It doesn't seem like that long since I last wrote, but I feel like I've accumulated a lot of things to say. In no particular order, here goes:
I apparently walk like a German. According to my host family, when Americans walk, they look at the ground 3 meters ahead, but Germans look up and around. This came about while the family was here for Semana Santa- Holy Week. I live here with Señora Ana, Marjori, Darió, and Ana's father- over Tuesday and Wednesday, 3 or 4 of Ana's siblings came out from the City, along with a niece, various spouses of relatives, and, well, generally a full house. More on that later. I was telling one of my “uncles” and Ana about how we eat a lot of Mexican food at home, and so they asked if my parents are Mexican, so I was explaining that my family was largely German (and other European), and they said that I seemed German- not because of my hair (which is still reddish, for the record), my skin tone, which my host family says will look Panamanian by the time I go back to the States, but rather because when we're walking around, I don't look at the ground. Funny thing, no?
Secondly we have “ahora.” In Spanish class in the States we learned that “ahora” means “now.” And when asked, a Panamanian may well say that “ahora” means “now.” However, here's an example of “ahora”: the other night, we were going to participate in a procession on Good Friday- the Most Holy Day of the Best Week of the year. I asked when we were leaving, and Ana's mom said “ahora.” An hour later, we're still sitting on the porch...and nobody was making leaving-type motions. Eventually we left, taking our sweet time. So, if you come to Panama, and who knows which other Spanish-speaking places, know that “ahora” means who knows when, and you actually want to hear “ahorita” or “ahora mismo”...assuming you actually want to know if something is actually happening now.
Thirdly, we have parts 2 and 3 of the bat saga- I thought that after my first adventure, that that was all. I was apparently wrong. A few days later, the bat came back. This time, Ana saw, and came in with a broom, and chased it out of my room. The next day, I actually saw it crawl in though the little gap between the corrugated roof and my wall. I went to get the broom to chase it out again, but Ana came again, and this time Darió and Marjori came too. In my room- which is about 10 ft by 15 ft, with 15 ft ceiling, we have a frantic little bat, frantic Ana with the broom, and frantic kids screaming and it was a little room full of noise and confusion. Oh, and my room is almost entirely occupied by my bed, my desk-table, and the two bunk beds that serve as my dresser, so in terms of floorspace, there's a scant 2 feet lengthwise in between my bed and the bunkbeds, and then about 6' square by the desk and entry. (illustration at bottom of post for illumination- proportions no more than loosely accurate)
Anyway, we have 3 frantic people, one wildly swinging broom, and a panicked bat in a fairly small space. After a lot of chaos, eventually the bat made it out the door, and Darió climbed up onto the shelf in the closet space to stuff more newspaper in the spaces between my wall and the ceiling. I think it will be very weird to go back to a place where inside air and outside air aren't the same thing. Anyway, I used to think that bats were really cool and nifty, and it was exciting to see them...now I hear them squeaking outside of my room, on the other side of the newspaper, and it's just rather stressful, thinking that they're going to squeeze in again...and it would be less so, but I'm very much not convinced about their ability to crawl back up the wall. But, other than being kept awake at night by the little scurrying and squeakings (plus the whatever-it-is/they-are that like to wander the roof and may be iguanas), all's good!
Perhaps I should save some of this for another day, when I haven't had anything to say for a while. Or not; I'll stay optimistic that life will continue to be interesting, which it does promise to be for the next while.
And so, onward!
A bit about Semana Santa. Panama is a very Catholic country, with the Evangelicals running a close second, but only in certain areas. Actually, there also are Jehovah's Witnesses (one of the teachers at the Primeria is a Jehovah's Witness, and he and his wife were actually going door to door, including where I live...some things are the same everywhere...), the occasional Mormon, and a couple others, I think one is “El Poder de Deos” or “The Power of God.” But, the vast majority are Catholic, and Santa Rita is no exception. So, Semana Santa is the biggest thing since November (my impression is that every other day is an independence day or somesuch in November- school's pretty much a joke). There were masses every other day, though we didn't attend, and Via Cruces processions Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday nights. Via Cruces, and I'm not sure what exactly it translates to, something like “Road Crosses” symbolizes Jesus' walk carrying the cross, with stops signifying places where Jesus fell each time, and some other things that happened on the walk that I wasn't quite able to hear. In these processions were half the town and 3 floats- the first was a figure of Jesus carrying the cross with a sign calling the neighbors to help bear it, the second of post-crucifixion Jesus in a 'sepulchre' which looked more like Snow White's casket with a little girl dressed as an angel who got to ride the whole way with her finger up her nose to her lips (it may have wandered up her nose a couple times, but it was a 2 hour procession, so these things happen), and the third was, I think, Virgin Mary, and by far the prettiest- she had sparkles and glitters! The people in the procession started out in silence, but then they would sing/chant things, and occasionally a guy with a megaphone would join lead a call-and-response thing for a bit before going to the front to talk about the next symbolic stop. All in all, very interesting. At the end of the previous week, there'd been a smaller, less formal Via Cruces by some of the Santa Ritans, at which they had me hold their cross when they came by the house, when they sang/chanted things.
And finally, well, penultimately, brief musings on language learning. Part 1: Learning a language is like learning to drive a car. At first, everything is a conscious decision and action. You're continuously trying to keep your foot with the right pressure on the gas pedal, doing everything you can to keep the steering wheel where you want it, while actively endeavoring to focus your attention on the road ahead while monitoring the rest of the surrounding area...not to mention trying not to stress out in response to the increasingly white-knuckled grip the poor individual in the passenger seat has on the door handle. In time, though more and more of those actions become automatic, and while you still have to be aware and vigilant, muscles and reflexes are trained to do at least some of the work.
Similarly with language, at first every word takes effort. You have to figure out what to say, what words to use, what forms those words need to have, and then to determine if it's even a logical concept when you've frankenstein-ed your thought together...and then there's getting it off of your tongue after all of that. Every step takes so much effort that by the time you have something put together, you've nearly forgotten what you were trying to say in the first place. But again in time, the words come more easily, the forms more naturally, the pronunciation more smoothly as the mind, the ear, and the tongue become increasingly accustomed to the new normal. Más fluidéz, as the language instructors say (more fluidity/fluency...not actually sure which).
I'm still very much in translation mode, but am getting much better, though my vocabulary is still minute. I still spend a lot of time in conversations with a blank look on my face as the sounds that were just spoken to me gradually sink into meanings, and sometimes whomever I'm speaking with has to repeat themself more than once, but progress is progress! Sometimes I can even catch side-comments now!
Now, on to part 2 of the actually not-so-brief musings, which is related to the transition away from translation, which is of course, still very theoretical to me. Now, perhaps I understood this back in high school and college (oh so long ago) when I was actually studying mathiness, but there's a kind of magic in how the height and length of a right triangle somehow shrink to become the hypotenuse. (There's a picture at the bottom of the page which may now be helpful in understanding this.)
If A is the initial idea in your head, and B is the verbalized idea, to translate initially is to take the long road, by the legs; perhaps the vertical is forming the idea in English, and the horizontal is Spanish. As more words come and are more familiar, the gap-effort-something between the work and the product become less and less, but it's still translation, until eventually, like magic (this is the part that I may have understood before), the distance from A to B ceases to be the sum of the legs, and becomes the hypotenuse, which is shorter- and that convergence of the work and the short path is the hypothetical fluency. So, as translation becomes less labored and smoother, more words transition from meaning the English word to actually having meaning in their own right, the closer to fluency. I'm still working on the mechanics, and what parts actually signify what, but hopefully there's some sense to be had there. Thoughts, particularly other language and/or math people?
What was my last thought...ah yes. One other thing about Semana Santa- it was also a teaser for “Winter” aka, the Rainy Season. It rained every day for that week (starting that day last week when I said that there was thunder), usually starting around 11ish, and going off and on until 5 ish, though sometimes started earlier and continued later, sometimes pouring (really loud on the metal roof). We heard thunder more often than it rained, and once or twice it stormed late enough that we could see lightning! We lost electricity for the first couple of days, apparently it was out even in Antón, but had candles and the gas stove, so no hay problemas. And it's been back ever since.
And one more thing, since this thing is already a bit of an essay- Ana has continued to show me the area of the Corregimiento de Santa Rita, which is composed of 14 ramales, (yet smaller towns, so we have Panamá > Coclé > Antón > Santa Rita > Santa Rita Centro (where I live), Santa Ritas Arriba and Abajo, Las Peñitas, Los Aguilares, Los Peres...and the other 8. We still lack 3 or 4 of them; Ana decided, and I agree, that even though “Santa Rita” is my community, it wasn't really specified what Santa Rita they meant exactly, and students at my schools live in all of these areas, so I should know them (and they me). Anyway, on Sunday Ana, her sister, Marjori, Darió, and I went to Bella Florida, and over the course of visiting a few of the houses up there, accumulated a lot of guava, marañon curasao (kind of like a cross between a marañon and a pear), and a 6' piece of caña negro- a variety of sugar cane :-). While there, I also had a fantastic coconut, but we didn't bring any of those back down with us.
And now, I have spend my afternoon writing this, I am going to to chat with Ana and the Señor for a while before dinner. Oh, one more by-the-way- we had liver and onions for lunch today, and it tasted just like liver and onions (and peppers) anywhere- with the ubiquitous rice, of course.
Ok, Hasta Luego!
Pictures! Sorry they're small, but I'm out of time here!
