So, I've been in Quebrada Cali for exactly one week today, and it's going a lot quicker than I had expected. We've already set up English classes, which are going to be interesting as I have to teach them three times a week to groups of varying ages, th Panamanian educational system has ill-prepared them for such frivolous things as verb conjugations, and oh yeah, I am not a trained ESL teacher. Also, we've already got a directiva, which I guess is the equivalent of a board of directors, to start the Latrine project. My life has gone from twelve hours worth of sleep a night to being divided into little squares of time throughout the week: Tuesdays and Fridays, teach English from 9-1 in the school; Saturdays is adult English from 4-6; Run before nine every morning; Gather around the TV at the tienda with the rest of the community to watch Madre Luna and Dame Chocolate every night from 7-9. Time's going pretty fast and before I know it, I'll be departing on a twelve hour bus trip to Thanksgiving.

Despite the haste at which time is moving, I do get homesick every now and then. For example, take the other day. I was staring (literally, wide eyes, mouth agap) at the stars in the sky that I haven't seen in the last four years, when I caught sight of a northbound plane. I don't know if that plane was going to Mexico or Cuba or Nicaragua or London, but I do know that I got a little teary-eyed about the fact that the only thing keeping me apart from my family and friends back home was the fact that I was not on that plane, or any plane, headed toward the United States. It took a second, but then I realized that more than just that airplane would head back to the US in my lifetime, and that I had approximately 200 English classes to teach over the next two years.

Also, I would never leave my community due to their sheer niceness. My host mother, Jovanys, whom I have only lived with for a week, told me the other day that she would miss me when I change houses at the end of November. I am going to miss her family too, as the other two families are considerably more reserved, but then I remembered, again, that she owns the Tienda where Dame Chocolate is shown every night, and I cannot miss what will unravel with our heroes Rosita/Violeta and Bruce, and whether Angél will keep the secret that he knows. (For those of you who receive Telemundo or TV Azteca, I suggest you search for this show, as it is ridiculously addictive.)

Other than TV, English and Latrine meetings, my time has been spent attending and subsequently dancing at the Independence Day festival, which was both fun and awkward as I avoided the borrachos who made it known that they wanted to dance with La Gringa, despite her inability to move her hips in a proper Panamanian fashion, and also going to the hospital in Cañita, where the head cashier guy made notice of my calves and suggested that someone pop them because they look a little inflated, until my counterpart and I informed him that no, those were normal calves. So yeah, that's what's been going on. If you've read this far, congratulations. Now for what everyone has been demanding, in ways somewhat insensitive to the fact that I do not have the internet at my every day disposal: pictures. Okay, I lied, pictures are being a little bitch, but give me a while and they'll be up. I PROMISE.

Soy una voluntaria...

(In advance, I have to apologize that this post is not only boring, but also lacking pictures. I am running on four hours of sleep...give me a break.)

I can't believe it, but we, the group of engineers, economists and those of us with little to no qualification, such as myself, have completed ten weeks of arduous training and as of Thursday night, swore in to become full-fledged Peace Corps volunteers. It absolutely does not feel like it's been ten weeks since I stepped off the plane into the suffocating humidity of Panamá, with 41 other people I barely knew and who intimidated the hell out of me. Now, a month and a half later, I had to hold back tears as I said goodbye to the last three volunteers left standing at Playa Sta. Clara.

The ceremony itself was nice. Nothing huge, attended by other volunteers in country, the American ambassador and a couple of representatives from the Panamanian government. We all stood up, said our names, states of origin, where we would be living and in what sector we worked, and rose our right hands to repeat the oath that I guess officially clinched the deal. It was also the first time since arrival in Panamá that I have seen the entire group cleaned up and in dresses, ties and button down shirts, and everything ironed. We clean up nicely, but I didn't take my camera along, so pictures will be up when I can steal them from other people.

Of course, with swearing in came the after party that ended up lasting three days. To celebrate our triumph, the group headed out to the beach, where we all got dressed up for Halloween. There were some pretty ingenious costumes that, as soon as I can steal some pictures from someone else, I will post them. The whole weekend was great, and a nice end to our training session, but now I am sitting here in Panama City, waiting to face the inevitable awkwardness that is going to define the next three months in my site, or until I can build my own house. But, when it comes down to it, the first three months of 27 are done...that's a little over ten percent of my service, which is bad ass. I have no clincher or anything witty to say as a termination to ths entry, so I will leave it with, WRITE ME, I am sorry about how exhausted I am that this is not that interesting, and I will update you all in a week, ma' o meno', with fotos.

Site Visit!

First, some fairly bad pictures.

This is the sitting area/porch/living room where I stayed at my site.


This parrot would not shut up, at even the most asinine of hours.


Two of the cutest kids ever, Luci and Jahir, the latter of whom's name I just slaughtered.

So I just got back from spending a week where I'll be living for the next two years and I am not kidding when I tell all of you that I won the site lottery. It's true that I don't have electricity (which is no surprise), and the water is hardcore unpotable (or is it impotable?), and all of the pit latrines fill with water every time it rains and are inhabited with enough cockroaches to force me to get over my ridiculous fear, but none of that matters.

I spent this week with the an amazing community of about three hundred Latinos, plus a community of about one hundred Kunas, who are famous for these beautiful molas they create (google image it, I don't have a picture), plus a couple families of Emberá, PLUS a family of Ngöbes. My community is like a little United Nations, where the UN consistent of solely cultures from Panamá, and what was pleasantly surprising is that all four got along fairly harmoniously.

We spent the week doing what they do every day, and I'm not going to lie, the pace of life is mindnumbingly slow, but I suppose I will be getting rid of my Type A personality over the next couple of years. I visited with almost every family in that town, met the family with whom I will be living for the first month (as I've elected to switch families once a month until I can live on my own), and fielded some pretty interesting questions about the United States [i.e. "Poverty doesn't exist in the United States, right?", "How much is it to fly from the US to Panamá, like one hundred dollars?", "The distance from New York to Chicago is like from here to the City, right?" (or in other words, a 2 1/2 hour drive)]. Additionally, an effort has already initiated to find me a boyfriend ("do you want a white one, like yourself, or someone a little darker?"), despite my protests over and over.

We also had a meeting to discuss what they wanted to work on over the next two years, during which I was shocked and amazed, as they approached me about the construction of composting latrines because they knew that they reduced disease, could be used for fertilizer, etc, and about doing something about the filtration of the water from the aqueduct. I am not kidding, I about fell out of my chair.

Some other awesome things about the site are: electricity is coming, as election year is 2009 and the politicos are trying to win votes with public service. Also, I have to build my house, which is hilarious because I am the farthest thing from an architect ever, but it will be cheaper in the long run and I will be able to have a penca roof and a concrete floor and hammocks. AND I'm getting a dog. I don't even care. But now I have to end this, as here I sit in Albrook mall, once again, and I'm going to go buy some ridiculous thing to wear for Halloween.

After two weeks of hauling ass around Panamá, we are finally, FINALLY done with tech and culture week, and I am really happy about that. We only really have about three weeks left of training, including our site visit, during which we get to visit the place in which we'll be working, and then we swear in. I just want to drop all my bags down somewhere and not have to carry them anywhere else for the next two years, after these last two weeks.

Culture week, however, was way, way cooler than tech week, at least in my opinion. I headed out to the Darién with Joanna, Jake, Deborah, and for a brief time, Justin (who ended up being the third ET in our sector) and chilled with the Emberás and Wounnan for six days. It wasn't exactly pertinent to my site or what I'll be doing over the next two years, as my site is Latino and Kuna, but it was good insight.

For example, we met a medicine man, who gave us a brief "charla" on various medicinal propeties of various medicinal plants around the site. The first was a plant that, if the authorities are looking for you for anything, especially the trafficking of drugs (because this is the Darién), you put it on your hand, then shake their hand, and they immediately forget about the pursuit, and care so little about finding you that you could "sit down and have coffee with them." The other plant he told us about was this striped one that, when you used it, turned you into a tiger. That way you could hunt, and when your rational Tiger Mind deemed it necessary to return to human status, you just took your paw, rubbed the counter-medicine on yourself, and you'd change back. When asked if he'd ever attempted this transformation, however, the medicine man said no, because it's "too dangerous."

We also got painted with Jagua, which is this black substance that comes out of some fruit, and doesn't go way for two weeks. That was pretty sweet. It'll be especially sweet walking around my latino community with this indigenous painting, even though my host mother told me all the "indios are alcoholics." It'll warrant acceptance.

The kids also lovvvved us. Jake, being 6'8", was constantly being stared at, and when we were asked why we as Americans are so tall, we took the opportunity to tell them that it was because, in the United States, we don't ever eat any candy or drink coffee, and only eat fruits, vegetables, lean meats and dairy products. This was mainly in response to the fact that the families in this community, and others, start off feeding their kids coffee as soon as they're weaned (Franco, who is sitting next to me, just laughed at the word "weaned" because he is a twelve year old). They also were really intrigued with my coral necklaces (the teal and red ones), and my "ojitos bien azules", which I guess means my really small, really blue eyes. I also bathed via a bucket, standing in the middle of a community, in all my clothes, trying harder than hell to be discreet as eight million kids watched me. The whole week was a lot of fun, even though my host family consisted of more screaming children, meaning I didn't sleep.

After Culture Week, we all chilled in Panamá the City for a while, and went to some bar calledUnplugged which was apparently supposed to be reminiscent of the show on MTV, and the next morning got crepes and waffles at a place called Crepes and Waffles, and paid six dollars for our hotel room per person, because five of us were crammed into a three person room and basked in the glory of frigid air conditioning and showers with HOT WATER AND PRESSURE. Good times.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly for all of you, I got a cell phone and its number is 6777-4636. Eight numbers. Get yourselves all int'l calling cards and get on calling me (add 011 infront of the number), because incoming calls to me are free for me, and you're all making more than the ten dollars a day that I will be.

I'm updating this from Santiago, Veraguez, while my clothes are at the lavamático being scoured of their mildew smell that they accumulated over what was the busiest week ever. And it's not over yet.

This last week was tech week, which meant the nineteen remaining EH volunteers headed out to the Ngäbe site Cerro Iglesias, where we proceeded to construct five composting latrines throughout the community. The basic concept of composting latrines is that you create a two-chambered block construction and put two toilet seats (one per chamber) on the top. You use the first chamber for six months, and use two different parts of the seat--one for when you piss and one for when you shit. After you're done, you put sawdust over whatever solid waste you've just produced, and continue to use that chamber until it fills, and then let it sit for six months, after which you should have straight up compost for a garden of some sort. It's an important concept here in Panamá, especially where water tables are high, as it eliminates risk for fecal-oral disease transmission, etc. etc. This may sound strange, but if you're planning on coming to visit me, you'd better get used to the idea, as I'm building one for my eventual house.

We also got to stay with a Ngäbe host family, which was interesting, but I am glad I'm being sent to a Latino site. The Ngäbe women have a lot of pena, which basically means they're shy and look down at the ground, and since I'm shy and look down at the ground when I first meet people, I probably wouldn't get shit done. HOWEVER, we almost didn't get there at all because our Chiva never showed up, and when one did, we broke down somewhere on the mountain and had to evacuate out because of this cloud of opaque white smoke. Then, as we were leaving the site, the other Chiva didn't show up, meaning we hiked for a while, which would have been fine except my Teva broke and I had to hike barefooted.

Now we're all in transit to culture week, where I, along with four other people, will spend the next five days at an Emberá site in the Darién learning the language and getting painted and awesome shit like that. I also get to stay in Panamá for a night and pick up a cell phone and go to Riba Smith, which is Panamá's answer to Whole Foods.

Finally, for anyone in Chicago, especially if you go to Columbia, read "The Time Traveler's Wife", which was written by some professor there, and which mentions places like Berlin and the Western stop on the Brown Line and the Newberry Library and Smartbar and Belmont throughout the entire thing. I read it this last week and it made me homesick as hell.

I miss you all and apologize for this insanely boring entry. You'll probably get one tomorrow with my cell phone number on it though, so everyone go out and buy an international phone card, because incoming calls are free for me!

Oh man. Lots of stuff.

So Wednesday was the big day for all of us, when we went to Chorrera to find out site placements. The powers that be thought it would be fun to put that as the last event of the day, so the majority of us spent the hours of 9-3 in a semi-state of panic, or wanting to vomit, or both. FINALLY, three oclock rolled around, and they pulled out this giant map with all these blue and yellow stars on it (blue for EH, yellow for CED) . My name was the second called, and while I can't list the actual name of it on this blog for a number of different reasons, I can tell you that it's in Panama Este, right across the street from a Kuna community and right off the Interamerican Highway. I'm the second farthest east, and I have water, I'm 3.5 hours away from the city, there's a possibility that I can get electricity and it's Latino. I'm so ye-ye. If you want to know the name of the site, ask my mom and she'll let you know.

I am, however, a half a country to a country away from a lot of my good friends, but that's what the public transportation system is for. So anyway, a huge weight has been removed from our shoulders and due in part to that, plus the fact that it was Lisa's birthday, we celebrated with Panamá beer and lots of cheap wine. Good times.

In other news, a bunch of other trainees and I played a bunch of Panamanians in a game of softball. It was close, but in the last inning, we came back with five runs and oh hey, I hit two into left field and made a pretty decent catch in right field. Dad, you would have been proud of my ability to retain those middle school skills. That game was to warm up for our cross-sectoral, cross-cultural softball tournament in October, which we had better win.

Culture and Training weeks are coming up in two days. All the EH volunteers are heading out to David or Chiriqui or somewhere in the west to build latrines for four days, and then we have a sector conference in Veraguas I think, and then I head back the hell out east to the Darién for Culture Week, which is going to be really cool because I get to get painted black by the Emberá. Look up a picture for now, but my mom is being awesome and sending me means by which I can post pictures on this thing, so it won't be too long before you actually get to SEE what is up.

I have ridiculous chiggers all over my legs. You should probably look up what a Bot fly is and the process of removal of a larvae from your skin and then you will have an inkling of the fears I am dealing with on a daily basis regarding the infestation of bugs into my subcutaneous layer. However, in good news, chiggers can be killed by liberally slathering clear nailpolish onto your body, because this apparently suffocates the little shits. I don't know what happens to their carcasses.

Sally Muterspaugh has claimed the month of March as when she is going to visit me, so if you want to visit, you need to do it in a month other than March, or coordinate with her so you're not here at the same time or something, because I am not hosting two people at once, and my mom goes first.

Did I mention I am currently updating this thing from a supermarket? True story. And now I have to be on my way, because I am freezing and because we are never going to get back to Santa Clara at this rate. I love you all!

First, hey family!

We lost ANOTHER person. Stephanie left for good to be with her grandma in Chicago, which leaves six EH girls to balance shit out. It sucks that all the good people are ETing.

This weekend was pretty busy, as it was the first time we as individuals ventured out into Panamá outside of the protective wing of the Peace Corps administration. Whitney and I embarked on our 11 hour journey to the Comarca Ngöbe-Bugle, which entailed a four and a half hour boat trip in this ridiculous canoe that was about forty feet long by four feet wide, equipped with ten bench seats, none of which were built to accommodate 5'7" me and 5'11" Whitney. We visited two volunteers, Andrea and Julie, and watched as they put on a simultaneous volleyball tournament/health ed charla on HIV/AIDS and the use of condoms. It was pretty crazy, the amount of information these women didn't know, but I guess that's why we're here. We also baked brownies on a stove, ate raw sugar cane, and took a bath in a river, until the current stole the soap from Whitney.

We ventured off to Las Lajas the next day, where you'll all be proud (especially you, grandma) to know I learned how to play both "asshole" and Flip Cup, for the first time ever, college included. We drank this sickass drink, seco, which is derived from sugar cane and taste like rubbing alcohol, and I came back with bites up and down my legs from whatever insects live in the sand.

Not much else has been going on, especially in the training community. Next Wednesday we find out where in Panamá we're going, and I'm 99.9% sure I'm heading to the Darién, much to my mother's chagrin, but there's also a decent chance I will have either water or electricity, or both. It's nervewracking, but it will be nice to know whether or not I'm going to be dying of sweltering humidity over the next two and a half years.

This upcoming Sunday is Family Night. I doubt Í'll be doing more than meeting with the latrine committee, as my host mother has some crazy, swollen back foot with an enlarged toenail that is oozing something, and for some reason this prevents her from ever moving. Thus, Sunday will probably involve watching the Spanish dubbed version of My Boss's Daughter, starring cinematic masters Tara Reid and Ashton Kutcher.

If you're planning on sending me books, as previously requested, and I hope you are, you should know not to send me A Farewell to Arms (Hemingway) or Man Without a Country (Vonnegut), as I've finished them both. Also, you should all know that before I left, I saw the preview for the movie adaptation of Kite Runner and it made me kind of cry, so you should all see it and report back to me about whether or not it sucked.