Man, it's been a crazy past couple weeks.
Currently writing from cloudy Medellín, Colombia, one of my new favorite cities. Incredible place. Super cosmopolitan. A big change from where I spent the past week (more on that in a minute).
Lauren and I are couchsurfing with a cool couple here, an architect and theater teacher, both originally from Medellín. They've got a swanky apartment in a quiet neighborhood and are showing us all that this city has to offer, although Medellín sort of sells itself after a few hours of strolling its streets and hopping in and out of open air cafes searching for the best cup of
tinto, what they call a strong cup of black coffee. Very european feeling.
Before we arrived here, however, we were in a totally different world, both physically and mentally. We had been making our way south little by little to catch my flight from Medellín to Boston on the 15th. After taking a 16-hour overnight bus from San Sal to San Jose, we hitchhiked to the Panamanian border and then met up with our Peace Corps friend David in Panama City.
Quick note about Panama City. Damn what a different world. It was like walking on the moon at times. Nothing like the Central American capital cities I was used to. Clean and suuuper developed. That, combined with the fact that they're on the American dollar, meant you had to remind yourself every so often you were in Central America and not in Miami, especially when the supermarkets have Guinness for 69 cents a can. What?!!!
David took us to all the spots - the canal, the former U.S. army bases, the causeway. And as an added bonus, we were lucky enough to arrive just as the national independence holidays were starting up, when the entire city shuts down for a three day party.
Here's a shot from our private tour of the craziness that is Panama City.
But despite the good times, after a couple days we had to move on. I had a plane to catch, after all.
For the majority of world travelers country-hopping in Central and South America, it's rare to stray too far from the Pan-American Highway, a 30,000 mile road stretching from Prudhoe Bay, Alaska to the tip of South America (both Chile and Argentina claim the highway's end). Backpackers shuttle up and down it like New Yorkers riding the 6 train. For the most part, it's smooth sailing until they hit something called the Darién Gap, a virtually impassable rain forest separating Panama and Colombia. For 60 years, this mountainous region is the only break in the north-south highway, yet because it's undisputed FARC territory, I don't think that's going to change anytime soon.
To circumvent the gap, most people opt for the hour and a half flight from Panama City to Cartagena or Medellin. But those with the luxury of time and the curse of a tighter budget cross the border by boat through the San Blas islands, a 365 island archipelago also known as Kuna Yala, which means "Land of the Kuna."
As ex-PCVs, Lauren and I were pretty strapped for cash, and the $300 flight was out of our league. Our plan was to island-hop for the week, making our way south. There's a lot of info on this route on the internet and it's becoming more and more popular, as only 49 of the 300 plus islands are inhabited and a week snorkeling off the islands and sleeping in hammocks on the beach can be an unforgettable experience, despite the trouble of getting out there.
Well, it was all fun and games for us until we found ourselves stranded on one of those islands because of lack of transport and bad weather. Lucky for us, the inhabitants of the islands, the Kuna people, had a place for us to stay and were incredibly open.
Each day we did our best to endear ourselves to the community by fishing with the kids on the dock and entertaining them with the magic thumb trick. So powerful, the magic thumb trick.
I'll write more later, but here are some pics until then...
A Kuna woman sewing a
mola, a traditional hand-sewn cloth, which the women wear along with elaborate beaded bracelets and anklets.
The Kuna are fascinating people. I spent most of my nights chatting with a small group near the dock while I ate dinner. Many books have been written on their rituals and history, but here are three things I found interesting.
For starters, the Kuna are matrilineal, which means women run the show and households are centered around the elder women. When a marriage is approved by the elder council, husbands marry into their wife's family's compound (unlike 90% of the world's societies).
Also, young girls are permitted to dress in western clothes until they reach puberty, at which point, the elder women cut the girl's hair and the community acknowledges her step into womanhood with week-long celebrations of seafood and fermented fruit wine typical to Latin America, called
chicha.
Actually, on our last night on the island, this happened, and the entire community was beginning the preparations for the fiesta. We wouldn't have been able to attend anyway, but I still wish we could have been there for some part of it.
Finally, numbers and counting in Kuna vary depending on the shape of what you're describing. If you're referring to round objects, like three balls, for example, you would say "round-three balls." If you're talking about a longer shape, like a stick, you'd say "long-one stick." You get it? It's kind of complicated, but pretty damn cool if you think about it.
If we weren't on the dock with the kids, we were hanging out at our cabin, reading or occasionally jumping off into our own private ocean (but only when the tides were right (island community = floaters = bad, very bad)).
Eventually after three days, a Colombian cargo ship passed by and gave us a ride to the Panama-Colombia border port, Puerto Obaldia. Jesus christ it's been wild.
The ship was a memorable experience. The seas weren't exceptionally high, but being in a loaded cargo ship in open waters isn't always smooth sailing...
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