The Panama Bochinche Press


“What's bochinche?” you may ask. Well that's Panamanian for “gossip.” Here hard core bochinche is looked down upon, but everyone loves to tell you about so-and-so's sick mother or new washing machine. So, I know you're not supposed to do it, but come on,everybody's doing it.

The Panty Thief
Extra! Extra! Read all about it! There's a panty thief on the loose!!! Yes, you read that correctly, someone is stealing underwear from the clothesline. MY underwear. And in a country where good underwear is hard to find, that's a huge deal. So I'm down to 5 pairs now, and washing a dirty pair has become a morning ritual for me. You all ask what I want in care packages...well, now you know. (I'm a medium.)

The Gringa Invasion
Gringas have been invading my campo town, eating up all the fonda's hojaldres (fried dough) and driving the boys wild. Thanks to Kelly, Camille, Crystal, Preeti, Frank, and Lynne, who all visited me this month. Y'all reminded me how beautiful and amazing my life is here. And I had a ton of fun. Oh, and the gifts were amazing. I'm eating Trader Joe's regularly these days.

And That Makes A Year
While the gringas were busy living the tropical life for a few weeks, I was busy celebrating my one year anniversary of the tropical life. That's right, I've been here over a year now. It hasn't seemed like a whole year at all. It's going by quickly. BUT there have been ups and downs. Here's the story of a one year anniversary DOWN:

As I hit one year in country I thought, “I'm so lucky. I have friends who've dealt with butt fungus, machete wounds, amoebas, skin eating disease and more. Yet I haven't had to go to the doctor even once. Oh lucky me. I am invincible.” Or not. The night of my one year anniversary it hit. Stomach pain kept me up all night. I felt like I was going to die. I don't know that I've ever felt worse. The next day, I moved into the bathroom, permanently. Finally, I called my doctor and she sent me to the lab. Duh duh duh. Stool test. Well, you try shooting acid butt pee into a jar with an opening the size of a half-dollar. It just doesn't work. Anyway, after days of near death I started taking anti-parasite drugs and started to feel better. So don't worry, I'm almost back to normal.

Getting Down and Dirty
Well if that wasn't dirty enough for you, here's some really dirty bochinche. Literally. I've been working on a plant project with the youth cooperative. It's been fun preparing the area and soil with the kids and getting covered in dirt from head to toe. Totally worth the cold shower I have to take afterward. We're setting up a nursery to grow medicinal and decorative plants and then we hope to sell them at the festivals in town that are coming up.

Speaking of Festivals...
I recently went to my friend Rob's site (gringas in tow) for his Patronales. That's the town's patron saint festival. The main event was bull fighting. Not the attack the animal with spears type, though. Here, the men get in a big plaza and let out bulls, one by one. The bulls run around and the men play chicken. Some run at the bull and try to ride it, others runs the other way when it gets near. The women all are on the edges (other side of the fence or wall) and scream when the bull comes near . I got in the plaza for a bit, but after two bulls I was done. I didn't really feel like having my face smashed in.

So What's Next?
I'm working on the plant project, working with my Girl Scout troop (hopefully we'll swear-in as official Scouts soon), planning some things for the group of new arrivals' training, training some youth to compete in a project exhibition, counting down the days until I come home to visit (Dec. 16), and whatever else comes up. Here, things always do...