Sep 19 2009
Panamania -or- Panaphobia
Moon Handbook to Panama
I’m talking myself out of this with remarkable speed and brilliant rationalizations. It seemed like such a spectacular idea just a month ago: take a trip to somewhere exotic as a gift to myself for finishing grad school. This place would have to be relatively cheap, given the thousands of dollars in debt I now find myself in; this place must be warm to counter the frigid Boston winter; this place must not be covered in resorts or populated by be-cameraed and fanny-packed tourists; and this place must (preferably) have capybaras in its jungles. Panama seemed like the obvious choice.
So Panama it was. I bought the guide book, checked out plane fares (so cheap!), and began imagining what I could fit in my giant backpack. Then something slippery happened. The overly-anxious angel in my shirt pocket started whispering up things that will go wrong, that will ruin the trip.
I’ve never traveled alone before (unless you count driving from one end of Ohio to the other) and worry that I’ll be scared or lonely or mugged. If I take a travel partner I worry we’ll make each other crazy, eventually chasing each other around a hostel wielding pith helmets.
I don’t speak the language. Well, I speak a few words of Spanish, like que pasa, which I picked up from the guys lining certain streets of Washington, DC. But then I wouldn’t understand the answer, so why would I bother? Phrasebooks make me nervous–flipping frantically and fruitlessly through the tiny pages, trying to figure out how to say “where are the three-toed sloths?” while my listeners quietly snicker. If I don’t memorize how to say “bathroom” before I go anywhere I am in a panic.
Am I really a traveler? I’ve not been on a major trip–like continents away–for a long time. I’ve surely been exploring the area around me, but Hanoi? St. Petersburg? Not even close. I worry that I’m actually an armchair traveler at heart. I love to read about foreign lands and others’ travels, but can I handle the travel myself? Perhaps I’m just out of practice.
In the end I will probably go. For one thing I have told too many people about it to back out. Plus I’ll never hear a harpy eagle screaming and circling over Boston Common or see a quetzal perched in a maple tree. This is to say nothing of the capybaras.
Read more: Central America, Panama, Travel, Travel Bug, Travel JittersLlalan specializes in all things Ohio, but has funny stories from all over the US and Canada, plus a few snort-inducing ones from Thailand. And not only does she read books from around the world, she also samples beers in as many languages as possible. Favorite style: the multi-national American Double IPA.
Do it, dude. Those capybaras have been calling your name ever since we used to go to the Columbus Zoo with your grandmother. I saw the way they were looking at you.
Sounds very exciting! I’d suggest cramming some Spanish language via audiobook first, though. Good luck!