Journey Juju

Where's Cynthia Now?!

Madrid, France, Panama, what  - not in Portugal anymore? Where is Cynthia?

Can't keep up? I barely can either. The other day I thought, man! I'm a traveling fool! I have done some major schlepping around this year.

I'm a Creative Nomad. To help you stay abreast of my peregrinations, I've posted a page on the site that allows you to follow my journey. It's right there on the left, under Pages, called Follow Cynthia's Journey.

Pop over and be able to sleep at night, knowing where I am. And watch for a post about the beds I've slept in this year!

Conference Life in Panama

I’ve got mosquito bites on the backs of my knees and my body feels like a cardboard box that’s been tossed in storage a few times. But I’m happy to be back in Europe after my trip to Panama.

“How was Panama?” friends keep asking. Well…I think it’s always hard to sum up a trip when asked that question. Here are a few questions I ask travelers:

• What was your favorite meal?
• What’s the thing you are likely to tell a lot of people about?
• What surprised you?
• What advice would you give someone going where you were?

So I’ll answer those questions.

The favorite meal was the last meal, which I think is an extra bonus. So it’s also the most memorable. At the last minute I decided to join the conference posse for dinner in Casco Viejo, the old town part of Panama City. We loaded onto two buses and trucked through the jungle night and into the city. Our restaurant was Casablanca, and they had a table for 30 set up outside in the plaza.

This place was impressive. The service was amazing – can you imagine serving that many people at once? I ordered paella San Felipe, described on the menu as having seafood, coconut and curry. It showed up in a giant breast-like dome and was full of flavor and style. And shrimp, octopus, and other things I didn’t recognize in the dark.

We ate by candlelight, sipped wine from Chile and Argentina, and I had the chance to get to know the conference people better. At the end of the meal, the tables were alive with conversation, empty glasses and nearly-extinguished candles marked the site of a perfect meal. Photo of my paella: Shelly Perry

The thing I will tell most people about:

I woke up super early every morning. One day, after several grumpy minutes trying to get back to sleep, I threw open the curtains. I had the most amazing view from my room. I was only back in bed for a minute before I decided to go swimming in the pool. I knew this would likely be my only chance.

I’ll never forget paddling in the horizon pool, watching the sun come up. I was the only person out there and I got to do my water yoga, float around and love life.

I was surprised at how ghetto Panama City was. I was surprised that I didn’t feel safe walking around. This was a huge disappointment, but I let it go fairly quickly. I wasn’t there to sightsee, but to work, so I focused on that.

I was also surprised by how much I loved seeing the giant ships lined up to go through the canal. Something majestic about them against the horizon like that.

Advice? Make sure to go into the interior. Don’t worry about spending so much time in the city. Don’t be alarmed that you’ll likely be taking taxis everywhere; they’re not too expensive.

The conference was great. After five days alone in Panama, I was ready for some people! Three days in the conference room, punctuated by cocktail gatherings in the evenings. They held a Bizarre Bazaar, where I bought a funky purple leather bag from Ecuador and an accordion journal from China.

On Saturday night I lingered in the bar, eating sushi and drinking wine and getting to know the conference attendees better. I had so much fun. I laughed so hard. I can’t remember when I laughed like that. Laugh therapy. Exercise for the organs. I’m so glad I decided to hang out rather than to the ‘right thing’ and go to bed early. (About the photo: you know you're in Panama when they serve anti-bug towlettes on the buffet table.)

My presentations went well, I think. It was my first time using slides and I think that was apparent. But it’s okay. I will get better with them next time. The important thing is that I connected with the audience, shared useful information and inspired them to get into action on leading their own tours. (Photo of me by Shelly Perry. And no, that's not my Coca Cola there. I wouldn't drink that, even in Panama.)

I learned a lot, from others and also from my mistakes. Everything is an opportunity to learn and grow, and going to this conference in Panama helped me to gain clarity on what’s important to me for next year.

I was fortunate to have a seven-hour layover in Miami. Fortunate because a couple of my leadership pals happened to be in the area. We met for lunch and had a blast. It was Cindy’s birthday so Dennis and I got to sing happy birthday and bask in the birthday glow.

It was the strangest arrival I’ve ever had in Europe: completely anti-climactic. Usually, when crossing the ocean, it’s a big, hairy, exciting deal. This time it felt – not like coming home – but returning to my next phase.

Down the River into the Jungle

This trip to Panama has included a lot of firsts:

• First time I’ve been to Central America
• First time I’ve been anywhere other than Europe and the US
• First time I’ve seen third-world-like conditions
• First time in a long time I have felt unsafe walking around

And the first time I’ve visited a native tribe in the jungle.

The trip to the Embera Indian village was awesome. I didn’t quite know what to expect but I did know that I needed to do it. My hotel, the Balboa Inn, recommended a woman named Ann who leads tours to the Embera village. She has a special ‘in’ because she married one of the tribe members five years ago. She was working on a film down here, they fell in love and now she’s part of the tribe.

I thought I was going out there cross culturally by moving in with a Portuguese guy! At least we had electricity and running water!

Okay, enough of that. I’m always amazed by people and what we accomplish. By how many ways there are to live a life.

So I’ll try to encapsulate the trip to the Embera Indians.

We drove out of Panama City. Driving through the city was a trip. This place is pretty trashed out. The thing I like best are the Diablo Rojos, the wildly painted buses. There’s no public transportation, so the buses are independently owned, operated and painted. It’s a whole art, bus painting, and bus owners will hire bus artists to pimp out their rides. It costs 35 cents to ride the bus, if the driver decided to stop for you.

But the drive out of the city took about an hour, and half of this was along what I call Crater Road. Major craters. Slow going.

We got into an engine-powered dugout. The boat is carved from the espavé tree. As we motored down the river, I imagined this giant tree being felled and hulled by the village. It’s not waterproofed, and lasts seven to eight years.

I was happy, so happy, to be on a boat. It was a goal of mine to get on as many boats as possible on this trip. I think this was #5.

We went to a waterfall where we shucked our clothes and went swimming. Also on the tour were Casey and JD from Minnesota, and Dan and Ann from Denver. I doled out Journey Blessings to all.

It was awesome to jump off rocks and paddle against the strong current from the waterfall. I forced my way under the fall and sat underneath letting the water pound away my worries and sorrows. Since my childhood growing up on a lake in Michigan, I have loved the waterlogged feeling I have after swimming. Cleansing and refreshing at the same time.

Time to head to the village. We docked the boat and climbed a set of wooden steps. The villagers were there to greet us. We hung out for a bit, looking at the handcrafted goods in a large straw-topped hut. The village was made up huts up off the ground. The top floor was accessed by carved logs. Think of a totem pole you walk up. JD and Casey, fluent in Spanish, had spent the night at the village the night before. The villagers speak Spanish and their native language.

The village is in Panamanian national forest. 33% of Panama is national forest. The tribe makes a living from tourism, from receiving visitors like us and selling their goods to the visitors. At first I didn’t want to go, thinking it was weird to visit a tribe like this, like seeing animals in a zoo. Then I got over that and realized that their business, tourism, allows them to maintain their lifestyle and not have to go into Panama City to work.

The whole thing was pretty touristy, so it wasn’t like seeing people in their daily routine. Instead, they had a routine that they went through for us and the dozens of Dutch tourists who had come from a cruise ship (Via a bus and the dugout, of course.)

 A tribe member told us (through an interpreter) how they make their handcrafts, mostly woven bowls, carved statues and jewelry. (I bought a little carving of a dugout, complete with paddle and pole, as well as some baskets for gifts and for myself. I’m not a big souvenir buyer, but when will I next be in a jungle village?)

They made lunch for all of us (which I thought was very nice). We munched on fried plantains and fried fish served in a banana leaf. For dessert there was sliced pineapple and sliced papaya.

Then there was a tribal dance, where the women danced and the men played flutes, drums, maracas and other homemade instruments. They all seemed really bored throughout it all. I can’t imagine what it would be like to perform for tourists every day.

Anne showed us around – the kitchen, the school. We hung out for a bit longer. It was pretty mellow all around. On the boat ride back I felt very relaxed and happy that I had gone.

JD and Casey got tattoos at the village. I wanted one, but wasn’t sure that the tat would go with the outfits I’d brought to present in. And I thought it might be kind of distracting to have inked arms while I give my four presentations. Next time.

I’ve probably left a lot out for the sake of brevity. If you have questions about this adventure or the tribe, feel free to ask in a comment.

Visit my Panama photo album on Facebook. You can check out my Journey Juju photo album now – a collection of my best photos since I launched on my journey in May.

This is likely my last post until I get back to Madrid. I’ve got to focus on the conference. I’m excited!

My Panamanian Weekend

What a difference a day makes.

This is a long, blow-by-blow post. I try not to write the end then I went, and then this happened, and then kind of posts, but here you are. It won't take more than seven minutes to spend the weekend with me in Panama. Enjoy.

So, the last post was written from the gloom of my hotel room. I was not able to go to my new place until Sunday, so I had reserved a room for Saturday night. Or so I thought.

When I went to check out and check into my new room, they told me they were booked. I was mad. Really mad. Like that’s the last straw on my good attitude.

But you have to be cool. You can’t just freak out on people. So I asked if she could find me another hotel in the area. And she did. Then she got me a cab.

What I don’t like about where I am staying is I’m kinda reliant on cabs. And I’m not a cab kind of person. But I did enjoy my midday ride with an old Panamanian guy who spoke rapid Spanish to me and drove like a nut. I figured we were safe, though, because of the well-worn Bible on the dashboard. He had protection.

On the five-minute madcap drive I thought, maybe this new place is better. I didn’t really like the Albrook Inn, and it didn’t have wifi in my room, and the menu at the restaurant wasn’t so great. So perhaps this was some good journey juju to relocate me to a better place.

And it was.

The Canal Inn was cheaper, had wifi in my room and had communal spaces downstairs with plants and groovy décor. I loved it. I settled in. the rain stopped. I ventured out to the restaurant nearby next to the gas station.

So let me describe where I am. I’m in the outskirts of Panama City, in the former American Canal Zone. The whole area has a military feel, with identical beige buildings lining curving streets. Someone on a Trip Advisor review described it as 50s Americana and I think that’s apt. So imagine a suburb, dated to the 50s, with a military feel. And all the cars driving around are kinda old and shabby Toyota sedans.

But the restaurant, La Boca, was awesome. Outdoor patio seating. I was the only solo diner. I was the only white person. I’ve been wanting to have this experience for a long time. To be the minority. And it was fine. Not so strange.
I ordered my first Panamanian meal.

Shrimp in garlic, herb sauce with yucca fries and an Atlas beer. It was great. The shrimp sauce was perfect for dipping the starchy yucca fries. The beer was cold and refreshing. Other people had metal buckets filled with ice and bottled beer. I wished that I was with someone so I could have a bucket o’ beer. But not really.

While sitting there I wrote a list: Top Ten Reasons Traveling Alone Is Better. I’ll post it another time.

Okay, fast forward. I hang wander around. Not much to see. An artisan market in the old YMCA building. I go back to the B&B. I hang out in my room, call a few friends on Skype. It’s great to be on the same time zone or very near. I spoke with Dennis in Florida. Sara in Costa Rica, Elizabeth in Lyons, Colorado and Todd in Denver. Todd’s part Panamanian so he gave me the low down on Panama.

I forced myself out of my room and downstairs to talk to people. Initially I am rather shy so I have to nudge myself out of my shell. I’m always glad I did. I talked to Franz, the owner, who helped me to orient myself on the map. He gave me some ideas of things to do: go along the causeway, go to the Miraflores Lock (he said I cannot go to Panama and not see this), to go to Casco Viejo (the old part of the city). We chatted some more and then I went upstairs and went to bed.

I am very luckily not experiencing much if any jet lag. It’s due to the homeopathic remedy I took, appropriately named: No Jet Lag.

Day three in Panama. Thorwald, the owner of the Balboa Inn, plans to pick me up at 11:00. I have breakfast downstairs with Sylvia.

Sylvia is from Argentina. She’s a human development consultant and coach who will be working in Panama for the next 6-12 months. She’s living now in Costa Rica. She seemed to really like her job, raving about the education she got at the university in Panama, about working solo and with teams, about helping families and communities. I asked her what she loves about her work.

This is where things broke down a little. Our conversation was entirely in Spanish and I can’t quite say that I speak Spanish. But with my Portuguese studies, and the time I’ve spent in Madrid, I’ve been getting by fairly well. I’m actually proud of how well I can communicate with my meager Spanish. Today the taxi driver asked me how I am studying Spanish and I said, just talking to people. He said, oh, intelligente! No, I said, I just love words and languages.

All this Spanish has inspired me to want to learn Spanish properly. And…

I went to see a mystical sort of healer while I was in France last month. I asked him where I will be working. This is a big question for me: where is the best place I can be to grow myself and my work, and to connect with creative community. While he wouldn’t give me a specific answer, he said, “Do you speak Spanish?”

Holy crap, I thought. (Holy crap is what Susan, a fellow La Muse retreatant, used to say. I quite like it.)

Holy crap. There’s a lot – mucho, mucho – places where they speak Spanish. And I happen to be spending a lot of time bopping through Spain.

But I set that aside for now and just enjoy learning Spanish. 

Reporting from Rainy Panama

**This was written on Saturday. Everything has changed since then. I’ll write it up and post it soon with pictures. Stay tuned!

I’m reporting from Panama, where it’s raining. Nay, pouring. I’m here to speak at a conference next weekend. I figured I should come early to check out the country, since I’ve never been here. I thought, how can I fly from Europe and only spend four days in a hotel conference room?

I must say that while making these plans, looking at where to go in Panama, I was never really compelled to come early and spend extra time. I thought my disinterest was because I was also in the middle of planning to leave Portugal and was making arrangements for the rest of my 2008. I thought that I’d be happy later that I had gone ahead and made plans for Panama because once I got there I’d be glad I did.

Well. Currently in Panama there’s the kind of rain that keeps everyone indoors. (This happened in Portugal in May, too!) So it doesn’t really matter where you are. It rained so hard last week that the region where I was planning to hang out at the beach was flooded, creating landslides, killing people and requiring evacuation of thousands of people. The guy at the hotel I reserved assured me it wasn’t so bad. Come on! I’m not going there unless I plan to help with emergency relief efforts.

So. I’m in a motel that’s close to the airport I would have been flying to the islands from. There’s no wifi in the room, and I need that if I’m going to be holed up and working all week. I found a B&B nearby and will spend the rest of the week there until I go to the conference on Thursday.

This is actually a gift in disguise, I am sure, because I need to practice my four presentations. I am very, very, very bad at rehearsing (now you know my big dark speaker’s secret). I also have never used a slide show, so I need to practice working with that.

And, being self-employed, there’s always stuff to do. I can work on my newsletter, write blog posts, and handle other miscellany.

And then there’s plenty of art time!

I hope to meet some new friends and have some breaks in the deluge so I can explore a little. While it’s a bummer to have my trip dampened by the weather, in all truth I am here to work anyway.

Travel is the ultimate crash course in dealing with what’s in front of you. Not with the fantasy of it. So I’ll set aside images of beaches and rainforest treks. The plus side is I likely won’t need to buy sunscreen and insect repellent!

The Voyage to Panama

It’s strange being a nomad. When the customs form asks for your permanent residence, what do you say? Of course I write Boulder, but what do I say if I have to explain why I am coming from Spain if I am a US resident? Luckily no one seems to care where I am from and what I am doing, so I sail through the immigration lines in Spain and the US and Panama.

I was in the Miami airport for only an hour, an I don’t know how much that really constitutes being on US soil, but I did have a few woo hoo! American moments. After seven months of being a foreigner, I really relished my time on my home turf. Some highlights:

I got cash from an ATM. American dollars! So different from the Euros. All green, all the same size.

I greedily scanned all the books and magazines in English. Got to rifle through a copy of Maclolm Gladwell’s Outliers, which I’ve only heard about. It was cool seeing all the magazine covers with Barack Obama on them. A historic moment for sure, and this was a wee glimpse for me of the view from America, not from Europe.

I really loved being waved ahead of the line to the passport control because I was an American citizen. Of course, I was among the herd of foreign nationals on the other side in Panama. I always want to cry, moo! when I’m being corralled through those lines.

People speaking English. Me being able to speak English without asking first if the person hablas inglese.

Okay, enough of reveling in the American moments. On my return to Madrid, I have a six-hour layover in Miami. My friend Dennis, who is housesitting nearby, plans to come meet me at the airport and take me to lunch. So I’ll really get some time with my feet on American soil and I feel quite blessed to be able to hang out with a good friend.

I can’t say the trip over was as joyous and creative as the 13-hour train trip. But it was without stress and without drama. I did write, and I did do some daily art. I ate all the airplane food and was immediately sick in my stomach for the rest of the journey. When will I learn! When will I be one of those people who doesn’t eat the food, who knows that I’m just doing it to pass 20 minutes of the 10 hour flight? Oy ! I did eat my apples and cashews and drank lots of water, hopefully getting something healthy in me.

I also glutted on four films. I saw The X-Files movie, Mamma Mia!, Henry Poole Is Here and Death-Defying Acts, a film about Houdini starring Catherine Zeta-Jones. My reviews: I highly recommend Henry Poole Is Here, which stars Luke Wilson as a man who thinks he’s dying. A mysterious stain on the outside wall of his house is proclaimed to be the face of Jesus, and heals people in the neighborhood. This was an unexpected treat, the kind of film I really like. I love movies that make me question the nature of life and how we live. I love movies that cycle me through a range of emotions, and I particularly love films that make me weep, as this one did. Check it out if you like independently made and emotion-releasing films too.

So there’s not much else to say about that leg of the trip, but I really had a treat on the two-hour flight from Miami to Panama. I usually like being on the aisle so I can easily get up and move about the cabin, but on this flight I was treated to a window seat.

I’ll admit, I was starting to get a little nervous. I’ve never been to Central America. I knew before I came that my travel plans would likely be changed and I’d have to figure out where I wanted to go after my first night in Panama. Luckily, in these situations where I feel little or no control and have no idea what will happen, I rely on this: