Jesus wore Sandals

Panama City was sunny today! And i saw bluer skies than ever! I slept in late and lounged until we finally decided to venture to the BahHai temple (spell check*). We had missed the entrance about 4 times and asked about 5 different people where the entrance was. All the while it was about 100 yards away at the most each time. We finally managed to find it by asking an elderly gentleman who walked with a limp. We supposed he walked that route everyday and slowly because of the limp, therefore knowing the area well and most likely knowing where the entrance was. 

Success! After climbing a narrow winding road that led to cool fresh air and a welcoming breeze. 

To our bewilderment, and I must admit now to our own ignorance, a lady hailed us down and asked us to please cover up before entering the temple. She went to retrieve some shawls for me and Amanda to cover our legs and for my shoulders. We respectfully complied and waited outside. As we waited we decided to take a photo. The lady came back as we were in action and exclaimed for us to stop and how could we possibly be taking photos in front of the temple with "those" clothes on. Flustered, she handed us the shawls and muttered that "you can't rely on anyone these days" and showed us how to wrap it as a skirt. 

Now, i am completely tolerant and respect religion. But the woman's reaction put me in a foul mood. And we apologized for the photos. I had misunderstood her. My mood of seeing such a wonderful place was tainted. And it was a beautiful place i must say. But all the while i tried to understand her reaction (while being cranky).

Finally i realized that although religion is not the driving force in my life, it was for this woman, and for millions of other people as well. I felt embarrassed that i had shown up in shorts and a tank. This temple was sacred to this woman and the feeling she has for her religion is so strong; a kind of love that i have never understood and maybe never will. Will i ever be so passionate as this woman is for her religion, for something in my life? And if i was ever as passionate, I would have reacted the same way. I would want someone to respect the thing i love, despite them not agreeing with what i love. 

We picked up my mom from the airport around 7 and had a lovely dinner at an italian restaurant near the apartment. We ate merrily and had a tasty sangria. I am so grateful for everything in my life. 

I need the details written, or I'll forget what i stand for. And what does that say about me, if i am constantly forgetting the values i have decided to acquire. So maybe writing will save my soul. It's a good thing.

On a Lighter Note

I decided to sleep on the couch last night. It's hard to get privacy living in this tiny apartment, which is a fun blessing, and heart ache for someone as private as i am. I feel I've been on fast-forward and I feel i haven't had time to reflect on the last month or the entire summer for that matter. Maybe that's why I am excited for school to start, so i can slow down and have some alone time and get back to a rhythm. I want control back in my life! lol

Today is sunnier and the sky is blue blue blue. And the huge puffy clouds suggest that the Panama sun and humidity are intense today. Our plan for today is to go to Old Panama. They are ruins from the pirate days with captain Henry Morgan the Welch terror of the Caribbean seas. Old forts and castles like big rubbles of stones and enigmatic silhouettes of grandeur and chaos. It makes me imagine Panama in the 1500s; thick emerald jungles and a space cleared for a little group of stones to protect the coast. Compared to Panama now it seems it would have been a peaceful and quiet fort until the pirates came and burnt it to the ground. Now the air is thick with the dizzying fumes from diesel, stick shift cars and I am occasionally afraid for my life to inhale the black plumes. 

But every so often when we drive in the interior or late at night through the urban streets, I catch the sweet smell of the jungle. It's intoxicating and it always only lasts for a split second. I wish i could bottle it and bring it home with me and say "Here California! This is the way clean air smells!" But you can't bottle the ghost of the jungle, the ghost of our time. 

And as i wrote this excerpt it just began to pour cats a dogs and the sky is extremely dark. More rain in 10 minutes than California gets in a year. But i love it

En Medias Res

After reading my brother's blogs and talking about keeping journals with my friend and nephew and niece, I decided my writing skills need to be improved. And now this blog will exist. I am dead tired but if I do not start this now, who knows where it will fit in with all of the ambitions and ideas i have. 

Where to begin

This entry will be long as i have had much on my mind and nowhere to let it out. 

I am in Panama with my father, one of my best friends, my niece, and my nephew. I have been here about a week and it already feels as if I'm adapted to a new home. This is a second home to me in fact and although the same places are visited and the familiar faces are seen, I hope i will not tire of it and rather, become even more connected to my roots each time i come. 

Lately i have been stressed which makes me even more stressed because I know it is nothing compared to what suffering others are going through right now. What do i know about hard times and hard work? But at least i know that i know nothing about it, and i hope that this keeps me grounded. In spite of the stress of summer school, bills, fending for myself (kinda, with a watchful and close wing/eyes of the mothership) i had been feeling the happiest i had been in a long time. Looking back now, i realized i was chronically depressed for two years.  And after a slow process i found the happy filling i knew existed deep inside this life-donut. (My boyfriend makes fun that i relate and connect things to food a lot...) But anyway, along with this new found happiness comes time to be reflective and absorb sadness too. 

I had to put my dog to sleep. I had been counting the years since i think she was first born at my house. I knew i would love her, and feared already that when her death came, i would be broken. I was seven and counting, "In 15 yrs, ill be in college..." and i'd shiver to think what would happen then, but her little clock was always ticking at the back of my mind. And it finally came. It was the most concentrated week of my life. First the stress of calculus finals and accounting, then the bills that were left to me without a second thought from the roomie. And the lack of money for the "big san fran trip" with my best friends. I almost did not go on the trip, because i knew it was the right and responsible thing to do. Sometimes you have to sacrifice and i finally understood my mother a little bit better. I ended up going, and having a really good time. And the second i got home, i remembered, "Accounting...danggittt" and i went over to pet my dog and give her affection. I had thought about her on the san fran trip and missed her. She looked excited to see me, and now when i think back, a little rumpled. Then she had the stroke that night, and my brother told me in the morning. I had slept 1 yard away from her all night, dead asleep, her pain unbeknownst to me. I replay that day in my head and regret going on the trip and not being able to spend those last days with her. But we never know, and we never will. We looked up the signs of a stroke. My brother read and a tiny flame of fear, dread, and prophecy lit up in my heart and i knew. 

I was supposed to spend the day with Rodney, but instead i asked him to help me take her to the vet. Her eyes couldnt focus from the nerve damage. I figured she could smell me and i would talk to her and she would wag her tail. I cried in the vet's private room. I already knew, i knew i couldnt afford to give her surgery and i knew it wasn't certain she would make it. 

That night my mother made me her stay outside since she could no longer stand on her own and she would have to relieve herself. I wanted her inside the house. I came home late and went to sit out with her. I saw her head turning with her wandering eyes trying to focus on nothing in the darkness, winding off into space and somewhere i could only guess. She looked lost and i cried just seeing her this way. I went outside to help her fall asleep because the only way she would is if i was there. Everytime id try to leave she'd whine, and i'd come back to pet her until she slept. She was almost like my child, my baby sister. I slept on the couch with the sliding glass door open. I felt better that it was open, somehow it made me feel like i was sleeping out there with her. 

We bought her a Wendy's cheeseburger to eat as her last meal. She wasn't very hungry but she ate at least half. Then i took her in my car and when we got to the shelter. i sobbed. People around me stared and wondered what had happened. I had her wrapped in a blanket and they asked if my dog was sick. The animal shelter lady was nice, she gave me a paper to sign and told me she was sorry, genuinely. I guess she really could see how heartbroken i was. We drove around to the back where i man with a metal crate came to get her. I asked if i could be there and how it would happen. He said no, but that it was a peaceful injection. I slipped her in and she was afraid; she tried to pull herself out but i pushed her back in. I sobbed into her head, and i knew she knew. I'm glad Rodney was there with me, just he and I. It was the hardest moment of my life so far and I'm glad he was there. I love you Joanna and i miss you.

Here is a poem i wrote from our last dog, Joanna's mother. 

...
They carried her off in a crate, my mom said
"You didnt get to see?" asked my dad
"No"

<3

it's so strange how much you can love something