Easter Feast at the Neighbors’

Mylin supervises the butchering of the Easter hog

The fires got started  before noon yesterday. They used the quick start gasoline on big logs method – not bad after the petro smell wears off. Six fires in all – 3 for pig and 2 for chicken and one for big boiling and frying pots. By about 6, my mouth was drooling all over the floor, just as the guests arrived. So, I took my 2 salads and headed into the fray. The drinking was hard and fast. The same VERY attractive young lady was again pushing shots of the “punch” on everyone, including me. The punch is nothing more than moonshine cane sugar alcohol, which had been sitting all day with lots of fruit in it and then squeezed and filtered in a cloth and served in tiny shot glasses at room temperature. This time I cleverly avoided the noxious concoction by nursing a beer all night that I brought from the cottage.

Mama Mylin shows the boys how it's done. She is one tough cookie.

Many of the same relatives and friends from last year. The old guy who called my story “stupid” had fortunately forgotten me. And I pretty well avoided the lady who constantly corrected my grammar last year. My little buddy Iza was home for Easter – he’s been going to school in Chepo – pretty sad and sullen, acted like he didn’t know me. The big celebrity guest was Tomas’ youngest step-brother Frederico. The kid is drop-dead gorgeous, speaks English with a perfect Antonio Banderas accent and dressed like he just came off the set of “Miami Vice”. In actuality, he attends U of Miami Miller Med School ( 2^nd year), which is a HUGE deal around here, as most rural folks don’t even make it to domestic colleges, never mind a US Med school. He had some great stories about US Immigration. On various occasions, he’s been strip searched, cavity searched (I didn’t ask for details), had his luggage cut open, had his computer and cell phone downloaded and been interviewed for up to 4 hours (think about that) with questions about who he lives with, who his friends are, what TV shows and internet sites he watches. And, on other US entries, they let him walk right on through. He can make no sense of it. He thinks Trump is a horrible President, but is genuinely afraid to talk about Trump for fear it might get him deported, despite his very valid visa.

The feast was simply amazing. Fire roasted pork, chicken, beef (carne picante) and fried fish, with big pots of potato, yucca, rice and plantain. My two salads (cole slaw and cucumber/tomato) were the ONLY vegetables and not exactly flying out of the bowls. Panamanians are MEAT eaters. The pork ribs were just roasted over the fire with salt and pepper. They made me believe that the whole BBQ sauce thing is a massive cover-up and waste of good meat. And it’s just hard to beat a fire-roasted chicken, killed that day. The fish was just the way Panamanians like it – way over-cooked until it is nice and stiff. Fish jerky, I call it.

They did they “performance” thing again. Some very good (and boring) singing and the old guy told the SAME story about how the brave Panamanians (his grandfather was one of them)  met the Colombians in the “Great War of Independence” and made them flee – “they ran like little girls”. Of course, he failed to mention that there were 5,000 US Army troops with artillery standing right behind the Panamanians and a US Navy battleship sitting off-shore. And that this was pretty much the only battle of the “War”, which the US had started in order to get permission from the newly created Panama government to build the Canal. But, he told it with so much passion that I just let go of historical correctness. For my part, I decided no story this time – I got them divided into 3 groups and we sang “Frere Jacques” as a round, in English, Spanish and French. Oddly, many knew only the English and French versions. Folks were pretty drunk so the languages all sounded the same anyway.

Having eaten WAY too much, I waddled back to the cottage, took a nice hot/cold shower and crashed in an instant. I got up this morning and realized that most of the cars are still here. No idea where everyone slept, but the strong smell of coffee and bacon is in the air. Just at daybreak folks headed out – I’m guessing to church, since they are all back now and looks like the party is back on. I guess I’ll wander down and see what’s what.

Feliz Pasqua a Todos !! (Happy Easter to All Y’all)

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