Panama: Day Three, Afternoon
Day Three. 18 September 2007.
Wow, am I only on day three? I think I could keep writing about this trip forever. (I shouldn’t tempt fate, because once I have to start writing and revising this for work, I really will be writing about this forever).
After our brief hike into PILA, we headed partway back down the steep, rocky path to a small building painted the same dark yellow and green as the scattered park signs and rangers’ buildings. When we had passed this building on our way up, the woman driving our SUV (who works for one of Organization’s partners in Cerro Punta) rode the brake long enough to wave and say hello to the women standing outside. One of the Spanish speakers in our car asked if she knew lots of people in the area. “Sí,” she said. “Muchos.”
The building seemed larger from the road than it really was. When we got closer, I saw that the large front porch was deceiving. Only a small interior kitchen was tucked behind it, and through a window, I could see several women preparing food.
There were about 20 of us, and we filled up all the picnic-style benches on the covered porch. The woman asked us, “Chocolate o café?” I chose café con leche and waited. The women brought out platters of the hot chocolate and coffee, plus a small plate of savory treats: meatballs (I passed on those), some sort of corn fritter, and fry bread. I probably don’t want to know what any of their secret ingredients were because damn were they tasty!
While we ate, Felipe, the project manager for PILA, introduced us to the women who formed this cooperative, known as ASAELA. These women, who seemed to range in age from thirtysomething to sixtysomething, used to be known in town as “the crazy women.” When one of them got the idea to start this small restaurant for hikers, backpackers, and locals, nobody believed they had a prayer. What’s remarkable isn’t just that they have succeeded, but that they are now respected by their peers and other townspeople. In a tiny Latin American village where gender roles are still deeply defined, these women are an anomaly, a handful of entrepreneurs who have dreamt big. Our translator pointed out, too, that they have engaged their husbands in the business; the implication was that these men had laughed at their wives’ dreams without doing much to help, but now they are also deeply engaged.
The women of ASAELA aren’t just about a restaurant—they are stewards of PILA, care enormously for their environment, both natural and built, and they have a small office in Cerro Punta where they run a number of community educational efforts. And they’re still dreaming big: they want to learn English, become bird guides, and build a hostel for backpackers. And nobody calls them the crazy women anymore.
Posted 1 October 2007
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Your work sounds really interesting Laura. So glad you get to travel and write about things you are passionate about-and get massages and drink fancy coffee.