E and I had a long heart-to-heart last night about this crazy place we call Panama. We have lived here for five months now. That is hardly any time at all. And yet we have been through more these past few months than we have the past few years. We chewed the fat over some of our most memorable moments, our biggest heartaches, our petpeevs, lessons learned, and everything else that has shaped this whole experience abroad. We have definitely gotten a few more grey hairs (well, Enoch has at least- haha).
Highlights so far (I am sure there are many more to come):
- a group of 5 or so Panamanian workers gathered in the street to greet me as I rode by on my bicycle, one even tried to kiss me- only two inches away from success (I no longer take solitary bike rides around town)
-that ONE time the babysitter actually showed up and Enoch and I got to go out on a real date
- I saw the words "limpia", "Neutrogena", and "Deep Clean" on a bottle which I bought and washed my face with for a week. I broke out in acne like a fifteen-year-old and finally had Enoch check the label for me. It was an oil-based make-up remover.
-our first baby started school
-our second baby nearly died from swelling in her brain
-when chatting with a Panamanian family they noticed Rivka's stitches in her chin and asked what happened, then they showed us what happened recently to their son- he hacked his finger off with a machete and he was only 11 (ok, ok you win!)
- all the times local people have come to us for "loans" or jobs or selling items you can buy cheaper at the store two doors down
-the annual week-long "Carnaval" full of colorful dances, loud music, and a "Head Devil" that carries a whip (that he actually uses to beat/scare/play with kids) and is known to attack attractive young women, pin them to the ground in the street, and hump them- all commonly accepted as part of the glorious tradition (I stayed off the main street that week)
- bearing my testimony at church in English and watching all the Relief Society sisters chuckle and nod knowingly, even though they didn't have a clue what I was saying
- understanding what it feels like to be an inferior second-rate citizen, being ignored as you wait patiently in line while the cashier helps those in front of and behind you, being openly stared at wherever you go, having strangers reach out and stroke your hair because it looks so strange to them, getting charged twice as much for a taxi ride since you look white, the list goes on and on
We are not in Kansas anymore.
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