Iguanas, Snakes, and Tarantulas: Oh my!

Three weeks down and one-hundred to go... 

I am sitting in a small internet cafe in David trying to come up with some way to explain what the first three weeks have been like.  We have just finished a wonderful all-volunteer Thanksgiving celebration weekend and all the volunteers are getting geared up to head back into their sites.  We wont all be together again until late March. 

Thanksgiving took place at a beautiful resort in the hills of Bocas del Toro, a Panamanian province.  And after being in site for three weeks I can honestly say that I have never been so excited about Turkey Day food.  When I arrived at the resort the day before T-day an older volunteer told me how delicious the food would be and that I could actually eat until I was full.  I was so excited I grabbed her shoulders and said "yes, yes, YES!"  I had to dab the druel from my chin.  Then I met beautiful Mr. Gobbles -the pet of another volunteer who was sacrificed for our feast and toasted-to just before eating.  We ate everything: turkey, mashed potatoes, pork, two different gravies, two different stuffings, fruit, homemade macaroni and cheese, sweet potato salad, four different types of pie, whipped cream...  It was incredible and I cannot imagine a larger contrast to the campo diet.

In site I am currently living with a host family and eat everything they eat, when they eat, as yet another very effective way to become acclimated to the culture.  This has been the most difficult part of being a PCV so far -not because of the taste but rather the regularity and the amount.  A typical day is this:  Around 7am I will get a bowl of plain white rice or some hearty ñame (a root vegetable similar to potato) with a cup of sugar-drowned coffee.  Later, around 3pm, I will get a bowl of plain white rice with either beans or, if I am lucky, chicken and another cup of diabetic coffee.  Ya.  That is it.  If I had not brought some extra food with me, I probably would have wasted away.  This probably clears up why I think about food ALL the time and why sinking my teeth into that pumpkin pie made me wonder if I was committing infidelity.

Other then the difficulty adapting to the local cuisine, everything has been wonderful.  The Ngabe people are very hospitable and hard-working.  If I hike up ten minutes I can see green rolling hills as far as the eyes can see.  Even coming from Alaska, the views are tremendous and I feel fortunate to be able to live in this beautiful area.  Scattered throughout the hills are small, subsistance-farming communities that live in thatch-roof huts with dirt floors.  They have huge families and everyone seems to be related.  My home.

I have spent much time hiking around getting to know neighboring communities, seeing schools, viewing aqueducts, etc.  One day I hiked all day, crossed seven streams, and slurped down six cups of coffee -it is considered rude to not offer your guest some coffee or food (and it is also considered rude to refuse).  That same day I embarrassed myself in front of a sixteen-year-old by yelping and jumping out of the way of a determined tarantula coming my way on the trail.  He stopped, grinned at me, then smashed it with his boot.  It was as big as my hand and I am going to yelp just as loud next time that happens.  As Panama is currently in the (very) wet season, I have also had the pleasure of reading in my hammock a lot.

Perhaps the most unique story thus far has to do with my first experience consuming iguana.  Upon seeing a large iguana (the size of an average housecat) in a palm tree, my host brother threw a stick at it.  It fell, then escaped into an underground hole just in time to escape the jaws of a eager dog.  That same dog, then, became deranged and began barking, yelping, digging, and chewing roots underground until finally, with over half its body underground, backed out of the hole, the iguana in its grasp. Upon seeing the lizard my host mom exclaimed "oh great, it is a big one!  But its dirty -go wash it off".  This is when I realized the lizard was going to be eaten by us and tried to explain that they are endangered and maybe it should be released.  The reply: "they are not endangered, and plus they are delicious!"  So I conceded and proceeded to help the boys wash off the lizard in the water.  Not a second after my hand was in the water my host brother yelled for me to get my hand out as he was doing the same.  I did just as I realized there was a fleur-de-lance snake swimming in the water right next to our lizard.  Then we yelled for my host dad who came running over with his machete and smashed the snake.  After I recovered fom a mild heart attack we hiked home and the next night a funny looking leg of meat appeared ontop a bowl of rice.  I ate it.  It was a weird experience and, despite the grossness of the idea, tasted a bit like pork. 

Thats my home for the next two years and I could not be more excited.  My bag is loaded with food and I need to get started on my five hour trip home to avoid arriving in the dark. 

"An object cannot compete with an experience"
-Hamish Fulton