Today's plan was to walk along the road and pick up trash as we went. They don't really have "trash" there - they have composts (which we could all take a lesson from). Remember those delicious freeze pops we sucked down as kids, the ones that were pure liquid sugar? Those, plus individually plastic-wrapped candy are extremely popular. With no place to throw the packaging, the majority of it ends up in the middle of the road or laying in the grass right by where the consumer was walking. Our task: to pick every single piece up.
We met that morning at the Co-Op (I wish I had written everything the told us about the Co-Op and the steps the community was taking to bring in income and put themselves on a closer level with bigger areas; it was all quite interesting!) and took some time for all of us to slather on sunscreen. We started down the path to the river in pairs, one with a bag and both equipped with gloves. We went down that way for quite awhile, got to the water's edge, then turned around and went back the other way. Remember how I mentioned we drove through a river to get to our part of the village? Kimber said that when she came 2 years before, the bridge over the bad part of the river wasn't built, and they had to do do the same hike that we did to the rice paddy, but with their luggage. Take a minute to think about having a pack on your back, not having hiked much in your life before this trip, going up and down steep hills with no traction between your shoes and the muddy ground. Is there a bit of anxiety in you now?
As we headed back the way we came, a young guy about 19 (I find it hard to tell their ages, they are all so much shorter than us!) joined up, somewhat bashful at first but displayed a genuine smile. His name was Julio, and was part of the local gang called "The Bad Guys." Not really a gang, just the local older teenage boys. They were supposed to join us that day, but apparently they all back out save him. He mostly walked with Sam, who got the name "Obama" out of him and proceeded to tell us all (over and over) 'He knows Obama! He knows Obama!' Good stuff.
After awhile we came to a little Panamanian C-store and we all got snow cones. One option was some cream on top, which I had never had. Different! We were all pretty tired - the mud kept getting deeper and it was becoming easier just to stay stooped over to pick up trash. We got to see Cucua (I don't know how to spell that either, it's pronounced Cook-cwa) works by local artisans. Some people bought bags while we were looking! These items are made out of tree bark and are quite soft for once being wood. It's another tradition unique to San Miguel Centro. Everything is then hand-painted with various designs from dye, mostly reds and greens.
Eventually we dropped off the now bulging trash bags and hiked up a HUGE hill, almost straight up. I don't know if you know this about me, but I have an intense fear of falling, so I was not looking foward to coming down an almost vertical place on my two clumsy feet. I have images of tripping, flying, landing, rolling, and gaining momentum, my arms and legs a tangled mass.
Anyway. We hiked through some pretty crazy stuff, climbing all over, under and around rocks, thorns, other pointy things, vines, various plants, etc.
Then we got to the waterfall. In front of the fall, forming a sort of lagoon, was one of the biggest rocks I have seen in my life. We were expected to jump off of it.
Bathed first. Then began the rock climbing. Or the rock slithering, grasping, frantic grabbing, and hugging on for dear life.
It wasn't that bad. But if Kevin hadn't been on the top already I'm afraid I would have not been able to finish getting myself up to the top. I am forever grateful for his hand. Jumping is the easy part.
It's the plunging into the rocks on the other side that had me worried. Anne conquered her fears and jumped off! She stood at the top for a good 5+ minutes, with everyone encouraging her. It was wonderful to see her success!
After we ate lunch and had our fun jumping off some more, we hike back through the crazy stuff and stopped at the house on top of the hill, and promptly saw two chickens, erm, mating. It's funny how we all instinctively covered our eyes and turned away. How sad that something natural and part of life has become so conditioned in our minds to be bad instantly. We were given niranhas at the house, which were refreshing.
Hiked back. Some of us got ahead and stopped where we had previously enjoyed snow cones. This time, we delighted in Orange Crush.
When we got back to our houses, we just sort of relaxed, until Lauren came up to our house calling for Anne - Juan had cut his finger pretty badly with his machete and Anne's a wildlife rescue something or other. They took off through the woods, and she had him bandaged up in no time. He still had to get stitches though.
Juan's funny. Lauren told us that she was determined to think of a sentence to tell her family one day, so she laid awake one night until she thought of one to say to them in Spanish: "The chickens talk a lot!" Well, that just about made Juan's day. He told our host dad what she sad (who then passed it to us) as well as several other villagers. Apparently his chickens and/or rooster won first place (or some sort of prize) in a competition for clucking. That may not be quite right - some sort of competition anyway. And he was darn proud. :-)
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