TheExpatJournals.com

I have had a couple of holiday traditions since moving to Panama. One has been to ‘play Santa Claus’ for about 1000 kids on 4 islands in San Blas. It is always treacherous and taxing to get there as the weight I take out mandates a trip by other than air. Last year, it was an overloaded canoe over the ocean in 15 foot swells for 7 hours after a bus ride from Hell. This year, we passed over the mountains near Chepo on a dirt road that grew progressively worse as we neared the Atlantic side until we were simply sliding down sideways to seemingly certain death. I repeat, mud is to driving in the tropics what snow and ice are in the US mountains. That was one of the 2 scariest drives of my life. Flying back and looking at that ribbon of a road
that runs along the very peak of the mountains, I knew that if I had seen the realty of the drop offs beside as we slid sideways down the steep grade that I would never have considered going up there to begin with. The old addage is true, ignorance is bliss.
This year was so very different from my past years there because the greed was so blatant, it left me with a knowing I would not come back. In spite of the hundreds of pounds I brought out, I got “Well, why didn’t you buy this or that…even champagne!” In spite of the fact that any food I brought was stolen which equalled me having primarily nuts for my Xmas dinner and barely eating for 3 days, the real indicator came on Xmas Eve.

Another American couple from Georgia were down this year and brought 60 soccer balls and about as many crayons and coloring books to present as gifts. They also brought solar panels, a battery and managed to install light for our host family’s compound. That was met with a complaint about why there wasn’t one more light to put on another tree. In short, between the two of us, Christmas was better than it had ever been. So, after getting all of this on ‘our’ island, I was ready to head off to 3 other islands to have Santa pass out candy to all the other kids there, something that is such a big deal it’s impossible to even describe. This year, 4 adults in my host family tried to talk me out of taking the candy to kids on the other islands so their family could keep it for themselves. I was livid around that one. I could not believe they would even ask, practically insist that after all they had received, kids should go without a couple of pieces of candy each so they would have more. In some ways, maybe the commerciality of Christmas, in spite of intent, ruined it out there, too. I just know I won’t go back next year.

I just got back last night from spending my second New Year’s Eve in Portobelo. I’m still loving the various traditions in a place that, as my son pointed out, seems steeped in something akin to spirituality…as opposed to religion…in spite of all the Black Christ culture. That crazy mix of Diablos y Congos y Black Christ with the Casa de Las Brujas and the laid back Caribbean culture all set on what to this day reminds me of certain parts of the Hudson River is a heavenly way to bring in the new year. The moon, the calm and beautiful Portobelo Bay surrounded by those jungle covered hills, the people and this year, with it falling on a Sunday, the noise levels and crowds in town were relatively calm…it’s all so beautifully surreal to me.

At my friend’s house this year, there was a portal of red curtains built over the dock where we individually had first, a tangerine water bath to ‘lighten our spirits’ before passing through the ‘red door’ and walking back through it. This bath consisted of a half coconut full of tangerine water pour directly over your head.

Before all that, we wrote a letter or list of things we wanted out of / into our lives in ‘06 / ‘07 and burned them as an ‘offering’. Last year, the ‘06 lists were stuffed inside the muneco. (I still don’t have a tilde.) The ‘07 lists were individually burned and offered up to the sea. Once all of these traditions were observed by those of us in attendence, the muneco was burned on the concrete pier with a continual series of explosions as the batches of firecrackers caught fire and popped. Last year, the muneco was hung on a pole over the sea, but that ended up making it the fastest burning muneco in Panama as big chunks dropped into the sea all too fast. Thus, the burning took longer on the pier this year.

I love the New Year’s Eve muneco (doll) tradition, though this year, in Portobelo, I only saw a total of 3. For those new to Panama, locals create these scarecrow type dolls, completely dressed and often resembling someone or representing something they don’t like. Inside, they are stuffed with paper and firecrackers. At midnight, they are set on fire and burn with a lot of noise due to the firecrackers inside. Like at my friend’s house, it is symbolically ridding oneself of any remaining negativities from ‘06.

One muneco, they told me, was Vivian Torrijos. She had a big ‘Vota Si’ written on her. (Canal Expansion) One was a soldier with a machine gun which needs no explantion. Ours happened to be Chavez. I didn’t ask.

We had congo drummers and guitar players, people from the US, Spain and Panama. Then the midnight feast which was prepared on the largest bateas I had ever seen by the 3 woman who are incredible cooks. One has the reputation for being rather dour around guests. Last year, I gave her the nickname of ‘La Seria’. This year, she referred to herself by that name…with a smile. Marinated pork cooked outside over a fire and roasted so slowly you could cut it with a fork, arroz with coco and guandu, platanos cooked with raisins, yucca frita without a trace of grease and an ensalada of potatoes, carrots and beets. (No green though affordability was not the issue??) Dessert of plum cake and orange pound cake with a side of maracuya cream topped it all off. I’m not a drinker, but champagne did flow freely as the new year was toasted, including a bottle someone gave me as a gift last spring when they flew in from France. I also offered up another gift I had received this year of Estonian vodka, which some say is one of the world’s finest. Not being a drinker, I couldn’t say.

Munecos, family and friends, moonlight-lit ocean dotted with sailboats against a back drop of jungle covered hills, a midnight feast, mystical traditions that are fun no matter how deep inside the soul they sink, the burning of the munecos…As usual, I find myself thinking, “And I get all of this for leaving New York?”

Happy New Year.