I went to two really fun birthday parties in October. The first was Yisleidys' 5th birthday. The second was her grandfather Enrique's a few days later. Enrique is Eira's husband; they are the family I am closest to. I'm not sure but I think he turned 51. Birthdays here always include the same elements: arroz con pollo (a delicious chicken and rice dish that I can't get enough of), ensalada (which means salad but the only salad here is the potato and mayo kind), cake, ice cream, and a piñata. This is a birthday in a wealthier family; I've visited other kids on their birthdays and they didn't have anything different from any other day. It's really funny to see how excited Panamanians get about piñatas, no matter how old they are. Kids' piñatas have candy inside, but adults' piñatas have candy, coins, and pads inside. Yes, pads. As in female sanitary products. And grown men think it's hilarious to unwrap them, stick them on each other's backs, and see how long it takes them to notice. Maybe I'm losing my sanity a little bit, but I thought it was hilarious too. Adult birthdays also involve games with balloons. Like, how fast you can pop one with your butt. I went up against Isabela and totally won. My prize was a bar of soap.
I've discovered that I'm not as far as I thought from a popular strip of beaches on the Pacific. My favorite is called El Palmar and it's only an hour and a half away, so I can go for the day and still get home at the end of the day. It's beautiful with palm trees and black sand and it's popular with surfers. I've only gone twice but it's good to know it's there.
I had a bit of a crazy experience one night a few weeks ago. One of my 9th graders, Gabriela (is it wrong to have favorites??) invited me to a service with her church. Churches are really good ways to get to know people in the community, so I immediately said yes. What I didn't know until I got there was that they were Seventh-Day Adventist (I think that's what they're called in English). I don't know much about the different sects of Christianity, but this one was the kind in which the pastor (again, I don't know the right word, but it's "pastor" in Spanish) speaks passionately and the members of the congregation burst out with "Amen!" at random points in the middle of his sermon. I was just happy that my Spanish was having a good day and I understood everything. Especially when the pastor started asking people questions individually. He asked me, "Do you believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God?" I mean, yikes. Talk about awkward. I just threw out an "Amen!" and he moved on. I felt bad about lying, but really, it was not the time to get into a theological debate or an explanation of Judaism. After the service we all huffed it to the river (a 30 minute walk) so the pastor could baptize a new convert. It was pitch black and I'm sure the water was freezing, but it was an awesome thing to witness. At least, it was until the pastor asked me, "Would you like to be baptized too? What's impeding you from being baptized tonight?" Yikes. Awkward again. I just kind of hid behind the women and said, "Um, not right now, but thank you," and thankfully he let it go. Despite the awkward moments, it was a great experience that made me glad that I say yes to every invitation that comes my way.
At the end of October we had el Dia del Estudiante, or Student's Day, at school. I wasn't really sure what it would entail until the day actually arrived. (It seems like most of my life here consists of not knowing much, showing up, and going with the flow.) Student's Day turned out to be really fun. One student was chosen to dress up as each teacher and taught their classes for the day. Two of my favorite colleagues, Fimia and Cristina, who are fun and crazy, dressed up as students and sat in classes, too. It was hilarious because they acted out and started fights and did all the annoying things that the students usually do. The students who taught got a reality check and a new appreciation for their teachers, that's for sure. After classes there were games which I think were solely designed to embarrass the teachers in front of the students. I missed out on the first one -- a cake-eating contest with no hands! I totally would have rocked that one! -- but I got into a vicious game of musical chairs (same as our version except you have to dance around the chairs, not just walk) and another butt-balloon popping game. I had to pop a balloon with my butt and then do whatever the little piece of paper inside said. I had to tell a joke. I was just glad I didn't get the one that said sing a song! It was one of the first times that I truly felt like part of the faculty and part of the school community. It was a great feeling. Now that I know what Student's Day is, I'll definitely dress up like a student next year and wreak some havoc!
I had been looking forward to Halloween for a really long time. It's one of my favorite holidays and also Emma's birthday so a couple of us volunteers went to Panama City to celebrate. The cities are the only places in the country where people actually celebrate Halloween. In the campo (countryside), people have really strong beliefs about brujas (witches) and duendes (goblins). People think I'm insane for living alone. They are constantly asking me, "You live alone?! Aren't you afraid of the witches?" There is also a belief in a blond-haired, blue-eyed duende that kidnaps children. Parents like to use the duende to get their kids to do something. ("If you don't behave, the duende is going to come and get you...") People are extremely serious about these beliefs, though. And they view Halloween with apprehension and fear. There is actually a proposal in the government right now to ban the celebration of Halloween due to its supposed detrimental influence on Panamanian youth.
Anyway, we heathen Americans were excited to celebrate it. We all, without even planning it together, dressed as Panamanian things. Emma made an awesome costume, a can of Balboa (one of the beers here). Jen was a Panamanian woman, which meant she wore an inappropriately tight, brightly colored shirt with rhinestones and a random English word on it. She also had cheap plastic accessories, all in the same bright orange color to match her shirt. It was dead-on Panamanian fashion. Alysa was a "Valla Ilegal" sign, which is the sign that the government posts over billboards on the highway that haven't paid (which is practically all of them). I was a diablo rojo. Diablo rojos, literally "red devils," are the public buses. I'm not quite sure how to describe them. Imagine 1950s-era American school buses after a makeover on "Pimp My Ride." Panama must have some kind of deal with inspection centers in the States; once they fail in inspection, they're shipped down here and pimped out. They are all painted differently, but there are common trends among them all. They say their destination on the windshield, though usually so illegibly that it's useless. Random American pop icons and cartoon figures are often featured, such as Bart Simpson and Sponge Bob. They always display the bus driver's preference in soccer teams, either Barcelona or Real Madrid. There is always a religious phrase or Bible quote scrawled along the bottom of the windshield, reducing the already poor visibility of the driver. There are always geometric patterns and flames. There is often an elaborate scene of something random and inexplicable, like a wizard in robes, a log cabin in the woods, or a medieval castle. The emergency door in the back always features either a religious scene, like Jesus on the cross or the Virgin Mary, or an icon from popular culture, like Shakira, Clint Eastwood, or Harry Potter. The inside of the bus always has a feather boa framing the windshield, fuzzy dice and air fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror, pom-poms decorating the gear shift, and a Panamanian flag somewhere. Another popular decoration is the driver's children's names spelled out down the two poles in the front. Since words don't really do these things justice, here are some pictures from a Google Image search:
And how I translated that into a Halloween costume:
