A while ago, I promised the Story of the Puppy, so here it goes.
One rainy day in November, which was pretty much all of them actually, I was taking some scraps to my compost pile in my backyard, when I see a little black lump by my wall.
Spot the puppybutt! |
It’s about the size of my 2 fists together, and fuzzy, but with some matted/wet spots- but definitely looks too young to be by itself. Some weeks previously, the neighbors had warned me that Mamadog was pregnant and had taken up residence in my backyard, and that she tended to be particularly temperamental, but this was the first clue that I’d had that she’d had a pup. I figured that perhaps her backyard den, under a cement block thing, had been flooded, hence the appearance by my wall, but Mamadog was nowhere to be seen. After a bit, Mamadog came back, and sniffed around at the Fuzzball, and soon laid down by it, and it got to eat- a relief that she wasn’t abandoning it to my care, adorable as it is! Because everything was sodden, and because projects are fun, I cut up a couple boxes from care packages- you see, they are appreciated ;-)!, and cut up some grocery bags to waterproof the boxes, and made a bedbox for them.
And it was very cute.
And Thanksgiving Dinner. There were teams of volunteers working through Wednesday and Thursday morning to cook a giant traditional Thanksgiving meal, with turkey, ham, stuffing, biscuits, green bean casserole, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, and more. And it was delicious (and I got to take a pack of leftovers with me for lunch on the return trip, and Thanksgiving leftovers are delicious!). We had dance parties and there were foosball tables, and pingpong tables, and good times were had by all. And I got to have a brief ballroom dance sampler with the brother of one of the other volunteers, who happened to be visiting her over Thanksgiving, which was positively delightful!
If you’re thinking of coming to visit me, it’s far away, but northern Chiriqui (Cerro Punta, Boquete, Vulcan) are by hearsay and this experience, well worth consideration.
While I’m catching up, I’ll mention the Special Olympics. Peace Corps works with the Special Olympics people here in Panama, and provides volunteers to help facilitate the Events as necessary. There were big ones in Panama City with lots of different events and stuff months ago, but I worked at the Cocle and Veraguas games, and had a lot of fun. Most of our participation was escorting the competitors to and from their events, making sure that they never wandered off by themselves. Most of the competitors were middle school age, with outliers on either side. (In case you aren’t familiar, Special Olympics are for those individuals who are diagnosed with mental challenges, while Paralympics are for those with physical impediments.) We also set up chairs and tents, assisted in giving prizes, and generally did whatever the people in charge asked of us. Because I worked at the Cocle Games on the previous weekend, when I went to the Veraguas games on the way home from Thanksgiving, the Volunteer Coordinator asked me to explain to the PCVs who hadn’t volunteered before, what exactly we were supposed to be doing. At both sets of Games the working volunteers were a combination of PCVs and Panamanians, with a few other foreigners who were in Panama on different programs, namely Fulbright people and a group of Germans who live and work in the same community as one of my groupmates. Both games had wonderful atmospheres of love and support from all sides!
Athletes in grey shirts and volunteers in yellow bringing the Torch around the track in the Opening Ceremony. |
And to wrap up, Acting My Age.
Since coming to Panama, my role as been Peace Corps Volunteer with other Volunteers, Peace Corps Volunteer in my community, Teacher in the classrooms...and what non-PCV social experiences I’ve had have been with people, well, not twice my age anymore, but significantly older. Actually, a lot of them probably are more than twice my age...anyway. Most people between 17 and 40 or so seem spend at least half of their lives working in the City, or in the case of the 17-24ish’s, in school, since we don’t have a high school, let alone a university, in my town. Not that I’m complaining about my company, mind you- a good proportion of my social acquaintance throughout my life has been significantly older than I am. But sometimes it is nice to get let go of the responsible, Representative of the United States thing, the Peace Corps Volunteer thing, the University Graduate thing, and just be a person. And frankly, most Peace Corps social events aren’t my cup of tea either, for a few reasons. HOWEVER, this past weekend was the 6th Agricultural Fair in my town, with dances on the 3 weekend nights- discoteca style on Friday and Sunday, tipica on Saturday. I didn’t attend on Friday night, not having quite the nerve to go unaccompanied to the drunkfest that I thought it was likely to be, but I could hear the music until past midnight; according to my host family, it went on til 6 AM. I went to the Fair itself on Saturday, bought a pair of cute sandals that I hope last, and watched the Great Mother’s Day Giveaway. December 8th is Mother’s Day here, by the way, and was celebrated in both of my schools, as well as at this Feria, mostly by every mother in attendance getting a number, and then getting the present associated with that number. (Side note, I happened upon the Mother’s Day celebration at my main Primary School, and got roped into singing for the 50-odd mothers- I did Amazing Grace, since it was the only vaguely appropriate song I could think of at the spur of the moment, and that I could remember most of the lyrics to...not my best performance, but it was kinda fun). Julie, my PCV friend who lives relatively close to me, came by to the Feria also, and we went to the Baile (dance) that night. The featured performer was an accordionist, and I was enjoying the music, but there were unsurprisingly, a lot of drunks thinking that they could dance. I did dance one number with Some Random Guy, who actually did stay on rhythm, and danced well, considering that tipica dancing is basically a two-step, and they don’t do turns or anything to break the monotony...well and good if you’re drunk and/or really into your partner, but as a social dancer, it isn’t my favorite style. I’m getting to the point, I promise!
Sunday, Julie and I had scrambled eggs with salsa, homemade rosemary bread with cream cheese and jelly and banana-orange-pineapple fruit salad, because Peace Corps life is rough, for breakfast.
Later that afternoon, after Julie’d gone back to her town, I went back to see how the Feria was winding up, and got there just in time to see the end of the Electric Slide, with a good number of people actually doing the dance!!! That pretty much made my day, but when watching the forthcoming dances, the girl sitting next to me and I started exchanging random comments (breezy, mosquitoes, music, etc), which turned into something of a conversation- and she’s a 24 year old who works in tourism in the City 3 or 4 days/week, but spends time in town too, and has a fair number of friends who were also at the ‘discoteca’ dance on this Sunday night. She arranged for me to dance with a friend of hers while she danced with her brother, and introduced me to others of her friends (none of whose names I remember, and barely the faces, but I blame loud music and scarcely existent lighting), and so I got a couple dances in with their group, including a bachata, in which I kept messing up the timing on the turns, but was dancing with a guy who could actually lead!!, both in changing the frame shape, and moving around the floor. Al final, I walked back to my house with this group, and my new friend said she’d take me around the city some free weekend. So, I got to hang out with people who were roughly my age, not drunk, friendly, and who could dance. What more can a girl ask for?