The People I Met and What They Taught Me

1

Ronaldo- Panama City

Getting off the plane in Panama City, I was tired, overwhelmed, excited, and hangry. It was 5am and the airplane’s rendition of chicken alfredo dinner was not sitting well. I went through customs, trying my best to seem less aloof than I felt. I really had to pee. Outside the airport doors, the driver my host had sent for me was standing with a piece of paper that said “Addie!” “Hola Addie, ah mucho gusto.” Ronaldo said. Ronaldo was a taxi driver because of how close he lives to the Panama airport, but his main job was loading cargo on and off huge boats which he pointed out to me as we drove. It was the first time I’d really put my Spanish speaking to practice here, and I profusely apologized for my errors. Ronaldo told me never to worry about broken Spanish. In both languages, to make sure I understood he taught me his life’s analogy. “If you are walking and run into a rock it really hurts,” he explained, but then “next time you will know where the rock is and avoid it. This is how you learn and it’s the only way.”

2

Alex- Carenero

Alex was the only person throughout my WorkAway who I knew I was going to meet. He was the person who took the chance on me, enabling my trip to Panama. I didn’t know what he looked like getting off that second plane, which was so small it held less people than a carton of eggs. I stood, trying not to crack, until a lackadaisical man with a high bun and baggy shorts approached me with a big hug, about 15 minutes later. Alex was surfing and had seen my plane fly overhead, then raced to catch a boat to the main Island. “Las olas estaban muy buena Addie,” he said, taking my suitcase. And that was Alex. Good waves, work later. Good waves, lunch at 4pm. No waves or bad waves, shit let’s wait for good waves! Alex grew up on Isla Carenero but was born in the middle of the mountains, a bit distant from civilization. His grandpa who still lives there responds back to TVs, thinking they too are capable of conversation. Alex has progressed a bit more with the times—he bought land, built a homestay for surfing and yoga retreats, opened a cafe, and lets WorkAwayers come and enjoy it all. When I asked what he was cooking for dinner he would say dolphin and when I asked if I could use something of his he would say no. Then he would laugh and say nothing else, but I would know “todo bien.” Well, I didn’t know this at first, but I learned. I learned to go with his flow,  which was the flow of the island. That killed me at first because I had no schedule and no idea what was going on. Then, it killed the idea that both of those things were necessary. And I’m so grateful for Alex doing that killing. He showed me the beauty and love in simplicity. How to live day bu day.—from our three-ingredient smoothies to what he said when I hugged him goodbye. “Siempre tendrás una casa aquí Addie, siempre.”

3

Olga- Germany

I had no clue what the housing situation was like before arriving in Carenero. It ended up being that my room was upstairs away from the guests with Alex and his girlfriend Olga. Olga was from Germany and had long brown hair that went to her butt. She changed clothes about four times per day and cooked with so much oil it always spittered over the stove. At first, I tried so hard to get her to do things with me because she was someone who’d be there the whole time I was. I asked her to dinner, to hike, to yoga, to dance. She always responded “Quiźas” or “Voy a ver” then didn’t come, which made me think she just didn’t like me. But, looking back, it wasn’t that. She just didn’t share my overwhelming necessity to always be doing something. Olga showed me how to sow down, enjoy silent breakfasts and short swims. In all the mundanity we had together, she never labeled it as such. And on my last night she tied a friendship bracelet around my ankle and hugged me tight, I realized how much beauty the mundane can bring.

4

Daisy- San Cristobal

“I am smiling today.” “Let’s have a fabulous day.” “Happy happy happy.” Daisy’s shirts always had positive English slogans on them. I never asked, but I wondered if she knew what they meant. Daisy was from San Cristobal, an even more remote Island a short boat ride away from Carenero. Her grandma still has a farm there, from which she brought me back an avocado so green and delicious I wondered what I had been eating before. Daisy lives in Carenero now with her two kids and husband and had just been hired to work at the Cafe. I had her try my Acai smoothie and she had me try her Pan de Coco. I had her practice “How can I help you,” for when tourists came in and she had me practice, “Picaduras,” because I simply could not remember the word for the bites covering my legs and arms. Daisy opened the cafe every morning at 7:30 and was always smiling by the time I arrived at 9. She smiled as she hucked open a coconut with a machete. She smiled as I tried to translate the American radio that was playing shitty pop. She smiled after trekking through the jungle at 6:30 am to bring me one last roll of homemade Pan de Coco before my flight home. “Espero que mi hija pueda ser como tu,” she told me. And then I was smiling, and crying at the same time. 

5

Rafael- Bocas

Rafa was a slow burn. He was Rafael at least until my third week. Although I met him on day ome, it seemed he had no interest in being my friend. Hell, I was an American taking some of his shifts! Rafa communicated with me only out of dire necessity. But every day I kept probing, like the stray dogs who begged us for food. And like with those poor stray dogs, he finally gave in. I can’t pinpoint exactly when it was, but Rafael became Rafa and I knew he was very anxious about how hard nursing school had been and he knew I couldn’t decide on my major. Fear really is universal, because Rafa had never been on a plane or driven a car or seen snow but he can read the surf break and speak a dying Indigenous language and live without shoes. His usual is my never, my never his usual. Yet, we were both in college, both horrified that we had made the wrong choices and unsure of what was next. Both working in a small surf shop doing our best to figure it all out. Perhaps that was the turning point—when he showed me there is more connecting us than separating. 

6

Gaia- Italy

I was excited to meet Gaia. I had used the WorkAway map feature to discover she was just a hostel away from me. At first, I had no clue how to pronounce her name so I greeted her awkwardly, waiting for someone else to say it…(Guy-ah) which sounded a bit odd. My mouth kept wanting to say Gia. But by the end, on my last night, Gaia was as much of a normality as any old Stella or Clare. She was there day in and out for me—just down the road and through the jungle. Gaia had been in Bocas for months. She had a group of friends with actual apartments and personal items. She knew the best nights at the best places. And she shared all that—her friends, her time, the life she built. She lived with an infinite abundance, through fries and sips and invites. She lived how she wanted; staying out till 4 or 5 am, but never failing to text me making sure I got home okay. Gaia showed me you can live for yourself and for others at the same time. On our last night out together, she did just that, dangling from a loose rope in the ceiling and twerking on me—then making sure I made it on the plane.

7

Duda- Ecuador 

“Duda means doubt.” “Doo-daaa…” she sounded it out again. Duda was wearing bright yellow platform crocks and had a septum ring that wasn’t silver or black but somewhere in between. She rushed her phone into my hand, “Tu numero amor.” I put it in, unsure how I was already her “amor.” But, when I came back a few hours later to go to another island with her, I felt like I was. Duda has an energy that makes you feel like family. And leaving Bocas, she’s the sister I never had. Duda is the kind of person I’ve never been able to describe with words but always wanted to be. Someone who dances alone, vivaciously. Someone who isn’t scared to say hello, and does so to every passing thing. Someone who takes all the opportunities in a day and fully gives herself to each one. I imagine traveling non-stop for the past two years has made her that way. No plans, Duda floated with the air that was there, and taught me how to do so as well. She taught me how to dance, yelling “Tienes culo, usarlo” and although I was horrible and could not use my ass in the way she could, she taught me not to care. To dance anyway. And dancing without care felt so freeing, just like all my time with Duda. I know she’s someone I’ll never stop learning from. I know it “sin dudas.”

8

Valentina- Chile

Valentina got invited on the same DJ set bandwagon I did and brought so much energy the wagon almost broke. She assured me she wasn’t drunk in Spanish, but did so so fast I thought it was a different language, as the pace of Chilean Spanish was basically so. Valentina was from there, now 33 and traveling alone, trying to figure out if she wanted to keep going or settle down. If she could have kids alone. I told her I thought she could. Valentina would be a great mom. She sprayed me with bug spray when it started to get dark and watched my drink get poured. She picked up on games fast, even Dirty Taboo, where I learned we Americans have many sayings that do not translate  (me trying to describe a glory hole in Spanish brought her to tears). Valentina showed me there is never a wrong time to chase what you want. At an age where most people think they need to be past spontaneity, she was nowhere close.

9

Francesco and Tommaso- Italy

WorkAway’s feature to see who is near you brought a second gem aside from Gaia. A “couples” account for two Italian best friends! It was a rainy season downpour when we met, but they were easy to spot in the restaurant, being the only ones outside the covered deck. Francesco and Tommaso needed their cigarettes. I tried to make a graceful run to them but my greeting was more like a wet dog coming into the house. And they welcomed me right in, wet and all, with their Italian English that was more lively than one could enumerate. Both had come on this trip after finishing university and were in the liminal state of what’s next. They weren’t as afraid of liminality as most people are. Francesco said maybe study for a master’s. Tommaso said maybe just study life. “No en school, real shit, (AHHdi) yes. Good.” I did a lot with them after we met because they always said, “We are… if you want to enjoy with us.” I think the intended sentancce was come with us, but enjoy was more accurate. I enjoyed everything we did, because they just smiled and laughed and called everyone “hermano.” They had been doing a WorkAway on Isla Colón for almost a month and we’re off to Columbia the next week. “Come, just say fuck you, easy” Tommaso advised when I said I couldn’t leave mine in the first week to join them. Although I didn’t take his advice then, I took a lot of it with me. Both of theirs actually, because they were so confident in who they were, in what they wanted and what they didn’t know. They showed me a different side of masculinity from my American guy friends. One that can dance, really dance, walk you home, kiss you goodbye on the cheek (two times because three means mafia), connect with the earth, make you laugh, and love infinitely. I watched them drive off in their boat, holding up two hearts, shouting “We see you in other life.”

10

Jorge and Adgiel- Carenero

I went surfing alone for the first time teetering between I can do this, I’m not afraid, and this is the fucking ocean, the tide could pull me out to death in four seconds. In Bocas the waves break way out from the shore, which I learned is called a reef break. So there I was on my foam board, heading out to sea! Thankfully when I got there two other bodies and boards ameliorated my nerves. I kept a respectful distance preliminarily, until an arm shot up and waved me over. I moved a bit but not too much. Then another arm, the other body, waved too. What the hell, I paddled into “Hola.” “Hola.” “Hola.” “……Olas….a lado….” and missed a bit of what was said next. My blank face and I think very white body gave away the fact I hadn’t understood. The boys laughed together, then came closer and took turns explaining with hand gestures and profound articulation. Where I had been was not good for the current tide. “Mucho gusto Jorge and Adgiel.” Both lived in Carenero Island and were born there, but went to Panama City for college. Them, like me, were on summer vacation but their “back home” was here: Carenero Point break. Our conversations were the most wonderful of legos—we didn’t have all the right blocks to connect, yet we filled in where the other lacked. Every wave I paddled for I heard “Jaja Go Addie Go.” And when I turned my head from the best one I’d ever caught, Jorge and Adgiel were right there with me. “Atrapamos juntos!” I shouted. I didn’t even have to ask for them to walk me home after, as it was now dark and we needed to go through the jungle. Jorge took my big board, handed me his small one, and we started the voyage which unpleasantly tracked through the rain’s leftovers. Thankfully, I was so interested in learning about them that the horrible mushing feeling between my toes wasn’t too prominent. 

11

Ralph- Pennsylvania

Ralph was hard to miss in the hostel full of foreign young people; a 70-year-old white guy in an orange polo stands out. He was sitting at the bar, watching and laughing as his elderly friend tried to play beer pong with us. “That’s my accountant,” he told me, with a buttery southern accent. “He just beat cancer, and this is what he wanted to do.” It was a bit of a jump, chemo to Colón, but he was giddy about it; missing feet away from the cup every time with a toothy smile. I talked with Ralph as he played. Ralph moved here three years ago. He told me Bocas was the safest, best place on earth. That I seemed to have a good head on my shoulders. The comfort felt nice. Ralph taught me the party’s never over, not until you say it is. 

12

Olly- London

I was sitting on the most beautiful beach I’d ever seen in my whole life, staring at the water that I’d only seen on reality TV, when a boat interrupted the completely still and picturesque image. A tall, gangly man stepped out; wearing probably the most insane pair of trunks I’ve ever seen. I’ll refer to them as that because Olly is from London and calls me Bruv and said they were his favorite trunks! He had just come from an animal rescue in Costa Rica, where he escaped at dawn in the bed of a truck because the advertisement did not match the experience. Olly had more funny stories like that than I could fit on these pages. He had a heart attack, ran from rabid dogs trying to buy some cheap weed, almost stepped on one deadliest snakes in the world. We exchanged our euphemisms back and forth, finding the same amount of joy in it. I asked if Central C was popular. He said it was trash. He asked if I said y’all a lot. I said no. I asked about crumpets, snogging, and if they ever talked in American accents for fun. He thought my British one was bad. We went to Red Frog Island together, which apparently is a poppin’ honeymoon spot because there were only couples there. So Olly got down on a knee. He was about to graduate college and head to Law school, but said that could hold off because his mom would just die for an American daughter-in-law. He taught me a girl and a boy can get married just for the hell of it. 

13

Leo- Germany

Leo came to Bocas with Olly. They bought the tickets drunk, knowing each other for only 24 hours. Leo had a thick German accent and thick demeaning sarcasm and listening to him talk was entertainment in it’s self. He listened to American Politics podcasts and ate uncooked bread. His reasons being, “I’m German, we invent bread” and “the most interesting thing to happen in our politics is the Chancellor trip on a walk. But America, it’s funny. Obvious solutions for problems and never choose them. Doch.” Doch is a German phrase he taught me. It had no English translation but is used to end an argument or conversation, kind of like saying I’m right, you can disagree but I’m right. I was fascinated to learn it, and Leo was equally facisnted to learn all American things. “MAGA, do you know any? Geography…Americans are bad. Find Germany on a map.” It was the first time I’d really realized the duality of being foreign. That maybe some of my everydays’ were just as interesting and peculiar. Doch!

14

Asier- Spain

I was working in the Cafe, our first day technically open to serve food. We finally had the permits, but I had no menu and no recipes; just a box of frozen fruit and colorful plastic cups. I wasn’t too worried because there was quite a hefty rain. Who’d be venturing out for a smoothie? Then Asier ducked under our covered porch, dripping the hefty rain onto my solitude. “Abierto…desayuno…” I nodded my head, taking probably a minute or two to convert a proper opening line back in Spanish. “Puedes eligir cualquier fruta…” Asier wanted pineapple and coconut. Thankfully I’d made smoothies before so I could guess at a ratio, but not-thankfully he stared at me the whole time so I couldn’t sneak a taste. I’ll never know how that first smoothie was. Maybe good, because Asier stayed for the next three hours even when the rain let up. He came from Guatemala to write a story about the traveler who had recently been murdered on the Island. Asier was a writer, so he could talk. I am a writer, so I could talk too. We talked about that, about how no one seems to ever want to talk to writers anymore. Asier didn’t care. He showed me there are still some people who love a story.

15

Frederico- Italy

I was playing my guitar on the balcony of Alex’s house when I saw a bronzed and mustached man walk into the cafe. I wasn’t working, technically, but I could do with some ice! I took a chance and went downstairs. Frederico was sitting on the bench in front, smoking a cigarette. “No hay olas,” I said. “Nada,” he replied. We talked about surfing, how he learned in Portugal and continued through Central America. He asked how I bore the cold water in California with his perfect and delicious Italian Spanish. We decided to meet at a bar later. Frederico loved Reggaeton but didn’t like American pop so when we danced  we had to take breaks for his preferences. Artistic doesn’t fully capture him, yet he moved like art, like color and texture and perfect blending. He said he’d jump in the ocean if I did, so at 1am we floated in the sea and then dragged our sopping wet selves to the supermarket. We got watermelon and a bag of Salsa Verde chips, strolling barefoot across the gravel of Bocas Town—a bit lost, a bit drunk, and a bit itchy. Frederico taught me it’s worth it to take a chance.

16

Juan- Panama 

Juan passed by me on my first Filthy Friday, in which I had not known the memo and was wearing my full set of jewelry. He told me he liked my necklaces, that I did a “nice job” but I didn’t catch his face in the dark. Then, the next Friday, when I was in proper attire (a swimsuit) he came up to me again, asking “Where are your necklaces?” I connected the dots and met Juan. Juan spoke in perfect English and looked like a middle school science teacher so I assumed he was from the US. But actually, he was born in Bocas and lives/has always lived on a sailboat docked near Carenero. We went to sit down by the water but he wouldn’t sit fully down because it was wet. When I asked why he told me he would rather get his entire body soaked and keep his ass dry. “It’s a weird thing.” I asked when that situation would even be rhteorically possible, and was given a delightful example. Juan said he’d rather ride a bike four miles in a downpour than sit in that puddle I was prompting him to. Odd to fear a wet butt, given he’d been surfing all his life, but it was nice to learn everyone has their quirks. 

17

Jordi- Bocas

Jordi was formally introduced when I was at Aqua with Gaia. She said “Él quieres ayudarte con tu español” which was a fantascial invitation so I went and sat with him, going through formalities I had well rehearsed but he didn’t care so much for. He nodded them off, taking me to play volleyball and do flips off the Aqua tower instead, which to his credit taught me a lot more practical Spanish than my formalities would have. Then, when we went to Isla Zapatilla together and he was a few beers in, he wanted to practice English. I was reading in the sun tranquilly when he yelled, “Addie, venga, COME.” He rambled like any drunk man does until I put my book down, and he hoisted me on his back, challenging everyone else to a chicken fight. Unfortunately the 25-year-old German giant on top of a the 25-year-old American giant submerged me rather quickly. Jordi asked me what it was I was actually good at as I regained my breath and I replied snowboarding, which he said he loved to do as well. I asked where he goes and he said he’s never tried. “But you love it?” “Yes.” He was so sure I didn’t ask anything else. Jordi was like that with a lot, very sure. Yes you want a beer, yes I will walk you home, yes more is to come. He taught me to be a bit more sure. 

18

Solcito- Argentina

“Como…” I pointed to the blasting sun. Sol was holding her four-wheeler helmet in her left hand and hugging me with her right. “Si, como el sol,” she said. I met Sol on that same trip to Zapatilla Island. She was vibrant in every way. Sol gave me sunscreen and beer in the morning, a photoshoot and some needed energy in the afternoon, and half of her dinner when we got back. She had moved from Argentina and started as a dancer at Filthy Fridays, but now teaches dance instead. At Filthy Friday “todo sobre el culo, no bailar,” she said, right before yelling at me to use more ass myself in her class. Sol left me with the sentiment that “This trip changes your life.” I think it was solely a grammar mistake, but I liked the tense she used. I learned meeting people every day like her changes my life, it isn’t a stagnant thing. 

19

Barbra- Amsterdam 

It was a dreadfully slow day in the Cafe, full of rain and drear. I had only had one other customer when Barbra came waddling in wearing long cargo shorts and thick strapped hiking sandals. “Coffee,” she muttered. I actually hadn’t made coffee before because it was always still full from the morning shift, so I had to google how to do it under the table while conversing. She was rather interesting though, which made multitasking a shame. It was Barbra’s 11th month of travel. She went to Korea, Chile, Saint Martin Island. She went everywhere basically, alone and at the age of 65. I told her it was my first solo trip and she told me to never stop. “You can do it all,” she said, “Don’t let them tell you that you can’t.” Barbara was from Amsterdam, which in her opinion was worth visiting before the Americans spoiled it like so many other things. Perhaps I should feel flattered that she didn’t assume I was American, because if she had maybe I wouldn’t have learned you don’t have to age out of adventure.

20

Simon- Austria 

Simon was tall, insanely tall, and blonde, insanely blonde. He was stumbling like those inflatables that blow in the wind by car dealerships. He’d also just won a beer pong tournament, so I couldn’t judge. Simon asked me if I wanted to smoke so we walked further down the beach to a nice big rock. I told him I knew as much about Austria as the Sound of Music taught me, which he thought was very funny. He said it was worth learning more, and invited me to snorkel the next day. Simon picked me up on a small blue boat that I thought might sink. We went to the bay of a deserted island where he showed me an Eel, Needlefish, Sea Urchins, creatures with bright blue spots and ones as small as a spot. He showed me a coral reef that was so vibrant and beautiful I couldn’t comprehend it and even silent, his love for the ocean sang. Simon had gone on over 500 dives, so the ocean was like his home. He told me people shouldn’t be scared of it because it’s safer than the real world. 

21

Cyril- Canada

Cyril needed directions to the beach, so gave them using hand gestures and mostly Spanish. Then I found myself telling him more; what breaks, bars, and restaurants to go to. When the surf is the best. “Conoces mucho sobre la isla,” he replied. And I realized then that I did. It had been over three weeks and I hadn’t noticed how much I’d absorbed here. Cyril thanked me for my guidance with a drink later, where us both as foreigners, discussed being so. How the ability to understand a place or person will completely shift when you speak their native language. We discussed immersion and communication and mistakes. Cyril was only in Bocas for one week because that’s all the vacation days he had from his job. I can’t tell you why he decided to come all this way from Canada in English because there isn’t a direct translation, and that is the beauty of understanding he showed me.

22

Dana- Argentina 

Dana was my second Argentinian friend and I was kind of starting to understand the accent. “It okay because we understand” she said to my mistakes and her own in English.And we did, truly. I knew exactly what she was trying to say and when I didn’t she signed it out and we puzzled it together. Dana was supposed to stay until the end of August but she can’t sit still. She left Argentina, came here, worked at the Falafel place for four days, and now is quitting to go to Columbia. Dana told me being in one place for too long is boring and life is about more. We were gonna go out dancing but her new flight was at 5am. “That okay,” she said, “With dance I am like table.” And I understood.

23

Tiago- France

Tall, dark hair, dark eyes. He was standing in the corner, a bit away from the dance floor when I saw him. I had gone to get a sip of water, sweaty and dehydrated from dancing that was real dancing. With a cup in hand, I drank both him and the water in. I walked over and said something stupid and not that charming in Spanish. He looked at me like I spat in his face. “Uhm, hablas Español?” He shook his head. “Parles tu français?” Then I shared his look and he laughed and introduced himself in English. His English wasn’t bad, it was just sometimes the pronunciation that misled me. “Vhat?” He’d ask. Tiago was also a WorkAwayer, volunteering at a hostel in San Cristobal. His mom was in the military so he moved around a lot as a kid—Canada gave him English and every other place othe lust for travel, but his home was right in the smack-dab city of France. “Like legit Eiffel towel Paris,” I asked. “EH-JHIT?” He asked back. “Le-git, like, real.” “Oh, Oui.” Tiago thought I talked too fast. He told me I needed to slow down and enjoy. “So American A-zzie.” So as we sat on a lawnchair and watched the stars I bit my lip every time I wanted to ramble the luticiosury in my head, trying to learn to just enjoy.

24

Jonathon- Panama City

I bumped into him, a bit too hard for a cute “Sorry!” “Lo siento, pardon,” I said, helping him steady himself. Jonathan held no resentment and stuck out his hand for me to shake. He said he was surprised I could speak Spanish because I looked very American, specifically like some actor he had forgotten the name of. I was wearing all pink with my hair in pigtails so I couldn’t disagree. Jonathan grew up in Panama City and since I was going there the next week, I asked him for the must-sees, snooping while he looked on his phone. “Ah, mira divertido,” I said, clicking on the video of him surfing being an old fishing boat. “Manana,” he replied. Jonathan picked me up the next day right as I got off work. “Primero, puedes mirar a mi y Jose, podemos mostrarte.” I nodded, then watched as instructed. On my turn, I jumped in with a canon-ball, gave a thumbs-up, and stood before Jonathon did. I crossed under his rope and skipped between mangroves in the open ocean and screamed a few times just for fun. “Pues, parece como que no necesitas alguien para mostrarte,” he said.  “Ah, simplemente es buena suerte,” I replied. Jonathan taught me to listen to the intuitive voice of try in my head.

25

Sochi- Nicaragua 

Sochi was intimidating. She had a strong presence, dark fierce eyes, and a bit of a, well, resting bitch face. She grabbed my arm from inside the bar and said “Vamos,” which I followed without question. Outside I was unsure what we were doing and waited for some sort of direction. She started talking with none, “Es extraño aquí, no?” It was a weird night with all the people wearing only white, and no one telling me about that. Bocas had been nothing but casual, so here I was in flip-flops surrounded by shoes for the first time. “Pues, no estoy vestiendo correctamente.” Sochi looked at me, thinking very hard—her eyes shooting up to her brain then back down. “No, Addie, see, look. Wrong. Fuck!” She dashed her head back. “Me? Yo supe, pero..” she pointed down to her all-black outfit. “No care. Original, yes. Wrong, no fuck!” I laughed, as her hand motions made her English a perfect story. I knew exactly what she meant and she wasn’t so intimidating anymore. Sochi showed me you never have to have a care.

26

Jorge- Bocas

I needed a Board in Venao, as I was no longer working at a surf rental shop. I was now simply a tourist, and accordingly, had to search through the winds of tourist-seeking shops to find the one Alex recommended. Tucked away, there it was: Safari Surf School. “Addie, verdad?” asked the man cleaning boards down out front. “Si…”  I was out the door with a board under my arm before thinking of what to say next. But not alone. Jorge was right behind me, opting to surf in a hat which still defies my notion of physics. “Esta, esta,” he yelled at passing waves. “Pies juntos.” “Casí.” “Cabeza abajo, ojos adelante.”“Ah.” I took quite a few hilarious trips through the washing machine. Then, feet together, head down, and eyes in front, I finally caught a solid wave. “Buena ola, Addieeee.” Jorge was overjoyed. He grew up in Bocas with Alex and surfed there most of his life but came to Venao since it’s year round waves. He told me in January the bay is like a snow globe, surrounded by green mountains and air that makes lungs fly. He told me he has “escamas” from practically living in the water, but that’s what makes him happy. I’d take scales in change for that kind of happiness too, and he showed me I could do just that.  

27

Erik- Panama City

“Buena balencía chica.” The rain on my first full day in Playa Venao was kind of a bummer. It was howling, screaming, barking at me that I made the wrong decision to leave Bocas and come to the Pacific side of Panama. I was under the only sheltered place at the hostel searching for something to take my mind off that when I found one of those balance boards. While rolling on, then off, then on, Erik started talking to me. He had a giant plate of pasta that smelled and looked like it could make me feel better. As if he knew that, he offered me my own bowl. “Qué es eso?” I asked. “Ah, un secreto de los latinos mami.” I’ll never know what was inside. Erik was born in the city and still lives there as a musician and music teacher. He is working to combine traditional Latin music with Afro-Jazz. When we played together, me singing with guitar, him scatting with bongos, I got to see a piece of that. I asked him how he could just know what to play for any song, and he told me it wasn’t about all the theory he had studied and learned. It was about learning the instrument of his heart. He said it was about finding, “El ritmo de la vida.” And I learned I can find my own too.

28

Miguel- Venao 

I love jewelry. It’s my favorite thing to hoard. So naturally, when I saw Miguel standing with his collection I had to look. He walked me through each handmade piece. “Plata de Peru, cuentas de las montañas de Panama…” I bought a bracelet for myself and one for my best friend’s birthday. But that was not the last I saw of Miguel as he appeared almost everywhere. On a bridge in the jungle, “Hola Addie, qué tal?” In the ocean after a wave knocked the life out of me, “Oh Addie, casí.” During a giant rainstorm under my hut, “Hola Addie, quieres aprender?” He was juggling with three bowling pin adjacent items and my inability to grasp his instructions on how to use them astonished us both. Miguel was just there, always; smiling and walking and smoking and laughing. He showed me a type of peace exists that can radiate through rain.

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Alaitz- Catalonia

I was going back and forth in my head whether to say something or not. We had been surfing in the same spot, circled by 15 men for the past 15 minutes. I went over it in my head to make sure it was grammatically correct, then, “Las olas están buena hoy, no?” She smiled, brightly, then, “…..” I have no idea what Alaitz said after that. She started talking so fast I might as well have been under the water. Thankfully my face translated what my words couldn’t, so she slowed down and restarted. Alaitz was in Venao to get some quality time in with her Dad before life sucked them back up. She was scared of tattoos and loves burgers and always thinks things are biting her in the water. We surfed together every day for hours, holding our spots amidst the crowds and crowds of men. She showed me a chunk of divine femininity that stretched across the globe.

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Luis- Panama City

“Hablas Español, si?” Luis asked me. I didn’t have many other options for a tattoo artist because walking could only get ya so far and I was leaving tomorrow, so I responded “Claro” with conviction. We sat at his table and I showed him my very ugly drawing that had crumpled in my backpack. “Entonces…” he grabbed it, and brought it to life. He stretched the flower out and made the lines “infinita” as I said I wanted them to be. He let me move it five times and stare at it blankly for five minutes before saying he could start. Luis was from Panama City and that’s where his heart is. He showed me heart and work are a resplendent mix. Truly, the one thing Luis was concerned about was also his opening line, “Es tu tatuaje, tienes que amarlo.” And when I got off the table and saw my phrase and lessons from Panama locked in my skin, I knew I did. “Gracias, Luis.”

Ending Note:

Originally this essay included over 50 people, and those were just the ones I managed to write down. I couldn’t possibly cover all the people who taught me things on my trip. But, one thing they all taught me is that people are truly incredible when you give them the chance to be. I think that is what traveling does more than anything—gives people the chance of incredibility. Take it if you can.