Azuero and Sidenotes
This weekend I took advantage of some free time to visit the Azuero region in Panama. Luckily, the Corpus Cristi festival was going on in Los Santos. Corpus Cristi, from what I was able to gather, consists of a series of religious allegorical performances. These performances tell stories of angels versus demons and are usually enacted by male teenagers dressed in elaborate costumes. Additionally there are side bar performances featuring local folk music groups, usually consisting of children, or as was featured here little kids in tiger stripe PJs wearing demon masks. It was hilarious to see five year olds freaked out by other five year old's masks. Like most Panamanian festivals and ‘folkloric’ events (their word translated directly) the colors represent the ROYGBIV spectrum pretty thoroughly.
These performances each last for about 20 to 30 minutes and overall go on for hours. They are occasionally broken up for little mini parades around the Los Santos town square. Earlier, I had been to Los Santos for the world famous Feria del Azuero, but this somehow satisfied my desires for cultural experience a bit more. One particularly interesting facet of these performances was this dance performed by what the community refers to as ‘los gays’. Essentially, it’s about a dozen or so men dressed in women’s clothing wearing these creepy satirical masks and dancing on stage. Naturally the dances start off innocently enough, but given enough time and the fact that some of these guys have likely been drinking since sun rise, it gets a little raunchy. Later on, one of these guys happened to be so drunk that he ended up falling and busting his head open. An ambulance showed up and drove busted head dude away. That wasn’t the last time I saw him though. When Katie’s host family was driving us home, we saw him walking on the side of the road. In the rain. Head still busted.
Also it was extremely hot and I am actually facetiously trying to cut down on my soda intake so instead I ordered about three shaved ice cones. They are not that different here than in the states (or anywhere else that I’ve had shaved ice...) except that it is a custom to put condensed milk on them. Twice I tried ordering my ice without the condensed milk (not a fan) and twice I was simply handed a red cone with milk on it. I don’t know how much these shaved ice guys make on average, but during the festival, they seemed to making a straight up killing. At one point, this one guy just plops out a giant wad of bills that he has presumably accumulated all day working the street. It reminded me of those scenes from [any crime drama ever] where a drug dealer has a fat wad of cash and is just posted on a corner. It’s that condensed milk, I swear. At one point, after failing to be entertained by the Archangel Michael slaying one of what must have been a 1000 demons, I wondered if they ever fought for market access like drug dealers do in [any crime drama] ever or if there was a subtle agreement to not trespass on each other's posted spots as in [one particularly good crime drama].
Katie’s host family was nice enough to provide me with karaoke and a place to stay. Karaoke consisted of me butchering contemporary Spanish classics such as Suavemente and No Me Ames. It also consisted of me doing an awe-inspiring, heart breaking, gut wrenching rendition of Turn Around by Bonnie Tyler. With this song, I made sure everyone in the room felt Bonnie's pain. On a side note, if you haven’t seen the music video for this 80s hit, google it and ask yourself what the hell was up with the 80s and ninjas. Katie's host dad has been around since forever, or really sometime in the 1950s when the ground shook, oceans parted, and mountains sank. Katie jokingly stated that he was like Santa Claus bringing goods to his friends in the island. His daughter replied something along the lines of, 'no, he actually exists.' This morning, before I left with my free ride to Chitre, we sat on his porch and he told me how Peace Corps volunteer had helped him get into agriculture when he was young and how that helped him become a badass farmer. It was one of those, "oh, hey, what we're doing here really matters moments'.
The next day though, and this is serious, Katie’s family drove us through this incredible tour of the Azuero peninsula. Through mountains, into valleys, and onto an island that won’t show up on your tourist map, there we went. To get to this island we drove through this tiny farming town and stopped at what you wouldn’t believe was a dock. A drum is hit, a boat is signaled and we wade through muddy river waters with cargo that we were carrying onto this island. After a brief period and once the water is reasonably deep, a boat meets us and takes us through the river that’s reminiscent of Apocalypse Now or Congo. You even see monkeys in trees if you’re lucky. Onto the beach and bam.
This place is practically untouched in terms of tourism. The beach is pristine and the waves, because we’re not that far away from either Santa Catalina or Vernau, are inspiring. My absolute favorite moment was standing at the water Sunday morning while staring at the vast ocean. So much of something that honestly transformed into nothing. As the ocean bellowed with its signature rhythm, I could not help, but stand in awe of the beauty and brilliance before me. Panama has reminded me how much I love the beach. That's probably because I hit up something like four beaches in two days.
On the way back, we took a different route and made a great circle around the Azuero. I will post pictures up in flickr, hopefully, in the next two weeks.
