Three months in Panama

Last Friday marked three months in Panama -- one third of my planned time here.  The day turned out to be a surprisingly full one.  Sometimes an anniversary is only different because it's a special day on the calendar, but this particular anniversary came with some real differences.

People

Two days before, my husband returned from his travels around the U.S. (and Hong Kong and France, as well) to Panama.  Having him back is of course a huge, huge difference for me; I'm really enjoying having him around. One of the things I'm learning by being in Panama is something I knew intellectually before, but am learning experientially by being here: having people around me to share my experiences makes a world of difference.  

Having said that, I have been starting to construct my own world of difference, as well. My Whatsapp contact list is growing fuller and fuller, and while many of the people in that last have been flash-in-the-pan acquaintances, others are becoming true friends.  I am so glad for Diane, who walks with me once a week around Ciudad del Saber and gossips with me about all that is going on in our lives, for Kimberly who plans fun weekend adventures to see birds and bats and the wildlife centers, for Jessie who devises hikes and visits to book readings, for some regular lunch companions, for kids at church who make me ankle bracelets and ask for paper-frog-making lessons in return. 

At a recent book signing: the author, Jessie, and me

Lodgings

Here's the lead-in to the next big change: on Thursday, the day before my three-month anniversary, my AirBnB host asked, "do you need another day in this room?".  I knew our stay at her place was almost up, and I'd already booked a new AirBnB for Friday, but still her question sent me into a tizzy.  How had I messed up and not realized that I had one night without lodgings?  We scrambled a bit, asking Greg (the next host) if it would be okay to arrive a day early, while simultaneously telling Paula (the current host) that yes, we'd like the room one more night.  

Mix-ups like this fluster me more for personal identity reasons than for logistical ones; I really don't like making mistakes like that.  So it was a moment of incredible reassurance when I rechecked my AirBnB listings and saw that it was Paula, not me, who'd gotten confused about the move-out date.  (Well, I guess her text confused me, too, so there's that).  Still, since my husband was still living out of the suitcase he'd packed to come to Panama, and because I had several reasons to believe the next place would be much nicer for us, we went ahead and moved one day early into the new AirBnb place.

And, wow, what a lovely change!  Paula's place was comfortable and in a really beautiful neighborhood, but this new place has two things her place didn't: windows into nature and markets within walking distance.  And those two things are just such a wonderful change of venue.  I've been waking up these past few days with no alarm, just with having the sun peek through the floor-to-ceiling windows that open onto a balcony over a garden full of banana trees and birds, and it's amazing.  And being able to walk to a restaurant or a market --- not having to wait for buses in both directions and therefore dedicating 2 hours to every little grocery run --- is another really wonderful luxury that I now count among the blessings I give thanks for each evening.

Looking onto the balcony,
with a (humorous) "Beware of Coati" sign.
There's lots of lovely wildlife that comes to visit.

Also, the new house has indoor dogs. I'm going to love spending time with these cuddly beasts.

Getting around

Three months into being in Panama (or, the second time being in Panama, in the case of my husband), I'm so much more comfortable getting from place to place.  Part of it is that I have a better sense of geography, so I know where far-ish places (like the Causeway or the University of Panama) are, as well as near-ish places.  I know walking routes; I'm getting to be a bus pro; metro and Uber are both in my wheelhouse as well.  

My former bus stop (the new bus stop is much nicer, even!)

Sidewalks are much less uniform in Panama than in the U.S., and some of my ability to get around is just more comfort with traversing roads that, in Pennsylvania, would feel like a "no-pedestrians-allowed area" because of the lack of sidewalks or a "run down, dangerous area" because of the crumbliness of the sidewalks.  Here, the sidewalks aren't the same signal of who is or isn't supposed to be around; I'm better at picking up the other signals and just navigating the sidewalks as they do (or don't) appear.

Professional Goals

I've finished the first draft of three different chapters of my book, plus the introduction.  I've also submitted a book prospectus to publishers.  Since I'm here for 9 months and I'm planning an 8-chapter book, this feels like I'm on schedule or even ahead of it a bit, in terms of writing.  Yay!  

(However, we're expecting tourism -- as in the next section -- to bite into some of the future time in Panama, so I'm trying not to get overconfident here).

I've done a bunch of workshops for the public or for school groups, and I've given a few radio interviews, so that's going well, too.  I don't know if I've dried up the well for that particular kind of event, or if I'll find other ways to do outreach in the next six months.

Gathering after a workshop I'd done

What I haven't managed to do is to find a community of mathematicians to hang out with; that continues to be one of the weirdest things for me. I've given a talk to the U. Panama math students, and tried to reconnect with the math faculty there ("want to get together for coffee?"), but I get essentially no response back.  It's odd to me to not have a chance to chat with faculty members, to get put on a mailing list for colloquia, or in other ways to make connections.  Clearly, there are structural or cultural differences I haven't yet decoded. I'm going to keep trying, both with U. Panama and with other places: this remains one of those still-to-be-accomplished aspects of being here. 

Tourism

Now that my husband is back with me, and now that the country is heading into "verano" (which translates to "summer" but for practical purposes means the dry season), and now that we both know a bit more about Panama City, we're preparing sightseeing adventures. Clearly several of these involve the canal: we're planning a cross-canal boat excursion, a cross-canal train excursion, and one of us (not me) is planning a Pacific-to-Caribbean bicycle ride.  

I have a few more museums I want to check out, and a volcano to hike up.  We might try to visit some of the provinces.  There are beaches people tell us we should visit.  So even though I've been here for a quarter of a year, I really do feel like we're just getting started all over again, in a good way.

Mood

For the first three months, I have to admit, there have been times I felt glum and occasionally anxious.  For the first few weeks while my husband was still with me here, we spent a bunch of time just trying to figure out the basics -- how to find food, how to get around, how to communicate with our AirBnB host, etc.  Then, after he left, I was dismayed at how hard it felt to build up a community of connections.  There were lots of people who cheerily promised to be in touch and then disappeared. The few folks who did follow through also work full-time jobs, and so I'd see them mostly only on weekends.  Several of the amazingly kind people I connected with in the Ciudad del Saber were transferred away to other locations.  And even though my AirBnB was in a lovely neighborhood, it felt disconnected from all the rest of my world, and the room was dark and lonely.

But a bunch of things changed all at once when my husband and I reunited and changed neighborhoods all in one weekend; other things have been changing much more slowly but still positively.  As I was walking around the other evening, looking at the amazing houses and the birds I am starting to recognize and the trees I'm beginning to know well, I was struck by the feeling that I assumed everyone would guess I might have had all along: I'm really glad to be here.  I've learned to appreciate (without taking for granted) many of the awesome things about being in this tropical city.  I've learned to deal with (or even avoid) some of the aspects that were most distressingly unfamiliar.  More and more, when I walk into a place like the Ciudad del Saber or my church or the bus terminal where I'm meeting a friend, I'll see faces light up at my appearance, and people turn from what they're doing to greet me with delight.  (That's such a pick-me-up, really).  And I've got a bunch of acquaintances-becoming-friends to share these experiences with, with future adventures that we're jointly looking forward to.