Pictures from my waterproof camera and our adventures on the Rio Terible.
Max and me.
Max and Jeison
Max on the boat
Me and Jeison on the raft.
Jeison and me
Max
Max
I went back to Boquete on December 6th to make dinner for my host family there. I struggled for a long time trying to decide what "American food" I should cook. I went with some things I make myself on a regular basis, without a recipe, and aren't too fancy at all. But I think they turned out pretty darn well.
The christmas decor at my host family's house in Boquete.
Then I went to Miami...no Panama City, which pretty much feels just like Miami, except that it has the Panama Canal.
After I left the jungle, I decided to spend the night in Changuinola, a town that exists, so far as I can tell, to supply Chiquita Banana with farm workers. It wasn't really a tourist destination, but it was nice, and probably the first real truly Panamanian city I've been in. The next morning, I went back to the tourist infested Islands of Bocas del Torro.
I don't think I explained this before, but Bocas has this great Caribbean vibe. It doesn't feel all like Latin American at all, it feels like an island in the Caribbean, because, of course, it is.
I lounged around the that afternoon, then that night, I went out with my scuba instructor and his friends. We went and played pool at a place that I never would have gone by myself, but I had a ton of fun, and actually got a lot better at pool over the course of the night. I do however, wish that I was able to talk trash in Spanish, because that really would have helped my game. And now I can now start stories with "I was shooting pool at this bar in Panama..." so I would say it was a good night.
The next day I went with the Germans who were staying at my hostel to the Zapitillas Islands. Again, I have no words for this. One of them described sailing up them as walking into a dream. I don't think there is a better way to put it. Just look at the pictures.
This is the homeland of the Naso, an indigenous people who live near the river in 11 communities surrounded by beautiful forest. The Naso are proud to be the last people in the Americas to still have a monarch. They reserve the right to switch kings if they become unhappy with him. They can vote him out, but the replacement has to come from within the royal family (however, since the Naso community is so small, nearly everyone in it is related by blood or marriage). They did just that in 2004 when the current king come out in support of a hydro-electric project on the Rio Teribe (his support was bought with bribes by the Panamanian government).
Spanish records suggest that in the 16th century the Naso were already well established in the region, and may have in fact, been the dominant power at the time. The Naso were gradually squeezed out of the area and by the latter half of the 19th century had retreated far up the Rio Teribe in the highlands near the Costa Rican boarder (which is where I went).
Today the Naso are the most beleagured of Panama's dight surviving indigenous peoples. The cultural identity of the few Naso who remain is being eroded on all sides: by the dominant Latin culture, my missionaries, and my intermarraige. There are about 3800 Naso left in Panama. They are working hard to cling to their traditions and land, however. They still speak their ancestral language, as well as Spanish (my guide was also fluent in English, and had lived in New York for a a year). The Naso still do not have reservation status for their land, which is in stark contrast to the other tribes in Panama who have huge chunks of land.
Just getting to Naso country is a fun little adventure. There was once a road that led into this part of the country, but it has dissapeared back into the forest and the ever-shifting Rio Teribe (i love geomorphology and i love rivers, which was a good part of the reason I wanted to come up here). Access is now by boat. River transport is by motorized dugout canoe. Its a beautiful trip. The trip downriver is twice as fast and you return on balsa-wood rafts (I did this, twice, and it was fantastically fun, though the pictures are all on my waterproof, disposable camera so you'll have to wait for them).
And now my week up the Rio Teribe:
I was met by my guide Jeison at the boat terminal in mainland Bocas. His name is Jeison, but for various reasons, I think of him as Rey, which I will explain later. He doesn't like it much, but it is what it is. We traveled to El Silencio and then got into a rather big dugout canoe at the confluence of the Rio Teribe and Changuinola Rivers. There I met Max, Jeison's younger brother. These two would be my family for the week.
We ventured a little bit up the Changuinola River to the Naso village of Santa Rosa. There I walked around a jardin for medicinal plants and then a bunch of adorable kids did some traditional dances for me, which was adorable, but horribly awkward. Since I was alone, there was one chair, so I sat in it, and everything was for just for me and I quite honestly hate that feeling. It was so awkward. I'm sure some people like things like this, but well, it just made me uncomfortable.
The Naso speak Spanish in addition to their own language, and I found their Spanish pretty easy to understand, with the exception of some of the health problems the plants in the gardens were for (like asthma and kidney stones). Luckily my guide could help me out where my vocabulary was lacking. He also is a nurse so his knowledge of things medical is pretty good.
We then ate lunch by this little waterfall:
Where we saw this sloth in the trees: After lunch we ventured up the Rio Teribe for about an hour until we arrived at Soposo. Across the river from Soposo is the village of Wekso. It has a grim history as the former site of the Pana-Jungla, a jungle warfare/survival school that put elite troops though legendarily difficult training during the Noriega years. It was closed in 1990. I heard some crazy stories about what it was like to be here in the 80s and when the US invaded in 1989.
We arrived at a nondescript little sandbar, unloaded the canoe, and then walked about 30 minutes inland up the hills to the lodge, and the home of my guide. I thought I was going to die cause I was so freaking hot. Jeison, insisted on carrying my backpack, which i tried to tell him not to, but he did anyways, which was a great relief. Apparently in this culture (both Naso and Latin) the men try to be gentlemanly and look out for the ladies. This also is awkward for me as well, but I have to say, after nearly four weeks of being totally on my own, it was kinda nice having help with things.
We arrived in the heat of the afternoon at their house.
My accommodations were quite nice.
And we spent the afternoon lounging in these hammocks. I wanted nothing to with moving around in that intense sun and heat, ugh. I am totally a mountain girl, I can't deal with heat like that. That first night, I had possibly the best meal I've eaten in Panama. It was this great soup-type thing made with heart of palm. Oh man, was it ever good. I kinda wish that I had learned to cook it. They tried to make me eat by myself, which I promptly said no to. They are used to having guests that are with friends or spouses or you know, just not solo, but I said I didn't want to eat by myself, and that the boys should eat with me. Which they did, the whole time I was there.
The brothers were really good at keeping me entertained. Jeison and I spoke in English, Max and I in Spanish. I tried to speak in Spanish with Jeison every now and then, but it was just really hard for me. I think that after I was used to hearing his voice in English, when he'd flip over to Spanish, my brain would get messed up because I'd be listening for one thing (his voice in english), and hearing another (his voice in spanish).
Somehow, when you are out in nature, far away from everything, including electricity, its really easy to get up at sunrise. So I did nearly every single day I was there.
Sunrise over Jeison and Max's family's houses.
That second morning, Jeison and I went for a walk in the muddy muddy rainforest. He told me about the plants but mostly what I remember is 1) that there are many many types of what we gringos think of as palm trees, 2) that I should not under any circumstances touch anything without first looking to see if there were giant poisonous ants on it first, and 3) that I shouldn't mess with the palm trees with spines on them, which I did despite his warnings and ended up with a half inch spine embedded in my finger. I wish i had taken a picture of those trees, they seriously have porcupine quills all over them.
The Jungle
We spent a lot of time looking for frogs and at the leaf-cutter ants. More time than I am willing to admit because its kind of embarrassing how intrigued I was by these things. The leaf-cutter ants make these super freeways on which to transport all their leaves back to their nests. They look like someone has taken a garden hoe and cleared a path through the jungle. The paths are so clean and they have these little embankments on either side and they can go on for hundreds of meters (maybe even kilometers). Its amazing. Then once the leaves are back in the nest, they wait until a fungus starts decomposing the leaves and then they eat that fungus. These ants are little agricultural specialists.
I let Jeison do all the touching of the frogs and insects, and I just looked because 1) I had bug spray all over my hands and that kills the frogs, and 2) I am scared of touching slimy things.
Frogs
Leaf-cutter ants.
Leaf-cutter ant highways.
That afternoon, we were going to go horseback riding to the river, but it rained. I rode a horse around their yard for a while instead, but really was quite scared as it's been a long time since I've been on a horse. I also felt like the horse didn't like me. The brothers led the horse around for a while, with me on it. Jeison said he felt like we were Maria and Jose except Maria was on a donkey. It took me a while to realize he was referring to Mary and Joseph and Christmas. Ah, Christmas is on everyone's mind right now, except for, somehow, mine.
Annie, Jeison's adorable puppy.
The next day the brothers took me farther up the Rio Teribe. It was an amazing adventure.
Up river from Soposo is Sieyik (a name which contains far to many adjacent vowels). It is the Naso capital. It is a village of about 500 people who live in houses scattered around a lovely hillside overlooking the river. Traditional homes are built on stils (for flood protection--how do you like that Jess?) with thatched roofs. I theoretically learned how to make the roofs (there are different ways, using different palms, but both have to be harvested when the moon is full so the termites don't eat them. We spent most of the day hiking to this village.
The first part of the journey was easy-peasy. We walked on the gravel bars and crossed the river several times.
Sometimes we could ford the river on foot.
Other times we had to use a tiny canoe or swim.
When they took me across in this thing, they told me to close my eyes. I didn't.
This section of the river is highly depositional and moves incredible amounts of large sediment. The government is building a road up this way in hopes of installing a large hydroelectric dam. Jeison told me this, but said everyone there knew that road wouldn't last five years with the way the river floods (the road is just depositional material that is formed into something that resembles a levee that you can drive on top of). There is also a bridge abutment that is right in the middle of the active floodplain which is constructed, again, with the depositional gravel, and not much else. We can only hope that no on is on that bridge when the floods come though, cause its going to come down too. Oh, engineering in developing nations is so so much different. I second his opinion that this road is going to be toast in the near future. But he also said that they build this way here so there will always be work for people. If they build something that doesn't need to be rebuilt in five years, the company who built it won't have enough work in the future. I suppose that is one way of looking at it--shotty work ensures that you'll have contract to fix it in the future--but if it were me, i'd never contract the same company to do the same project twice; if it failed once, i'd never give them work again.
Me on a depositional bar.
I would love to come back up here with my river girls from Berkeley and check all this out. Who knows, maybe we will :)
Oh, so the second half of the hike was freaking miserable. The sun came out, and we had to hike up into the hills. I was convinced that we had to have climbed about 1000 feet straight up, but we probably didn't. The trails are nothing more than foot paths, and they were so so muddy. It was incredibly difficult hiking, and it was so so so hot. Jeison kept telling me that it was ok to rest, to take as much time as I needed, and he'd rather that we all be late than have me be tired for the trip down. As a result, we rested a lot and we were late.
A home on the river
Up in the hills
Cocoa plants, I had hot chocolate from these. It was yummy.
And of course, once you climb hundreds of feet straight up, you then have to descend hundreds of feet straight down these same muddy muddy footpaths. I fell down a few times. And would have fallen many many more if not for the stable hands of the brothers. Apparently to get to school, kids do these types of hikes every day. We finally arrived at Sieyik (or there abouts) around 2:30, where we ate lunch. Thank god, we were hungry.
Our final destination.
Finally we get to rest. Max taking a nap.
Jeison peeling an citrus fruit, kinda like an orange, but with a green peel. I loved these fruits.
The huge gravel bars near Sieyik.
This area is simply amazing, and the colors of the rocks were incredible. White whites, deep reds, magentas, purples, blues and greens. Wow. Sarah Richmond, you'd be in heaven here.
The rain came in and it sprinkled for a few hours. But it wasn't cold. After lunch we walked around the gravel bars and waited for our raft to take us down river. The traditional way of going down the river is to make "disposable" balsa-wood rafts. They lash together several fallen balsa-wood trees and bamboo take it down river, then take it apart once they get to their destination. The only things you need to do this and carry with you as you hike up the river is rope and a machete so its exceptionally convenient.
Messing around while we were waiting. Hanging out with Max made me realize what it would have been like to have a brother.
The beginnings of the raft. It started coming together around sunset.
This is the raft.
Then came the trip down the river which is almost indescribable. I'm not sure I can do it. We went down by the light of the full moon and under clear sky and the shining stars. I was a bit cold, as I was soaked by the river water, though the water was actually quite warm. The raft is steared with two bamboo poles by a captain in the back and the first mate in the front. They stand. I sat in the middle with Max, and two of their little cousins. Jeison and another grown cousin were driving. The ride was smooth, though at one point I got tossed off in a rapid (don't worry, we wore life jackets) and had to swim. At another point, we lost Max and the cousins, but I managed to stay on that time. It was so so so much fun. It totally made the horrendous hike worth it. Everyone was laughing and having a grand ol' time. Seriously my words are failing me right now. I simply can't describe it. Imagine river rafting, but on the above raft, in the moonlight, with people who have opened their hearts and made you part of their family.
Sunrise the next morning.
As a result of the hike the day before, my clothes and shoes were trashed and encrusted with so much mud that you couldn't actually see the fabric. So Jeison insisted that I learn how to do laundry in the river. I told him I already knew how to do laundry by hand (I learned that in Tibet), but he insisted, so we did it. As a result, my trail shoes have never been cleaner. Its quite amazing. I sincerely think that washing like this gets the clothes cleaner than a washing machine, though it really does take a long-ass time. We didn't do a whole lot this day. After my laundry, we made some craft type things (remarkably, what I made has the shape of a ball you hang on a Christmas tree so I have a Christmas ordainment to bring home), and went back down to the river to hang out and play around for a few hours. It was low key.
But that was fine, I was tired, and had a significant amount of bug bites to contend with. And we finally got that giant spine out of my finger this morning too. Max taught me how to do some wood carvings, and that evening the two of us spent three or four hours working on his English. It was fun. The previous night, he was teaching me words in the Naso lauguage, using Spanish to explain it to me, and it was at this point I realized that I really am getting comfortable with Spanish because I didn't even realize that was the language he was using to teach me Naso.
Max is 19 and trying to figure out what to do with his life, and really is just a great kid. Jeison, a.k.a. Rey, is also fantastic. He's older (though younger than me), considerably more mature than 19 year old Max (well, Jeison was also tasked with keeping me safe, so he had to at least appear more responsible), very open and a good, patient, teacher. as I mentioned, his name is Jeison (in fact, their whole family has english names and their last name is Williams), but for some reason that neither of them would tell me, Max calls Jeison "Ray". I got so used to hearing him say this that in my mind, Jeison became "Rey" to me too. But note, I made a switch in the spellings: I started thinking of him as "Rey" which means "king" rather than "Ray" which is obviously the name that his brother called him.
It made sense to me because really, I was so udderly dependent upon him out there, that he kinda became the center of my world, like a king would be. He was not fond of this nickname, but really its not my fault, it is Max's for starting it. I seriously would have not been able to hack it out there in the Jungle alone, I would have died, and it's humbling to become so reliant on someone else for pretty much everything. Ok, maybe I wouldn't have died, but I would have been miserable. And had very dirty clothes.
Jeison in the river, helping me scrub my shoes and pants clean.
Max sitting on my balcony working on carving a dolphin, listening to music on my computer.
The day I left, they taught me how to make rice. Not cook rice, which I also need lessons in, but how to harvest and prepare rice. At first i thought it was a terribly hard process with not much reward, but it turns out it wasn't that bad. Though I never want to waste another grain of rice again now that I know how much effort goes into getting it prepared.
Tray full of rice.
We rafted down the river that afternoon to El Silencio (my backpack went down on a horse). God, it was so much fun. I took a ton of photos with my disposable, waterproof camera, so I'll post those when i get them developed after i get back to the US in a few days.
All in all, it was a freaking fantastic trip. And I really do want to come back. Max was so sweet when I left, he said, "You have to come back to see us, but next time you won't be a tourist, you'll be like family". Oh. It was great. I learned a lot, and taught them a lot too.
Max and me.
Max and Jeison
Max on the boat
Me and Jeison on the raft.
Jeison and me
Max
Max
