Thank You

Panaderias, creepy hotels, Caribbean islands...no matter where I was while writing blog entries I felt overwhelmed by your love and support. I was apprehensive at first about shooting intimate stories into the mania of web world, but I found that it encouraged me to more intentionally reflect on my experiences.

The world is a thrilling, interesting place, but it is empty without people to share it with.

Thank you for being a part of my life.

Big Decisions

In San Jose, during a layover on my journey north to Guatemala I decided that it was time to go all the way...north that is. My journey met expectations I could not have anticipated, and for the time being my appetite for backpacking was satiated. It was time to go home: where the sheets smell like flowers, the refrigerator takes the place of menus that beg for money, where I can shuffle around in slippers, drink cocoa by the fire, and I can ask for hugs without worrying about potential consequences.

Sarah, who was already home at this point, agreed to help me surprise my family...an added thrill to coming home early. I landed in Portland on Tuesday night and caught the MAX to my sister's studio. Once I got off the train I was skipping and making strange squealing noises...when I finally made it to her door and knocked, she opened it and just stared at me. Normally she is queen of strange surprises so for me to pull it off was quite exciting. We drove home to Silverton to be with my ripped baby brother, who will be heading to college in the fall, my absolutely loving parents and freshly baked heart shaped cookies for Valentine's Day. Oh to be home.

After soaking up the luxuries in Silverton I am heading back to Portland, the city I love. My canvas is blank and I have yet another opportunity to pick out the paint, glue, glitter and woodchips that will piece my life together.

K for kaleidoscope

The left side of my face was numb from being pressed up against the bus window; my eyes were glazed over, and I was having trouble determining whether I was asleep or awake after spending over 60 hours on the bus. However, pulling through the Guatemalan border at 6am I was jolted to consciousness by the glaringly bright flowers covering all of the trees. The orange, purple, and yellow buds were a new addition to the landscape I left in October when the rain was turning everything, including my clothes, green.

While I was exploring neighboring countries Guatemala didn't stop: the trees were busily producing their masterpieces, the women continued to clap tortillas over warm stoves, and the busses kept roaring through the countryside at life threatening speeds. The creeks I've stepped in, the people I've laughed with, the fountains I've photographed...they all continue to see the sun rise and set. How easy it is to forget; I have been obsessed with trying to track the change and growth within myself that I forgot that the rest of the world was blossoming too.

We're living in a giant, breathing kaleidoscope!

a 180 in my brown bag skirt

The time has come for me to turn around: the Panama canal was my cue, the green light on the cash machine has turned to yellow, and I feel home whispering in my bones.

The days of my Central American journey are numbered and as I head north my hours on the bus will provide me with ample time to bid farewell to the places that have filled my soul with an energy that smells like sweat, tastes like pineapple, and sounds like the wind (in La Palma, El Salvador - in case it´s not quite clear which type of wind the energy in my soul reminds me of).

Rough Riders

"4.5 minutes...and then death. Entrapment will kill you. If you don´t want to die, push up. If you can reach your head above the rapids for even a second, do it...or else death. Do you want to die?" Ika had his arm wrapped around Henrietta who had tears in her eyes; Kerry looked at his son, the new college graduate, and smiled at him weakly; Sarah and I rolled our eyes. Kevin´s pep talk before our white water rafting excursion was excruciating. He admitted that he was trying to intimidate us so that we took the river seriously, but he failed to mention that it was going to be fun and falling out of the raft was not a guaranteed trip to the morgue in pieces.

Sarah and I were the only two people who had been rafting before so we volunteered to go alone with Freddy, the 23 year old guide and Julio, who was a guide in training. Once our helmets, booties, and life vests were on and Kevin´s hour long sermon of doom was over we pushed off into the river for our 4 hour trip. The water was warm and fast, and the rocks formed canyon walls where tree roots squirmed through in order to give life to the dangling vines. "All forward!" Freddy yelled and we slapped our paddles into the water and rowed our way into the rapids smiling.

After about 10 minutes we reached a calm pool and Freddy instructed Sarah and I to stand up in our places at the front of the boat. With Kevin´s warnings of death fresh in my mind I thought that maybe we were practicing a safety technique...wrong. Before I had time to stabilize myself Freddy and Julio charged to the front of the boat and tackled us Super Bowl style sending Sarah and I flying into the water. "Woohoo!" Freddy yelled, and that was the beginning of our rafting battle: Sarah and Katie vs. Freddy and Julio. In the rapids we were a team whooping and paddling together, but once we reached the pools it was a race to see who could get the others in the water first. Goodbye safety, hello thrills!

Towards the end of the day Freddy asked (in Spanish) if we wanted to flip the boat in the next rapids. Sarah and I made sure we translated correctly and then shrugged, ¿Como no? (Why not?) "All forward!" My last memory is my body flying over the opposite end of the boat and into the foaming rapids.

"Katie!" It was Sarah...we were both in the bubble under the boat, but I had no time to chat, my panicked lungs wanted air. When we surfaced the river carried us along like debris after a New Year´s party: bright yellow, red, and blue helmets, paddles, and medical kits bobbing along. What a rush!

Panama's flag as we arrive on Isla Taboga
A gardener in Boquete; his house and children are behind him, and the river flows right next to their land. He was quiet and kind as we strolled through. We were hoping to really hit it off so we could do a little photo documentary of his family, but the tranquility of the place would have been sucked away by the invasion of the camera.
SUPER BOWL! Avocado sandwiches and ESPN in Spanish...just because we were exploring rich, diverse cultures didn't mean we could abandon our own.

Boquete

Our little room has a balcony that looks out over the Caldera river as it loudly swooshes over rocks and under an old, yellow suspension bride. Across the river is a flower nursery, and since this is the blooming season everything is bursting with color: pink, white, yellow, purple, and then there´s green...the green climbs up into the hillside and the lush mountains surround the entire village. Nestled...the word describes nothing better than Boquete itself.

Our first adventure: horseback riding! Eduardo was our guide and we had two lovely horses to ride. The first hour and a half was amazing trotting along the river and then up into the moutnains where we had views of the twon and nearby Volcan Bareu. The last half hour was truly hell... the pain between my legs from sitting on that saddles destroyed my fantasy of riding alongside the bold and beautiful Augustus (Lonesome Dove - recommended read). By the time we got off the horses I felt...no analogies needed...

Not to worry because our second adventure was Loz Pozos de Caldera (hot springs!). We hiked in to find an elf-like cottage amongst vines, bushes, and criss crossing streams. There were two pristine hot springs surrounded by a simple stone wall and trees with exposed roots twisting down into the water. Small bubbles came up from the dirt and filled the quiet pool with hot (obviously), healing (apparently) water. (Note: parantheses influenced by Chuck Klosterman). Before plunging into the springs we went down to the southern portion of the Caldera River. The surrounding pines and blue sky resemble Oregon, but the hippo like rocks and feeling in my bones gave some of the "beauty" credit to Pnaama. The cold water was refreshing and I found a mossy rock just below the rippling surface to plop down on. Mmm: a rock, a river rushing around me, birds, butterflies, the sun and a breeze...yes, the perfect ingredients for thought pie. I felt I could have sat there and saild away with my thoughts, but there was more to do and see so we headed back to the hot springs.

Submerged in the hot water I could feel the bubbles dancing all over my skin and I am convinced that I was experiencing some sort of thermal therapy. After feeling rejuvinated Sarah and I posed for our bikini calendar 2008. The highlight was the self timer shot: Sarah set the camera up on a rock and on her way back into the picture she slipped on one of the mossy rocks. "Hurry!" I yelled, the model in me oblivious to any pain she may have been experiencing, "smile!" Well, the picture is quite telling with poor Sarah lying in the water while I´m posing...what have I become? In truth, the situation was a refreshing reminder of laughter from the gut.

On our way back to Boquete Sarah flagged down a pick-up truck: cheaper than the buses and thrilling wind exposure. The little girl in the front of the truck set up her nude dollsi n the back window and their plastic eyes watched us while we watched the rainbow stretched across the valley and let the sprinkles splat against our sun-kissed cheeks.

oh joy!

I stepped into the air conditioned airport five hours early, butterflies of excitement in my belly, and an unripe papaya under my arm, which was my gift to welcome Sarah when she got off her plane from Oregon. She had vacation time built up and decided to join me for 2 weeks in Panama. The thought of seeing a dear and familiar face was refreshing, exciting, but at the same time hard to fathom. My trip has not only sent me into new geographical realms of the planet, but into new dimensions of myself as a human being. What would it be like to merge my current reality with a friend from a life that feels galaxies away?

I pondered this question as I sat at the arrival gate in Panama City watching people from all over the world pour off of the planes. Despite the diversity in the crowed there were only two types of people: the greeters (me) and the greetees. Us greeters stood facing a blue wall out of which the luggage totting greetees would emerge. Both parties were wide eyed as they eagerly searched for their match. I saw a mother welcomed by her husband and two young children, the daughter clicking her pink, princess slippers as she ran into her mother´s glowing embrace. An exotic young couple kissed as if he had just returned from a trip to the moon, and two middle aged businessmen shared a pat on the back and a handshake before rolling their efficiently packed suitcase out to the car. Others on my greeter team waved signs displaying the names of people, hotels, and cab companies, and although the union with their respective greetees didn´t involve much passion they exchanged looks of relief now that the hunt for each other had ended. Then, as always, there are those on both sides of the blue wall who are left hanging - the search has ended unsuccessfully and they resort to plan B.

For my papaya and I waiting for Sarah was an incredible reminder of the significance of friendship and love in one´s life. I watched people of all shapes, colors, and fashion pass by, but it was only one face I was searching for, and no other face, no matter how similar, could substitute. (future Internet search: facial recognition)

I let a squeal when I saw Sarah´s face, and on the bus ride to the hostal I was oblivious to the city passing us by as I emptied stories onto my exhausted friend.

INCOMPLete thoughts

In this life of travel I have only one fear: incomplete thoughts. My mind feels like an ant farm...little creatures crawling up, around and over the gyri in my brain: scooping, shoveling, burying, transfering, squeezing, and molding the thoughts that race in and out. The trouble is there´s often too much external stimuli for the brain-ants to follow through with each thought to its completion...and then what? Where does that intricate detail of my experience in this world disappear too? Will it ever be retrieved? Ideally once a thought is complete I can journal about it, form an opinion about it, talk to others about their opinion about it, etc. Travelling on my own has given me the luxury to ponder the smallest nitions on my mind before they surface into reality. What I´m finding is this so called luxury is inhibiting my social life.

Sarah and I were walking through Boquete (more on this lovely town to come) and I found myself saying to her, midsentence, "sorry, that thought´s incomplete." Before my trip I could ramble on and one until the thought finished, but now my thoughts are like small boats navigating through a choppy sea. (Fortunately, Sarah has patience and we share past experiences so communicating is possible despite my social hiccups).