In the Campo

I spent the last week visiting a current volunteer, Michelle, at her site in the province of Coclé, which is a community located in the campo (countryside) outside of Penonomé, the capital of Coclé.

One of our primary activities was mango-eating (up to four times a day), which resulted in this combined effort (thanks for the help, Michelle and Maria!) to produce a somewhat excessive expression of mango love:

So soft and firm, my fingers encase,

Squeeze in my hands, a tender embrace.

A deep love so strong,

And oh, how I long

For sweet mango all over my face.

Also as part of my education about the volunteer experience, we hiked to the source of the community’s aqueduct, assisted teaching a hilarious elementary school English class, played fútbol with the neighbors, danced to merengue on the radio, and hiked to a neighboring volunteer’s site, where we swam in the river and played Settlers of Catan.

I also had the opportunity to learn the basics of sombrero-making!  I have a long way to go in terms of craftsmanship, but it seems like a good way to keep busy on slow days and get to know the local sombrero-makers.  The woman who taught us was incredibly patience and very skilled – and she showed us the whole process: harvesting the plant, preparing it for weaving, weaving the strands together, and then stitching together the woven threads to make the finished sombrero.

Then we finished our adventures with a trip to Santa Clara beach!

Things with my host family have continued to go well.  We did have one entertaining incident.  I was with my host sisters when my host mom called to us to say dinner was ready.  I walked in to see a single plate of food at the table, piled high with steamed broccoli.  Just as I was debating whether I should tell my host mom how much I detest broccoli or if I should just eat it, my host mom told me something like, “That’s dad’s food.”  Embarrassed that I automatically assumed it was mine, I retreated into my bedroom.  After a few minutes, realizing that my host dad wasn’t actually home, and still very confused, I wandered into my host sisters’ room and asked why her mom had said it was dinner time and then only served her dad’s food.  She explained that everyone in the family except Dad hates broccoli, which gave me the perfect opener: “Me too!”  So she marched into the kitchen and announced to her mom that I also dislike broccoli.  My host mom laughed and said she had been wondering why I hadn’t eaten my dinner, and I explained that I thought she said the food was for Dad.  After a good laugh all the way around, she happily scraped the broccoli off my plate, I happily ate my dinner, and attributed the whole thing to some poor language interpretation on my part.  Thanks to my host sister, Alexandra, for saving the day!

I have been working on learning some Spanish chistes (jokes).  These are maybe popsicle stick or laffy taffy quality at best, but at least I’m learning some puns!  Taking a step towards fluency!  (They are not worth translating, since they only make sense in Spanish.)

¿Qué dice la isla al mar?

¡Ola!

¿Qué dice el pez al otro pez?

¡Nada!

¿Cómo se llama un pez que no hace nada?

¡El pez-idente!

El tenedor está caminando por la calle.  Ve una cuchada.  Dice, <¡Hola!> a la cuchada.  La cuchada no dice nada.  El tenedor piensa, <Pues, quizás no escuchada.>

Jajaja.  Hope you enjoyed those.

Anyway, we’re heading to the Comarca (indigenous reservation) next week for technical training – fun stuff!! – and then we find out our sites the following week.  Very exciting!