Roots

We left Panama early. I have decided to temporarily retire from traveling. The lessons I learned while abroad are irreplaceable. I would never take back the experience as it was beautiful and raw. It forced me to see from an entirely new perspective and guided me to my right path. I have a young son. We both have our health and finances to take care of our needs. For this, I am eternally grateful. Now I know what we truly need: people we love and stability. Home. Routine. Consistency. It is time. To the more romantic among you I understand your perspective completely and I have been with you my entire life. Travel! Live! Be free! I know this is entirely possible with a child too, but it is not our path. I choose to raise my child in one neighborhood, with a group of friends surrounding him. Finding a great school where he can thrive and sticking with it. I choose roots for us. I feel I have been running for far too long. Running from my emotions, my responsibilities, intimacy, life. I feared standing still because I might actually feel deeply again. I might actually become close with people. And then, ultimately, I might lose them. Of course this was not entirely conscious. I just kept moving. Benny has had so many different bedrooms over the course of his 4 years it is embarrassing. He has lived in 4 states and 2 countries. He has celebrated 4 birthdays in 4 different locations. I know this has made him resilient and he is a born adventurer, but I also know he needs more. From now on we will take mini adventures and shorter trips...all while having a place to call home. Thank you all for sticking by me and not telling me I'm a nutcase. Thank you for following our adventures and allowing us space on your couches and guest beds along the way. I love you all and am very afraid to lose you. It is time to face those fears and get ever closer. I do believe some long hugs are in order :) It is time to grow roots.

Pride

I am just going to come out and say it: I am proud of myself. Pride is not a word I often use. Disappointment, shame, regret…these words I have become all too familiar with. But, after thinking long and hard about the last 4 years of my life I finally realize that I have done a good job. The best job? No. The best job I could do plus some under the given circumstances? I can confidently say yes. I am also going to come out and say this: I am a good mother. Have I laid awake at night questioning this over and over? Yes. Have I had really bad moments and days where I lost my cool and just utterly gave up? Absolutely. But what constitutes a good parent? Is it utter perfection every day with a smile on your face? Is it knowing exactly how to appropriately discipline your child the first try? Is it baking cookies and loving every moment of your spawn’s existence? Or is it making mistake after mistake, learning from each one, and growing as a person and as a parent every day? I believe the latter is true. This is a difficult life. And being a parent is the most intense, confusing, and downright maddening job you can undertake. But…and not to be too cliche here…it is the most rewarding and magical and meaningful as well. So parents out there: take pride. Look over your parenting career and take it all in; the good and the bad. Look at the joys and the many mistakes. Look at the late nights, the lack of sleep, the first amazing and tiring moments, the holidays, the laughter, the puke, the shit, and everything in between. Give yourselves a hug, get up tomorrow, and do the best job you can. You are amazing. *disclaimer: if you beat or degrade your kids this does not apply to you.

Blame It On the Rain

It is raining here in Panama. This comes as no surprise because it is, in fact, rainy season. From about mid April to mid December is considered "winter" here which does not equate with a change in temperature but a change in precipitation. I was warned. I knew this. Since we arrived in October, however, the rain has consisted of just a couple of hours per day of heavy downpours. Most mornings were gloriously sunny and we would venture out on walks, run errands, enjoy the birds and butterflies, or go to the beach. Wonderful. This I could definitely handle. Now it is late November. The rain is, shall we say, all-encompassing. For the last few days we have woken up to rain, spent all hours of the day in rain, and fallen asleep to the sound of rain (which I have to admit I love). At times the rain is slow and peaceful. At times it is violent and torrential. At times it stops altogether and the sun sheepishly attempts to peak through a cloud. This is a great parallel to my ever-shifting moods while living here (and lets be real: ever since I hit puberty). Living abroad is certainly an adventure. It has its ups (read previous posts please) and it absolutely has its downs. I have one friend here with me which has been tremendously helpful in making this transition. She will be leaving soon and it will be just my son and I. Again, I knew this was a possibility. What I did not know was the inconsistency of things here. Vitally important things such as water, internet, and the town bus which is our only means of transportation. We are only about 2 miles from the center of town. Easy enough of a walk one might say. One would be right if one did not know I have a four year old walking by my side. A four year old who walks about as fast as a disabled sloth on a good day. It is not his fault, he is much shorter than myself and has less muscle mass (I am built like a waif but I'm still a powerhouse compared to my skinny white spawn). So, things can get a bit difficult. Especially when its raining. I have never minded a stroll in the rain under a large umbrella hand in hand with my love or solo, deep in thought. I quite enjoy this actually. What I do not enjoy is a walk through heavy rains, while holding my umbrella with one hand, a dragging pulling toddler's hand with the other, and carrying heavy groceries on my back and shoulder (cue tiny violins...Now!). This is my equivalent of being in the middle of a shopping mall surrounded by frat guys whilst vomiting. Ok, this may be a slight exaggeration but still, it is an unpleasant experience. Not to mention trying to navigate the grocery store and check out in a language that I barely understand and definitely do not speak as well as I had imagined in my pre-expat daydreams. Phew! Rant over. All that being said I am looking forward to the dry season here. To endless days of sunshine and heat. To adventures to the beach and through the forest. To bird and sloth watching. To bonding with my son more every day. Will it be easy? No. Will I get painfully lonely and bored and homesick? Yes. Will I wish for certain torturous death rather than wake another day in a foreign land? Uh...hopefully it won't get that bad. Anyway, for now, I will do as the great rock legends once plagiarized and "blame it on the rain".

Sink or Swim

We have been here exactly 3 weeks and 4 days. It honestly feels more like 3 months! We have experienced so much newness, so much travel, and so many adventures already. There have been ups and downs (to say the least). I have thrown a few culture shock temper tantrums, but have made it through to the other side ever more excited and grateful for this experience. I am not saying it is easy. It isn’t. By far. I am very much used to my conveniences back home: limitless internet, water that never runs out, a myriad of grocery stores loaded with infinite options (including hundreds of ice cream flavors alone), a car of my own, and people all around speaking in my native tongue. Yes, I am a spoiled lady in my own country. Here…not so much. I wait for the bus for long periods of time and (if it is running that day), take the bumpy and noisy ride into town. I decide what is most important to get for food that day taking into account how much I and my 3 year old son can carry combined. At home sometimes we wake up without water which means either waiting for our gardener to arrive or attempting to call him and hope he understands my broken Spanish (No mas agua!). The wifi (ok I’m really spoiled) is very, very limited which means no streaming, no FaceTime, no youtube, and nothing happening quickly. This would not be such a big deal if I didn't have a 3 year old to entertain 14 hours per day. It’s not that I want to stick my kid in front of the tv all day but (back me up parents) it is so hard to get anything done or have any space when he has no other entertainment besides dear old mommy! Not having any community here makes it extra difficult being a single mom. All First World problems aside…this place is incredible. It is unbelievably beautiful. That is an understatement of epic proportions. The air is so fresh and crisp here that I want to bottle it up and drink it for breakfast. Every few steps is another visual masterpiece that could rival any art gallery. There are mountains, hundreds of varieties of flowers, giant tropical trees sprouting other spectacular plants, butterflies fluttering over every inch of air space, and ever-changing skies. Our yard here is a paradise of its own with more than a dozen fruit trees and different species of birds visiting daily. We have definitely learned to become more creative in our down time. Each day consists of a number of playful endeavors: drawing, molding with colorful clay, Bocce using oranges from the yard, hide-and-seek, photo hunts, tickle monster (a standard), making boats out of banana leaves. And we are living many adventures: hiking to waterfalls in an actual rainforest, swimming in the Pacific, following howler monkeys through the canopy, chasing roosters, experiencing a vastly different culture. Hell…its an adventure just leaving the house here! This experience will change us both forever. It already has. I know there will be hard days, but I will have that wherever I am. For now I am humbled, grateful, and ready for more adventures. (Indiana Jones style) Viva La Panama!!!

A Day Like No Other

The suddenly familiar sound of hundreds of roosters calling from the valley (El Valle) below wakes me at 6am. For those of you who know me, you also know that I am not a morning person. Nay, I am about as far from a morning person as one can be. I actually brought my jammies with me that read “My Day Starts at 12:00”…and I am wearing them this morning. However, through all my grumpy glory, I catch a glimpse of what is happening out my bedroom window. A sunrise. Not just any sunrise; a sunrise so glorious over the distant mountains of El Valle that I cannot help but rise to my feet and open the door to get a closer peek. It draws me in and I am lured. I am hooked. I meander up the steps to the “living room” above, which is actually a large covered porch with open windows and views that seem a mirage. My roomie and friend of 21 years is sprawled on the “couch” aka one of our three hammocks. I decide to take this opportunity, while Benny is still asleep (somehow), to meditate. It has been months since I have practiced and I am a bit shaky at best but what better time and place? I well up with tears in sheer gratitude for being here in this moment. Again, for those of you who know me, this is a rare occurrence. I could bottle my few and far between tears and sell them on the black market. This place is already changing me. I stroll to the kitchen to get my one cup of Panamanian coffee that Melissa has kindly and meticulously brewed. It is damn good. We lay on our respective “couches” and get into a deep discussion…which we have done continuously since we were 13 years old. We speak of love, loss, being present, getting older, dreams, hopes, and hopelessness. All the while the breeze blows, roosters call, and butterflies float past. Melissa points to the stairs and up walks Benny, in his morning daze. He smiles as I notice him and runs towards me. He climbs up on my hammock and we snuggle hug. The best kind of hug that exists. Its time to get the bambino some breakfast. I let him have one of our homemade popsicles because…why not? It’s that kind of morning. We hang out for a while longer and then I take a short, refreshing (no hot water) shower and wipe the stress of travel off of me. Once we are dressed and Benny is fed again, he begins to get restless as all toddlers do. I realize I cannot stay at La Casa Amarillo all day and we must venture out. Suddenly panic takes hold of me. I am terrified. I have noticed over the last couple of days that English is not widely spoken here. In fact it is rarely spoken or understood. Now I am not saying it should be. It shouldn’t. I am the one entering a foreign country. I am the one who needs to learn and adapt to the culture. Unfortunately my Spanish is very rudimentary and studying is infinitely harder with a child up my rear. So I hesitate, stall, cower in the corner and shake. Then I tell myself (and Melissa basically tells me) “buck up princess” and I put on my big girl panties. I pack up, apply sunscreen, and head out. We walk slowly, at a toddler’s pace (or the pace of a tortoise-meets-sloth) down the beautiful dirt road. Everyone who passes says “Buenas” or “buena dia”, but there is no fake American-esque smiling happening…which I love. Lots of kids walk by in groups, and they ride by in the backs of trucks. One group of kids whistle towards Benny and shout “amigo” at him. He looks confused so I try to explain. I know exactly how he feels. We pass hummingbirds, vibrant flowers, trees I have never even imagined, a lot of stray dogs, and wandering chickens. The sun shines brightly and it is hot. Like sweaty in every nook and cranny hot. As we get closer to town we see more and more people walking and biking by. All ages. Moms biking with kids riding on the front bar, steering with one hand and holding an umbrella with the other (these moms are obviously super heroes in disguise). No helmets here. No car seats either. Just faith and love I imagine. I also quite like this. As we round the corner I hear music, which is not a rare occurrence here at all. Music seems to be the common thread of daily life for Panamanians. Horns and drums are as common to hear floating on the breeze as birdsong and thunder. I also love this. The people here are: colorful, alive, vibrant, gorgeous. They dress well and the women wear their hair long and in beautiful braids. I walk behind them and feel a bit inadequate in my slovenly American style and rats nest hair (humidity is a bitch for my fro), but my inner smile still widens. We walk on and round the corner to the church in the center of town. There is something happening: a fiesta. Bunches of people gather. Couples sell toys on the sidewalk. I hear drums and horns up ahead. We walk through the crowd of well-dressed shiny-haired Panamanians and see a parade on the main street. There are colorful dresses, large bulls (toros), horns and trumpets being played joyfully, and dancing. Children comprise most of the festivities. They are riding on floats covered in various fruits and banana leaves. They are wearing traditional clothing and sombreros. Women are carrying umbrellas and holding babies dressed beautifully. I am awe struck like a teenager suddenly coming across a member of their favorite boy band. I am a huge fan of this celebration. But…it is hot and we have one goal in mind: to find a playground. I have promised this to Benny and, for those of you with young kids, you know how important it is to keep a promise. Especially when it involves swings. So we march on. Past the many restaurants, past the large chinese grocery stores (odd, I know), past the flower-covered bank and the crystal clear streams. I notice trees that could only appear in fairy tales and vines with massive thorns. In the backdrop, always, are the spectacular cloud-capped mountains. We walk down the road, past the famous market, and into the other side of town. Benny starts saying he’s hungry (which only occurs about once every 15 minutes) , so we stop at a coffee shop. The coffee shop of my dreams is surrounded by lush plants that I have only seen as house plants in the states. The tables are colorful mosaic tiles; the same as ours at the casa. I half expect the Mad Hatter to invite me to tea as butterflies float by and hummingbirds feed on flowers. I order a chai te con leche and Benny gets a piece of marble cake. We are both hot and tired, but relieved to be sitting at this beautiful spot in the world. We continue on our walk, hoping the playground is around the next corner. I spot a “sloth crossing” sign and realize it is the hostel I have heard about. It is owned by a Swiss woman and she raises abandoned sloths. She has three currently in her yard and I will be paying her a visit sometime (hopefully more than once). I finally spot it; the bright yellow edges of a slide! After 2 hours of walking, observing, sitting, and whining, we have reached our mecca. We cross the road and Benny runs to the main play area. The playground is big and most of it is older. There are things here that have been banned in the US: metal slides with no sides, metal teeter-totters with loose bolts. There is a plastic play area but some pieces are broken, and there is one metal swing that hangs very low. At first Benny is alone but then a group of kids join him. They do not hesitate to start playing and laughing together…no language issues here. The clouds roll in and it begins to rain. All the kids and parents run for cover under a pavilion. Benny continues to play on the playground in the rain. He plays and laughs, turning the slides into waterslides. An older woman nearby smiles and laughs as she watches him. After about 5 minutes the other kids come running out from the pavilion to join him. He has started a trend. I walk over to the pavilion to stop being anti-social and join the other parents. I approach them and say “Mi hijo es loco”. They laugh and I instantly feel more comfortable. They are having drinks and snacks and they offer them to Benny and I. One of the children comes up to me and asks Benny’s name (Como se llama). I say Benny and he tries to pronounce it. One of the mothers scream Benny’s name and wave as he looks over. The parade approaches and we all gather near the street. One of the men explains it to me in Spanish while pointing and giving hand gestures. I understand! It is a traditional Panamanian parade put on by the school kids. They are dressed in traditional clothes. They give Benny poppers and he joins the other kids throwing them on the ground and is in his glory. I am happy that he is happy. Maybe we’ll be ok here, even with the language barrier. The rain stops and I decide its time to go home. I think this is enough newness and excitement for one day. We start walking back through the crowd and it eventually becomes less crowded and more quiet. It starts to rain again and I try to flag down a cab. I try 4 times before one stops. We get in and it starts to downpour. I tell the driver “Vivo circa La India Dormida” and he says something back that I don't understand. I just shake my head and go with it, hoping he’s not saying he's going to sell my child for $50 on the gringo market! (A joke) We continue to the supermarket and pick up a beautiful woman. We listen to salsa music as we dodge stray dogs, cars parked in the middle of oncoming traffic, and people on bikes holding umbrellas. There are no seatbelts so Benny and I just bounce around like balls in the back seat. We get closer to our road and I say “izquierda, por favor”. He points left and I say “Si”. I say “Recto” and then “pare aqui" (I literally learned these words this morning). He stops and says “Dos delores”. I try to give him a one dollar tip but he refuses and hands it back to me. He helps us out and continues on. Benny gleefully plays in the waterfall coming down our hill and I smile from ear to ear knowing that we survived the day in a foreign land. We open the gate to La Casa Amarillo and we are home. I think I am going to like this place.