MAY HAPPENINGS

The week after Ecua-Land, I scrambled back to Sirain to feverishly finish my new house before some Peace Corps friends came up to visit.

Andrea from the Comarca, her friend Niki from Boston, and Brian, Jesse, and Piper from Bocas, all made it out to Sirain to see what all the fuss was about. A house warming party we had. I don’t feel bad for people who go through life without a porch to hang out on, I just can’t imagine life without one. We had a blast. As much as I enjoy (now) being alone in my site, having company and entertaining friends warms my soul. I think it always will.

Mom and Dad showed up May 15th. It was a riot. We went out with Alex, my PC pal, in Casca Viejo (the old school, historical, Faneuil hall of Panama City) and then did the whole canal thing. I don’t care what the older PCVs say, and maybe this is my dorky engineering side peeking its mathematical mind out from behind my blonde hair, BUT, the Miraflores Canal Locks are awesome. We watched 3 boats go through, Boats in, water down, locks open, boats out…..so cool. Saw the movie which was unfortunately more historical than technical but I guess they're trying to please the masses and not the select few whom understand physics. Little did they know Dad and I were in the audience. We then walked through the museum where Mom and I spotted and commented on the laborers in the 1914s picture, who, if you saw them today, you’d think they were hot too.

Parents and I then loaded up the bus & headed west to David followed by my home, Punta Sirain. We were there for 3 nights, a little rough on M&D, pooping in a latrine, bathing in a creek, and not speaking a lick of Spanish, but I’m so proud of them for doing it. We had a big Ngobe meal with my community and took a day trip to the beach at Nidori to lunch with Jamie’s family. Excellent timing I might add that her parents were in town the same week as mine. We hung out under the surfer rancho that Jamie facilitated the building of and swam in the sweet waves.

Overall, Mom kept feeding the farm animals and talking Spanish in a baby voice. Dad would say “uhhhhhhhh” and talk in English when the kids started asking him questions. Usually they were asking for money, so responding in English was as good as saying “no.”

Sentimental moment from Tales From the Isthmus… Senor Israel, my neighbor, owner of my new big house, pastor of the Methodist Church, and friend, came over our last night with his wife and 24 year old daughter to hang out with the 3 of us. The couple has got about 5 years on my parents, but I think of them as grandparents here. They watch out for me. We gave them part of our pasta dinner(American style), but before eating Senor Isreal said a prayer in Spanish that translated to something like this:

Thank you God for this food, and please give KK and her parents a safe journey tomorrow. We are all grateful to be eating here together and we welcome our new brothers (motions to Kay and Gar) from the United States, into our home in Sirain. Amen.

I cried a little bit.
Peace corps moment.
For my parents being there too.
B. E. A. utiful

Jimmy, my boat driver and good friend, picked us up the next morning and, rain & all, cruised us over to Bocas Isle, my Afro Antillean Dewey Beach of Panama. Since the beaches there can't beat Nidori, the one right across the bay from my home, Mom, Dad, and I hung out at the gringo Ex-Pat bar, ate good food, then dessert-ed at the fusion restraint for frozen Kaluah Howler Monkeys which I’m sure mom had already duplicated the recipe of chocolate sauce, banana liqueur, crème de caco, rum, and a kaluah floater, and generously poured the magical frozen concoctions to the Aunties, Bub & Ohoh, and Book Club. If only you could tastefully serve this Caribbean tundra of delight in a martini glass, we’d be seeing it at Mom’s next Oscar Party.


In a nutshell, or coconut shell, or in a void of non-Spanish speaking blankness, we had a blast.