Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Central America: Panama City

Panama City
Bocas del Toro
Puerto Vijeo
Monteverde
Isla Ometepe
Granada
Tegucigalpa
Utila
Copan
Panajachel
San Pedro La Laguna
Guatemala City
Antigua

so let us begin...

On the day that Rachel Reinke began her junior year at the College of Charleston, I boarded a plane and then two more on my way to Panama City.  Days before, my cousin's wife had asked her brother who lives there if he and his family could pick me up at the airport, and if I could stay with them for a little while.  (I can't even begin to remember these feelings.  it hurts so bad to think about leaving my angel.*)  

She gave me her backpack to take, and I filled it with clothes, sneakers, my new apple laptop, first aid, a book, a journal, a guide book, toiletries, a water bottle, and a few tokens of love/good luck.  I didn't check my luggage (next time I think I will) and my sunscreen and bug spray were confiscated.  I was having trouble with the (insignificant) time change, so I may or may not have been really late.  I remember a man and woman on my flight asking me as we went through immigration what I was doing.  Both were fluent in English and Spanish.  When I told backpacking alone from there to Guatemala City, they said I was brave, and they would be too scared to endure such a trip.  Fuck.  I couldn't even speak Spanish worth a shit at that point.

So my cousin-in-law's relatives were waiting, daughter number one was holding a sign with my name on it, though I would have known from the second I laid eyes on them that they were there to pick me up.  Just a feeling and their warm smiles.  I had no idea what to expect, specifically their income level and housing situation.  The first thing I noticed as they paid the parking machine was they had US dollars.  From my experience in Cuba, with its dual economy, i.e. tourist dollar vs. national peso, I thought it mean they were rich.  Later I learned that everyone in Panama has the US dollar--it's been their currency since '94 or so--and, indeed, they were rich.  

The drive home was kind of long, but Dad (Juan Pablo), Mom (Rita), sister-number-one (Virginia), and brother (Juan Pablo, Jr.) all came.  Sister number two (Paolo) stateyed at home presumably because there wasn't room in the SUV and she was the youngest.  How exciting to be back among the Spanish billboards, road signs, and radio stations!  They tried their best to make small talk with me in English, and I tried horribly to speak Spanish.  My knowledge had been reduced to "thank you very much."  J.P. Jr. could speak a little English (leagues more than I could in Spanish) so that helped a lot.  I'm pretty sure that they learned that my brother was preacher and I apologized for keeping them out so late on a school night.

When we got home, they showed me a bed--I would be staying in the girls' room, and they would share a (single) bed or one would sleep in the computer (!!!) room.  Even though it was midnight or later, they heated me up some chicken and noodles and insisted I eat.  Then they insisted that I sleep.  What a great place!

The next morning I woke at nine or so and took a shower (how unusual for me?!).  I went downstairs for breakfast with Juan Pablo, Jr.; he offered me "cornflakes" (which refers to any type of cold cereal in Central America), banana, toast, tea, and coffee.  We then made plans to see the canal.  (I kind of felt sorry for him..having to show this seemingly socially-challenged girl around who couldn't speak Spanish.**)  After breakfast i went to the back patio to admire the fruit trees...oooh panama....  The family pet/guard dog, a dalmation, was chained up to on the patio.  I held out my hand so it could smell me--you know, appropriate dog-human etiquette--and it did so.  Then it licked me.  

Then it simultaneously BARKED, JUMPED, AND BIT ME IN THE FACE!

Blood dripping, I grabbed my right eye, ran up the stairs to the bathroom, and yelled, "Juan Pablo, yo tango una problema!"  When he saw my bleeding face, I think he freaked out a little.  He got his mom, and she helped me wash and bandage it.  Then we jumped in the car and headed to the hospital--they have a relative who is a surgeon.  Rita was upset with J.P. Jr. because he was supposed to tell me not to touch the dog the night before.  Damn it.  She kept yelling at him in Spanish ("no comprendo") and telling me we were going to see a doctor they knew and talking about how scared of blood JP Jr. was.  All this also in Spanish.  

They also kept asking if it hurt and telling me to push the pad against my face.  It actually didn't hurt that bad (probably the shock and/or adrenaline helped with that) and I didn't think it was even necessary for us to go to the hospital at all.  Thankfully, I had purchased travel insurance and thought to bring a print out with me of the policy (whether or not they are ever going to reimburse the $1200 doctor's office visit I supposedly paid in cash) because it was enough for Cookie the somehow relative to go ahead and give me the stitches and good pain stuff to numb my face.  

At first, though, I thought it was something Panamanian, giving a patient a Cookie before surgery.  Nope, just the surgeon's name, who left me waiting to go and pick up her child from school as I made more uncomfortable small talk with Rita in Spanish.  We were both embarrassed by the situation, but somehow (mostly Rita's exquisite grace and my smiling and nodding) we got through it and came out closer on the other side.  

(For some reason when I see a woman put on plastic gloves to wash dishes, I sense that the task at hand is much more difficult than that which I engage in on a daily basis, and that I should offer to help, as with Rita and Connie, Rachel Reinke's mom, but that has nothing to do with now....except Rita is that kind of woman...the kind that like to keep their fingernails looking nice, but will get down with some dishes.)

So, they stitched me up, Rita paid for the supplies, and in the midst of it all Juan Pablo, Sr., had come across the street to check in on me.  His construction company was actually...constructing these huge reflective windows on the Multiplaza--this huge business center, and probably the best building in the capital.  Rita took me home to nap, I think, then later to the pharmacy , where J.P., Sr., with a smile insisted that I have icecream (like himself) and some breaded something, and the Catholic Church for Wednesday prayer group.  They introduced me to everyone (turns out they are like CELEBRITIES in the church) and I smiled and nodded some more.  J.P. led the meeting, Rita passed out tickets for this play (which they received as thanks for pro bono construction work). 

After church we rode home (the sisters had French class on Monday and Wednesday, so they walked over to the church to meet us afterwards.  JP's fater got a Ph.D. in Philosophy in France...they are all fluent, although JP's French has a pretty Spanish accent to it).  On the way home we listened to Simple Plan, the younger's favorite band, for the first of EVERY TIME in the car.

*The one and only time I will let myself say something this ridiculously cheesy...but don't worry I'll get close.
**Okay, maybe not so much "seemingly."

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