"In Your Country, You Play Football with a Coconut"

Santa Marta was our final extended jaunt in Panama, and it, much like every other trip, was awesome. We left El Cope and after climbing a few big hills (in a truck, thankfully), our group arrived in Santa Marta. We split up into couples and spent a few nights with our Panamanian families. My family was comprised of an extremely nice couple with three sons. We spent the first night kicking a soccer ball around and staying up late talking about Omar Torrijos, as the next day we were to go on a 4-hour hike to see where his plane crashed, near the cloudy top of a mountain. The view was stunning, as our walk took us from peaks of mountains into rolling valleys that housed ranches and community farms.

The next day we played soccer against a local team...of children ranging from 10-12. If we were their size, they would've totally whooped us. Even with our gargantuan size, they managed to stick it to us. We played a few more games, winning one. My Panamanian dad, Maximilo, said that the series ended with Panama on top 3-1. When we talked about other sports later that night, Maximilo noted that American football seems stupid because we throw around a coconut and don't really use our feet. Point taken.

The next day we went hiking (again) to these gorgeous waterfalls that poured out into pristine swimming holes. That night was a community dance; I danced with my Panamanian mother (twice), and with a heavy-set, light-footed primary school teacher (once). The last day was spent in the community; a small group of us went out to see where they get their fresh mountain water, and afterward we all helped to construct a wall of a mud and grass house. After washing up, we had lunch and hiked back to La MICA, our home base.

This was a great trip, and I still feel connected to the family that opened up their home to let Paul and I stay with them. I enjoyed the late night bingo, the talks about Panamanian politics, and the discussions about agriculture in the area. I came away from this trip with a greater appreciation for what we have in the States, but I also developed a deeper sense of what it takes for people to live out in the Panamanian countryside. Life there is not easy, but they enjoy it as much as anybody I've ever met. As Maximilo said to me as he let us into his house, "We're very poor, but we're very good people."

Mud on the Tires

I have decided that given the choice between a foot of snow or four inches of clay-like mud, I will choose snow. I have developed a new respect for Midwest US weather as the daily spat of rain has developed into a constant shower of moisture. In Bocas del Toro, people are still dying as a result of the heavy rains and flooding. Luckily, the Coclé province, while entirely soaked, is not nearly as affected.

As most people in the group were taking their free days atop volcanoes and in swank hotels (one friend´s trip was summed up in the phrase, "The octopus was a little overcooked"), five of us, along with our friends Pablo, Joel, and Julie, embarked on a mission to visit a shaman. While this trip had nothing to do with my project, I couldn´t pass up the opportunity to visit an actual medicine man. The car ride was six hours long, and after that we had to hike for four hours to get to his remote abode. The hike was intense, with the dramatic hills covered in a thick and saturated mud. Our guides were kind enough to promise that we were close to the shaman´s...that was a lie that quickly grew old.

After we finally managed to reach the shaman´s house, we were greeted by our extremely welcoming hosts. The shaman´s wives treated us to some delicious food and amazing tea. I became the group´s waste disposal when people had trouble finishing the large helpings of meat, yucca, and plantains. I worked as a quasi-translator as one of the wives described the medicinal uses of local plants to the group of Biology students. We stayed one night there, then we had lunch before one final hike.

This trip was easily one of the coolest, and most difficult, excursions of this program so far. Now that I have said that, allow me to describe our final jaunt. The thick mud was up to almost our knees, and losing my boots in the muck was not uncommon. Pablo and I shared our extreme distaste for the mud as we dreamt of being on a nice dry plane, en route to the States. After about an hour of mind-numbing frustration, we waded across waist-deep water before we were faced with our final obstacle: a near vertical climb up a path of the nastiest mud I´ve ever seen. Ever. A couple of us decided that instead of sacrificing our boots to the Panamanian mud gods, we´d go barefoot and climb/crawl/swim through the mud on all fours. Another six hours later, we arrived back in town. We walked through the cutting, chilly wind through a less disgusting and more familiar trail until we reached La Mica. As I told Pablo, "Your father´s family is very nice and generous, but I never want to return to that place."

Next time I may have to call in the Rescue Squad.

"The gringo with the berries on his face..."

When you last left Team Stein, we were about to go to Kuna Yala, a mostly-autonomous province along the Caribbean coast. It was by far the most interesting part of the trip so far.

The road to Kuna Yala was windy, wet, and extremely bumpy. We were up in the mountains, crossed a river (in a van) and then came to the coast. We then took what was essentially a canoe into the Caribbean to reach the island that we were staying on. Needle Island is surrounded by a white sand beach and is home to all of the gringos staying in Kuna Yala. While the resort feel was nice, the real fun didn´t happen until we reached Garti Sugdub, where the Kuna were celebrating their independence. They revolted against Panamanian forces in 1925, and celebrate the "Revolucion Tule" by re-enacting it for two days. I ended up playing the role of the gringo, Richard Marsh, who helped bring Kuna Yala into the American spotlight. I had my face painted red with berries, and was given a ¨wife¨at the end of the festival.

After the dramatization, we were invited to join in drinking the local brew, chicha, with the entire community. Everybody was really fun and enjoyed talking to us. After a while, they all started calling me "Richard Marsh" or "Mr. Marsh" and then started inquiring into what we were all doing in Kuna Yala. Before we left, a few of my new friends said that I was a Kuna and that they hoped I, and the rest of the group, would be back. Chad, the Bio professor that iniciated this trip said that I am now the group´s biggest minority: a male, a History major, and a Kuna.

A shout-out to the awesome people there: Keungler (who put the trip together), Manuel (the owner of the boat we used), and Alberto (a friend I met at the chicha party).

Be Like Che!

When I last left you all, I was in freakout mode. This week has alleviated much of the stress that I was feeling. La Mica´s ecological station is beautiful, the whole ¨no internet¨thing is okay for now, and it´s not more than a vertical 5-minute hike to the town that I´m doing my research in.

The first day in Panama City was very interesting. The night that the six of us (that flew out of MCI in KC) got into town was one of the final nights for Carnaval. We stood in line for about an hour before the police searched us and let us in. It was pretty awesome: there were people dancing on the street (many of them drunk), kids running around and a lot of loud, loud music. The next day was fairly uneventful; we met Julie, our main contact with La Mica, and after breakfast we hung out and waited to see our St. Louis friends at the airport. While hangin out, I decided to take a walk and was accosted by a prostitute named Ebony, who was upset that a) I didn´t have a lighter and b) that I didn´t have any money. No gracias, Ebony.

Right now my feelings for the trip are very much biased. I´m having a great time and I´m enjoying just about everything we´re doing, so it´s hard for me to really analyze what´s happening. There´s a pact for either controlled shaving or absolutely no shaving among some of the guys, and there´s an ongoing rumor of a "no bathing" contest as well. Half'jokingly, I´ve said that I´m going to have somebody put my hair into dreadlocks if my mop gets gross and long enough...so far, so good.

Anyway, thanks for reading and next week I´ll probably end up talking about our next destination: Kuna Yala.

Trimester 1: Report Cards

It's time to get to Panama, and I've never felt more unprepared in my life. It's mutually frightening and masochistically fun. The "well, we'll see" side of me harasses the part of me that needs to be prepared. I've come to the conclusions that I'll be coming up with questions on the plane (here's hoping somebody has a Spanish dictionary for me to reference), and that my frustrating uncertainty is something I have to live with, at this point.

Aside from the slight paranoia that (hopefully) we're all going through together, I'm looking forward to get out of snowy Missouri. I've graduated from the "prepare for the tropics in the tundra" trimester of the Panama program, and here's how I think my grade card should look:

History: Good. Talks a lot, and often comes off as pretentious...but cute.

Biology: Satisfactory. Answers in a "spray and pray" method, and breaks pestels, or mortars. Not sure which.

Advanced Preparation: Needs improvement. Habitually procrastinates before realizing something's due the next day. "When's the plane leaving? Oh, Monday. Oh, wait...tomorrow Monday? [Expletive deleted.]"

Team Sports: Good. Looking forward to being with the Panama group, happy at the lack of douchebaggery...and the excess of coolbaggery.

Sleep Management: Poor. Needs to improve, before waking up tomorrow for the plane. [Either brilliant segue or very cliche] Safe travels everybody, see you in Panama (unless you're Marc, in which case I really hope you're in Kansas City). Salame, US!

"Eyesight, Insight and Foresight"

Sundays, I've noticed, are the only days that the bitter grip of the Kirksville winter relaxes. Today's no different. Sure, there's some snow (with plenty to come) but other than that it's absolutely wonderful. My final week here is going to be filled with reading and biology write-ups, but doesn't have much in the way of stress...until I get home. Still plenty of things to buy and I'll need to wrap up some stuff with my independent study, and THEN I'll be ready for Panama.

My last week in the US...that's weird to think about, but it's a good weird.

Short-Form, Goats, and Vampires

I joined Tag Improv, the TSU comedy troupe, last semester and it is literally my favorite thing at Truman. As far as things at school go, it's gonna be the thing that I'll miss the most while I'm away in Panama. The last show that I got to take part in was for Alpha Phi Alpha's "Gold and Black Week." It was a really fun show, and was the first show for our two newest members. We stuck to short-form games ("Whose Line is it Anyway?" style), which was fun and wasn't something I'd done since high school. I pretended to be a guy in Cameroon with a goat fetish and the host of a party with Twilight's Edward, a rotting (talking) apple, and a midget. It was fun, but you probably had to be there to get the full awkard and humorous effect.