The great thing about my new job is the following: amazing people, places, emotions. Panama has so much to offer, and that much becomes clearer every day. It has so much potential, right there in front of your noses. Untapped potential. And I do not believe that the future lies in the city, no it lies in the interior of Panama, forgotten in historical churches and landmarks. It lies in the folklore, in the bright red smile of an 'empollerada', in the flaxen dress of the 'coquis' singing about the demon woman, in the strength of a buey pulling a traditional cart. It's in the mud caked walls that was built as a home for your grandfather when he married your grandmother, in the weaves of the traditional sombrero pintado, the leather of the cutarras covering your cracked soles.
Los Picachos de Ola
Ola is the poorest district of Cocle, yet it has much appeal. Wide open spaces surrounded by a wall of rocky hills, which look like they'd be perfect for rock climbing. Far off you can see splashes of a waterfall, with a steep drop off a cliff; El Chorro de Ola, which you can sometimes see (if you're lucky and it's a clear day) on the Interamerican Highway from Penonome to Aguadulce on your right hand side. That small glimpse does not do justice to the beauty that is the waterfall up close. It must be a good 50ft drop, pure white foam cascading down. It was a good amount when I chanced upon it, but I assume it has a bigger roar when it is rainy season (that area receives a lot of rain). Small, humble farmer and cattle homes dotted the lush landscape, Ola seems to have passed under the radar for country (or secondary) homes. The road is in pristine condition, and the lack of heavy machinery in the area means that it will remain this way for a couple of years.
El Chorro de Ola
On the drive back down, we chanced upon a tigrillo crossing the narrow road in broad daylight. The sleek feline looked much like an overgrown house cat, but with bigger haunches and a thicker body. Shiny blue black coat, agile and fast it darted in front of our car and dived into the bushes, leaving me awestruck. They call them 'tigrillos' up here, but I don't know if it is a margay or an ocelot or what. What I do know is that it was a rare sight that I delighted upon and I realized suddenly, this is the kind of tourism that I want to make: one that delights the soul and sets it ablaze.
My Name is Panama
I had the opportunity to wear a full pollera for the very first time back in December. Despite being born and raised in Panama, I had never had the opportunity to wear a pollera, though I had had the desire to for as long as I could remember. Cheesy as it sounds, it was a dream come true. You do not wear a pollera; you display it with honor and pride. Tembleques, bombachas, enaguas, pollera, blusa, etc. Complicated and multilayered, with a whole regime and tradition to it. Putting tembleques on someone is an art in itself; my scalp was throbbing as the night wore on, from the very weight of the beautiful combs topping and bouncing around my head in multicolored hues. I tripped on the skirt, forgetting to pick up the swirling skirts when
walking up stairs and inclinations. This pollera thing requires poise and grace, an easy smile at the ready, impeccable makeup and not a hair our of place. Hmmm, next time I'm wearing a pollera montuno! Hair in braids and a jaunty sombrero pintao crowning my head. No tembleques and certainly no throbbing scalp. After a couple of hours of wearing tembleques there is no better feeling than taking them out.
Beautiful pollera montuno.