Monkeys

My day on Friday: On Friday the other students, Sasha, and I went to the nearby forest and spent the afternoon cleaning a trail.


Ernesto, the director the school showed us the tree that gum comes from.



At the end of our cleaning, we went serching for howler monkeys, we only found one :) I am glad we didn´t find any other monkeys, because the kind of monkeys we were looking for LOVE to throw poop and pee on gringos...

It was the best of days...

What are the significance of bad days, if not to improve on them.



Since Sunday felt like the worst day...ever, things could only get better. Monday I flew into Guatemala City and met up with Sasha. I was so happy to see her! Traveling alone had been so much fun, but I was excited to have a good friend with me. That night we took an 8 hour bus ride to Flores, Guatemala. We arrived at 5:30 in the morning. Dazed and exhausted from the night bus ride, we sat for breakfast and watched the sunrise. It was beautiful. Flores is on a lake, and at that hour the world felt still. At 6:30 we walked towards the dock, where we were suppose to meet ¨Cush,¨ who would take us to San Andres. As we approached the dock, a man in his mid-sixties walked towards us. He was wearing cut off jean shorts, that were too big for him, had on a dirty tshirt, and was not wearing shoes. He smiled a toothless grin and looked at Sasha and I expectantly. It took me a moment to realize, that this was Cush. The director of the school was with Cush but stood a little closer to the dock, and I didn¨t see him immediately. After we
introduced ourselves, we climbed onto a small boat and road across the glassy lake, while the sun rose behind us. During the trip I couldn¨t help but look back and Cush, and wonder a little about his life. I assumed that he was probably destitude and perhaps a little crazy. On the way, the director asked Sasha and I all sorts of questions, including if we were religous, to which Sasha and I responded yes, we were Mormon. The director informed us that Cush¨s wife was also Mormon, and then proceeded to ask Cush if Sasha and I could stay with him, because we had planned a home stay. He graciously said yes, and smiled at us. Needless to say, I was a little
nervous.

Once we arranged everything at the school, Cush, Sasha and I walked down towards Cush¨s house. Upon arriving we met his beautiful 14 year old daughter and we shown his home. He proudly showed Sasha and I photos of his family and then took us to our room. Both of us were anxious to sleep, because we slept so poorly on the bus. No sooner had we layed down, Dalia,
Cush¨s wife got home and was interested in talking to Sasha and me. We stumbled through introductions and questions in Spanish. I was surpirsed how much both of us could communicate. We sat and looked at photos, and listened to stories of other students that had stayed with Cush and Dalia. They have hosted students for the last 13 years. Dalia and Cush were excited to show us photos of all their children. Dalia and Cush are so wonderful and gracious. It is interesting to see how assumptions change.

With little energy left, Sasha and I went to our room to try to sleep. We were out in a matter of minutes. At 1 we awoke for the most fantastic lunch and headed to school for an evening of studying. Again, I was surprised at how much I could communicate with my teacher, Helga.

In the evening we walked to Cush and Dalia¨s casita, an outdoor kitchen right on the lake. The air was cooling off, and the night was absolutely beautiful. I am so glad to be here!

It was the worst of days

Leaving Panama was a bitter-sweet experience. In order to fully capture the feelings I had, I´ll review the day for you in full.

Today actually began...around one am. I was preparing myself to leave my new friends, life, and the routine that I had adopted in Panama. To the outsider, it may look similar to the summer vacation of a ten year old. But, I had serious questions to ask, and answer...all on my own (occasionally with the help of Jessica and Ian, my vacation family). I had questions plauging me daily like, ¨what should I do today¨ and ¨where is the meat-on-a-stick guy¨ (for the record, that question went unanswered).

Anyway...

1am: I began the packing process. I could have started earlier, but I really need to cut my fingernails and my toe nails, before anything else was done. The packing lasted an hour, as I enjoyed looking through my guidebook and contemplating why it is that I have so much stuff.

2am: Bed
6am: I woke up to my alarm clock. I loaned it to the girl staying in the next bedroom over, so she could get up for her flight in the am. It didn´t wake her up. Instead, I tip toed into her room, and woke her up.
8am: My neighbor returned my clock, and I fell back asleep dreaming of running untrained marathons and using an old printing press
9:30 am: Get up to go surfing
10:30 am: Actually leave to go surfing, and hustled by a bunch of boat drivers
11 am: Surf at high tide, with big swells (yes, I do know what all those words mean...check out the surfer girl)
11:48 am: Get pounded by a series of 6-8 waves, while praying for my life
12:30 pm: Had the most awesome warm shower ever.
1:30 pm: Visited the most beautiful farm and saw the most disguistingly huge banana spiders
2:30 pm: Ran from my hostel to the airport to catch a plan to Costa Rica. On the way to the airport I thought ¨wouldn´t it be great if I stayed.¨ Apparently, the woman who needed to stamp my passport to leave the country can read minds and thought that I REALLY, REALLY wanted to stay.
3:00 pm: Immigration woman wouldn´t stamp my passport to leave the country, because the immigration man forgot to stamp it when I came into Panama. The immigration woman felt like it would be most appropriate for me to go the border and get it stamped there...that is when the border bridge was no longer under a meter of water.
3:10 pm: Hop in a taxi to see where in the hell I put my tourist card, to prove I crossed the border. I could find my reciept for my luggage for the plane ride to Costa Rica in January, but I couldn´t find my tourist card. Had the taxi driver take me eveywhere I could possible think of.
3:15 pm: Cry
3:18 pm: The taxi man took me to the police to see if they would help me. It is weird, plus awesome that my tears although totally, totally genuine, actually helped me
3:25 pm: Beg the pilots to hold the plane, until I figured out if the immigration woman would stamp passport. It was suppose to leave at 3:30
3:28 pm: Watched as the pilots, the baggage handlers, and the police officer tried to negotiate my case with the immigration woman3:40 pm: The immigration woman calls her boss, to see what can be done
3:44 pm: Told the plane was leaving without me
3:47 pm: Told the plane would wait to see what the immigration boss would say
3:49 pm: Talked to the immigration boss, and informed that I was illegal and had to pay a fine
4:00 pm: Got on the plan to Costa Rica...what a relief
6pm: Arrive in Costa Rica
10pm: Fall asleep, at least the day was over!

Surfing...proof

Although my plan prior to arriving in Panama was to learn how to surf, I hadn´t tried surfing until this week. Too many other things to do. It is a busy life in Bocas.

This week, I went surfing twice. Both times with my new friends, Jessica and Ian. (I love them!) I have successfully learned how to paddle and sit up on the board. I am well on my way!
















These photos do not give these bruises justice

I do not even know how you get bruises there when surfing. Mad paddling I suppose.

Garden of Awesome

That is the title of my new blogger template. How great is that?

Panama is closed

For nearly the last week, Boca del Toro and northern Panama has experienced a constant torrential down pour. In this time, I have studied, surfed, played dominos with my new friends, and remained soaking wet. I thought it was all fun, until I realized that Panama is closed. According the locals the border is under a meter of water. I´m trapped in on an Island. I sort of feel like Kate on Lost, except I still have to shave my legs.

So being trapped, no big deal right? Right. Well, the crisis came yesterday when I realized that it the border will still be under water on Sunday...the day I need to head to Costa Rica to catch a flight to Guatemala. Lucky for me, there is a small airport on the island with 3 flights to Costa Rica a week.

Right outside my hostel...my shoes are never dry


Right outside my school, when it is pouring rain. The school has discovered it now has a new lake in the front of the property

I suppose I am not really ¨trapped.¨ But, it makes for a good story

Two nights ago, was a totally different story...I was trapped. I woke up in the middle of the night to the sheets of rain falling the metal roof next door. I decided to document the moment. I stepped outside my room, with my camera, into the open air hallway (it was covered fortunately). Just then, a gust of wind came and blew my door shut. Sure enough, I hadn´t unlocked it before I left my room. Locked out. I tried timidly, and then not so timidly to awaken the owner of the hostel.


It was hopeless. I thought I might go for a walk, before I remembered that the outside gate was locked at night and my key was in my room. I curled up on a wooden bench and tossed and turned for the rest of the night. What else could I do at 3 in the morning?


pretty funny!

¿What is wrong with my face?

For the last few days I have been having some funky face stuff. I noticed on Thursday that part of my tongue was numb. I attributed it to having licked some DEET mosquito spray off my lips. Yummy! Then, I noticed on Friday that my right lower lip looked swollen or something. I assumed it was because I had some reaction to a fruit I had eaten. Although my taste buds love all fruit, my lips are a bit more picky. On Sunday, I felt like my left eye wasn´t as open as my right eye. I again thought, it was nothing. Finally on Monday, I noticed that now my top upper lip was swollen as well. Near the end of my Spanish class, I took a bathroom break to check myself out in the mirror and realized, that I had a weakness on the right side of my face...referred to by medical professionals as a facial palsy. I refer to it as freakish looking. I left class early and went to call my brother, who is a neurologist. I kept thinking on the way, I hope this doesn´t get worse or last forever.

When I sat down, I finally started to cry. What was wrong with me?? Mik was just getting off work, and was great at helping me calm down. I described my symptoms, he consulted with some other neurologists and then recommended a treatment. Warning me that if I had any other symptoms, I should call him. I suppose meningitis worse than a asymetrical face (or an assymetrical face).

RIGHT SIDE

LEFT SIDE

CENTER

It is kind of hard to tell the difference between the sides of my face. But trust me, if stare at these photos long enough, and go a little cross eyed, you can see it.

Since everything is over the counter here, I got the medicines I needed and am on my way to recovery. As soon as I can, I´ll post some photos. The palsy isn´t super noticable, but pretty awesome nonetheless!

I am off to attempt surfing...