We want to begin with an open apology to all of those people who may have been slightly disappointed with our last posts. We find that Panama has not been particularly easy to blog from, for the various reasons we will attempt to clarify here.
Firstly: we have been living in a real-life telenovela for the past month.
We thought that we were only collecting slightly amusing true stories that we could share with people when we try to explain how crazy things are down here. But it turns out that amplified drama seems to thrive here in Panama for some reason. Let’s take, as an example, our guest appearance as extras in our first introduction to life in a Panamanian soap opera.
Our boss is/was (we haven’t checked on their status since we left) dating an absolutely gorgeous professional athlete. Her job largely seems to require her to look fantastic and wear as little clothing as she can feel comfortable with for photos, both of which she seems to do easily. And yet, even though they have been dating for more than 3 years, she gets insanely jealous when he is even near another female. It doesn’t matter if this is her friend since childhood; if our boss was seen even talking to a woman at a party for less than five minutes (let’s say, for argument’s sake, they exchanged names to introduce themselves) his girlfriend will hunt her down at work the next day, make a huge scene in the middle of the office by screaming for over ten minutes about how this friend was trying to move in on her man, and then explode into the street and shut down traffic if she doesn’t get the response she wanted.
This particular relationship required that our boss never actually meet with us, especially not in public. Turns out we’re female, younger, and American which (obviously) means we would be trying to use our “work” as an excuse to get close enough to move in on her man. We were pushing our luck even being seen around town in the truck he owns but no longer drives. Or something like that, we assume. Instead we met with the groundskeeper and his new wife (they had married the month before we arrived), who told us the story of how they met. Turns out the groundskeeper (42 years old) had to ask the permission of his drinking buddy to marry his daughter (16) when he saw her walk into the bar to collect her father one day. She is no longer attending school so she can focus on being a wife, but they are waiting to have kids until next year so they can get to know each other first.
In fact all the men we met down there were a little paranoid about who they were seen with and when, which we attribute largely to severe cases of panty brains (among other reasons we will delve into later).
Then we were cast into leading roles in one of the main soaps along the gringo trail: A beautiful remote location requiring a 20 minute uphill hike to access it; no Internet access; a handful of 20 and 30 something volunteers, some who want to change the world, some who simply want to drink it away; two rescue animals, roped into their cages; one incredibly dangerous three story dorm room, which has already had one nearly fatal accident; two owners who at times seem to despise one another yet live together off site, but never far away; and a general atmosphere of sleep deprivation accompanied by a constant flux of customers… Welcome to The Lost + Found.
Our first day on set was in a mixed emotional setting. There had been a big shake up in management the weeks before our arrival, and this had left some gaping holes in the relationships of the staff towards one another. We were warned that things were similar to those fantastic MTV shows from the 90’s, but somehow we ended up committed to volunteering for two weeks. Our preparation for the new arrangement was a binder, written two days prior and not yet reviewed by the only remaining manager or either owner. Turns out, that binder was the only training we would receive before the customers arrived, and I was to be the only volunteer on staff for the next 15 hours.
Everything worked out, as it does in reality TV. There were couples’ fights in the bar over drinks, epic foosball tournaments, crying in the forest, swimming in a fresh river, power outages, chatting around a wood stove for heat, talking behind other people’s backs, tons of laughter, a constant atmosphere of inappropriate sexual harassment, early morning sunrises over a vast valley, water mains bursting, hot water showers, massive miscommunication, learning to speak with foreign accents, unhappy local staff that threaten to beat up the owner when drunk, a local chef who made some of the best pancakes we’ve ever tasted, a rodeo where guests drank on/with horses inside a bar and were misplaced for a few hours, a bro-fest that ended in arm wrestling and ice, a Belgian invasion, a torturous required reading assignment, a peaceful couples’ retreat, many cold/undercooked/you’ll-have-that meals, and some of the best conversations with wonderful people we could hope for.
We were over worked. We were sleep deprived. We wall papered a bar with aluminum beer cans and thumb tacks. We shattered glass bottles using a camp fire and ice cold water. We were emotional wrecks that kept bumping into guests that needed to know where the milk was kept. We were, at times, miserably hiking while hungover and being rewarded by a breathtaking view of the pacific ocean. We were constantly trying to sneak away to watch the Olympics. We ran away to Bocas only to sleep the afternoon away and then go find all the people we had laughed with in the jungle a few days prior and convince them to swing into the ocean at a bar.
We had one manager who even provided a running commentary of the day’s activities, exactly like one would imagine on a reality TV show. And it is in his wise words that we can sum up our time at L+F:
We may hate each other from time to time, but in a crisis we pull together like a family and get what we need to done.
L+F is bursting at the seams with volunteers now, and they are an awesome group. We hope to see our new L+F family and guest-friends (aka customers, you all know I talk weird) again on the road south (or in your backyard, are you sure you meant to invite us!?!).
The pictures below are the results of our weeks of labor on the telenovela shows!
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Rule #2: Don't Die. 