Collaboration!

Hola a todos,

I've been thinking about how we do activities in the Spanish classroom, and today (Friday, 4/27) seemed like the perfect day to think about it. Fifth and sixth grade are working on their Se Busca (Wanted) posters, and 7th grade are working on their preposition posters. Neither project is groupwork, but I want students to collaborate as they work on their individual assignments.

One thing I like a lot right now is how student desks are set up. We have six groups of four desks each, turned to make tables. With a configuration like that, students are forced to look at each other and I think they get into the habit of sharing ideas and information (mis estudiantes, am I right about that?). Even when they're working on individual assignments, they seem to be comfortable sharing books, handouts, supplies, and pointers for how to do things. I find that I'm repeating myself less because someone in the group has heard me and repeats what I've said for the other group members. So far, the groups seem to be keeping a pretty positive dynamic.

So the younger students are working on Se Busca posters. They make up an imaginary person (or flesh-eating animal, or space alien with tacos for hands, or whatever), they draw and color it, and then they write a detailed description of their character in Spanish that they will share with the class. It's a fun, visual way to get students to do a writing sample (most of them don't even consider it a writing assignment), and I'm always thrilled with students' imaginative ideas. This nine weeks, I've seen a number of mustachioed unicorns, two drawings that incorporate monocles, a one-eyed green farmer, a rainbow-haired ballerina, and a "man-eating flying squirrel with vampire teeth that sparkle" (Rico's words, not mine). Yes, to answer your question, my students know how to say unicorn, mustache, monocle, cyclops farmer, rainbows, flying squirrel, and sparkly in Spanish. And I didn't have to look up a single word. That's the scary part.

The cool thing about the Se Busca posters is that most kids really own the project. They take an idea and they run with it for two or three days. This group in particular, though, has been very group-oriented. When I walk through the room, I hear things like "I know where to find that word--look at your adjectives handout on the left-hand side," "I think you need a different verb," or "Wow that looks really cool, will you show me how to do that?" I love how they collaborate on the simplest tasks, making language learning easier for everyone. I'm not sure how we got to this stage of collaboration, but I have to figure out how to make it happen with every class! Fifth and sixth graders, if you're reading, you guys are awesome. Keep up the good work!

Seventh grade is working on preposition posters. The textbook we use pushes us through eight rather mundane prepositions as soon as we learn the verb estar ("to be," used for changing conditions such as location). As soon as the book presents the prepositions (under, on top of, beside, inside of, in front of, behind, close to, far from), it expects students to know all eight and it immediately moves on to other topics. Memorizing eight prepositions is an exercise in futility. They're very similar-sounding and memorization is boring to begin with. To make things a touch easier, I have students create a poster illustrating all eight prepositions using two objects of their choice. Students pick interesting object pairs, like a worm and an apple, a rock and a snail, a spider and a web, a brick and a spider, a penguin and a cookie, a dragon and a turtle. The girl who chose a rock and a snail drew a power drill in one of her illustrations. "It's for the snail to get inside the rock," she said. Brilliant.

The cool thing about the 7th grade class is that they're starting to feel like a team. They had a rough start to the semester, but from what I saw yesterday and today, they're learning to trust and rely on each other. That kind of trust and reliance is crucial in a language class--you learn language in order to communicate with others; you can't just sit around talking to yourself! We were able to joke around a little in class today and still reach our goal for the period. That felt great because sometimes I feel like I can't afford to joke around with them, or things will get out of hand and we won't get our goals done for the day. I can't wait for Monday, when they'll give their poster presentations and share their work with each other. That's my favorite part of this assignment, watching them talk about what they've done and laugh with each other.

I like walking through the class, seeing what students have chosen to work on, watching their decisions in action and listening to the learning conversations that happen. Certainly, silly things go on. When you put 20 13-year-olds together, silly things are destined to occur. My classroom is noisy. Between the student chatter and the Spanish-language music that I subject them to, my door is often shut in an effort to spare the rest of the school the insanity. When I see the kinds of ideas that students develop as they work together, I wonder why lecture and teacher-led instruction is the traditional method of education. I could never in a million years come up with the questions that my students ask--who am I to lecture them when I can't even predict the questions that they want answered? I like to give them the information they need to create something and then watch them create it.

Sometimes I think I might be having more fun than my students. Where else in the whole world could I speak Spanish all day long, guide students through the creative/language learning process, and then celebrate their achievements with them? The best part of my day is sitting at a table with students who are working hard at something and just talking to them about their work. They have so much to share, and they want to do and say everything in Spanish! They make my job easy.

Traveling with students

Several times in my very brief teaching career, I have had the opportunity to chaperon student trips. It might be a simple walk to the high school for 9th grade orientation, a day trip to the city to see a play and have lunch, or a weekend in D.C. with 120 eighth-graders, and one time, it was a week in Costa Rica. I always take that opportunity. Always.

If you're a teacher, you know that kids act completely differently in the classroom than they do outside of school. This phenomenon can be difficult for others to understand ("Yes ma'am, your son did say that word in my class. Yes ma'am, I understand he would never do that at home. I guess I just bring out the best in him."). If you're a student, you might not even notice that you act differently at school than you do at home. I love my students, and I love watching them grow and learn in my classroom. I also really love to take them out of the classroom and watch them experience the world first-hand.

This past weekend, I traveled with 80 eighth grade students and six other teachers to Washington, D.C. It's roughly six hours from our school, so we take charter buses and go for the weekend. This is the third year that I've gone with students on this trip, and I have to tell you about the kids. They were fabulous. They were perfect travelers: they paid attention to their surroundings, they were on time (even early!) to everything, they were observant, respectful, positive, they asked questions, they tried new things, and they made me proud.

The highlight of the trip for me was seeing D.C. through my students' eyes. Our first stop was the Okinawa monument, which has a clear view of the Washington monument. One boy came up to me, pointed at the Washington monument, pointed to the Okinawa monument, and just stood there for a minute. I couldn't figure out what he was doing until his friend said, "He's speechless because we're seeing stuff we've only seen in pictures, and now it's real." And that reaction was exactly what I had hoped for.

We took the kids to a ton of museums and they walked around in small groups. I loved walking through those museums and running into groups of students huddled around a display, reading the information card out loud and saying, "Cool!" or "I saw that in our science book," or "I never knew that!" When I suggested an exhibit, they actually went to it, and we talked about it afterwards on the bus. It made me giddy to hear "Yeah, that human bones exhibit was creepy, but really cool. Thanks for telling us about it," and "I saw that photography display you told me about. Those pictures were amazing!" More importantly, I heard a lot of those same conversations happening among students as they compared what they'd seen. Books are great and the internet is full of information, but there's nothing like seeing the world first-hand and discussing it with the people around you.

Once some of the newness wore off, students learned new and different lessons. Some students were waiting at a checkpoint for the rest of the group, and a stranger started talking to them. They didn't know how to react--they know better than to talk to strangers, but they had to meet with the rest of the group in that place in just a few minutes. It's important to note that where we come from, it's incredibly rude to ignore someone, so that option might not have crossed their minds. We learned, though, that it's okay to ignore strangers, that we should never share personal information with other people we don't know, and the best approach is to look for a teacher or adult we know so we're not stuck in an uncomfortable situation. The kids handled it really well.

Another lesson we learned (and one I suspect our students already knew) is that a sense of humor and a positive attitude will turn any trip into an amazing experience. Pablo fell on a stone bench while diving for a frisbee and got a nasty bruise. As soon as he realized he was okay, though, he started laughing. He was in pain for the next couple of days, but he still smiled about his awesome dive and he never once complained about how much his leg hurt. What could have been a serious accident was just a bump in the road (sorry, Pablo!). In general, everyone was upbeat and happy all the time. I heard several kids say, "This is the best trip ever!"

We also learned to take care of the people around us. Every adult on the trip had a group of 10 students, and we checked in with each other to make sure everyone was accounted for. My group of ten fabulous students became the duckies ("patitos" en español!), and I'm a little embarrassed to say that they were more responsible than I was! When the trip leader announced that students had to find their adult, my duckies immediately found each other, counted to be sure that everyone was there, and then waited for me. They watched out for each other, and when one came up missing, we found him immediately because there were ten of us looking instead of just one of us. And when I was tardy to the party, they waited for me while the other groups moved on. I also thought it was hilarious when they quacked to get my attention. ¡Gracias, patitos!

We learned to enjoy each others' company, too. While seeing the White House and the Washington Monument was great, we had a lot of down time, and we were never ever bored. Six hours on the bus flew by because of great conversation and some really, incredibly funny students. I laughed so hard my face hurt for two days. Adults, when was the last time you had a long, meaningful, funny conversation with a 14 year old? And 14 year olds, when was the last time you had a long, meaningful, funny conversation with an adult? If you learn to enjoy the people around you, it won't matter where you are--you'll always have a good time.

Conclusion: 8th graders are genuinely funny and interesting people. Seriously. I'm so very proud of the students on the trip, and I'm proud to say I work with some of the funniest, most interesting, and most thoughtful people I've ever met. Thank you, 8th graders, for being who you are.

Why backpacking?

Hola a todos,
Lots of people ask me how I travel alone to so many places, if I get lonely, why I choose to travel the way I do. I like to shove everything in a backpack and go for as long as I can, wherever I can. As much as I usually dislike cliche quotes, there's one quote in particular from Mark Twain that I enjoy:

“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.”
― Mark Twain, The Innocents Abroad/Roughing It

Traveling, and especially backpacking, is a great way to open your mind to new ways of seeing the world around you. When I toss everything in a 20-pound hiking pack and go on a long bus ride to a tiny hostel somewhere in Latin America, I'm not trying to escape; I'm actually trying to get into the world. It's taken some time, but there are some general truths that I've discovered through this kind of travel.

Hostels are wonderful places. When you find a good one, it's like some kind of marvelous secret and you feel initiated into a special circle. When you stay in the same hostel for a few nights in a row, you get to know other people, the staff, the town. You become an insider, and you can sit around on the back patio talking politics or philosophy or comparing stories and feel like you belong to this place in this moment. You feel at home, like you are fulfilling a special niche in the backpacker ecosystem. You might be traveling alone, but you never feel alone.

The problem is leaving. When others leave, you are reminded that you are on your own, you may feel a little abandoned, and you have to start everything all over again. Creating instant camaraderie with strangers from all over the world is no small feat, but it gets easier with practice.

When you're the one leaving, you have the adrenaline rush that comes with new beginnings and new places, but you sense that you are leaving something behind. You forget to exchange email addresses, you leave things unsaid, you forget all your food in the refrigerator and your soap in the shower.

Backpacking is mobile existentialism. Backpackers are keenly aware that this moment in time will never exist again. The people whose paths cross here will never see each other again, the happy community we create out of nothing cannot last more than a few hours.

Perhaps that is what makes backpacking so special, the keen awareness of every passing moment. Other people don't live like this, other people take their lives for granted. Backpackers take nothing for granted, because what is here in this moment will never return, never repeat, never constitute part of reality again.

For me, backpacking is a refresher course on life. There are basic rules for backpacking that everyone should follow.
- always be friendly
- always clean up after yourself.
- share when you can
- make friends with everyone.
- trust and be trustworthy
- always have a sense of humor
- don't be attached to material things
- create community wherever you can
- go with the flow
- don't judge
- listen a lot

Backpacking is a way of life. It's an awareness of the human condition. It's finding joy in a clean shirt, sunshine, a piece of papaya that a German girl gives you at breakfast. It's cooking a meal with a room full of people from around the world and the simplicity of satisfying the need to eat to stay alive. It's finding common ground, sharing experiences, making friends. Backpacking makes you thankful for every time you laugh. You are thankful for a comfortable chair, a bottle full of water, a sharp kitchen knife, clean-smelling sheets, a new book, a shower.

You notice more details when you backpack. You notice how the fog touches just the tops of the coffee plants on a hillside while the sun is still shining. You notice what sidewalks are made out of in different countries, as well as their height, width, and slipperiness in rain. You notice the flavor of your tap water, the humidity in the air, the scent of different flowers.

Backpacking heightens the senses, creates community, opens dialogues, inspires reflection and personal responsibility, and reminds us what it means to be human, to live together in one place. That is why I backpack.

Reentry

In the last entry, we talked a little about what culture is. You can imagine how difficult it is to enter a new culture, understand it, and try to live in that new culture, but what happens when you return to your home culture? That's today's topic.

If you live in a different culture for a while (even just a month), you'll probably start to see the world from a different perspective. Once you get used to different ways of doing things, you may find yourself adopting those new ways as your own. When you reenter your own culture, you may experience what's known as reverse culture shock. Your home culture will seem strange. You may become frustrated because you've become accustomed to your new culture. You may wake up in your own bed and not know where you are. You may forget how to do things, or you may try to do things according to the rules of your new culture. This can be embarrassing.

I only spent a week in Panama, so I haven't had too much trouble reentering my culture here in the U.S. There were a couple of things though that I noticed today, and I've had lots of experience reentering my culture after spending lots of time in other cultures.

First, I had a hot shower, which is something I never had in Panama. It seemed really weird that the water actually got hot. Cold showers in Panama weren't a big deal. It was so hot and humid all the time that cold water felt great. The hot shower was amazing, because I have been freezing my butt off since my plane landed at 9:30 last night, in a very brisk 40º. I was used to the weather in Panama, which was 95º and very humid. Remember back in January, when 40º felt like summer? Not any more.

I started to turn the stove on this afternoon, but I couldn't find the matches. Wait, what? What do you need matches for? Stoves in Panama are not self-lighting; you have to turn on the gas and then light it with a match or a lighter. Since I had been cooking nearly every day in Panama, I just got into the habit of reaching for a match to light the stove. On the positive side, I don't have to worry about singeing my eyebrows off any more.

Those of you who had me in class today might have noticed that I was a little tired this afternoon (traveling for two days straight really takes it out of you). I went to the vending machine to look for something with caffeine. I pulled change out of my wallet, only to realize that I only had Panamanian coins! Panama uses U.S. bills and U.S. coins, but they also mint their own coins. Panamanian coins are in the same denomination as U.S. coins (one cent, five cents, ten cents, twenty-five cents, and a dollar coin which is quite popular), and they work in machines exactly the same as U.S. coins. The problem was that I only had dollar coins, and the machine didn't take them (I really love dollar coins, by the way, and I much prefer them to dollar bills--one of the things I love about other money systems). I had similar problems when I came home from Mexico; I had a pocket full of centavos, which didn't do me any good. I was really frustrated when I realized that I had become accustomed to a different money system.

In the same vein, even though Panama uses the same currency as the United States, there are some differences in how money is used. First, no one will accept anything bigger than a twenty dollar bill. In some places, people won't even accept bills that large. Second, you'll be expected to have exact change, or at least something close to exact change. In the U.S., no one expects you to have change, and most people have a jar somewhere in their house full of pennies. Spare change is often considered a nuisance. In addition, prices in other countries are round, and in the U.S. prices tend to end in .99. When I came back to the States, I bought a bottle of water in the airport that was $1.99. I stood at the counter, trying to dig up 99 cents, because I was used to making exact change for everything I bought. Needless to say, the woman at the counter was not happy, and the people behind me were a tad exasperated. I finally realized how absurd I was acting in my own culture, and I sheepishly handed over $2.

I've also had some trouble using English again. I spent a whole week speaking Spanish, and even though English is my first language, I find myself forgetting words, making mistakes, and mixing in lots of Spanish. When I came back from Mexico, I forgot the words for peach, watermelon, dust, and dish. In Panama, I had some trouble in the middle of the week trying to explain different kinds of foods to two Canadian girls I met. They asked me the difference between a batido and a licuado. A batido is made with ice, fresh fruit, milk, and sugar. It's not exactly a milkshake because it doesn't use ice cream, but it is cold and creamy and quite tasty. A licuado is similar, but with no milk. You can also ask for a licuado "natural," which is just fresh fruit and ice with no sugar. The problem is that I was looking for English words for both of these things--no English word exists for either one ("smoothie" is the closest thing, but it doesn't show the difference between a batido and a licuado, both of which are a bit thinner than a smoothie).

Then the Canadians and I decided it was empanada time. Empanadas are dough with some kind of filling that are then fried. They're a little different everywhere, and the ones we bought in Panama were made with a corn dough, which I'd never had before. There were several choices of fillings: queso, pollo, res, or bacalao (cheese, chicken, beef, or "bacalao"). I ordered bacalao; I love bacalao. The Canadians asked me what it was, and I couldn't remember the English word. It's a kind of fish, and I could describe it, but I couldn't remember the name of the fish at all. It's cod, by the way, that has been salted and dried, then reconstituted. It's really fabulous. Even if you can't remember what it's called in your first language.



Finally, I experienced something that I've experienced in a lot of other countries. I tend to stick out a lot when I travel in Latin America. I am very pale and I have very European facial features. People tend to look at me a lot. In addition, in some places it's customary for men to make comments to women in the street. That can be unnerving, but after a while you get used to it and it's not a big deal. The problem I had was that I had really become used to people staring at me, making eye contact, and making comments to me. When I came home, I went to the grocery store and I felt like everyone was being rude to me! No one made eye contact, no one looked at me, no one said anything to me. I felt like everyone was ignoring me. Their behavior was perfectly normal for our shared culture, but it was very strange for my new culture. I eventually got used to grocery store interactions again, but I've never forgotten the feeling of being out of place in my own culture.

The really cool thing about experiencing other cultures is that you often find new and exciting ways to do things. You might find that there are things about other cultures that you like so much that you begin to adopt those practices. That's exactly what's happened in my family. My brother and I speak Spanish to each other, despite the fact that we both learned the language as adults. We watch "El Clásico," a soccer match between Barcelona and Real Madrid, every time it's on TV, and we eat tapas de jamón ibérico y manchego, a kind of food from Spain. Those are simple examples, but they are things that were definitely not part of our home culture.

The process of entering and experiencing a new culture, then returning to our home culture is difficult, but it's the kind of experience that helps us appreciate our own culture even more.

Culture

It's time to talk about culture. What does that word mean? Culture is hard to define, even for people who study it.

Often, when we think of the word "culture," we think about things we can see, touch, or hear--food, music, festivals and celebrations. But if that was it, culture would be much easier to understand, and those tangible things don't explain why people experience culture shock or misunderstandings when they go to a new place or meet new people.

It's often the case that we find it difficult to adapt to new places or new groups of people--even people from our own general culture sometimes have misunderstandings. Think of a time when you thought you knew what someone wanted, but it turned out that they wanted something quite different. That was probably a cultural misunderstanding, and it happens all the time--everyone's family has slightly different ways of doing things, just like people from different countries have different ways of doing things.

This "way of doing things" is a big part of the word "culture." In order to survive, every human needs the same basic necessities: food, clean water, clothing (yes, that's an arguable point, but we'll keep it on the list), shelter, and each other (we depend on each other whether we like it or not). How people go about getting these basic elements is one way of identifying culture. There are lots of views on what constitutes culture, but this way of talking about culture will do just fine for now; we'll look at some other ideas later. As long as you have food, clean water, clothing, shelter, and other humans, you'll be okay. How you organize all of that, though, is up to you and the society you belong to. Your method of obtaining and organizing these elements may be different from how I do it. And that's perfectly okay.

Food and Water
In our culture (assuming we share the same culture), we shop at the grocery store, or maybe we keep a garden to obtain food. Most of us have access to clean, running water on a regular basis. We may cook our meals or buy them already made from stores or restaurants. We may eat our food alone, with our families, or with friends. We can use food to celebrate major events that we consider important--holidays, birthdays, anniversaries, Spanish class parties (remember, our idea of what's important will be different from others' ideas). In some cultures, people use food to express love--that's why my grandma always tries to put more food on my plate. She loves me! I understand that's why she pushes more food on people, but others might find her behavior rude or uncomfortable. I can't imagine anyone turning down my grandma's chocolate zucchini brownies, though. They are made of magic.

Clothing
In our culture, clothing is not optional (just to make that clear!). Clothing isn't just to protect our bodies from the elements, but to make a statement about who we are. Even if you don't care a whole lot about your appearance, I bet you prefer certain colors to others, and I bet you prefer certain kinds of clothing to others. Whether you realize it or not, you make a statement about yourself every day with the clothing you choose (and most of us have the privilege of choice, as well, which says even more about our culture). How you care for your clothing is also telling--do you wash every piece of clothing every time you wear it, or are there some things you wear more than once before washing? Do you use a clothes dryer, or do you air dry your clothing? If you air dry your clothing, do you hang it where the neighborhood can see it, or do you have a more private place for drying your clothes?


Shelter
It's not just the building, but also who lives in it. Do you live with relatives or friends? Do you plan on moving out when you graduate from high school? Does your extended family live with you, or just your immediate family? Do you live in an apartment, above a business in town, in the country, or in a duplex? Is your roof flat or pitched? Do you have your own room or are you expected to share with others? Which room in your house is the most important room?

Everyone needs shelter, and different cultures have different ideas about how shelter should be made. In some parts of Latin America, for example, it's common for families to live in houses that are close together, and to have a fence or some kind of wall around their houses. It's also common to have a small yard or patio, and in warmer climates windows are left open all day to ventilate the house (so it may not be customary to have air conditioning).

Depending on the culture, it may be normal for many family members to live together--aunts, uncles, grandparents, parents, children, cousins. It may be common for everyone to sleep in the same room. It may not be common to have beds or to use blankets. It's all a matter of custom and preference.

Building materials may be different, as well. Our region has 4 seasons, so we have to be prepared for snow as well as 90º heat--that means we try to build our houses to withstand many conditions. In other climates the cold is not a problem, so houses may not be insulated, or they may have tile floors to keep things cool.


Each Other
This is the most complicated element that humans need for survival, and the most difficult to understand. The relationships that we have with our families and friends may be incomprehensible to others--how we create, define, and maintain relationships is culture-specific.

What does it mean to be a friend? Is a friend just someone to pass the time with, or is a friend considered part of the family?

How we interact with others is a huge part of our culture--how we address them, work with them, rely on them, which language we use, how much personal information we share, and a million other factors.



These are the most basic elements of survival. It's no wonder, then, that we have trouble understanding others, even if they seem very similar to us. The most important elements of culture are the things we can't see: our thoughts, habits, customs. These are things that are difficult to explain, and when we meet other people whose thoughts, habits, and customs are different from ours, we may find that we unknowingly offend someone. Likewise, others may unknowingly offend us.

So, how do we avoid cultural misunderstandings? I'm so glad you asked. I've had a lot of experience with this, and I can honestly say that the best way to learn is not to be afraid to make mistakes. Still, there are ways to avoid mistakes and learn about others.

1. Keep an open mind. Remember, "different" isn't wrong, it's just different.

2. Be patient. Sometimes it takes a while for us to realize that we've made a mistake, or to figure out the solution to a sticky situation. It's worth your time to patiently work out the misunderstanding so you can use that new knowledge the next time something comes up.

3. Be polite but don't be afraid to say how you feel. Politeness will be different for everyone, but do your best to show courtesy to others. At the same time, don't be afraid to say what's troubling you--you can't fix a problem if you don't identify the problem. Open discussion may feel awkward at first (depending on your culture!), but if you really want to learn and know about people, be prepared for some awkward moments. It'll either get better or you'll get used to it. In my case, I'm just used to being awkward all the time--but I learn a lot!

4. Ask questions. If you don't ask, you'll never know. People will tell you if they aren't comfortable answering, and you can do the same.

5. Respect others' choices. Whether you agree with them or not, everyone makes decisions based on their culture (even if they're not aware that's what they're doing). Culture is one of the most important things humans have--it's our way of identifying ourselves and making sense of the world around us. So, when someone makes a decision or acts a certain way, they're doing it in accordance with whatever culture they identify with. That may not be your culture, and you may be puzzled by others' actions and attitudes. The good news is that no one's asking you to judge them, so you can relax and enjoy knowing people for who they are, rather than who you think they should be.

This is a lot to take in, especially if you've never thought about it before. Even if you never plan to interact with people from other cultures (good luck with that!), these ideas are useful. Like I wrote above, everyone does things just a little differently, and a little variety is wonderful. Understanding others will help you understand yourself, and that's what many people consider the point of being human: understanding who we are.

The Art of Waiting

If you are traveling, and particularly if you are backpacking, chances are you'll spend a lot of time waiting.

You'll wait in line to buy bus tickets, you'll wait on a bus in traffic, you'll wait to check in to a hostel, you'll wait for a flight, you'll wait when your flight is delayed.

There is an art to waiting. Some people are good at it. Some people aren't. Some people are used to it, and some are just naturally impatient. I like ot think that I'm a patient person, but even I have my limits. Here's how I make my life worthwhile when I have a long wait ahead of me (like my bus trip this week that took 16 hours...)

1.) Journaling
That's what I'm doing right now, in fact. As I write, it's 5:45 p.m. I left my hostel at 8 a.m. today, and I've been waiting on various buses, in ticket lines, and in traffic since then. I'm on a bus right now traveling from David to Panama City, and we've been sitting in traffic for the past three hours. So I know what I'm talking about.

Journaling is an excellent exercise that I recommend for any time, not just when you have nothing better to do. Journaling gives you the chance to organize your thoughts, reflect on your day, resolve issues, and it's just good therapy.

I journal all the time when I travel (maybe because I need a lot of therapy?). Journals are a great way to relive your travels, sometimes even better than photos, and you know how much I love photography.

2.) Reading
Maybe it's not your activity of choice, but it certainly does help to pass the time. Reading's good for you, too--it helps develop sustained associational thinking (i.e., you're forced to think deeply about stuff for a long time). There's nothing like a good story to keep you entertained when the screaming baby behind you makes you want to tear your ears off.

3.) Sleeping
I bet you didn't see that coming--what teacher encourages you to sleep when you could be reading, or studying Spanish, or doing mental math?

But seriously, this merits a mention. YOu shouldn't just sprawl out wherever you are and start snoring. If you find you must nap in a public place, such as a bus, a train station, the airport, the beach, or wherever, there are some things to keep in mind.

First, if you have a bus or train to catch, set an alarm. It would be rather sad to sleep through the departure you've waited so long for.

Next, keep in mind that you are in

public. Do not invade others' space, do not slump or sprawl about inappropriately. People will likely trip over you or just generally be disgusted with your lack of courtesy.

Finally and most importantly, always know where your stuff is. A friend of a friend once fell asleep on the beach in Brazil, and someone took everything--she had to borrow money for the bus ride home, and she had to ride that bus barefoot and in a bikini. Keep your passport and wallet on you at all times, preferably attached to your clothing somehow, and out of sight. If you've got your backpack with you, find a way to strap is on while you sleep. If you're in a place where you can lay down, you might put everything against a wall and curl around it. Check the floor first so you don't lay in anything unsavory.


You might think you'll never do any of the crazy stuff I've been describing, and you're probably right. Just in case, though, it's important to think through everything. If you think it's awful to sleep in a bus station, imagine waking up in that bus station and all your stuff is gone. Worse, no?

Ultimately, waiting won't kill you, and the more relaxed you are (and the less whining you do), the happier your life will be, no matter how long it takes to get where you're going.

6:15 p.m., still in traffic... I think it's time for a nap.


Other helpful hints:
- always have a bottle of water (you'll lose your place in line if you try to go buy water)
- don't rely on electronics to keep you entertained. You may be in a place where it is a very bad idea to flash electronics of any kind. Plus, your battery might die.
- I know I've said it before, but BYOTP. And hand sanitizer.
- Always take a jacket, even someplace warm. It can double as a pillow, or the AC might be turned way up, which is the case on Panamanian buses. You never know. 12 hours on a highly air conditioned bus can be miserable.

Of Coffee and Horses.

Hola a todos,
Today has been a day full of adventures.



This morning, I toured a coffee farm just outside of Boquete, in an area called Jaramillo Alto. The farm is about 5 hectares (a hectare is a metric measurement of area. 5 hectares is about 12 acres). It's owned by a man named Don Tito. Don Tito grows eight varieties of coffee, including a variety called "Geisha Coffee." It's the second-most expensive variety of coffee in the world. His farm can produce up to 7,000 kilos of coffee in a good year.

Don Tito was a pretty interesting guy. He used to be a vegetable farmer, but he decided that he wanted to start growing coffee. The problem with growing coffee is that it takes five years for coffee plants to start producing consistently, and it's a very labor-intensive crop. In addition, in order to grow arabica coffee, the idea elevation is 1500 meters above sea level. Don Tito had land, but he had no idea what elevation it was. It turned out that his farm was precisely at 1500 meters above sea level. Don Tito named his farm "La Milagrosa," or "the miraculous one," because everything seemed miraculous when he started to pursue his dream of growing coffee.




Coffee doesn't look like a bean when it's growing. The coffee fruit is actually called a cherry, and it can be either red or yellow. It's a real fruit, and it's very sweet. The cherries should be picked when they are very ripe. If they are picked when they are green, they ruin the flavor of the coffee blend. Then the fruit is separated from the beans and discarded (in the case of Don Tito, he recycles the pulp as fertilizer for the farm). There are usually two beans in each cherry. If there's only one, this is called a peaberry, and it's highly prized for its stronger flavor. If there are three beans, they're called fenomenales, and they generally have less flavor than the others. The beans are dried in the sun for several weeks, then dried indoors for three months more.




There's an extra paper-like layer that has to be removed from the bean. The beans then are finally roasted, after which they look like the coffee you've seen in the store.






There are lots and lots of factors that go into making a good coffee. Don Tito blends several varieties of beans to make his coffee. If the beans float in water, they are poor quality, and they're discarded. When the coffee is roasted, it's roasted at 250ºC for 12 minutes. The beans make a popping noise as they roast. After 12 minutes, the beans are considered to be lightly roasted. After another 40 seconds, they are a medium roast, and another 40 seconds after that, it's a dark roast. After that, the coffee is burnt, so it's a delicate process.




It was a tasty experience.




This afternoon, I decided I wanted to go horseback riding. The countryside is beautiful outside of Boquete, and the Volcán Barú looks awesome from any angle. It's been a while since I rode a horse, so I'm quite proud to say that I did the challenging trail without a problem. There was a stretch of trail that went straight up a muddy hillside, so that was thrilling.

Plan what you can, go with the flow, and don't be a doofus.

Hola a todos,
I have many stories to share with you today. Many, many stories.

I decided yesterday that I wanted to spend a few days in Chiriquí. I was supposed to travel with my friend's mom, but she got sick so I decided just to go by myself. I left the house in Panama around 10 am, made it to the bus terminal by 11, and got in the longest line I have ever been in to buy a bus ticket. There were so many people that there were news reporters taking pictures and writing stories about the congestion in the station. Seriously, I might be in a Panamanian newspaper right now. It took 2.5 hours just to get in sight of the ticket window.

This is where the story of Eddie the Gringo begins.

Just as I was getting near the window, a guy came up to me and said, "Do you speak English?" It had been three days since I'd spoken English and he caught me off-guard, so I said that I did. He spoke no Spanish at all and he was completely clueless about how to buy a bus ticket. Trying to be nice, I helped him get a ticket. There were hundreds of people buying bus tickets to the city of David, so as soon as you bought your ticket, you had to go straight to the waiting room, and buses were constantly boarding. So that meant that because I helped Eddie the Gringo buy his ticket at the same time that I bought mine, he had the seat next to me.

Time out. When I travel in Spanish-speaking countries, I only speak Spanish. I don't speak English unless I have to. It's safer that way, and it's just plain polite to speak the same language as the people around you when you can. Also, I don't speak to strangers, no matter what language they speak. At the very least, I'm very selective about the strangers to whom I speak.

I thought that once I helped Eddie the Gringo buy his bus ticket that my job would be done. No. Eddie the Gringo insisted on talking to me. Here's a tip, guys: it's okay to ask general questions about people's travel plans, and it's best to ask where people have already been if you want to make small talk. But when you ask people details about their plans for the next day, you're being really, really, really creepy. Eddie the Gringo was creeping me out big time, asking about where I was going and where I was staying. This is an example of when lying a little bit is okay. I told him I was meeting friends in Potrerillos, a small town near the town where I was actually staying. Never tell complete strangers your detailed travel plans, even if they seem really awesome. Eddie the Gringo was not awesome in any way.

In general, Eddie the Gringo was just plain creepy and overwhelmingly clueless. He didn't know how to do anything in Spanish, and he didn't even know how to ask people for help in Spanish. What's worse, he never even tried. Please don't be like Eddie the Gringo.

In the waiting room of the bus station, there were people wall-to-wall waiting for buses. I had to wait for the attendant to shout the number of the bus that was printed on my ticket. This is why knowing your numbers in Spanish is important, kids. I also had to check a bag on the bus, and when I got to David at 1:30 in the morning yesterday, I had to wait for my number to be called. Seriously. Study your numbers.

It also helps to know the alphabet in Spanish. I had to call a hostel in Boquete to make reservations, and since my name is not a common name in Spanish, I had to spell it over the phone. I also had to spell my first and last name when I bought my bus ticket. Seems like something really simple, and it is, but it could save you a lot of trouble just knowing the alphabet.

The bus ride to David was only supposed to take 8 hours, but with the incredible amount of traffic and some wicked rain, it took 10 hours. I'll make the next moral of the story brief and to the point: always carry your own toilet paper. Bus bathrooms will not have TP. Bus station bathrooms will not have TP (unless they're the kind of bathroom you have to pay to use, in which case they will have TP). But in general, always always always BYOTP. My friend's mom gave me a roll of TP before I left her house. Best present ever. The end.

After the bus got to David, I still had to find my way to the town of Boquete, about 45 minutes away. I had planned on arriving to David around 7 p.m., but with the traffic, I didn't get there until 1:30 a.m. That meant that there was no public transportation to be had, so I had to get a taxi. A friend who is from Boquete told me that taxis should cost about $18 from David to Boquete. I asked a taxi driver how much he charged for the trip, and he told me $30. "No, gracias," I said. "$25," he replied. I asked around, and the cheapest I could find was $23, probably because of the late hour. It's pretty normal for taxi drivers (or anyone, for that matter) to raise their prices if they think they can get the money out of you. If you can, check around and see how much things should cost before you try to go somewhere.

Finally, I made it to my hostel at 2:30 this morning. I know I've talked about hostels before; they're dorm-style rooms, and you rent a bed for the night. I was shown to a room where three other people were already asleep. The moral of this leg of the trip is to always pack your most important stuff at the top of your bag so that you don't wake everyone else up by digging around for a toothbrush. I knew that. Just making sure that you do.

So there are some general themes here.
1.) Plan ahead as much as you can. Ask how much things should cost, think about what you'll need when you get to your destination, take an extra bottle of water in case an 8 hour trip turns into a 16 hour trip.
2.) If your plans don't work out, go with the flow and don't stress about it. You'll get where you're going eventually.
3.) Don't be afraid to ask questions and try doing things on your own. If you don't, you'll have trouble getting anywhere and you'll constantly have to rely on other people. Don't be like Eddie the Creepy Gringo.

Baseball

Hola a todos,
I went to a baseball game last night in Panama City--Metro vs. Los Santos. Baseball games in Panama are quite different than baseball games in the States.



Here are three main differences I noted:

1.) Tickets are $3. You sit on concrete steps. If you want real stadium seats, tickets are $4.


2.) People are insane about baseball in Panama. The game was tied 1-1 through the ninth innings and went into a tenth inning. Los Santos scored a run in the top of the tenth and the crowd went nuts, throwing their drinks and screaming and beating on drums.


3.) Oh yeah, drums. There was an entire percussion section at the game. Not just someone beating on a couple of bongos, but an all-out section of people playing percussion instruments together, mostly salsa rhythms, throughout the entire game. I'll try to get a video for you guys to listen to it. I'm having trouble uploading video right now, but I'll see what I can do.



Strangely, most baseball terms are in English. So you might hear someone say, "Carlos Muñoz de Los Santos está al bate, y tiene un strike. Rodríquez está en primero base. Los Santos tienen dos outs." There's actually a verb that means "to get someone out"--"ponchar". So you'll hear people in the stands screaming "pónchalo!"--"get him out!"




Afterwards, my friends wanted to get something to eat, but it was late. What's the only fast food restaurant that's open late? You guessed it--Taco Bell! It was really, really weird to order food in Spanish at a Taco Bell. Panamanian Taco Bells sell french fries, by the way--complete with salsa, nacho cheese, and jalapeño rings.



I'm a bit in a hurry to get packed up and get to the bus station, so I'll stop here. I'm heading to Chiriquí province tonight, to the city of Boquete. A friend of a friend told me that the Easter celebration in Boquete is very beautiful, and the region itself is beautiful, high in the mountains. There are also lots of coffee plantations, so I'm looking forward to some tasty samples. :)

¡Hasta pronto!

Casco Viejo

Hola a todos,
Today I visited Casco Viejo, an old neighborhood in Panama City. If you remember from the last entry, Panama City was the first European-built city in the Americas. It was begun around 1513 by Spanish conquistadores. The conquistadores built the city facing the Pacific Ocean, which made it very accessible by sea--too accessible, in fact, because the city was attacked and destroyed by pirates in 1519. The city center was moved to a more easily defensible spot, in what is now the present-day barrio of Casco Viejo.

Casco Viejo is an important government and cultural center for Panama. It houses the Institute of Culture, the National Theater, various government institutions such as the ministry of foreign affairs, and the president's house. There's also some really great colonial architecture in the neighborhood, as well as a fantastic view of the commercial center of Panama across a small bay.

The president of Panama's house:


A pretty sweet view of the city:


Some of the colonial architecture I was talking about:



And some artwork in Casco Viejo:


And finally, the food picture of the day--patacones. Patacones are plantains that are fried, mashed, and fried again. They are, I assure you, quite tasty.



I'm going on a sort of random road trip to the province of Chiriquí tonight, so I may not get a chance to post again for a while. ¡Hasta pronto!

A man, a plan, a canal, Panama!

That title is a palindrome (it reads the same backwards as it does forwards), and it usually refers to president Theodore Roosevelt's push to create the Panama canal. It's a bit more complicated than that, though, as I learned today.

Saul and I went to the Miraflores Locks, just outside of the city. Our area used to have a complex system of locks when the rivers were used more for shipping, particularly in the 1800s. If you're not familiar with locks, they raise and lower water levels to help boats move from different elevations. The Panama Canal has three sets of locks. It takes most cargo ships about 8-10 hours to travel the whole length of the canal.

The canal was started in the 1800s by the French, and the project was never finished. At the time, they didn't have the tools they needed to complete the canal, and the project was abandoned. Panama declared its independence from Spain in 1821, and found that it was struggling in its independence, so it joined forces with Colombia. Unfortunately, Colombia took advantage of Panama, taking its natural resources and forcing its citizens to work for Colombia's interests. The United States took an interest in Panama, realized its potential for creating a canal, and decided to help Panama gain its independence from Colombia.

The canal was completed in 1913, after lots of difficulties (hacking through the jungle, exploding mountains, and Dengue fever, for example). It was opened for travel in 1914. The United States controlled all traffic through the canal, and there was a designated "canal zone" that Panamanians were not allowed to enter--it was only for American citizens. In the middle of the country of Panama. In 1964, a group of students launched a protest against US control of the canal. They argued that a canal through Panama should be controlled by Panama. They entered the Canal Zone, ripped up a US flag, and flew the Panamanian flag from a light post. In 1977, the Carter-Torrijo Treaty was signed, promising that the US would cede control of the canal to Panama in 1999. Finally, in 1999, that's what happened--86 years after the canal was completed.

You might think that, with a history like the one I just described, Panamanians wouldn't have a very good opinion of the United States. That's not true. On the whole, Panamanians have very positive views of the US and its citizens. I was in a grocery store today, and I was surprised by the vast number of American brands I saw--not just the ones you might expect, like Coca Cola, but lots of different products like Snyder's chips, Philadelphia cream cheese, Pantene shampoo, and lots of other things that I know I'm forgetting right now. That was refreshing for me, because I'm accustomed to visiting countries that have a less favorable impression of the US.

I also visited Panamá Vieja today. It's the original Panama City, built by the Spaniards around 1513 when Balboa reached the Pacific coast. Panamá Vieja was very accessible by sea, which was unfortunate when pirates attacked and destroyed it in 1519. The city center was moved to a more protected location.

Modern-day Panama City:


The cemetery for workers who died while building the Panama Canal




A cargo ship entering the Miraflores locks on the Panama Canal



And you all know how much I love ruins/history/nerdy things--this is the bell tower of Panama Vieja, most of which was destroyed by pirates in 1519

Ya llego, Panamá

Hola a todos,
I made it safely to Panamá, despite an hour-long delay in Pittsburgh and a close connecting flight in Miami. I had to run the length of the concourse, but I made the flight. We flew over Cuba, which was pretty cool.

I'm staying with my friend Saul and his family while I'm in the city, and I spent the afternoon settling in and meeting Saul's three cats: Pochi, Salem, and Benito. Saul and his family speak both English and Spanish, and Saul also speaks Portuguese, so it's been a multilingual experience so far.

I admit that I was a bit concerned about coming to Panama City. I've never been to Panama before, and I've heard some scary stories about the city from friends and acquaintances. I'm happy to report that everything is just fine in Panamá.

So, while I don't have much to report, I wanted to check in with everybody. There will be more photos and more fun stuff tomorrow!

Also, I just want to rub it in that it's 95° here.


Hola, Cuba!











A quick view of the Panama Canal from the airplane:

T -1

¡Hola a todos!

Everything's packed and ready to go. I bought a new hiking backpack recently, and I'm not thrilled with the design, so packing was a little more difficult than in the past. I loved my last pack, but it died a grisly death in a dark little hostel in Foz de Iguaçu, Brazil. I had bought it for about $20 in a grocery store in Mexico four years ago, so its time had come. RIP, blue backpack.

Packing for eight days is not much different from packing for eight weeks. You need the same stuff and roughly the same amount of clothing, the only difference is that you probably won't need to do any washing. I could have packed more lightly, but there was lots of room in the bag, so I figured I'd go ahead and splurge--I packed an extra pair of shoes. Crazy, right?

The pack weighed in at 10 kilos, or 22 pounds, which is a little lighter than usual for me (there are 2.2 pounds in a kilogram, btw. Fun fact).



There it is!




And here's the carry-on. It's the green thing under the blue bag. I try to keep my carry-on small so I can just stick it under the seat during takeoff. That blue bag on the left is a dry pack, a kind of bag that people use on kayaking or rafting trips. It has waterproofed seams and a rubber seal. I might be a little paranoid, but after my passport nearly disintegrated in Paraguay, I keep everything important in waterproof or plastic bags. The plastic bag next to the blue one has my most recent book in it--Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, or The Count of Monte Cristo. I'm only on page 58 of 926, so it should keep me busy on the plane.

I also keep a journal when I travel. It's surprising how much more I enjoy the places that I visit when I sit down and reflect on them at the end of the day. It's also really cool to reread my journal after I get home and remember details of the places I've been. That helps me share a lot more than just pictures with my students--I can tell them how I felt, what things smelled like, people and objects that I didn't catch on camera. I have a lot of coursework to do for my grad classes, too, but I worked ahead a bit and all I have left are some online readings. Plus, the topic for this week's grad class is social networking, which I will be doing quite a lot of as I keep up with all of you in our Facebook group!

Have a very restful Sunday afternoon. I'm off to enjoy the cool weather and get some more homework done before tomorrow!