¡Es falso!

Ok, today I have a story which you may enjoy.  Are you sitting comfortably? Then I´ll begin...

Yesterday I went to a coffee shop and bought a coffee for two dollars, I paid with a twenty and got eighteen change. Then I went to the intenet cafe and tried to pay for the use of the computer with the ten dollar note I had recieved as change. After some scratching the note and holding it up to the light the girl told me ¡Es falso!

It was too late to go back to the cafe and I didn´t want to pass it off to someone else so I thought I´d go back this morning. Went back at ten am and spoke in my (v bad) Spanish to the ladies there. One tried to help but the others were sceptical I had received it from them. I wasn´t fibbing!

The helpful one tried calling her boss to ask him what to do. She asked me to go back at twelve, I did. they said they hadn´t been able to speak to the boss and asked me to come back at three.

I duly went back at three. I can´t understand Spanish brilliantly but I am excellent at reading body language. It wasn´t good. Huddling in the back corner of the shop, waiting for someone else to take responsibility, were the three ladies. It didn´t look hopeful.

Obviously (and in fairness) someone had to take responsibility for the false ten dollar note and none of them wanted it docked from their wages....

El Jefe (the boss), they said, was coming.

Ok, I thought, if the boss is coming either I´m going to have a bit of a fight on my hands, or he´s going to be fairly decent about it. He may speak English or he may not. I prepared myself.

The door opened and in walked...

...da da daaaaaaaaaa.......

Pablo the guide..... Yes, he of dodgy eye-colour fame.
I wasn´t sure whether to:
a. Laugh
b. Sigh
c. Tell him he´d given me the best blogging material since someone found a coconut...

´Hello´ says Pablo the Guide as the huddled women scatter, indicating he is El Jefe.
´Hello´ says  Honey Eyes, calculating wildly and wondering whether to flutter her eyelashes (too easy), launch into the sorry tale (too aggressive), or smile (pffft). She ditches all three ideas and plumps for a look which reads: disappointed.


I can´t work out whether I am pleased (of course I got the money back) or disappointed (I´d rather have it on honesty and merit). It turns out that he is the boss of the world in these parts. Ok, not of the world but of the excursion shop, the cafe and the school (from what I can make out). I did wonder why he was wondering around the classrooms with a clipboard earlier this week, why he wore expensive clothes and how he could afford to be educated in the states.

So, here´s the plan: persuade Pablo the guide to marry me (I´m guessing that´ll be a sinch).
Live in Panama and perfect my Spanish (Definitely more complicated)....

......Ah pish, you know money never did it for me - maybe that´s where I´ve been going wrong all along? So Pablo escapes, unmolested...but boy, this man has made me laugh.

In the nicest possible way ;-)

La Finca

Ok, so when I said I wanted to go to la finca (the farm) I didn´t mean at 5.30am!

Woke this morning to the sound of tentative knocking and Tilcea asking me if I wanted to visit the farm today or en la mañana (next morning). I had asked to visit today so..

Read between the lines:
I leapt, enthusiastically from my bed, whirled around the room in an organised manner before presenting myself, clean and smartly dressed in the kitchen.

I ate my breakfast, Quakers Avena (porridge - yes, really) and we set off on the twenty minute drive to the farm. Really I kind of thought we´d take a nice little drive along the road to a collection of fields some way off. Actually we drove along a road, then we went up a mountain, then up some more, then down a bit, then put the jeep in 4wd before going up more then up a bit more along a rutted track. Very exciting.

We arrived at a small plateau high up in the mountains which was flanked by (and had descending from it) coffee bean trees. It was beautiful, and a little wild. 

Farm

Mountain

Humberto (father) offered to take us for a walk. I wasn´t quite sure why he set off with not one, but two machetes. well, if you´ve got two hands, why not? Humberto headed off towards a wall of growth through which he proceeded to hack a path. Aha! a walk without a path is more like a repeated pace up and down a small strip, no?

Non-computer hacking

Actually, there is so much rain here and it is so warm that things tend to grow like billy-o. The path was just incredibly overgrown and - strangely for me- so was the area planted with coffee trees. I kind of naively imagined a coffee plantation to be like a vineyard - all the plants in nice straight lines with clean ground in between - but it isn´t. Its higgledy piggledy and more than a bit confusing and then there are these huge trees everywhere, coffee likes sombre (shade - like sombrero), you see.

And every now and again we would happen across something beautiful, like this flower. I think its called Sylvestre.

Flower

 So on we hacked, walked, continued. Apparently this area is the land of puma and jaguar. Some wild pigs too but why should I worry? I am proceeded by a man who is efficiently wielding two machetes.

Humberto wondered where to hack next.

The explanation of the coffee beans was brilliant! Regular (SALT) had already told me that 50%-80% of coffee bushes in Panama had been affected by a fungus which was making the beans unfit for coffee. It causes blotches on the leaves and spoils the beans. Some farmers in Panama have had to start growing something else because the crop is no longer viable for them. Up here there has not been much evidence of the fungus, though Humberto found some today. This is a really hard life. The bushes are planted on a hillside which is not clear so to collect the beans you have to descend into what is effectively jungle (I am presuming with machete in hand). You collect the brown beans by hand, stick then in a sack on your back and climb back up the hill.

Beans!

Green beans are unripe - rojo (red) are maturing (if you squeeze a red bean from its pod into your mouth you get the most delicious sweet taste - spit out bean after).

Tilcea models beans. Refuses to model machete.

Once the beans have turned brown you pick them. Or you get some likely looking fellas to pick them off the bushes. Wages are $10 for a day´s labour. That´s probably a lot of beans for the farmer but while its a better wage than surrounding countries a pineapple costs $1.25 here and a kilo of rice $4, water is $1 a litre and petrol $1.20 per litre.

Humberto models mature beans.

Humberto is how I consider of an old fashioned farmer to be.  Respectful of the land and nature, fully understanding of the seasons and alert to any changes (less rain the last ten years or so) and knowledgeable. The best bit (for me) was that he does what my Grandfather (a famer) used to do. Clothes used to be Sunday best, then they became second best, then work clothes. My old Taid (Grandfather) used to go out in the fields dressed in a shirt, trousers and once-smart jacket; wellies and a piece of bailer twine round the waist completed the ensemble. Not for him any speacial gear, overalls or casual clothes. Humberto wore a shirt and jeans.

Once you have picked the beans it ain´t over. Oh no, you have to de-shell them - by hand - with what I can make out is a sort of gigantic pestle and mortar arrangement. Then you dry them. By the sun if you don´t have a huge oven....

Humberto the Younger models ready to drink beans.

 Neither did I realise, until two days ago, that I have been drinking homemade / grown coffee!!

We continued along the trail having a lovely time. Tilcea unearthed some flowers for her garden. I took loads of photos, Humberto checked the plants. All good. I didn´t realise it, but this is the land of the armadillo. I got really excited about this! we saw aome armadillo tracks, there wasn´t even an armadillo poo but the fact that I was able to walk where one had snuffled was enough for me!

Here been armadillo.

We went on a little further and Humberto pointed out that we were surrounded by clovers, all of which had four leaves, it obviously was my lucky day :-)

The only scary bit of the day was when I was nearly savaged by the wildlife. But Tilcea flapped her arms a bit and they ran away.

Savage mountain chickens

Then I went to school.

First World Worries and other non sherry trifles.

1. Why don't I ever pack enough socks?
2. If I'm going away for three days do I need my phone charger?
3. Where did all the chocolate which I bought on Monday go?
4.  Should I buy more post its? ....The ones I have in my text book are losing their stickiness.

Yeah, mostly today I'm thinking nothing spectacular. Been on a long walk with Tilcia, we were joined by a random dog. Earlier I watched the film (see link eyes right) on The Panama Canal. Its worth watching, esp if you're a Green Wing fan because the bloke who plays Guy Secretan is in it doing a really bad French accent, he just doesn't play serious well... Anyway, the film is about how the canal was built.

Yeah, it'm a bit of an anorak..its true.

Anorak soundbite #2:

Everyone should learn another language because:
1. Its fun - honestly..ok, there are other things you might find more fun, like the pub on a friday, but it is fun!
2. It keeps your brain fresh
3. People in other countries like it when you try to speak their language
4. Even if you're bad at it you can still feel a little bit proud of yourself.

Ok, enough trifle for one day. Later gator.

La vida en rose.

I know...I know....just when you think its safe to sit in front of the computer I come up with a really bad pun which gets you groaning - I speak of yesterday. Lo Siento (I´m sorry) sort of.

Wet baby´s head with two Italians last night. Well, that´s not strictly true, I wet the baby´s head with mohitos while the Italians were there, helping.

Frederico was muy impressionante with the
´Frederico and Ricardo find a coconut´ headline.
If today were to have a headline it would be:

´Frederico and Ricardo find a path...
through jaguar infested forest which Ricardo is confident will lead to Bocas because he´s the kind of guy who knows how to follow his nose while Frederico flies in the face of Ricardo´s 100% record of being directionally correct and would rather take the bus.´

I am off to school.

Last night we were talking about the financial status of Panamanians, it was an interesting conversation. Before I came here I received a general email about the family I would be staying with (see post circa 18.07.13), which warned me that I would be coming to a modest home with standard of living which would be very different to the one I am used to. For me this isn´t true.

My home is lovely and very comfortable. There are five bedrooms (well, they are finishing three off at the moment) and three of the rooms are en suite. The other two share a bathroom. The house has mosquito screens on every window, a patio and large garden. It is nicely decorated and furniture is similar to that at home (more substantial than Ikea). There are 2-3 televisions, white goods (fridge-freezer, oven, washing machine, etc,), wifi and Mr and Mrs and their son each have a mobile - one Blackberry.

In terms of vehicles many people in Panama seem to have big Toyota/Hilux style 4x4 wheel drive - my family have two; one old for work, one newish. People dress well, although I haven´t seen many women wearing skirts (apart from traditional dress - more on that in a bit). It´s interesting. The vision which I had of a country which was slightly poor and closer to the third world than the first is quite wrong.

Yes, there are people who are obviously poor. The seem to be more the indigenous type, the women wear traditional dress and the men trousers and shirts. Often the men carry the tool of their trade which is a long, thin machete, wrapped in plastic for safely.

Traditional dress in pink.

When people are dressed traditionally the women and men seem usually to be together, they are often carrying large loads, e.g. food, they have children with them and from what I can make out live in much more modest homes of 1-2 rooms (haven´t been inside, so guessing).

I suppose the conclusion to all this is that assumptions are often wrong.

I like the way Panamanian people are. The come across as friendly and fun loving. The other day in church (I had an ecclesiastical accident, details another time) there was a microphone incident which everyone found very funny. People are warm and friendly and helpful.

I don´t know how much of this fun loving characteristic stretches to their choice of t-shirt but the irony of some of the choices have not been lost on me:

On a toothless, elderly lady: I only kiss superheroes.
On a well dressed man carrying a (wrapped) machete: I run this town.
On an older guy, very overweight with the dirty t-shirt stretched across his large stomach: I AM the after party.
On a man at a building site who was standing, smoking and watching the world go by: Slacker.

So, here la vida is not (to quote Ricky Martin /Martinez) loca. It is structured, civilised, well mannered and seemingly affluent for some, although they don´t have a health service and I´m not sure how comprehensive the school system is.

I love Panama. You should try it.

Child Reduction.

The other day , when I was on the waterfall hike, Pablo the Guide decided to employ his no-fail technique to drum up new business. Technique operates as so:

1. Find woman
2. Hail her with compliments
3. Sit back and watch how she cannot resist your charms and either                                                                   a. Falls into your arms
                                                                  b. Books at least three more excursions.

I think ´no-fail´ is a poor description.

I will confess something to you - here and now - (shhhhhhh, keep it to yourself):

I am prone to some ever-so-slight exaggeration during the creation of this blog - today is the exception! I am exhorbitantly proud of my new nephew AND I am about to tell you the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.

Pablo was kind enough to inform me (after telling me that he was ready to settle down and have children) that my eyes were like honey, my skin was beautiful and my hair the perfect colour to reflect the rest of the beauty which I possess. And also I may have to put up with Panamanian men saying ´Mami que bueno´ at me because I have a great ass.

After resisting the simultaneous urges to kick like a mule and to decorate his hiking boots with the vomit which I was choking back, I decided to share the experience with the font of all knowledge, the walking encyclopaedia on all things human, Miss Bradders.

´Aha´, says the lady, ´surely if you had honey-coloured eyes your eyes would be yellow, so they would almost glow as if you were a cat or a monster.` This, in turn, reminded her of a pupil in school who asks me (on a daily basis):

´Why are you such a monster?´

Obviously a Eureka moment! A child, a Panamanian man and Bradders have together uncovered the secret of my identity. In the words of Miss B, ´#Finallythepiecesfit.`

All I can say on the subject is that if my eyes were the colour of honey you need to be choosing your condiments more wisely. On the subject of compliments, of course I appreciate a lovely one, well considered, from the heart and fully meant. On the subject of monsterdom, well better be one with honey eyes than shitty eyes, I suppose.

Talking of honey, there are loads of bees here and I´ve been wondering where to get hold of some. The country is fertile and many people farm on Fincas (farms), there is lots of natural produce, vegetables, salad and fruit some I recognise, some I don´t. I have eaten well in Panama. Meals in the house have been accompanied by a side helping of rice. I have had pork and chips, chicken casserole, sausage and vegetables, tortillas and pork - all delicious and all served with rice. Last night we had that well known Panamanian delicacy, Pork Chow Mein (and rice).

The only thing which made me a bit...disappointed...was the day when Tilcia made a traditional bean stew and rice but made something else for me because she didn´t think I´d like the stew; I felt a bit sad about that - it was truly delicious.

Surprisingly (for me anyway) people aren´t really slim in Pamana. They aren´t huge either but there are definitely a reasonable proportion of the population who are curvy/podgy or chunky.  I have discovered that the main way of cooking something is by frying it - we have something fried every meal - and although Tilcea talks about the unhealthy aspects of fried food it`s a staple. I have been thinking about it and am wondering if it is because frying things is a quick way to cook, requiring a fire, oil and pan. It maintains the taste of the food (unlike boiling) and easily kills bacteria. So, before people were fairly affluent (as now) they were poor and when you are poor you do not have the luxury of choice. Plus frying gives you important calories, which you need to work in the fields. As a personal aside their fried bread stuff is delicious!

The Italians, Valentina and Phillipo, were telling me that in (beautiful and underdeveloped) Nicaragua people are mostly obese and everything is fried. They viewed it as a health time-bomb waiting to happen.

POLITICAL ASIDE: The Chinese want to build a canal which cuts through Nicaragua to act as competition against the America controlled Panamanian canal. The canal is under discussion because it would cut through a lake within which are extremely rare inland salt water sharks. To the Italians it seemed an inevitable process.

So maybe my mission (should I choose to accept it) should be to learn Spanish, go to Nicaragua (humming bird heaven, apparently) and spend my time visiting the sights whilst educating people in healthy eating. I could start with the children, now that could make an interesting documentary:

Honey Eyes Shrunk The Kids.  

Whoops a...

...Daisy...was going to be the name of my new niece, but he´s a nephew!

And he´s gorgeous...

Welcome to the world baby :-) I am so proud :-)

Clever girl Sophie and well done Mat who helped her all the way through.

Baby arrived at 11.28pm on Sun 28th July weighing 7lb 13.5oz, he hasn´t chosen his name yet.

I suggested Tomos Thomas but for some reason no one wants to go for it..even though it worked for Neville Neville, Dafydd Davies, John Jones and Evan Evans....

´Cornwall is very similar to Panama..´

Writes Mr Smith.

...´quite a few gringoes, a couple of palm trees, the locals speak English with a charming accent and it takes about the same amount of time to get there from the North of England.´

A rare sighting!

Yesterday I  had the loveliest day, and I made a very unusual sighting...something rarely seen out of its natural habitat alone or in pairs, prefering to remain within the security of its known environment or to travel in a herd of at least twenty. I speak, of course, of Italian people.  More info later...

It was Saturday so no lessons -hoorah!!! - and much as I love them one can experience too much of a good thing, no? And my brain is adled. And I am having trouble speaking any language coherently so a couple of days off was very welcome.

I decided to have a little adventure. It´s easy to get about here..there are excusrions left, right and centre, but for me they lack something of the reality of travel (plus they cost a heap more) so I prefer to go solo.

I set off at 8.30am. As usual the rain was making its presence felt, so Tilcia kindly (she is SOOOOOOO lovely) gave me a lift to the bus stop. Travel here is actually easy. there are organised buses between certain larger places and then smaller minibuses which will obligingly pick you up and drop you off in the right place. Being a country of only 3 million people or so (like Wales but with fewer Welsh people and for those of you saying ´that can only be a good thing´ you are too predictable) it is a friendly place where people generally only want to make your acquaintance,  to talk and to know what you think of Panama.

I took  the bus south from Boquete to David. $1.75 (ker-ching!) and  funnily, you pay when you get off. The journey was only an hour or so and was made hugely enjoyable by the plethora of videos shown. There seems to be a general theme to videos for South American songs, let me paint you a picture...

First of all there is our ´hero´ whose importance is denoted by the size of his sombrero and the quality of his moustashe. These traits are obviously indicative of something because aforementioned hero is able to attract a girl whose age is predetermined by a complicated mathematical formula:

If H=<60/3+5 if H=>60<40/2.5+3if H=>40/2

Its all carefully worked out to ensure she´s about 23, give or take. Formula of video is as follows:
1. Hero stares pensively into space
2. The word ´corazon´ (heart) is mentioned
3. Girl appears, usually inappropriately dressed in too large/small frock
4. Religious symbolism shown.
5. Back to hero who has now taken up a ´power stance´
6. Hero and girl - she hangs on his every word but doesn´t speak herself (obvs nothng interesting to say in the face of Hero)
7. Horse appears - this is where poetic licence is evident. Sometimes hero is capuring horse, other times riding, once I saw dancing (blatant link to prowess).
8. Ending is immaterial, we now know the qualities of Hero.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=apFHxRBXkzg    -  Check out Pepe Aguilar whose power stance is so good, he doesn´t need a horse.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mvu3k0B19fw    - Watch Marco Antonio who foregoes the hat (due to big hair) and demonstrates Christ´s blessng on his snogging.

Anyway, I arrived in David and thought about what to do next. I had heard about a little island called Boca Brava, some way South East of David so I thought I´d try to get there and back in one day.  I found a bus and got on it. The bus waited to be full (one hour). By the end of the wait I was thinking it was a bad idea but that I may as well stick with it.

The only two other westerners on the bus were sitting behind me. I could hear them talking and thought they were Spanish. The journey took about an hour and cost $1. Half way through two other westerners got on. The others recognised the  newcomers as Italian and they all started talking. The bus stopped and we were ejected and told to get on a jeep to Boca Chica (where the small motor boat/ferry goes from). The five of us got off and sat in the back of the jeep. By this time I was thinking I might get stuck there overnight but I had enough cash and had come so far that I thought it would be ok and I may as well go the whole hog... so...

In the jeep I realised a strange thing - I could understand the Italians. how freaky is that? At the moment my French is out of the window, my Spanish is Spa-nglish, my English is pigeon but I can understand Italian. As it turned out two of the Italians could speak English so the communication table looked as follows:

Valentina-----Italian------Spanish
Phillipo-------Italian------Spanish------French
Frederico-----Italian------English
Ricardo-------Italian------English------Some French
Me-----------Incoherent Spanglish.

The conversation was hilariously disjointed. We decided to go to the beach.

Photographical evidence.

View from Boca Brava.

Treking to the beach. Why make it easy through the use of signs?

A beach.

Frederico and Ricardo find a coconut.

It was quite an exciting find. The lads decide to open it. After ten minutes of trying Frederico realises the coconut does not want to open. Despite finding tools (a stone and a large rock)  the homosapiens find that the coconut is less friendly than its fairground reputation belies.

Quote of the week, by Frederico: Do you know, the best bit about doing something is the way other people stand there, watching and advising you.

He gives the coconut to Ricardo, who opens it seemingly effortlessly.

Frederico is naffed off. 

Phillipo and Valentina arrive. Phillipo joins in the F.E.P (Flesh Extraction Procedure).

Frederico maintains a supervisory capacity.

Its a hard day. The coconut is eaten. A lem-orange (we couldn´t decide) is found and eaten. we feel brave and adventurous. We swim and chase crabs (strangely pleasurable). we walk back to the hotel. It has been a busy day.

We find beer. It is easy to open so we get one each.

At 5.30pm I head off and am home by 9pm. It was the loveliest day. Muchas Gracias to the four Italians.