five blonde gringos

Where the cactus meet the pines

2010-10-07T14:31:00.000-07:00

My mom used to tell me that the lousy Indiana weather taught us Hoosiers to be grateful for the few days of truly wonderful weather. Her theory sounded nice, but I never fully believed her. I figured that if I was ever lucky enough to live in weather utopia, I surely wouldn't take it for granted.

As usual, mom was right.

Most of the year, our tiny village in Panama is as close to paradise as you can get. Even though we live fairly close to the equator, the altitude of our mountains keeps the temperatures between a comfortable 65-80 degrees. Even better, we have a sort of choose-your-own-climate here. If we drive fifteen minutes further up the mountain, the temps cool off about 10 degrees. And if we drive in the other direction, temps warm up about the same amount. Just the same, it can be raining in one tiny pocket of our village and sunny in another. I was surprised to find that our town doesn't even register on weather.com, likely because the mini-climates can be difficult to pinpoint. Life without a forecast is lovely here though, because nearly every day is beautiful. And yes, since most days are as pleasant as the next, I have unfortunately begun to take them for granted.

We have two seasons here: rainy and dry. We first arrived in January during the peak of dry season. And although it may not technically rain much then, there is often a fine mist that falls which the locals call bajareque. The refreshing mist plus the Panama sun equals the most glorious rainbows I have ever seen!

I'd been under the mistaken impression that dry and rainy season were equal in length. Boy, was I wrong. When locals began to warn me of the coming rains as early as April, I got worried. Luckily, almost every morning was sunny, then shifted to a soothing afternoon rain. The afternoon rains increase gradually until the peak of rainy season when it rains nearly all day, typically September and October (yes, we are currently very wet!). But because of our altitude even our rains can be beautiful, as we are literally in the clouds. And our area of the mountains is literally called the Cloud Forest.

Due to the fantastic climate, we are surrounded by everything from cactus to pine trees to bamboo to nearly every kind of fruit and flower imaginable. In our yard alone we can find bananas, limes, papayas, hydrangeas, eucalyptus, and the most incredibly sweet-smelling-yet-hallucinogenic-and-possibly-poisonous flower bush (google told me so!) that our kids are not allowed to touch. Our friends make delicious tea from actual lemongrass that grows on their property (not sure why I'm so amazed by this, other than the odd fact that I didn't even know that lemongrass was a real thing...just thought it was a tea flavor).

Our town is quite literally in the shadow of a large volcano called Baru. And due to its former eruptions, the soil is super fertile and nearly everything grows easily. So much so that if you stick a limb of a certain tree in the ground, it will sprout roots and limbs and grow into a new tree. Really! And although I've yet to succeed at keeping a single plant alive, I'm pretty sure that even I could have a green thumb here. (Mom, stop laughing, I'm serious.)

We hardly ever close our windows, and the fresh breeze is something that I will truly miss in the states. (I suppose we could open our windows more in Indiana, but we'd run the risk of becoming human popsicles from November through April.) At our first rental villa, I awoke every morning to the soothing sound of the wind rustling though banana trees just outside our window. And I credit both the clean mountain air and the fantastic fruit to keeping us healthier than ever. Boquete truly is a glorious place to live!

Pencils in the ketchup and other Panamanian oddities

2010-09-29T21:40:00.000-07:00

There are certain things here in Panama that cause us to smile...but also scratch our heads in wonder...

If you buy laundry detergent here, you may get a free notebook. Sometimes the ketchup bottles include complimentary pencils. But the strangest freebie was chicken bouillon in our package of toilet paper. Surely there has got to be a reason for these pairings??

When a product sells well in stores, it is often seen as a nuisance and it won't be reordered. I guess it solves the dilemma of having to constantly restock the shelves!

Sweet potatoes and spinach are quite elusive. We bought them both in our first week here and have only seen them once or twice since then. If we'd known beforehand, we would have bought out the entire stock. However...that would have guaranteed that they wouldn't be reordered. Vicious cycle, huh?

Produce is occasionally sold from pick-up truck beds in the town square. The pineapples and mangos (during season) are incredible! Fish are also sold that way. But, fresh or not, you couldn't pay me to eat fish from the back of a truck.

Speaking of fish, did you know that shrimp have heads? Big, ugly ones? With eyes?? Of course I knew this, given that shrimp are my very favorite members of the protein food group (peanut m&m's are a close second place). But somehow actually seeing them with their heads attached is quite different. And watching my husband chop their heads off...well, let's just say that it will be a while before my shrimp cravings return. The flip side? Again, FRESH!

Machetes are to Central American what duct tape is to North America: they can do nearly any job. We're talking everything from food preparation (works well to open coconuts or slice pineapples), pest control (snake smashing), and excavation (chopping down large trees). Lawns are not mowed here, they are "macheted" (with the occasional weed-wack).

Driving in a foreign country is usually an interesting experience, and Panama has been no exception. We've learned to beware of crazy taxi drivers, suicidal chickens, and the occasional wayward cow. A friend of ours once saw a tour bus driving down the highway with a dog tied to the rooftop (and has video to prove it)! Certain everyday things also make me laugh, like the one way stops at four way intersections. Randy says that it prevents 1/4 of the accidents, but I'm not so sure!

One that note, car accidents are a sort of spectator sport here. I don't know if that is because we live in a very small village (and people need some form of excitement) or if it is a cultural thing. But no matter if there is a big accident or a simple fender bender, people pull to the side and get out to watch. Also, funeral processionals often take place on foot through our town. And we thought that funeral processionals were long in the states!

Panamanians are a very friendly bunch. During my first visit back home to Indianapolis, it took me several days to stop saying hello to everyone that passed by, simply because it is the norm that I'd gotten used to here. It is customary to give a friendly "buenas!" upon entering a waiting room, bus, or store. I wonder if the general Panamanian public thinks that North Americans are somewhat rude in comparison.

As is common in other Latin cultures, most tasks can be put off until "mañana". (As a professional procrastinator, I love this!) A close cousin of the mañana mantra is the "solo un momentito" phenomenon, which means "just a tiny minute". The problem with this one is that things usually don't really take just another minute - they often take ten, or twenty, or sixty minutes more. For example, I once had a pedicure appointment that was supposed to be at 4:00. No one was available when I arrived, so I waited a momentito...then a few more, and then more. By the time I was called back, it had been ninety momentitos! (Needless to say, I haven't been back.) Another time, my husband needed to make a photocopy, so he waited patiently in an office for a momentito, then fifteen, then thirty. While he was waiting, he saw one of the store owners leave on foot, then return with something in a big box. Turns out, the guy had gone to buy a new printer so that they could make his copy...all while the other owner kept promising "solo un momentito mas"! Panama has taught us mucha paciencia, for sure.

One of my favorite cultural oddities is the positivity of the people. Panamanians have a very peaceful society, and they tend to shy away from any conflict. This is usually a great thing, however, occasionally the "glass half full" mentality means that you will likely be told exactly what you want to hear. For example, the day before my friend Lynn was due to fly in for a visit, I stopped into Air Panama's local office. Since the airport is a good fifty minute drive from us, I was hoping to find a way to know if her flight would be on time. (Perhaps I should mention that the airport itself is about the size of a postage stamp, there is no online flight tracking, and, in our experience, flights were late more often than not.) I asked the woman at the counter if there was a way for me to find out when Lynn's flight took off, so that I could plan my drive. She disappeared for a second, then returned with a smile. Our conversation went a little like this:
Her (happily): Yes, the flight tomorrow will be on time!
Me (pondering for a minute): Wait, you mean the flight scheduled for tomorrow?
Her (with a sweet, reassuring smile): Yes. I called the Panama City airport and it is on time.
Me: Well...just in case that happens to change, how can I find out?
Her (nodding her head, writing a number down on a scrap of paper and handing it to me): You can call this number to ask if the flight is on time. (A pause and another warm smile.) But even if it is late, they will tell you that it is on time. (Grin.)
She gestured for me to take another piece of candy, told me that my baby was muy lindo, and bid me a warm farewell. I just chuckled to myself.
p.s. The flight was late. :)

Ten in ten. Ready, set, go!

2010-09-28T20:31:00.000-07:00

I know, I know. MIA again. Oops.

So many kind and patient people have been asking where I've been and why the blog has been so silent. A good question indeed. I suppose there are couple of reasons. First, after the initial honeymoon phase of moving to a foreign country, things got real. And difficult. And really difficult. A lot of life in our strange new reality was just too raw and confusing to write about. Which brings me to excuse reason number two: most of the time the words of the moment simply escaped me. Truthfully, I think I'm still processing much of our experience this year. And I'm only recently able to look back on many of our early struggles with clarity and gratitude for the journey. Lastly, it became increasingly difficult to journal honestly about life as we began to accumulate friends here. The people pleaser in me was terrified that my words might (unintentionally) offend someone's culture or home. So it was just easier to remain quiet.

Now that our countdown to home has begun, however, I find myself clinging to our Panama memories. I'm also wondering how to prepare for our reentry experience and considering how to best explain our experience. My guess is that we'll hear a lot of "how was it?" and "what did you learn?" from family and friends, which will be great! So whether people want to hear the passerby version ("A roller coaster!") or the coffee-date version ("Well, it started off like this...") maybe a little blogging update can act as a little conversation boost. And hopefully our friends know me well enough to know my heart and that my intent is to share honest and sometimes silly musings, rather than cynicism or offense. If not, we'll be on a plane soon enough. ;)

Ten months of adventure.
Ten days left.
Ten (or more) blog updates.
A lofty goal.

I'm not sure that it is truly possible to explain ten months of life in as many days, but I'm willing to try.
Wish me luck and check back soon!

Hello.

2010-05-25T07:51:00.000-07:00

Wow, two months without a blog update. Oops!

I've noticed that bloggers often apologize profusely and give excuses for an absence. I'm going to resist that urge and keep it simple. Have you ever been in a situation where there is just too much to explain and not enough words to do so? My problem exactly. I lost my words.

Suffice it to say that the past few months have been some of the most trying for us. I was prepared for some of the challenges. Of course I understood that a cross cultural experience would be difficult, I knew that we would miss our family and loved ones, and I figured that we would perhaps struggle with our roles in such a new situation. What I didn't expect was to feel out of place within our own culture. I didn't have a fix for our kids' broken hearts. And I didn't plan for feelings of discord and discouragement. What is that saying about "even the best laid plans"? Ah yes. They go awry.

At one of the toughest points one of my closest friends wrote to ask me if we should maybe just come back home to Indianapolis. And truthfully, we'd also considered the possibility of waving our white flags and retreating home. But the thing that has given me the most comfort has been the surety that we are exactly where we are supposed to be right now. It may not feel comfortable, but it is necessary.

The following is part of the reply I sent to my friend:

...the one thing that I am sure of is that we are supposed to be here. We've been told by those who have been here for years that most people who come here have similar struggles to some degree (or anywhere abroad, I'm sure). We've been counseled that it is quite normal...and has the possibility to be good in the end. The thing is that being stripped of all of your typical securities, crutches, institutions, and comforts leaves you feeling raw and naked. You are suddenly stuck with yourself, your kids, your spouse, and your faith and have to work on any challenge that appears without the "normal" distractions to cover it up. Our selfishness, pride, and lack of compassion have few places to hide here. I guess it should not come as a surprise. After all, everyone (if they have either lived long enough or are honest with themselves) has similar issues. No one can claim blamelessness, because as humans we are broken. But often our issues can be covered up with only small festers for years or even decades; the result would be not having the same depth of relationships and/or understanding of yourself, your family, and your faith. So, while things seem very difficult and down right now, it isn't really due to our new location. It is simply that we are now standing quite a bit more open and vulnerable than usual. And I want to assure you that I'm sure, even though it hurts sometimes, that we are supposed to stay here for the year. And that what feels like harm, can (and I pray WILL) work only for good.

Even today, as three out of five blonde gringos (myself included) are sick, the orphanage has been closed to visitors for over a month, and the Dead Wheat stove projects have been put on hold, we are trying to look on the bright side. A dear friend is here for a visit. The sun is shining. We have water and electricity (not an everyday occurrence here!). And we have each other, as horrible and wonderful as that can be.

Is that a good enough excuse for my absence? If not, I can forge a better one. :) Thank you to those who have kindly asked for more updates. I will not promise, but I will try, really try, to not disappear again. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

Well, maybe just a few butts...

Hasta luego!

Just popping in to say...

2010-05-24T08:27:00.000-07:00

That I'll be back later today with a real blog post...promise!

So. The Comarca trip.

2010-03-18T23:31:00.000-07:00

I don't know how many times I've sat down to finish this post. There is just so much to say...and the right words simply wouldn't come to me.

I guess I'll begin with some background. Panama is a beautiful and hospitable country. It is also a nation of extremes. The range of economic disparity here is enormous. Panama City is considered the most cosmopolitan city in Central America. The Panama Canal brings in hundreds of thousands of dollars per ship. Panama is a major global force in the banking industry. Some of the wealthiest in the world call Panama home. In contrast, however, many of Panama's citizens are living in poverty, with nearly ten percent living in extreme poverty. Indigenous tribes like the Ngobe Bugles are typically the poorest. Seventy percent of Ngobes have no clean water, seventy three percent are without sanitary services, and ninety seven percent live without electricity. They are, in simplest terms, "the least of these" with regard to basic human necessities.

Many Ngobe children receive their only sufficient meal of the day at school. This is an obvious problem during the summer months. In past years it would take a month or more for children to recuperate from severe malnutrition in order to be healthy enough to concentrate on actual school work.

This year, a Panamanian social service group funded by the government (FIS) stepped in to provide a temporary solution. (I hope to write more about more sustainable long term solutions in future posts. :) So check back!) Their new program entitled "Verano Verde" provided families with a nutrition drink and/or a meal of rice, beans, tuna, or spam during the summer months. This year was a trial of sorts, and I hear that it was considered to be quite a success!

I was asked to join a group of mainly expats who had planned a mini carnival of sorts for the Ngobe children during the last few days of Verano Verde. As you can imagine, balloons, stickers, sports and games are not often part of daily life on the reservation. The two simple goals were to build relationships with the Ngobe tribe and, of course, for them to have fun! (We also began an amazing photography project, but I'll save that for another post!) I am fairly certain that great relationships were formed. I know that there was plenty of fun!

We started out by driving about two hours to a town called San Felix, to the beautiful mission where we'd be spending our nights. It was a lovely, peaceful, and HOT place (says the girl whose internal body thermometer is still quite set to endure the frozen Indiana winter rather than the hot-as-the-sun equator).

We ate a yummy dinner of chicken and pasta, brainstormed together about the next day's activities, and headed to our bunk rooms at 8:30 pm. Yes, you heard me right. The night owl in me was protesting, what do you mean we are supposed to sleep now? The party should just be getting started! There were fourteen women in our room. And fourteen hundred mosquitos. Luckily, I had already applied some magic to my skin, and the the mosquitos stayed clear from my bunk. I snuggled up with a frozen water bottle to cool off and fell asleep listening to the harmony of snorers and jungle bugs.

After a 5:30 am wake up call, a welcome cold shower (no need for hot water on the equator!), and an edible breakfast of neon orange hot dogs and coffee, we crammed into two pick up trucks and headed toward the comarca.

Remember here when I used the term "road" loosely? Can I make the word even looser?? On the way up the mountain one of our guides described how the "road" was completely impassable during rainy season. In fact, several of the village's teachers had died the previous year on their trip down the hill. Luckily for us, it was dry.

As we got closer to the Ngobe village, we'd see children on the road waiting for us. They'd usually wave; sometimes we'd get a curious smile. (See the second truck in the rearview mirror...down the mountain a bit?)

We passed Ngobe Bugle homes like this one:

When we arrived at the village's school, there were maybe only seven kids. We'd originally expected at least fifty. I remarked out loud with the other volunteers; what on earth we were going to do with all of the supplies we'd brought? One of the FIS workers reassured us. Just wait. You'll see.

Balloons were a quick ice breaker for the kids who had already arrived. Wooden blocks, not so much. The babies used them as teethers; older kids just stared at them, unsure of what they were. After a bit of role playing, they got the idea.

More families arrived. Then even more. Soon there was a constant stream of people trekking over the big hill up to the school's plateau. And our simple carnival was in full swing.

Midway through the morning, people began to gather around a small hut next to the school. An FIS worker stood at the door and distributed the government provided nutrition drinks. The warm, gritty oatmeal-like drink looked less than appetizing to me, especially considering the heat of the day. But there were no complaints. Instead, as the number of people standing in the receiving line grew in the hundreds, and even the thousands, there were smiles and words of gratitude.

The above image was one of my favorites - the smoke filled sunbeams, vibrant Ngobe colors, and one of life's most basic pleasures...food.

I hung around the hut for a bit and one of the workers gestured for me to enter for a look. Inside I found Ngobe women hard at work in preparation for the day's lunch. I tried to hold my breath as huge puffs of smoke from three open fires wafted around the room. My eyes were stinging and my lungs felt heavy after only five minutes. No wonder Ngobe women and children are suffering from so many respiratory issues! I began to realize the significance of the nearly smokeless stoves that my husband will be helping Dead Wheat to distribute on the comarca later this year. They have the ability to literally change the air quality of entire villages at a time!

Long lines soon began to form again, this time for lunch. Babies were served first, then children, pregnant women, elderly, and finally the rest of the adults. The first day of our visit 1,500 meals were served; on the second day the number totaled over 2,000. Quite a far cry from the handful of people hanging around the school when we first arrived. Just the sight of so many hungry people is difficult to put into words. It was simply overwhelming.

After lunch and our photography project, we headed back to the mission for the night. The next day's activities were similar to the first. However, something was different. There was an increased level of trust between indigenous and foreigner. Ngobe kids ran alongside us as our trucks climbed up the treacherous mountainside. Children and adults alike called out, "Saca me foto!" as they constantly wanted to see themselves on my camera's lcd screen. There were more smiles, more hugs, more laughter.

Toward the end of our stay, we were treated to a closing ceremony, Ngobe style. The school's principal gave a heartwarming speech, children spoke lyrical verses, and both young and old danced a traditional tribal dance. It was fantastic.

Shortly before we left to return home, I took a few minutes to soak in the beauty of the Ngobe Bugle people. A few things jumped out at me regarding their culture. First, they are a community in the deepest sense possible. Women helped other women with their babies. Generations sat together to chat. But the most remarkable thing was how the older children cared for their younger siblings. Not just looked out for them...truly cared for them. Without toys, games, or tv. And yet they were happy. They played together. They laughed. It was a beautiful and (considering my own children's frequent sibling rivalry!) amazing thing to witness.

I thought about how even though the Ngobe culture and ways of life are entirely different from my own, inside we are quite the same.

We laugh.

We cry.

We thirst.

And we love.

The truth is, while the world's poorest may lack in basic necessities, they are rich in the simplicity of life. And that, I believe, is worth more than all of the wealth in the world.

I interrupt this regularly scheduled blog to bring you...

2010-03-01T17:45:00.000-08:00

a. two high flying gringitos
b. the internet debut of the ugliest couch in the world (if my landlord is reading this, i'm just kidding. sorta.)
c. a boredom buster for being stuck at home with no car, several energetic munchkins, and a really old couch
d. the aforementioned (and let's be real here, PROMISED) Ngobe Bugle village photos and stories
e. a, b, and c

I'll give you a minute to guess which is correct...

Ready?

And...

If you guessed "e", you are correct! To claim your AMAZING prize you must come visit us in Panama. :)

Sadly, the answer is not "d". Not quite yet.

I should probably apologize for my blogging neglect. To say that last week was tough would be a really hugely giant understatement...filled with home sickness, friend sickness, family sickness, and have-we-lost-our-minds-our-world-is-upside-down-and-what-the-heck-are-we-doing-here sickness. To the incredible loved ones who helped me through last week, you know who you are. And if I could, I'd gift you each a few of your favorite things: carmel brulee lattes, antiques, ugg boots, inflatable friends, fine wine, circus peanuts, and my first born child (he gives a killer back rub). I'm now happy to report that I'm on the mend and ready to jump back into our blog. And I'm not the only happy hopper around here...

Peek a boo.

2010-02-16T19:25:00.000-08:00

Yep, I'm still here...just trying to decide exactly which photos to blog. I'm quite sure that you don't want to see all one hundred of my favorites. (Well, maybe my mom and dad do, but my guess is that a great big slideshow would bore everyone else to tears.) So instead I think I'll tell a few of the basic stories through photographs in the next few days. Thanks for waiting...and an extra special thanks for the lovely e-mails and comments. We miss so many of you guys!!!

Happy heart day.

2010-02-14T10:57:00.000-08:00

I got home from the Ngobe Bugle comarca on Friday night. Our group all made it back safe and sound, bringing quite a few stories home with us. (And a few photos too. Hehee.) We did, however, leave a few things behind.

We left a few pieces with her...

And with him...

And also with him...

Yep, and with her too...

In fact, we left pieces with them...

And them...

And all of them...

You see, we left pieces of our hearts with each member of the Ngobe Bugle tribe. It would have been impossible to come away from our trip with our hearts and souls the same as before. And I think that I can say that what we left behind in the Comarca brought positive change to the Ngobe Bugle. And even moreso, it changed us.

More photos and stories to come soon...and boy do I have a lot to share! xoxo, Stacy

Shame on me.

2010-02-09T19:52:00.000-08:00

I have a secret.

We've been here for a month now.

And I have yet to even open my camera bag, let alone charge the battery or find a memory card.

The pictures you see on the blog? Point and shoot. (Now be honest. You photographers could tell, couldn't you??)

I've been cheating. More specifically, with my most useful tax write off of 2009. It is super tiny, requires no extra lenses, AND takes video. Can you blame me? Seriously, if I could get away with shooting my client sessions with it, you better bet that it would be the only thing in my camera bag. The problem? It creates fun snapshots, not high quality photographs. (Plus I would look like a big dork whipping out equipment the size of a wallet at the beginning of a photo shoot.) Oh well.

So my secret is out of the bag. Tonight I dusted off my real camera. (I wonder if it missed me!)

Why this special occasion? Tomorrow I'll be joining a group headed to a Panamanian Indian reservation known as the Comarca. The group is bringing supplies and teachers to put on a summer camp for the indigenous children of the Ngobe Bugle tribe. And guess what? They are hoping to do a photography project with the older indigenous kids. The group leader was quite excited to find a photographer who could come along.

Enter me. Enter real camera.

So I'll be off the grid for a few days, most likely until Friday night. Prayers are appreciated for safe travel and a successful camp. And also for my family who will be staying home for this trip. I will miss them terribly!

So my secret is out. Thank you for accepting my heartfelt snapshots thus far. I can't promise that there won't be hundreds more. But my heart is actually skipping beats at the thought of being in control of depth of field again. And also about photographing in a Ngobe Bugle field for the first time. Wish us luck!

p.s. In the spirit of clearing photos off memory cards, here are a few from back in our Indiana home that were waiting in the dslr for me to download. A happy surprise. :)

I didn't want to go.

2010-02-08T12:52:00.000-08:00

I didn't feel like going to the orphanage this morning.

This morning's weather was (a little) gloomy. (Okay, okay, considering the fact that I could be suffering an Indiana winter right now, that excuse was fairly lame.)

There were lots of bugs during today's morning walk. And a dead snake (blech). Both of those make me grumpy.

Muscles that I didn't even know existed were in pain from yesterday's horse riding lesson. I felt old.

My Spanish isn't great. Kid-speak is even harder to understand than adult conversation. And sometimes, there are no words. What else can I say to the 17 year old whose newborn baby I held last week? I have so many questions for her. But I do not dare ask the difficult ones.

I felt disheartened. Last week the kids didn't have running water. How could they expect sixty five kids to survive without water for a week? And why the shortage in the first place? Unfortunately, it is all too common an occurrence for the orphanage.

I was frustrated. It bothers me to see so many beautiful, wonderful children who have virtually zero chance for adoption. And especially when there are a gazillion equally wonderful people who would make fantastic parents. I understand that the reasons are complicated. I know that there are people working on the situation. I agree that the appropriate solution takes time. But understanding doesn't diminish the frustration.

It would have been much easier to keep snuggling on the couch with my own two year old than to trek down to the orphanage this morning. More comfortable to go for a walk, or check e-mail, or even do some laundry. But something pushed me to get in my car anyway.

And I am thankful that I did. Before I'd even gotten out of my neighborhood, I saw three of the other "regulars" who volunteer at the orphanage. They were more or less stranded with no ride, so they piled into my car and I set off again. It was a pleasure to get to know women who are not only my new neighbors, but who also have a heart for the orphans. I found myself smiling again.

Once we reached the orphanage, the children's giggles and laughter were enough to sustain my smile and chase away my frustrations. It turned out to be a beautiful day (of course!), and there were volunteers playing soccer, handing out stickers, practicing Spanish songs, and coloring with the kids. I hugged my 17 year old friend and asked about her baby, who was taking a nap. I hugged a toddler who had taken a spill; when his tears stopped, he led me to a table to build legos together. I pulled out my clear nail polish when another teenager mentioned that she'd like to be a beautician. Of course, then all of the girls wanted shiny nails too. I'd somehow mistaken nail primer for clear nail polish, so the girls' nails ended up cloudy instead of shiny. But they didn't mind one bit; instead, they asked for second and third coats!

The time to leave came all too soon. But I left with an uplifted, grateful, and surprisingly comfortable heart. Quite different from my idea of a comfy morning, but much, much better indeed.

La mañana.

2010-02-04T20:40:00.000-08:00

Morning.
My favorite time of day.
WHAT? STACY??
Yes, I know. I am a night owl. NOT a morning person.
But trust me, it is magical enough here in the cloud forest to get me out of bed. Early.
It is that good.
(That is...after a battle with the snooze button. I haven't changed quite that much.)

The first few days after we bought our car the boys begged us to drive instead of walk them to school.
But we didn't give in.
And now after three weeks, they love it (almost) as much as we do.

The walk starts out downhill. Really downhill. The older boys run with their arms widespread like airplanes.

The air is crisp and the light is soft. The sun hasn't come over our side of the mountain yet. Sometimes we are greeted with a rainbow. Or two.

We cross a golf course and sometimes play dodge the sprinklers. Micah is by far the best at that game.

Next is a bridge over a mountain stream.

We continue down the bumpy path, now bright with the early sun. On a typical morning we see approximately two roosters, three security guards, four horses, and sixteen construction workers. And try to greet them all with a friendly "buenas".

We pass this house...

And this one too...

We marvel at the fruit trees.

Randy pushes Eli in the stroller.

I hold Kaleb and Micah's hands. (And despite the gorgeous scenery, I love that part best!)

I teach them a new Spanish word or two. When we reach their school they can't wait to surprise the principals with their new knowledge. They beam with pride.

We say our good byes and I love you's and they happily head into the building. Happily. I am ecstatic about that part. They've made friends, adore their teachers, and are learning new Spanish words daily. We are so thankful.

Randy, Eli, and I often head into town to buy the day's groceries.

We buy most of our fruit from a man in the market named Benjamin (Ben-ha-meen). He has a great smile which I hope to photograph sometime soon.

We load up the stroller and head back up the mountain. And let me tell you...it is whipping me into shape, epecially if I push the stroller. Well, it would be whipping me into shape if I wasn't so busy stuffing myself with tropical fruits. Oops. (Oh and I've no pictures of the trek back...because I'm usually too busy huffing and puffing and chanting I-think-I-can while Randy sprints up ahead. Okay, okay, and he's usually pushing the stroller too. Hmphf.)

On our way home we pass a sign that reads Bienvenidos a Paraiso (Welcome to Paradise). And "en la mañana", I couldn't agree more.

Busted.

2010-01-29T05:44:00.000-08:00

Guess where we keep the chocolate chips?? Being caught in the act makes for one grumpy gringo.

Week dos and a half

2010-01-27T20:25:00.000-08:00

We made it to the local orphanage on Monday. It was a wonderful and horrible experience that my brain and heart are still processing. Last night I tossed and turned with dreams of the children. I think that the experience affected me more than I'd anticipated.

But there is hope. So much hope! At this very moment, several critical elements are up in the air that could greatly impact the lives of the orphans. I am so happy and can't wait to visit again on Friday (volunteers are only allowed on Mon, Fri, and Sat mornings).

One of my hopes is that we will be allowed to hold the babies next time. There was an outbreak of chicken pox in the orphanage last week which meant that we were shooed out of the infant room, even despite our protests that we were both likely immune to the illness. I quickly rubbed and patted several babies backs before choking back tears and being escorted out of the nursery. That night our own baby gringo had a bad stomach ache (no worries - he was fine the next morning). As I rubbed his head and Randy massaged his tummy, my husband remarked thoughtfully, "Those sick babies have no one to comfort them tonight." Our hearts broke once again.

Today I bought some glittery nail polish, as requested by one bright-eyed nine year old. She'd actually asked if I had lipstick and eye shadow to share, but I've since learned that the girls are only allowed clear make up items...except for sparkles in nail polish. I think that she will still be excited. I have three younger sisters. I know that glitter can work wonders.

There is much more that we want to say about our visit, but prefer to report solid information and more concrete answers to our questions rather than the hearsay that we have now. We were not allowed to take any photos of the children due to the fear of them being posted on the internet (perhaps they could smell our blog followers requesting photos from a continent away? haha). But the rule is for the safety of the children, which we obviously respect. So I'll leave you instead with some snaps of the children who we are blessed to snuggle with every night. And if you have positive thoughts and prayers to spare for the beautiful orphans of Chiriqui, Panama, our cups would overflow. Thank you!!!

travelin' gringo

swimmin' gringo

peek-a-booin' gringo

The Good Shepherd

2010-01-25T21:05:00.000-08:00

A local traffic jam...

(be sure to comment on how adorable Randy is as a shepherd - I don't think he knew that I took this photo...heehee)

Feliz cumpleaños a Randy

2010-01-21T21:18:00.000-08:00

Happy 34th birthday to the love of my life...the grizzliest gringo. What did his central american birthday gifts include??

1. A sightseeing expedition with the baby gringo and me. We tested out our new (old) land cruiser by off-roading up, down, and around the local volcano. Well, the truth is that we were on an actual road (I use the term 'road' very loosely in this case). But with my terrified screams and baby gringo's excited shrieks, it sounded more like we were on a roller coaster. The good news is that we made it back down the volcano, safe and sound. It was truly a beautiful drive. And our four wheel drive works well!

2. A bag of dark chocolate and a handful of scribbled notes from the little gringos. And a mini scavenger hunt in our villa to find the gifts.

3. A machete. Okay, a virtual machete. Because our grizzly gringo will soon be out trekking through the jungle with Dead Wheat, a serious knife will come in handy. But since I have no clue where to buy such a knife nor how to choose the right kind, Randy got a "machete coupon" instead. Maybe tomorrow while the older boys are at school we'll take baby gringo to the machete store. Don't worry...I'll bring my camera. It may make one heck of a vacation portrait. :)

Beginning week dos

2010-01-19T21:06:00.000-08:00

As of today, we've got (our own!) internet, a new (old) land cruiser, and a housekeeper. Yippee!

The older kiddos are enjoying their morning summer school and we can't express how blessed we feel that they are adjusting to life here. Once a week the school spends one hour doing work, then they hop on a bus to a local camp where they swim, play tennis, and do crafts, which our boys love. Micah was somehow diligently working on a painting project today and was somehow left behind! Luckily a teacher found him right away and the bus turned around for him. He didn't seem upset at all. He said that he only wanted to finish his painting!

The little gringos watched waaay too much tv this afternoon. Since it is entirely in spanish, I've decided to label it educational for now (giggle). It amazes me that they are glued to the cartoons without being able to understand a word!

Randy jokes that Panamanian tape measures must be off by about an inch. Or maybe they don't mind crooked homes. Everything is just a tad bit off. Doors don't close all the way; walls lean to the side; cabinets are crooked. It makes us chuckle.

I've found that it is possible to get a sunburn inside your house. Even if you are not sitting in direct sun. Our villa gets just that much natural light and the sun here is just that strong. And maybe I am simply just that white.

We think that the main function of window screens here must be to keep out really giant insects. All the others get through easily. They aren't too much of a nuisance though, and we're getting pretty used to hanging out with them. Since the payoff for putting up with the tiny pests is being able to keep the windows open 24/7, we think it's worthwhile. The youngest gringo has learned how to exclaim, "Bug!" and happily smashes them with a paper towel.

Coffee bugs are similar to mosquitos here, only they are tiny enough that they are not usually seen. And their bites tend to itch a bit more. But unlike mosquitos, the coffee bugs seem to adore Randy and not me (payback for my zillions of mosquito bites through the years)!

The local grocery is completely random. On a given day they might carry yogurt foaming hand soap, but not have sugar. Such is life in the third world, I suppose.

Cheerios are called scooters here. The tiny gringos have had their fill of Honey Nut Scooters this week. We laugh every time they ask for more.

With the exception of a few rude taxi drivers, we have yet to meet a Panamanian that we haven't enjoyed. They are a friendly and kind bunch. We met a wonderful young man who runs a volunteer organization. He and his fiance have ties to the local orphanage and we are excited to hear more about their program and how our family might get involved.

Oh, almost forgot! We succeeded in making our own passion fruit juice. Delicioso! And definitely worth a visit here to try our recipe. :) Thank you all for your kind comments and messages. It really lifts our spirits and makes us smile!

our new land cruiser. okay, just kidding. but i do love the saddle.

So, days four and five were a wash...

2010-01-17T10:13:00.000-08:00

And day six started out pretty lousy too. After over 36 hours of the stomach flu (isn't it called the 24 hour bug for a reason??), a stumble that left my big toe feeling broken, and chapped lips that even Carmex won't heal, I woke up in a foul mood. So as the rest of the gringos headed out to a wildlife preserve, it seemed best for me to stay back and rest. And hopefully cheer up a bit.

While I don't consider myself high maintenance, I have come to expect a good amount of comfort and ease in life. And as I limped around the villa, I became increasingly irritated with the lack of ease in my new surroundings. I reached for a glass of water, but the jug was nearly empty. I could drink from the tap since the water here is clean, however, there is concern about contracting E. Coli from the ancient city pipes. I began to peel a banana, but heard the echos of my husband telling me to wash my hands carefully, just in case the peel contained bacteria. In Panama they don't super heat or super spray or whatever-we-do-in-the-USA-to-kill-bacteria on bananas. I peeked in the fridge to find that our food supply was dwindling yet again. Such is life with no car and a two mile hike to the grocery. The sun was streaming into our light-filled villa, raising the temperature by the minute. But guess what? The moderate temps in Boquete mean that homes have neither heat nor air conditioning.

So I sat. And steamed. Inside and out.

I missed my front loading washer that held a hundred and one towels and got them clean on the first try. I missed my garbage disposal that spared my hands from touching soggy cereal and the dead bugs that congregate in our new sink. I missed my beloved Target, where I could surely find a quick cure for blistered lips. And on a day of feeling crummy, I really really missed my life in Indy. We had such a wonderful life there...a lovely home, enviable careers, and an amazing network of friends and family. Why on earth would we leave such bliss?

I pulled up our shoddy internet connection and ended up on CNN. I won't pretend that reading the latest on the Haitian crisis colored my skies bright blue again, but they sure helped put my issues into perspective. How dare I complain of a lack of water when my supply is simply a matter of miles away? And it still flows freely from my tap. And laundry complaints? Air conditioning in eighty degrees?? Yikes. I kept reading.

I read of two American sisters who run a Haitian orphanage and are in desperate need of water and aid. Things were bleak before the earthquake, and their situation is dire at the moment. I couldn't help but wonder if they ever wished for easier circumstances. I wondered if they brought their own supplies into their third world home, or if they had simply adapted to Haitian life over time.

Closer to (our new) home, I read of a major setback in the organization that we came to Panama to work alongside. Last week the incredible high winds and some bamboo eating termites led to the destruction of one of the major relief projects. Thankfully, it can be rebuilt, however, not without a lot of time, money, and grueling work. As soon as we get our feet on the ground here, Randy will begin working with the Dead Wheat team. There are new plans to adapt the design and the project will see even more success due to their flexibility and stamina.

So tonight I filled a blender with water to hold my 'get well' flowers. We are surfing the web using a place mat as our mouse pad. And the littlest gringo is drinking his juice out of a measuring cup. Our life changes have been minimal in the scheme of things. We are going to adapt because we can. Because it makes us stronger. And because it brings us closer to those who do it every single day in order to survive. That is just one of the reasons why I believe that we should be right here, blender vases and all.

Day Tres

2010-01-13T22:44:00.000-08:00

Today was a busy day.

We walked the boys to their first day of summer school...on a mountainous road that seems to be uphill both ways...past roosters and horses...under enormous rainbows...in pelting rain and wind...with the sun still shining. And we thought that we'd left the crazy weather behind in Indiana!

We hugged our sobbing seven year old goodbye and I tried not to break into sobs myself. Also hugged excited five year old. Wondered if we were doing the right thing and then prayed for them both.

We bought a pineapple from the back of a pick up truck...for a dollar.

Our two year old learned how to open the fridge by himself. Lots of spills today, including a half gallon of cream. He is quite proud of the accomplishment. I am thankful that our villa has a washing machine.

I had a successful conversation with the internet man...get this...entirely in Spanish. At least I hope it was successful. We'll find out by next week if the installation actually happens. For now we stand on the back of the couch or lift the laptop in the air every time we need to connect. My biceps are getting quite a workout.

We met a great Canadian family up the road. They have four kids near our kids' ages. Randy hitched a ride with the husband to David (a bigger city 45 min away) to look for a car to buy. The little gringos and I stayed back at our new friends' house for the entire day. Thanks to their hospitality, we avoided eating at the Valle restaurant for a fourth meal in three days. No luck in the car department. Great luck so far in the new friend department. I call that a win!

I learned how to make fresh passion fruit juice and plan to look for the delicious fruits at the market tomorrow. The only downside is that it requires a good blender, which we don't have. Luckily our new friends have a VitaMix that they offered to share. Score! They better keep a close eye on that appliance, lest it make its way down the hill a bit...

I also learned how to make an antidote for scorpion stings. The formula involves several odd ingredients plus the venom from a freshly killed scorpion. I'm really hoping that I don't have to use this information.

Randy made his way with our borrowed Canadian car to the grocery. We can now feed our family more than fruit leather, cereal, and leftover cream. I wonder if the Valle restaurant will miss their gringos tomorrow. Hopefully we'll be sipping passion fruit juice with new friends under the rainbows. :)

Until the next set of laptop bicep curls,
The girly gringo

see the heart??

our villa for the first month

our backyard view

near the valle restaurant

the older gringos' school

morning rainbows

micah (now mee-kah)

kaleb (now kah-layb)

eli (now elijah, bc they have that name here!)

one of the roosters on our walk (doesn't have a name yet!)

Can you hear me now?

2009-12-27T18:29:00.000-08:00

A few weeks ago my five year old brought a shiny red cell phone home from church. And although it was fake and plastic, it could not have been more real to Micah. He proudly informed us that it was a gift from his teacher and that he could use it to call God any time, day or night. The inspiration came from a scripture that states: Call to me, and I will answer you. It was a cute example, and Micah took it very seriously. He dialed heaven to talk about his stuffed shark, to share about a favorite movie, to complain about his yucky dinner, and to tattle on his older brother. Sometimes he asked God for help with art projects or to heal his little brother's ouchie, but mostly he just called to chat. The best part was that God answered every call. He "spoke" words of delight, comfort, and patience, although it was nearly always in Micah's favor, which gave us giggles. The phone soon ended up in pieces due to the hands of a curious toddler, but for those first few days Micah rang up quite the pretend phone bill.

I was fascinated by this experiment, and wished that there was a grown-up calling plan to heaven. I would sign up in a heartbeat. This past year my husband and I struggled incredibly with choosing our next life path. It would have alleviated a huge amount of stress, frustration, and tears had we been able to physically hear God's voice. But, oddly enough, once we stepped back from our own planning and wrestling with the pieces of our puzzle and left it up to him, the pieces simply came together. And he answered our questions perfectly; it just didn't come with the speed and simplicity of a phone call.

In less than a week our family will be relocated to Boquete, Panama, a small city in the mountains of Central America. One of our goals is to do some work with Dead Wheat International, an organization providing contextually appropriate solutions to problems found in many third world communities. It is an amazing organization that has gained respect and aid from groups like the Red Cross and Peace Corps, and happens to be founded by some of our dearest friends. Randy will be doing most of the grunt work, such as trekking through the jungle to deliver smokeless stoves, constructing clean water aqueducts, and exploring sustainable farming techniques for the indigenous Panamanian people. (Is anyone reading this surprised that I won't be the one doing those tasks?? Heehee.) My work will consist of several exciting photography projects as well as travelling back to the states for ongoing Blue Candy client work. We both hope to spend a good deal of quality time with the three littlest gringos, two of whom will begin Spanish camp shortly after we arrive and then attend an international curriculum school opening in March. Basically we want to open our eyes and make a difference, even if just for a bit, to the third world. I am certain that our family will be changed too. And since four out of the five of us have never lived outside of Indiana, it should be quite an interesting (and likely humorous) adventure.

Needless to say, we are filled with a mix of emotions, ranging from excitement and hope for our trip, to sadness of leaving loved ones and fear of the unknown. Thankfully, we have certainty in two things: that we truly are on the correct path and that if we continue to call toward heaven, everything will fall into place. It will likely not be easy, but it will be right. We hope that you'll join us on this journey through blog comments, e-mails, and yes, even phone calls (we have a local Indy number that will ring our Panama home - yay). Thank you for your positive thoughts, prayers, and love!

And God, just in case you're reading this, I don't think that the number 1-800-2-Heaven has been taken yet. Just a suggestion...