Pictures!


The tienda that my host family owns.


My extended host family (clockwise from top left): My host sister Dalquiris, Elizabeth, my host mom Jovanys, Laysa, Abdiel, Orlando, Jolanys, Katia and Francis.




This little girl is dressed up in the traditional Panamanian national dress, called a Pollera, to celebrate what I guess would have been Founders´Day in Tortí.





This kid´s name might be Alberto, or it might be Adelberto. I can´t ever remember, or really understand when they tell me. Such are the tribulations of life in Panamá.


It´s just a toy gun, mom, don't worry.


The Queen and Princess of Tortí something or another for 2007. I forgot, but you have to understand that it's not for lack of trying. It's because, during the month of November, there are literally probably eight different holidays celebrating an Independence from someone, or the flag, or Panamá in general, or whatever, and they elect a different Queen for every single one.


This is a picture of fourteen people crammed into on Landcruiser that also was carrying various boxes of what appeared to be contraband from the US Military. The guy driving the truck, Señor Lin, is the first Panamaño I can safely say I can't stand. Our encounter started off with his showing me a pistol he kept under the front seat of his car, then making me read the English manual outloud for Nightvision goggles that were originally issued, or meant to be issued, to someone in the military. Then, as the fourteen of us drove back to Quebrada Cali, he made me sit in the front seat, as opposed to letting one or two or THREE of the eight unrestrained children in the back sit up there, so he could regail me with stories about his charity work in Panamá while staring intently at my legs. Did you know Señor Lin has spent over 30,000 dollars on the pobrecitos in Panamá? Can you imagine how much he loves children, especially poor children (but not enough to let them ride in the front seat with a seat belt, while putting the gringa in the back)? If not, I'm sure I can track him down and he'll talk to you for two hours about it, while calling you joven despite your being a licenciado/a, and then he'll scoff at your attempts to talk about sustainability. I am not a fan of Señor Lin's.

Here are two pictures of this giant bug, the name for which I do not know in English, but which is called a Grilla or Griya or something like that in Spanish.
I held it in my hands for a good half an hour, and my immense fear of it shifted to something someone might feel for a pet. It doesn't bite and it looks like a leaf, and it's only scary when it's circling your head, at which point it's terrifying.



Finally, Evey, whom I am currently trying to deworm. This might be the greatest dog ever, and I am not just saying that because she is someone I can speak English to, and someone who will not judge me when I have nervous breakdowns. She truly is a hardass.

And speaking of breakdowns, this week I certainly had one. Between getting back from cold, seasonally-appropriately-climated Thanksgiving where I wore a sweatshirt every day and could speak in English, watching as five of my friends nearly got sent home and dealing with the rollercoaster of emotions that accompanied preparing to say goodbye and then suddenly welcoming them back, and not being able to express myself in Spanish still, plus the fact that my nearest English speaking neighbor is 45 minutes and a police checkpoint away, I almost went crazy. The holidays are going to be a rough time, as far as I can tell right now, and I probably bitched to my mother over the phone for a comprised three hours over the course of three days. We were told we were going to have ups and downs, and I know I just have to make it to January and I'll be okay, but December is going to be a trying, trying month. For those of you who pray, pray that my latrine proposal goes through so I have a project to work on, and for those of you who don't, try and send some good vibes or something. And call me on Christmas.