PANAMA 101: this is where I comment, rant, and rave about the quirkiness of Panama.
One will RARELY if ever see a lawnmower here in Panama, even tho’ there is a serious need to cut the grass constantly. In the wet season you’ve got the jungle growing around your house if you don’t hack it back regularly. In the dry season, you’ve got grass fires all over the place with ash raining from the sky.
The preferred methods of cutting grass are 1. machetes and 2. weedwhackers. Mostly, where we live, the weedwhacker is the go to tool of the trade. So there are these weedwhacker guys covered from head to toe with protective clothing…they even fashion these facecovers out of t-shirts and wear sunglasses and – I must say – look a tad creepy.
The other interesting (and sort of sad) thing about these guys is that they get carted around like cattle in the backs of these stick trucks and take them from place to place.
There is invariably several crews of them working at the path where I run in the mornings. There are invariably little pods of them taking a break right next to the path and they invariably stare at me with these hard looks as I pass by. If I am feeling good I will shoot them a “Buenos dias” and that usually surprises them enough that they stop staring. But on a bad day, like today, where it takes a bloody eternity to pass by the silent staring trio or quad of unmoving faceless men, i want to know how to fly or become invisible. Today, tho’, as i was walking by a gaggle of gawkers-not feeling up to looking them in the spot where i imagine their eyes are and saying anything- I just picked up my speed a little when one of them said (this is groundbreaking) “Buen dia.” I just looked at him smiled, sighed and said “buen dia.” I kind of wanted to hug him and say, “gracias.”



