Los Santos town square. Earlier, I had been to Los Santos for the world famous Feria del Azuero, but this somehow satisfied my desires for cultural experience a bit more. One particularly interesting facet of these performances was this dance performed by what the community refers to as ‘los gays’. Essentially, it’s about a dozen or so men dressed in women’s clothing wearing these creepy satirical masks and dancing on stage. Later on, one of these guys happened to be so drunk that he ended up falling and busting his head open. An ambulance showed up and drove busted head dude away. That wasn’t the last time I saw him though. When Katie’s host family was driving us home, we saw him walking on the side of the road. In the rain. Head still busted.

Also it was extremely hot and I am actually facetiously trying to cut down on my soda intake so instead I ordered about three shaved ice cones. They are not that different here than in the states (or anywhere else that I’ve had shaved ice...) except that it is a custom to put condensed milk on them. I don’t know how much these shaved ice guys make on average, but during the festival, they seemed to making a straight up killing. At one point, this one guy just plops out a giant wad of bills that he has presumably accumulated all day working the street. It reminded me of those scenes from [any crime drama ever] where a drug dealer has a fat wad of cash and is just posted on a corner. It’s that condensed milk, I swear.

See the full gallery on Posterous

Katie’s host family was nice enough to provide me with karaoke and a place to stay. Karaoke consisted of me butchering contemporary Spanish classics such as Suavemente and No Me Ames. It also consisted of me doing an awe-inspiring, heart breaking, gut wrenching rendition of Turn Around by Bonnie Tyler. With this song, I made sure everyone in the room felt the pain of Bonnie Tyler. On a side note, if you haven’t seen the music video for this 80s hit, google it and ask your

self what the hell was up with the 80s and ninjas.

The next day though, and this is serious, Katie’s family drove us through this incredible tour of the Azuero peninsula. Through mountains, into valleys, and onto an island that won’t show up on your tourist map, there we went. To get to this island we drove through this tiny farming town and stopped at what you wouldn’t believe was a dock. A drum is hit, a boat is signaled and we wade through muddy river waters with cargo that we were carrying onto this island. After a brief period and once the water is reasonably deep, a boat meets us and takes us through the river that’s reminiscent of any movie that’s featured people on a river that’s in the jungle. You even see monkeys in trees if you’re lucky. Onto the beach and bam.

This place is practically untouched in terms of tourism. The beach is pristine and the waves, because we’re not that far away from either Santa Catalina or Vernau, are pristine. My absolute favorite moment was standing at the water Sunday morning staring at the vast ocean. So much of something that honestly transformed into nothing. As the ocean bellowed with its signature rhythm, I could not help, but stand in awe of the beauty and brilliance before me. Panama has reminded me how much I love the beach. That's probably because I hit up something like four beaches in two days.

See the full gallery on Posterous

On the way back, we took a different route and made a great circle around the Azuero. I will post pictures up in flickr, hopefully, in the next two weeks.

The June Playlist

2011-07-04T12:05:00.001-04:00

June was a month that featured In-Service Training, Beaches, Panama City, and the semi-succesful continuation of my adult classes. Here are the songs that kept my iPod going.

1. Rolling Stone by the Weeknd

The Weeknd - Rolling Stone by The_Weeknd

I've been raving about this guy ever since I first heard his stuff way back in April. It's July and I'm still raving.

2. MF Doom - Rhymes Like Dimes

Mf doom - 03 - Rhymes Like Dimes (F. Cucumber by eatherich

This is actually part of an awesome re-release set sent out a few months back. I tend to listen to this in the mornings and clap my hands while doing a shuffle dance move. You know, getting myself in a chill mood for classes.

3. "Session" by Tyler the Creator

Tyler the Creator - Session Featuring Hodgy Beats And BranDun Deshay by AudioAlcoholMusic

This kid has managed to cause an incredible amount of controversy in the hipster/indie music field. And by an incredible amount, I mean that Tegan or Sara from Tegan and Sara got insulted (understandably) that Tyler's rhymes are a bit...Well, just look up the letter and look up his lyrics. Reminds me of Eminem when he first got big.

4. Cults - Abducted

Cults - Abducted by cultscultscults

Cults is one of those bands that comes out and everyone seems to love. Myself included. Really, I would recommend any track off of their debut album.

5. Bon Iver - I Can't Make You Love Me/Nick of Tme

Bon Iver – I Can’t Make You Love Me / Nick of Time by faisdash

I am almost certain that this song can make anyone cry. Obviously it's a cover, but it's a damn good one.

It's short. Five songs. But they're good ones.

Latest Obsession

2011-06-24T16:03:00.001-04:00

If I were in the states this would be my summer beach jam for 2011. Instead it will be my winter beach jam for Panama ("winter" in Panama just started).

Good Times

2011-06-16T21:54:00.001-04:00

This past week has been a remarkable set of events. Laurie and her friend Nedy were great hosts in Panama City. Together we went to a famous fish market where Anthony Bourdain apparently stopped in during his visit to Panama. Although I am not a ceviche fan, both Erica and Laurie claim that the ceviche at this market is incredible. Upstairs from the fish market there is an overpriced seafood restaurant. Okay, so maybe that’s a little bit rude and I may be slightly bitter over paying $7 for what I could have gotten in most other places for around $5, but I am a Peace Corps volunteer and budgets are small. In my opinion, the restaurant has taken advantage of having become a relatively well known Panama site after the Bourdain visit to the market below, but again, that’s just me.

Tragedy settled in when I realized that my Kindle, my second e-reader in Panama, broke. In the supermarkets of Panama you are required to check in your bag and it appears that the night before when the desk lady mistreated my bag, she also cracked the screen of my Kindle. Good times. I’m not terribly lamenting the loss because while that happened, I also managed to pick up eight books including the mammoth beasts “Atlas Shrugged” and “The Pale King”, so that should take me some time. Maybe I’ll even start working on my cliché Peace Corps novel (note: definitely not doing that). Edit: Right now I am working my way through "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo" and is it just me or does it bother anyone else that kilometers were translated into miles despite the fact that the novel takes place in Sweden? I'm just sayin'...

Of course, I responsibly and securely explored the Panamanian nightlife. In fact, in my previous post you can find a nice James Blake/Drake mix to listen to while you read about the Panamanian nightlife. Manrey is a modern hotel that more or less looks like a mix between what would happen if Manray and post-modernism had a bastard love child borne out of a threesome with capitalism. I have it on good authority that a Stella-Artois will run you $6 there and that fancier mixed drinks are around $9. Take my word that Calle Uruguay is generally, where the club scene of Panama converges. Casco Viejo is another chill spot, but be sure to watch out for the more dangerous locales nearby and bartenders named Eric who are really nice and ridiculous (note: potential future role model). Also there was dancing. Anyone who has ever witnessed me dancing either tipico or salsa knows what this is like. D-I-S-A-S-T-E-R (and hilarious) -- (am I abusing parenthetical statements?).

Another cool spot I visited was Santa Clara beach. Santa Clara beach may in fact be my favorite beach yet, topping even Isla Taboga. The winds of Santa Clara blew with an ever rising crescendo as “Deep Blue Sea” played ever so gently on my father’s iPod speakers, the same ones he took with him to fight a war and I brought with me to wage peace; Dan Rossen’s voice and guitar strumming proved to be perfect as the rains in the distance neared and darkness loomed; like a mother consoling her frightful child, his voice and the eerie stillness of dusk let us know, that, hey, it’s all okay.

After some goodbyes to some good people that I had not seen in a while (yo, shout out to Erica Gallegos on that one), I headed towards Panama City and quizzically waltzed around Albrook Mall with Anna. Due to a meeting in Panama City my return to San Francisco would be delayed by another two days, but it gave me the opportunity to do some solo-walking around Panama City. The strangest part of walking through reasonably vacuous streets around Calle Uruguay and such was the thought that less than a week ago Erica and I had made many of the same walks I was making now. Time is by definition based upon human perception, which makes it an inherently subjective factor of life. This is odd because time seems to be such an absolute measure that scientists actually measure with it with atoms, but really, without us, without humans to conjure it, see it, and rely on it, then where does the time go? Weeks tend to feel like months and months can feel like minutes down here and altogether a weekend seemed to last several weeks, and the goodbyes were just...Brief as they needed to be.

To my friends in the states or elsewhere, relax, I haven’t forgotten you.

To my friends in Panama, nice to meet you.

Feel free to check out my Santa Clara Beach pictures HERE.

Mixtape for the City.

2011-06-13T16:08:00.001-04:00

Two of my favorite artists since I've been in Panama have been Drake and James Blake. Perhaps it's only appropriate that they've made a mix-tape. This is awesome.

James Drake Mixtape - Bombé & Mr. Caribbean by Bombé via: Bombe