Honey

I’m going to leave Peace Corps with diabetes and am considering classifying it as a work-related illness.

Like a lot of places south of the border, the sweetener of choice here, instead high fructose corn syrup, is sugar cane.  In the Azuero, sugar cane fields are a somewhat common sight.  My region is largely agricultural, and sugar cane is one of Panama’s largest exports, since the stuff does so well in tropical climates.  Panama’s national liquor, Seco (literally dry in Spanish), even comes from sugar cane, and its largest distributor is located in the province just above mine in the peninsula.  

In my opinion, though, the most delicious sugar cane byproduct is miel de cana, or sugar cane honey.  It is so popular here, in fact, that people simply refer to it as miel, or honey, and specify the other kind of honey as bee honey.  (Word to the wise, always specify when asking for a recipe containing miel)  In my early weeks here, some friends took me to a farm with a molienda, which is the mill used to press the sugar cane into juice known as guarapo (gwah-rah-poh), which is incredibly refreshing cold.  Situated next to the mill is a giant pot for cooking down the juice into carmelized, sticky sweet goodness reminiscent of grainy molasses. 

People with moliendas end up with ridiculous quantities of honey.  At my host mom’s family home in Las Tablas, for example, there are literally buckets full of the stuff.  When I went to visit them a few weeks ago, they simply stuck a kitchen spoon in the bucket and scoped out some for each of us to munch on while we waited for lunch to cook.  Giant heaps of it are the perfect finishing touch to fresh juice.  Instead of salt, avocados are eaten with a side of miel (this one I have yet to try.  I just like them too much with salt).  You name it, someone with a mill has probably tried it with honey.

I try not to think of the long term consequences when eating sugar cane by the spoonful.  Instead, I convince myself that I’m eating something natural, and pretend it’s counteracting all that corn syrup I consumed as a child.  When my teeth start falling out and I’m in a coma, I may think differently.  Until then, I’ll be happy in my delusion.  Just don’t tell my dentist about this post.

The mill.  Usually there's a donkey pushing but we got impatient.

sugar juice.

big bubbling pot of yes.

And this? Foam scooped off the top of the boiling honey.  AKA sugar coma.

Going to the fair.

Carnival, Holy Week, Labor Day...from February on, I feel like we've pretty much had a steady stream of reasons to play in Panama.  One is left thinking, what next?  What could we possibly be celebrating now?  Why the Azuero peninsula, of course!  Last week marked the end of the 12-day Feria International de Azuero, or International Azuero Fair: a stewing mix of vendors from all over the country and beyond, those creepy rides that are only fun because you're not sure whether or not you'll live to see the next one, cultural exhibitions and dances, cows, heaps of fried food, and music. A lot like our state fairs, actually...with one minor difference.

A couple Fridays ago, my friend Yovana, a secretary at the school, tells me "we're going to the fair this evening, do you want to come?" I say sure, assuming that I'll be going out and coming home past my bedtime, which is typically around 9 or 10.  I was also excited to finally go out with some Panamanians.  We get to the fair around 7 to find that the place is empty, plenty of space to walk around, a lot of stands not open.  I assume this is because things are winding down.  "Oh we're really early," Yovana says.  Early, I think, early??? Fast forward to 3 AM.  Yovana is still laughing and dancing and the tipico band that started playing three hours before is just finishing up their set.  I'm falling asleep in my cup of iced beer (yes, iced beer.  They pour light beer over ice here.) and wondering how I'm going to manage the following night, since I promised another friend I would go with her to another dance.  Nobody worry: I managed by sleeping away almost an entire Sunday, which I hadn't done since sophomore year of college.

Here's the thing: people here don't party a lot, since most towns are so small that any sort of partying results in bochinche (remember this word of the day?  It means gossip) that follows you from here to next carnival, and there really aren't places to go out besides seedy cantinas full of hissing men (more on hissing later). When they do play, though, people play hard.  And as I mentioned before, Azuerans are known for their happy spirit.  They like to have a good time. 

I managed to snap some pictures of the cultural exhibitions at the fair.  The first couple are of polleras (poh-yer-ah): what is possibly the most expensive traditional dress in the world.  Certain polleras can cost $10,000 and take a year to make, because true polleras are completely hand made.  The costume comes out everywhere, from traditional dance troops (much like the ones we see dancing son and cumbia at the New Mexico state fair), to parades and carnival.  It was the first time I had seen one up close and the detail is exquisite.  I'll write more on polleras later, as there is an upcoming festival completely dedicated to them...

The whole she-bang.  That's nine yards of fabric in the skirt alone.

Hand-woven up close and personal.

Carnival queen dresses from years past

The entrance to an open air club at the fair.  Inside was just as packed.

Seasons

As many of you may already have guessed, when you live in a tropical country, "seasons" as we know them are non-existent.  Here in Panama, we only have two: "summer" and "winter," which are better described as "not rainy" and "rainy."  "Not rainy" lasts from the end of December and into May (in my region, which is dry), and "rainy" starts in May and lasts for the rest of the year.
Instead of thinking in terms of precipitation, I prefer to measure my seasons in terms of available fruit, as that seems to change on a basis more similar to that of my home country's seasons. Better, right? Along with the tropical fruits that we know thanks to imports, there's a whole marvelous slew of new fruits that I get to try.  Another perk? Students like to bring the teachers fruit and teachers bring fruit to the teachers lounge that overflows from the trees in their houses. 

In other words, what I am lacking in vegetables I'm consuming in deliciously fresh fruit.  Here are a few pictures of the season for your education:

Plantains and bananas from the backyard

Ciruelas (see-roo-el-ahs): means "plum," but that is not what these are.  A somewhat tart and crunchy fruit.

Marañon, or "cashew fruit." Yep.  Where the nuts come from.  Makes an AMAZING juice.

The mango tree in the backyard.  Manna from heaven.