Vacation

The first official vacation - hooray!

Beginning in the La Fortuna National Park and ending in Bocas del Toro, I promised not to use words like: composting latrine, aqueduct, or pasear for 7 whole days.

Now THAT'S what I call a vacation.

Cordillera Crossing

We did it- We hiked across Panama´s Cordillera!
So here is just a quick view of what we encountered:

0.1 People! While Jess, Alberto, and I encountered many travelling Ngabe folk, some cultural changes were visible as we progressed closer and closer to the Caribbean coast. Our familiar Nole-Duima region of the Comarca isn't wildly different from the "interior" - little girls in nagwas and chakaras exploding with "pena" easily represented my own neighbors.

0.2 Lots of students were going to and from their schools, lots of kids were travelling between the communities - valley by valley, lots of goods - pounds of rice and alimentos were carried up and down each loma on strong shoulders.

1. View from the drop-off point at the entrada to Hacha. This was a $20 per person trip since we were the only passengers who wanted to go all the way up there (literally the end of the road as you drive up from San Felix). This is a view roughly south looking out toward Cerro Petante (sp.) with the Pacific Ocean further away in the background. Since we are starting so high up, our trip will ¨all be downhill from here.¨ By stepping out of the truck, we are crossing The Divide and continuing North to our destination located on the Río Cricrimola.

2. ¨We,¨ who´s ¨we¨? It was me, Jessica Mehl (in the pink nagwa), and our guide (bodyguard with the straw hat) Alberto. Here we are talking to a person waiting to see if he can take the same car downhill, back toward San Felix. I believe he considered us crazy since we explained that we will walk all the way to Canquintú, in the Province of Bocas Del Toro. The truck driver is far in the background, probably shaking off the dust of the road while we get set to hike.

3. We would hike 2.5 days north along small trails passing tiny villages like these. We actually bumped into 2 volunteers along the way. This was encouraging! They had a lot of good things to say about the trip. They were hiking South while we hiked North. I think I prefer the hike we chose, it meant a lot more downhill hiking and ending up at the Caribbean Sea instead of the Pacific side. To end in a whole different part of Panamá and yet still remain in the Comarca Ngäbe-Bugle was a very rewarding experience! We would be able to see cultural changes along the way as we walked from the heart of the Comarca toward the fringe where idioms, houses, clothing, foodstuffs, and the entire environment is different from our Distrito Nole Duima.

4. Some fun surprises along the way! While sticking then sliding through orange mud, we would sometimes come to friendly changes in the trail. Despite how much rain fell during the trip, I still think we were lucky. We were never caught in any downpours (although at night we could hear a few passing by). There was a constant mist except with a few outbursts of sunshine. Sometimes our nagwas dried a bit around the hems, but for the most part we were dripping wet during the hike.

5. As we hiked and dropped in elevation, the houses began to change style, many were very large, still made of penca but round. This was the center of ¨town¨ in Kremonte, this is the next significant pueblo after Tolothe. The rain was already on it´s way, rising up from the valley. Alberto told us that the palms used for the roofs here are really the best. It´s hard to find ¨penca¨like that on our side of the mountains. Not only is it tougher, it has wider leaves and can provide a better roof than what we encounter (or, in my case, what I live in).

6. Some exhilarating surprises along the way! We had to cross Quebrada Negra where it joined the Río Cricrimola. Pretty deep in some places! Alberto tested it out for us and after helping me across, he also led the way for Jessica. After getting soaked and almost swimming part of the distance across this river, I never dried off until I got to David 2 days later. The waterproof socks didn´t matter after that point, but at least the first day was spent with partly comfortable toes.

7. During our last day on foot, we were climbing fewer and fewer hills but crossing and recrossing the Cricri more times than I could count. We encountered numerous bridges, zip-lines, and boggy crossings. I began looking forward to them, the extra height allowed interesting views.

8. The Río Cricrimola toward the end: We finished our journey in Canquintú, where we stayed overnight and then took a skiff back to Chiriqui Grande. Here I looked out at the last of the high cerros in the South and realized I could also see beautiful rounded river cobbles as well as white cows in the distance. Such an unobstructed view was rare, this is a clearcut located just 1 hour South of Canquintú. A final photographing spot we reached before returning to civilization.

9. The final journey to reach Chiriqui Grande was by boat. A long skiff, holding roughly 20 people left from Canquintú at 5:30am. Our trio was a little unlucky that we were travelling on a Saturday, the boat was filled by very eager teachers who were taking their weekend "afuera del campo" and had practically leapt into the skiff as it bobbed and spun away from the shore. As soon as I sat down on the wooden bench and felt the swaying, I felt giddy and suddenly exhilarated. In that moment, it seemed that the trip had closure: we had successfully crossed the Cordillera on foot and we would float to the sea. For roughly 3 hours, the skiff would motor down the Río Cricrimola, enter the Caribbean Sea, and make port at Chiriqui Grande - and I wouldn't have to lift a foot to get there. I was also moved by nostalgia... I really missed boats!

This trip was no vacation. I feel like some part of my Peace Corps experience was just given tremendous satisfaction. Not only did we get a cross-section view of the Comarca, we just completed the longest, most ambitious ¨pasear¨ I will ever do while living here as a PCV. With our gregarious navigator and icebreaker/sometimes interpreter, Alberto, we hiked, visited, chatted, accepted snacks, and exchanged greetings with every friendly soul we encountered. Also, I also achieved a record: I succeeded in wearing my blue nagwa for 3 complete days - ¡Que reto!

Not 9-to-5

A few days ago I was inspired to call a good friend of mine - it had been a long time since I had heard how things were going on his side of the world but I also just quadrupled my phone minutes, so there would actually be enough time to chat.

So I looked for a quiet corner in the bus terminal´s restaurant and sat down with my coffee. I dialed the number for his desk phone and, determined not to leave silly messages, I tried the general office number when he didn´t pick up. Hmm, no one there... Okay, so I decided to wait a half hour, finish my coffee, then try again.

I let 20 minutes go by and tried all of the numbers again, even the people who would be in the other offices. No one was there! Had there been an evacuation? Had I considered time-zone changes? Did I try all of the normal numbers? Is he screening all calls?

Then it hit me - Ah-ha! I forgot something important: This is a Saturday afternoon. Of course I can´t talk to my friends in that office so many miles away from here; this is a weekend!

Note to self: Normal work hours exist in other parts of the world; not everybody works like a Peace Corps volunteer.

Solution: Travel

February 25-March 8:

"Sometimes it's a little better to travel than to arrive."*

It seems that I don´t have as much to report as I expected. The weeks following my advisor´s visit were filled with non-volcanological activities, but this is not to say that simply nothing has happened since.

  Summary: In-Service Training, 2 water committee meetings, 2 botched aqueduct-type visits, and a day helping my neighboring PCV throw a plancha for the final composting latrine in her community.
 
In-Service Training took up roughly 4 days: 4 days of charlas, presentations, extra Spanish lessons, regret for not taking extra Ngäbere lessons, planning a visit with a springbox technician, quick visit to the beach, and general regrouping with the Group 60 crew. The trip out to IST was fairly long but still, since Swear In, I´ve made several long bus trips back and forth across Panama and I´m not yet feeling the strain.

It´s no secret that I love to travel, but only recently I´m understanding why (even during the most stressful and maddening journeys) I get a deep satisfaction out of the process of travel. It is easy to say that I enjoy seeing new places and it´s fun to see so much terrain slip by without lifting a foot to walk across it. But when I´m traveling more economically (por ejemplo, por pie), it also won´t seem surprising or novel to admit that I prefer walking out my front door and across a hillside instead of staying rooted at home. But I only just realized that another aspect of travel has missed assessment: What responsibilities do you have as a traveler? Is there any other weighty obligation more important than completing the journey while executing the journey? No, my answer is no. So I am concluding that few endeavors offer such satisfying, single-minded, laziness: Traveling is wonderful!

While I haven´t crossed the equator, haven´t been to Africa, only got within 2,000 miles of Asia, lack experience in grizzly bear country, remain tantalized by the terraced islands within the Indian Ocean, have no concept of Down-Under, and desire first-hand knowledge of how east is East, luck has been with me to allow significant travels. So I've had some time to mull over why it is that I am compelled to not only relocate myself but also shell out the considerable funds (often rearranging plans to accommodate lofty travel goals).

Authors of all genres have many things to say about the virtues of travel: the romance, the mind-broadening process, as well as the uncomfortable and sometimes dangerous possibilities. I recently read an opinion of Sherlock Holmes: he referred to travel as a waste of energy that muddles the mind [my paraphrasing]. But a comment that fits my sentiment comes from Paul Theroux. He begins the Great Railway Bazaar with an odd explanation. There are some people who view the act of travel as a kind of solution. More than: "go take a hike" or "you need to get out more," travel can be therapeutic. Need some changes in life? Need a new perspective? Need to grow? Feel a cold coming on? Travel. Well, that was how Theroux presented the argument: I feel a stuffiness in my nose and there´s a rattle in my throat; I´d better book a train to cross Europe. [again, my paraphrasing - I don´t have his book handy]

Have I had a bothersome cold that needed several flight tickets to clear up? Well, yes, but a cold less like a sniffle and more like an infirmity of perspective. Enough sharp minds and well-learned writers have explained this particular theme: gaining worldliness.

So I´ll throw in my lot with Theroux but also suggest that a guilt-free sensation of irresponsibility can come from travel.

Sorry, I´m on the bus, I´ll get back to you in 6 hours.

*Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance: Robert M. Pirsig

Panama City

February 1st and 2nd

It´s Carnival time in Panama and I had the luck of travelling to Panama City just as it started. That luck ended up kind of badly, I really wasn´t there to celebrate and dance in the streets, I just had to visit the dentist and wasn´t really prepared to explore the festivities solo. Do I have photos of the parades or costumes or crazy vendors? No, but I can share 2 photos that compare interesting views of the city: The Old and The New.

Sorry the experience wasn´t more interesting. Likely this post would be more meaningful if I also put in a note that ¨Yes¨ the SuperBowl was the following Sunday but ¨No¨the Patriots did not win. Okay, next year I won´t be chicken and I´ll check out a Carnival... Extra note, travelling by bus anywhere in Panama will be dicey during this week of fiestas- especially in and out of Panama City and Santiago. Expect super long lines in the bus terminals; the line was so long that I considered the $80 cost to simply fly back to David from Panama; it would have been a 3 hour wait in line, plus the 8 hour trip by bus, plus the inconvenience of arriving at a ridiculous hour in the morning - hmmm, that could be worth $80...

Christmas '07

Trip to Volcan Baru (a very cold and very wet trip). I´ll share the drier photos here, but 90% of our trip was spent soaked through and colder than I´d like to remember.

We began on Dec. 24th, getting a taxi ride up from Boquete to the entrance of the National Park. The day was misty and cool, but the three of us thought we had a good chance of a clear day: just give it time, right?
By lunchtime, we had a fairly hazy view of the valley below us. Clouds were still moving above and appearing to come down from the north, we continued on. The hike is roughly a 6 hour trip up a 13km path climbing to 11,397 ft (3474 km). It´s a fairly direct route, and in good time, we reached the summit just before sunset.

Unfortunately, by sunset the mist had already become a hard rain: a horizontally blowing rain that stung like hail. It was going to be a very cold night... We had been hoping to share cabin space with the ANAM people who maintained the posts at the summit, but apparently the Christmas holiday was well-respected, even at the volcano summit. We were knocking on all of the doors of those little white buildings you can see in the picture below (after the rainy trail view).

On Christmas morning we woke up and unrolled ourselves from the picnic table, the tarps, each other, and the sleeping bags - I was suddenly happy to be alive: my companions didn´t decide to mutiny and kill me for my sleeping bag! Sincere thanks to Rebecca and Richard.

When we walked with squelching strides back down the volcano, we had a good turn of luck and caught a minibus to take us back to Boquete. I admit that the return trip was a bit miserable, but I think the most miserable of us all was little Dante, Rebecca´s dog. He was barely a year old and he was already suffering the extremes that life in Panama could offer him!

The next day, when we woke up in the warm confines of our hostel, we were greeted by a glorious view of the volcano. Hardly a cloud in the sky, we could see the treeline we had crossed, the domes we had slid down in the dark, and the white ANAM stations that denied us entry. The view reinforced my desire to return, I´ll get back up there and be able to point to the two oceans... one day.

So, when can we go again?

Suggestions for the next trip? Yes, wait until the dry season has actually started. If we had planned to hike just a week or two later, our odds would have been better for a dry time. The trouble is, though, that we ¨should have¨ just waited to hike on the 26th instead of the 24th and then, also, our rain problem would not have existed. So let that be a lesson! It´s still near-impossible to plan around the weather.

Peace Corps Training

August - October 2007

Training, ah yes, what did Brian always tell me: Just get through training!

My introduction to the Peace Corps began on campus at Michigan Tech, but the real-life experience of it began with several days of staging in Washington, DC. After introductions and many reviews of the Peace Corps goals, challenges, and nuts-n-bolts, our group of 42 aspirantes flew to Panama. I suspect that, country to country the 3 months of training are similar in design but likely wildly different in the ways that the aspiring volunteers are challenged. My days were filled with language classes, tech training (big focus on aqueducts, latrines, and health education), official "Chorrera Meetings," and lots of host family interaction. Toward the end of the 3 months there were several visits to Volunteer sites (definitely high points of the experience). As for adjusting to culture shock and self-assessment/self-doubt, I wasn´t surprised by these challenges but my, they are sneaky mindgames!

The following are some images from the Tech and Cultural Weeks. Both were a good mix of hands-on work and cultural challenges. The EH group visited two different volunteer sites in the Comarca Ngäbe-Bugle and stayed with host families. For some of us, it was a tough challenge to reencounter host family introductions and adjustment issues. Having already lived with a family in our Training Community, it wasn´t so easy to go through the social awkwardness of: hi, my name is... and reexperience the newness of idioms, personal habits, and idiosyncrasies of a new household.

The Tech-Week experience was also great bonding time for us in Group 60. After a long day´s work, we could rely on a gathering at the Co-op. Cookies and sodas and then the pivotal discovery that we could order hojaldres... these were the golden hours.

I´ll be honest here and say that these last 2 photos are not from anywhere near the Comarca. They were taken from an area close to Volcan Baru - from the lower, forested flanks of the volcano. Why was I there during training? Well, there just happened to be a little extra time after Culture Week ended and enough time for a quick run (literally a run) up to Boquete for an afternoon; this proved to be a wondrous vacation for me. The cool climate, the high altitude fresh air, the somehow denser forests, the rugged terrain, the fresh coffee, and the moments of contemplative solitude were very satisfying. Some would complain that Boquete is not what it once was, that it is now a place quite overrun by external influence - this may be true, but up until that visit, I had not known any other place that would serve me a bowl-like mug of cafe con leche. Without shame, I will admit that a you can "supersize" me a latte any day (but I don´t want fries with that, please).

Also, a quick addition. Rebecca was savvy with her camera and documented one of the crazier ¨dynamicas¨ we encountered in Training. Here´s all of us Environmental Health aspirantes doing acrobatics.

Colima, Mexico '07

May - August 2007

Just after the spring semester ended at MTU (May 2007), I took up an internship at the University of Colima, Mexico. Reminiscent of the good old days at the Hawaiian Volcano Observatory, I met a great group of people researching various aspects of an active volcano. Volcan de Colima is one of the most active volcanoes in Mexico but is poorly understood. The current foci of study are: infrasound, thermal, gas, and ash. A full-fledged observatory doesn't exist to track changes at Colima, but various groups are working to collect data to monitor the hazards. With time, it should be possible to develop a cohesive program of complimentary research and monitoring that will communicate effectively with Proteccion Civil and decision-makers.

Over the course of the summer, many interns came and went and, in Andrew's words shared: "scars and stories."

Incoming students brought various backgrounds while semi-permanent interns generously became mentors to lead fieldwork. Regular trips to the temporary radar site at Monte Grande (on the lower flank of Colima) and to the summit of Nevado (the immediate neighbor of Colima, a high peak almost level with the volcano) allowed us to do hands-on fieldwork and monitoring. The station located near the summit of Nevado was a perfect observation site; the Proteccion Civil staff was very welcoming and generous with their support. Not only did they facilitate our trips up the long, often gouged-out road through the park, they lent out space to stay overnight and fill up the common spaces with bulky gear. Muchas gracias a Rojo y los otros Superheroes!

Hoping to build on my experiences of geological mapping, instrument installation, and general volcanic monitoring, I joined as many field trips as possible. This was an important opportunity to compare an andesitic volcano with what I have already learned about Hawaiian volcanoes and Mount St. Helens. One of the primary differences on my mind was the frequency and impact of lahars at Colima. Having just arrived in Mexico at the end of their dry season, odds were good that I'd be able to investigate fresh deposits. Not a fan of gambling and slowly learning that monitoring efforts were planned a bit differently than expected, my hopes to study active lahars fell through, but late in the summer I witnessed my first lahar while in the field with 5 other students.


We had just arrived at the Monte Grande site when an intense rain (and thunder/lightning) storm closed in. After assembling the gear under tarps and boxes, the 6 of us sheltered under the remaining tarp as a strong rain blew down and whipped around us. The Monte Grande site is a low dome on the volcano's flank cut on both sides by two ravines (barrancas). Safely situated high on the rise, the radar, rain gage, and other instruments (like the permanent infrasound sensors we were going to install) occupy a relatively small area on the rise. After at least 15 minutes (and feeling more and more chilly with each minute), we suddenly heard some rumbling. Thunder wouldn't have lasted so long and wouldn't have sounded like it was getting louder... "I think there's a lahar!" As soon as we realized there was a chance to observe the event, we dropped the tarp and raced to get a view.

Our first view was of the northern barranca and we pushed through the brush and shrubs to see that, yes, a muddy slurry was racing through the ravine. Parts of the confining walls were becoming undercut as the flow scraped by, but a better view was waiting in the other barranca. The barranca on the opposite side of Monte Grande was deeper and already cut down into the old, dense lava flows. It was here that we saw the lahar flowing, rolling, spitting, and eventually cascading down what was our primary trail back to the parked truck. The photo to the left was taken by Emma as we tried posing in front of the nickpoint where the lahar gushed in an impressive cascade. Yes, we were definitely soaking wet!

The internship at Colima was a very mixed experience. I am sincerely grateful for all of the support from Steve and Gemma and the chance to have some adventures with Flo, Andrew, and the other interns. The birthday trips were fantastic: Flo, I think you had the best plan! Over the course of the summer we trekked out (by bus) to the beach, Guadalajara, Tequila, and Patzcuaro, but the best trip was to Paricutin to celebrate your birthday (and not just the best because we visited another volcano!).

After taking a night bus from Colima, we arrived in a tiny town at 6:30 or so in the morning. We weren't quite sure how to proceed, but a man leading a couple of horses immediately got our attention. He approached us and offered to organize a visit to the summit of Paricutin, the young cinder cone famous for exploding out of someone's cornfield. The offer was to ride horses around the thick lava flows, reach the summit, then return by passing by the inundated church near the volcano's base. Yes! We'll do it!

The trip was a strange adventure: we were weighed down by our backpacks (should've left them behind...), had the trail to ourselves all morning, my horse tripped and rolled us into the road, we galloped at Flo's whim, heard debates whether my horse's name was "Guapo" or "Pinata," photographed each other in the volcano's steam, skied down Paricutin's flank in our sneakers, were caught in an aguacero (sudden rainstorm as we were returning), roamed around the lava-filled church after crossing over the a`a, moaned as we tried to remount the horses because our backsides were so sore, and took some time to enjoy the central plaza of the tiny town.

The city of Colima also provided other adventures: I made several trips to the local ruins, explored the various corners of the old city and saw the still-broken remains of buildings shaken by earthquakes. There was a little time to visit some museums but it was so much more fun to be outside in the city - people watching and absorbing some of the lifestyle was definitely a highlight of my 3 months in Mexico. I had never seen so many people meticulously sweep their gardens and clean their sidewalks with such care. I would visit the yogurt shop just to hear the man tell me: "Si, hay fresa." with his expressive voice and buy bread from the woman who was also the one to explain that estampillas, not timbres can only be bought at the correo.

This was my first visit to Mexio: without a doubt, I will have to return someday. Despite the chance to travel so far north as _ and as far south as Acapulco, my experience was restricted to the west side of the country. A trip to Mexico City, to the famous ruins of the Yucatan, and to the northern canyons will have to wait for another year.

Life before the PCMI Program

After moving around a bit, it's hard to remember all of the dates.
http://history-jah.blogspot.com/