Jumping in the Cangilones de Gualaca

We held hands, counted down

Tres

Dos

Uno

Threw ourselves off a cliff,

plunged into the cool current

and swam through a curving

canyon where slick rocks shadow

the sun. I watch children cling and clamor

up the speckled grey granite walls,

some slip and splash into the water;

Echoes of laughter reverberate

in the canyon as our smiling eyes meet.

My bare feet dangle over the edge

swinging; the sun melts the goose bumps

from my skinny legs. You bite off

the bottle cap and pass me a warm Balboa.

Sips of beer and Spanish flow back

and forth between single travelers.

My Funeral

The smell of dry
earth permeates
the air surrounding
turned dirt. I stand
watching my mourners
pass around a joint,
swig from a tarnished flask.
The jocks:
track stars, boys in baseball pants.
The artists:
wannabe hippies,
flamboyant hair colors
shrouded in layers of black.
No tears
trailing down cheeks
into the dust.

My own impurities dying, confined within a coffin.
Handfuls of dirt tossed onto polished walnut. I lean
in and sprinkle fine, red soil on the casket. I drift away
as memories of my corrupted past float by.

The headstone radiates
heat; the sun's glare blinds
the view of my two engraved
birth-dates, and a single death.

As my new life begins,
I turn and forge a new path
along cracked earth.

The Old Cities Part Two: Panama Viejo

Panama Viejo, the original city, was formed in the 1519 by the conquistador Pedrarías Dávila, but it was ransacked and burned in 1671 by Captain Henry Morgan, an infamous pirate. The ruins are surrounded by a lush green landscape which starkly contrasted the snow and ice I was navigating less than a week prior in Abilene, Texas. The heat and humidity was the best shock to my system! Walking around the ruins in the afternoon sunlight with the city skyline in the background extenuated the difference between the past and present.

During our exploration of the ruins I discovered I have a fear of heights. This was an odd discovery for me to make as I have climbed mountains, repelled off cliffs, zip lined through canyons, and love to cliff dive, but walking up four stories in the tower of the cathedral had me gripping the hand rail and clutching my new Panama hat. Despite being scared, the view of the city, distant mountains, ocean and islands off made it worth it.

However, one of my favorite parts about going to Panama Viejo has to be the company that joined me. Jessica and her neighbor Bolivar. I have known Jessica since I was 9 years old and this was our first opportunity to explore the world together, and Bolivar is the cutest and most considerate gentleman (it was like spending the day with my foreign grandpa) who happened to be an excellent tour guide and language coach.

The trees in Panama are sometimes overrun by Strangler Fig roots.

The tower we climbed to the top of.

Some of the stones from this monastery were used in the construction of Casco Viejo. 

Scary staircase in the tower!

View from the tower

What can I say I love ruins and wells! So I climbed in the well!

Bolivar is in the left corner! Panama Viejo is exquisite. 

The Old Cities Part One: Casco Viejo/Casco Antiguo

On Friday we explored the various old cities through Panama City. The original city, Panama Viejo, was formed in the 1519, but it was ransacked and burned in 1671 by Captain Henry Morgan, an infamous pirate. Two years later the city was rebuilt 5 miles from the original site on a peninsula where they built a massive sea wall to protect the new city from further attacks from pirates. Also, the extreme difference in the tide levels exposes the rocks and coral which further protected the city from invasion.

We started our day in Casco Viejo or Casco Antiguo and worked our way back in time throughout the day to Panama Viejo! The first thing on the agenda was the to walk along the seawall among the open air markets called Esteban Huertas Promenade, they are run by indigenous people who sell their handmade jewelry, cloths and other various items. The market has a beautiful view as you can see the island of Tabago in the distance and the the city-scape of the new downtown Panama City.

 

View from the market!

Tabago is off in the distance.

All the jewelry and sculptures were carved out of Tagua nut.   

After doing a little shopping, we went to Dodo which is an adorable French café where we cooled off with a pot of tea and chocolate chip banana bread. The atmosphere is quaint with French instrumental music, black and white checker board floor, and doily table clothes. My favorite aspect is that books were scattered around the café and I found numerous classic novels, such as Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility.

We proceeded to walk around exploring the streets of Casco. Many of the churches were open for viewing, and apparently Jessica had not had the opportunity to go inside them since she has moved to Panama! So she got to do a little exploring with me!

The flat arch makes this unique architecturally and acoustically.  

It was amazing to see cathedrals mixed so effortlessly in with other modern buildings. 

My favorite part of Casco Antiguo was down this a rundown, stone staircase that led to a strip of sand and debris. This beach is not a place where people would typically layout, enjoy soaking up the sun and swimming; however, it contained my favorite thing to collect, sea-glass! As I walked around scanning the ground I found many treasures; including two pieces of large blue sea-glass which are a rare find! After a morning walking around in the heat, seeing the sights, learning about the history and shopping we stopped for an ice cold Balboa, a Panamanian beer, before heading back to the house to catch a ride to the old city, Panama Viejo.

This small beach had an amazing selection of sea-glass and shells!

I had to get a Panama hat!

Giving Thanks In Panama

This year for Thanksgiving I traveled to Panama to see my best friend Jessica who is living down there working for a music foundation. Leaving the United States for Thanksgiving seems counter-intuitive; however, by being in a foreign country I found myself more grateful for all the blessings in my life than I have been in a long time.

We spent the morning at a beautiful coffee shop drinking lattes and cappuccinos with foam art, and I had the pleasure of meeting some of Jessica’s friends and their adorable dog, Manu!

Manu!!

A beautiful coffee shop in Casco Viejo with a wonderful of a church that serves amazing coffee.

Jessica!

The afternoon was spent at the foundation where Jessica works. She made sure the teachers were there, that the students took their lesson and then received lunch, and she taught a violin lesson to a little boy as I sat there adjusting to the heat by sweating through my clothing. This gave me the opportunity to sit and observe all the music filling the air around me and to catch up on my journal. I had the pleasure of hearing Christmas carols mingle in the courtyard in the swelter Panamanian heat; it was an experience so far from home, but I enjoyed every minute of it.  

The art foundation across the street.

The jazz foundation across the street. 

Site reading challenge!! 

It was at the foundation that I realized it was indeed Thanksgiving, and as I looked around at the children who were so happy to be practicing Christmas music and receiving a free meal after school it became clear that this is what the holidays are actually about. I am so thankful that I was able to travel to Panama to see Jessica for a week! And that we were able to able to eat pastel de pollo for Thanksgiving dinner (at least we had a bird of some sort!)

Abilene State Park, A Long Run

Today I had to do a long run, like every Saturday while training for a marathon. Today’s run was two hours long, so I decided it would be best if I found somewhere new to explore for two hours that was off the pavement. I decided on Abilene State Park which is approximately forty minutes away from my apartment.

Driving through small West Texas towns kicking up dust behind my truck I began to realize this run was going to be quite different then my other trail runs which have been densely wooded and green. When I arrived to the park I looked at the map of all the trails and decided first to run in the main camping section of the park then to cross the highway to make my way to the other side of the park. There was supposed to be Lake Abilene on this side. There is no longer a lake. Parts of the landscape resembled the cracked earth from the movie Holes…piles of dusty tires scattered on the lake bottom and an ominous barrier of cactus protecting further harm from occurring to the dried up lake. It was such a sad sight to take in, but in its desolation it was extremely beautiful.

The dry lake bed.

It was extremely hilly throughout the park

This is what is left of Lake Abilene. 

I was alone on the maintenance trails, and I have never felt so tiny in comparison to my surroundings. The further I ran around and into the dried lake I saw the magnitude of the drought in the lack of water and wildlife. I also ran pretty close to the giant windmills I have only seen from the window of cars up until this point. They are massive! 

Pause. Breathe. Slam Poetry.

I was a nervous wreck for days leading up to my first poetry reading, actually it was an attempt at Slam Poetry. Up until this point I have been writing poetry and have been content keeping it on paper because it somehow separates me from it, like a piece of paper shields me from my audience.Writing it allows me to process the poem better and gives me the courage to write vulnerable material without it becoming too intensely personal.

However, I was forced completely out of my comfort zone this past week when my professor asked me to perform a certain poem that is extremely personal to me. He kept pushing me to make the poem deeper with every draft, and the more I wrote and deeper I got into the poem I could feel my mood shifting into a dark place. When Tuesday finally arrived I was an emotional wreck...I was having difficulty eating and focusing, the entire day is a blur. After sending my final draft in a few hours before the performance my professor told me that I didn't have to get up there and read it if I didn't want to. At that point I had spent countless hours dreading getting up in front of an audience without my paper shield and the thought of not having to perform was a huge relief. I wish I could say I knew I was still going to preform despite my professors gesture, but I seriously contemplated not going through with it.

It is now 8 PM and the room is packed with people in chairs, couches, on the floor, and in the adjacent hallways just listening. I was on the schedule to go last in the first act. I had buried myself in a couch between Tracee and a Pevato twin, fellow English graduate students. As  my turn steady grew nearer I could feel myself beginning to shake and sweat...I kept telling myself I didn't have to get up there and read. Before I knew it I was walking up to the podium and was arranging my poem on the stand. I had to set my hands on the podium to stop the shaking, the room was shaking. I was supposed to introduce myself...maybe I did; maybe I didn't...I don't remember. I begin to read. Pause. Breathe. Keep going. Pause. Breathe. Speak up and don't make eye contact. Pause. Breathe. Regain balance. Breathe. Two more stanzas. Fumble over line...once...twice...third time is a charm. Almost done. Pause. Breathe. Read. Done. Numb.

As I walked back to sit down between my friends there was applause the sound grew overwhelming in my sensitive ears as voices began to carry on conversations. I hopped, tripped and slipped out of the room. I needed quiet and fresh air even if only for a moment. I sat on some stairs outside of the building and focused on breathing and not shaking. I had done it. I had stood up in front of a room of peers, professors, and strangers and removed the paper shield and let my audience see me emotionally naked. It was terrifying; it still is terrifying. As I walked back into the room I was careful not to make eye contact because I didn't want to see that look I dread in anyone's eyes. I reburied myself in the couch between Tracee, a Pevato twin, and added a pillow as an extra measure of protection and let myself listen to the second act.

That was the night I got my voice back. 

Battle Scars

Brittle bones peeking through thin skin.

Blue veins, visible just under the surface

Of the cracked, dull membrane,

Pump life to and from a hateful heart

Spreading self-loathing deeper into every cell.

A lifestyle meticulously planned.

Every meal portioned, downsized.

Workouts designed to break the body

Yet build mental fortitude with each

Jerky click of the second hand.

A smile parts the lips when the scale

Rewards sacrifices with shredded pounds.

They diagnose this as a mental disease,

But really this is war. 

LOLOS

After spending the day at Orient beach we continued to make our way around the island. A road block stopped our progress when we reached Grand Case. The sound of steel drums and excited chatter filled the air, so we parked and made our way toward the commotion. As we walked down the street lined with once brightly painted cement houses adorned with decaying patios and overflowing foliage local children raced barefoot down the street after dogs and one another. A white tent emerged in the middle of the street and a local band with about 20 steel drums was performing. The musicians were dancing wildly while maintaining the beat, and young girls practiced their dance routines in alley ways. 

It was around this time that the delicious aroma of barbecue and fried plantains hit me. I was suddenly starving and looking to my left I saw various semi-permanent tents with cramped tables and chairs in no orderly fashion arranged between different grills cooking up lobster and fish. These were the Lolos, which are open are barbecue stands which serve huge helpings of ribs, lobster, chicken, fish with rice and fried plantains and johnnycakes all while providing ocean views and lots of music from steel drum bands to karaoke. We sat listening to the music and ate amazing food while drinking icy Heineken's as the sun set over the horizon. It was essentially the perfect ending to a perfect day! 

Are my eyes popping out of my head??

Friday was the big day! I was so excited I could barely sleep the night before in anticipation; I was like a five year old waiting for the first day of school to finally arrive. I couldn't wait to learn about what I will be doing this year, meet the professors I have only had email correspondence with up tot his point, and learn which other students I will be sharing this journey with. 

The first meeting with all Graduate students went well. I met the Head of the English Department and some of my fellow students, but most of all I felt confident. Then came the meeting for Graduate Assistants...now there were far fewer of us in the room and the meeting took on a more business tone; however, I still felt fairly confident at the end of this meeting. A group of us made our way across campus to where our departmental meeting was going to be held...we got there an hour early. 

While waiting in the Inkwell (I love that it is named that) we were all discussing which classes we would be taking and what they had heard about certain professor's teaching styles. Soon people began to trickle in and the food arrived and we all feasted on barbecue and blackberry cobbler. It was around this time when we began making introduction that my confidence began to dwindle...the highlight from the summer for most everyone in the room was reading books. My highlight was travelling to St. Martin and enjoying the ocean, culture and food...don't get me wrong I read lots of books over the summer and enjoyed them immensely, but the travelling was more invigorating for me personally. This is about when I started to question if I fit in...

After lunch the professors left so all the graduate students could get to know one another and it gave the incoming students a chance to ask questions. It was when a male student mentioned that typically you have a nervous/mental breakdown five times a semester (that's more than once a month!!) and every student in the room just nodded in agreement. The pressure behind my eyes began to build at the time. They began discussing reading notes and different professor's expectations (4-6 pages seems to be typical for a weeks reading) and they continued to bounce through topic after topic...I removed the sunglasses that were acting as a headband; the pressure had become too much. After this hour of over stimulating discussion I was beginning to sweat. I'm not sure if the room was just incredibly hot or if my nerves were working overtime.

Next came the time for the new students to sit with the professors and discuss expectations and other pertinent matters such as conferences and submitting work and presenting at a variety of academic conferences. The idea of presenting at a conference is terrifying!! I have trouble introducing myself to people without getting an adrenaline rush that starts the racing heart and sweaty palms! I started trying to loosen my curls hoping that releasing them from the mousse's grasp would somehow help ease my eyeballs back into my head. Then the topic of reading came up. Of course I expect to read assignments for class so you are prepared and don't fall behind, but I wasn't expecting the casual mention of having 700-1000 pages of reading a week. My poor eyes!! Now after creating a frizzy mess on my head I was rubbing my eyes smearing the mascara and eyeliner around...was it just me or was the room an actually sauna? 

Upon the completion of all these informative meetings I made my way to the student center with my head hung low while my mind was racing over everything I had just learned questioning if I can do this? and can I succeed doing this? I made my way down to the basement to buy a few final books for class and while waiting in line I lifted up my head. I recognized the guy standing next to me, a fellow incoming English graduate student!! He looked sweaty and beaten down...maybe I wasn't the only one who thought the room was hot...and maybe just maybe his eye's felt like they were going to pop out of his head too. So I asked him how his eye's felt because that is a totally normal thing to ask a new acquaintance right? To my surprise he said "It felt like they were coming out of my head more and more as the meetings progressed, and now I feel exhausted." Relief washed over me like cool water after a run...I wasn't the only one overwhelmed and scared. I was called to the next check out and as I walked away the room temperature dropped giving me a shiver and I finally felt the release of pressure behind my eyes as they sank back into my skull...I was going to be ok. 

The Big Move

On Sunday I officially made the move to Abilene where I will be pursuing my Master's in Creative Writing for the next two years, and it didn't really sink in until Monday afternoon that this is my new home for a while.

Abilene is extremely different from Katy/Houston, TX...for starters the humidity has disappeared which is doing wonders for my hair. Bye bye Afro frizz, and hello ringlets!! With the disappearance of humidity the weather must present another challenge and that would be the wind. West Texas winds might possibly be one of my biggest hindrances while running, biking, and driving...there always seems to be a gale force wind present, and it is never a tail wind. Also, it hypothetically should only take you up to 15 minutes to get anywhere in town (yes all the way across town is merely a short drive); however, my drives have been taking considerably longer due to my innate ability to get lost while using a GPS.

During my explorations I have found some pretty nice parks and running areas which I have been testing out and taking Tux to see. His favorite park so far is Red Bud Park which just so happens to have plenty of prairie dogs for him to watch while cowering between my legs! I suppose it is good that he has a healthy fear of them, but it does look ridiculous to be walking a bulldog who is so scared of a 2 lbs rodent.

The other big change is my physical living situation. I am in an apartment with two girls and one of them has two Pugs named Lily and Dobs (brownie points for the Harry Potter reference!) So there is really six of us in our little apartment including the dogs!

School starts on Friday and then I am sure it will be a whirlwind til the end of the semester with marathon training, school, and work. Wish me luck!

Orient Bay/Baie Oriental, St. Martin/St. Maarten

On my first full day in St. Martin we drove around the coast on the French side of the island sampling French-Caribbean cuisine, taking in the breathtaking views, and stopping by various beaches checking out the beautiful water. We ended up settling at Orient Bay…this was the first nude beach I have ever been to! There were some topless girls but I personally didn’t happen upon anyone in the nude. However, I immediately became very aware of the fact that I was in my (sexy) one piece, and I looked like a nun compared to others on the beach!! Experiencing this atmosphere for the first time was very eye opening for me for very different reasons. The nudity didn’t bother me; instead I actually realized that there should be no shame in covering up or uncovering your body. As a runner I have always been very aware of my body and the type of shape I am in, and I am generally very hard on myself. Of course I want to look good, but I like to feel like I’m in good running shape because that is when I feel powerful as a woman , like I can take on the world and I am unstoppable! At this beach I saw women of all shapes and sizes walking around with pride about who they are and what they look like which in turn made them all exceedingly beautiful, and you don’t see that as often in the United States as you do in other countries. Why is that?

So along with the beautiful people Orient Bay or Baie Oriental was equally as beautiful. The two mile stretch of beach has white sand like sugar and turquoise water which waves are perfectly suited for body surfing, leisure swimming past the break, and snorkeling further out on the reef. Orient Bay is nestled at the bottom of multiple mountain peaks while Caye Verte, Ilet de Pinel, and Ile Tintamarre pop out of the Atlantic on the horizon.  There was lot’s going on at the beach with parasailing, jet skis, and a random man jumping rope vigorously at the water’s edge in a speedo. At Club Orient the cabana boys brought us mojitos, cigars, and a cappuccino for when I needed my caffeine fix while we lounged around reading and tanning. The day in essence was perfect much like the island.  

 

My brother and I walked to this little unnamed island from the mainland near Caye Chateau. 

The view from Club Orient at Baie Oriental