With Halloween
gone and Thanksgiving around the corner, I have been feeling so homesick. I imagine cold autumn wind biting into my
nose, walking with a scarf tucked into my red plaid pea coat; the smell of
pumpkin spice, hot chocolate and baked goods in a warm café with soft jazz
playing; waking up in my parents’ house and padding downstairs in multiple
socks, flannel pants and a sweatshirt to eat a breakfast of frosted mini wheats
(or if I’m lucky, Dad’s pancakes!) in our yellow kitchen with Christmas music
in the background. I miss talking to my
parents over Scrabble after dinner, joking with my best friends at Kayak’s
Café, or taking walks in Forest Park, feeling winter settle in and hoping for
snow flakes to fall from the battleship sky.
Of course, I can
expect none of that here. Sometimes, if
I lay in my bed with earplugs in, I can imagine that there aren’t a dozen
chickens looking for breakfast outside my window and, if it’s chilly after a
night’s rain, I can pretend like I’m at home in the cold. But most of the time, it’s hard to picture
Christmas here, in the oppressive, humid heat, the steady 12-hour days (6am to
6pm), típico music with accordion and drums playing everywhere, and complete
lack of pumpkin lattés or need for a hot drink to warm me up.
I
have been doing what I can to spice things up.
I hung twinkle lights in the rancho
behind my house with my hammock, though that was mostly to replace the broken
light bulb as much to create a warm ambience.
A friend of mine gifted me an extra zapallo
he had – a squash resembling an overgrown acorn squash with the insides of a
butternut and the flavor of a pumpkin – which I have turned into quite a
successful pumpkin bread. Of course,
since I only have a range top and no chickens, I have had to use my neighbors’
ovens and eggs. Being generous
Panamanians, they are more than happy to help me out. With anything, for that matter – just today I
was given two lunches, a handful of tiny bananas, a large papaya, several green
plantains, and milk. I sometimes suspect
it’s because I live all alone and have no one else to help me take care of
things. The women frequently tell me
that they would hate to have to cook for just themselves, so much work for just
one person. The prospect of living
without one’s family is inconvenient, at best, and sleeping alone is
terrifying. The only people who live
alone are those that have no other place to stay. I was told, upon moving into my house, that I
should invite the neighbor’s daughter to come sleep in the extra room so that I
wouldn’t have to sleep alone. I
responded by saying that my neighbor’s two dogs and my cat are keeping me
company.
In
general, it’s hard to imagine autumn in this weather. Although this rainy season has been
inconsistent and unsatisfying, it lingers with sticky humidity clinging like
saran wrap without the relief of a cleansing downpour. When it does rain it’s a blessing – the
skies turn grey-white, blank with no depth, and the storm will bring in a wind
that can chill sweated skin to the bone in a matter of seconds. At times it will roll thunder in great grey
clouds above, trees half bent in the wind that sounds like the rain itself, and
then it will pour buckets. Other times
the breeze is softer, accompanied by a constant, soothing rain that lasts for
hours, but chills off the day leaving me with the urge to make tea. But a lot of the times, it will threaten like
all get-out, and then drop nothing. Or
worse, it will tease you, pretending it will rain cats and dogs, but then stop
after a minute or two, leaving the air thicker than ever.
Of
course, for Thanksgiving all the volunteers get together to celebrate in the
coldest area of the country – in Chiriquí in the mountains that surround the
dormant volcano, Volcán Baru. I have been
told to expect all the traditional food: turkey, sweet potatoes, gravy, and
(dare I hope?) cranberry sauce. This
week I taught my kids about Thanksgiving, using the Three Sisters planting
technique (pretty awesome, check it out!) for an environmental agriculture
aspect and having them draw hand turkeys.
It amazed me to see them choosing blue, black, yellow and green for
their turkeys, rather than my expected orange, yellow, brown and red. Some even chose red, white and blue as a nod
to el mes de la Patria. For Panamanians, the month of November is not
the waiting period to put up your Christmas decoration, but rather the month of
Flag Day, Independence Day, and Separation from Colombia Day. Starting on November 3 and lasting until
pretty much November 30, Panama celebrates one party after another. Trying to be efficient, I suppose, they have
three large national holidays on November 3 through 5, honoring their
separation from Colombia and the Panamanian flag. November 10 is the Cry of Independence, November
28 is Independence Day, and November 30 is Teacher’s Day (which the teachers,
naturally, take off). To top it all off,
November 27 is the day of my community’s patron saint, La Medalla Milagrosa,
which is considered a local holiday.
Suffice it to say that the school calendar is pretty much shot. Of course, school lets out for summer after
the second week of December, so no one’s heart is really in it from November
onward, including the teachers, who are more than happy to let their pretty
white Peace Corps Volunteer use up an hour of the 5-hour school day to teach
their kids how to draw hand turkeys.
Some
things haven’t changed for me this year despite the shift in climates. For one, I still got a pretty heavy head cold
this month. Having a cold in a hot
climate was a different experience however.
Instead of the urge to bundle up in sweatshirts and sweatpants, I lay on
my hammock sweating, not sure whether the heat was from the day or from an
oncoming fever. But, as soon as the
slightest breeze would blow through, I would get chilled. Luckily, citruses are in season, so I could
eat 4 to 5 oranges, mandarins and tangerines a day for some extra vitamin C.
Another
thing that hasn’t changed: like in
college, I find myself very busy with the end of the year arriving, but my
motivation slowly abating. I am so
tired, and so excited for my family to come visit, that I am having trouble
staying focused on the events going on in my community. Four weeks until I go pick up my family at
the airport! I am trying to be active –
I bake bread with my women’s group, for whom I am organizing a business seminar
to teach them some basic business practices; I go to school and teach
Environmental Education, English and Agriculture class; I am trying to start a
youth club; I turn compost with the men who make compost and are growing a
community garden; and I constantly attend social events. But I really just want to stay home in my
hammock, watch my cat play with her new avocado peel toy, read a good book,
work in my garden, experiment with recipes and make pumpkin baked goods.
