While I was living on a mountaintop in Boquete, Panama apart from the town, I was faced with the challenge of not having the luxury of running over to a grocery store if I happened to forget something. One must learn the skills of stocking up, planning ahead and improvising when things inevitably go wrong.
And so it was with New Year’s Eve approaching. I knew I would be spending the evening alone up on the mountain, so I decided it was the perfect time to prepare a special holiday meal for myself with all the fresh ingredients. My parents had regularly made a dish called Puerto Rican Fish Stew, which I really loved, and so I decided on that for my New Year’s Eve celebration.
The list of ingredients was a bit intimidating, but I was up for the challenge. I took the list with me to the small grocery market in town and lost track of the time it took me to navigate the store and find everything, especially with most of the titles in Spanish. Once I had everything on the list I was shocked at what it cost, as I was starting from ground zero with a kitchen of no spices or staples whatsoever.
When I got back home I discovered I had picked up pimentos instead of tomatoes. I decided to forge ahead anyway. I am fully convinced that some of the best recipes that have been discovered were done so by mistake or when someone had 3 items left over in the house and they simply decided to put them together.
In preparing and cutting the ingredients I found my way into a meditative state and began to learn why people love cooking. With my Caribbean playlist of music running in the background, I crushed garlic, cut onions, sliced fresh fish, and found myself immersed in the joy of the process. The sun was softly making its setting behind the mountains outside my window and it was shaping up to be a tranquilo New Year’s Eve. An hour went by as the music played. I chopped, cut, minced and sang. The wine began to flow and the anticipation grew.
Once all of the savory ingredients were in the pot, it was time to simmer for 20 minutes. I fired up the gas burner.
Click. Nothing. Click. Nothing.
Click….Click…Nothing.
Hmmm.
I got a match. Nothing.
Suddenly I came to realize what I had been fearing for weeks…..that fateful day when the propane tank that heats the house would run out. A propane tank lasts about a month, but one can always expect it will run out at the worst opportune moment, such as whey you are in the middle of a shower or perhaps making Puerto Rican Stew for New Year’s Eve dinner.
I always knew that it would go out at the worst possible moment. This was surely it.
And so here I was, with everything carefully prepared, New Year’s Eve, wine, Caribbean music and no gas. I carefully packed away the ingredients, put the pot into the fridge, cleaned up the mess I had made of the kitchen, and made a peanut butter sandwich.
Just another day in the life in Central America.
The following morning I was able to catch a ride into town. I refilled my propane and returned home where the ingredients had been mixing their flavors overnight. I made my Puerto Rican Fish Stew and the result was sublime.
It was worth the wait.
View from the Road
As I have written before, you can only truly get to know a place by walking. I discovered this by walking over 500 miles in Kyoto. I walked the beach every morning in Playa Grande for 3 months. I spent many hours and hundreds of miles on foot in Boquete, Panama walking from my casa on the mountain into the town center. It is no different where I am living now, up the mountain from the center of Ciudad Colon, I have discovered the area and met people I would never have met had I not been on foot.
This week on my morning walk I heard my favorite sound calling me in the distance. Water. I took my walk off the main road and began making my way down the side of a cliff, slipping and sliding, grabbing tree roots and branches to catch my descent. I found my way down to a running river and waterfall where I sat quietly on a rock and listened to the beautiful sound of running water.
Field Notes
“Above all, do not lose your desire to walk. Every day I walk myself into a state of well-being and walk away from every illness. I have walked myself into my best thoughts, and I know of no thought so burdensome that one cannot walk away from it.”
-Soren Kierkegaard
August 13-15th is the celebration Obon across Japan. Kyoto is one of the largest and most visually exciting cities for Obon festivals. Japanese people travel from far and wide back to their family homes to honor and greet their returning ancestors. I remember three years ago as I was just settling into Kyoto as thousands of visitors descended up on the city.
On the evening of August 16th, we all made our way on foot, like legions of ants, to the shores of the Kamo River to watch the lighting of five mountain bonfires after dark. The daimonji fires, in the shape of kanji characters are lit one by one by Kyoto monks. The belief is that the lights help guide the ancestors back to the spirit world.
I remember thinking of my own grandparents then, as I often do now, they are perhaps still guiding me on my travels and my journey.
“If you look deeply into the palm of your hand, you will see your parents and all generations of your ancestors. All of them are alive in this moment. Each is present in your body. You are the continuation of each of these people.”
―Thich Nhat Hanh
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Zen and Ink Journals represents hundreds of hours of writing over the past decade, sometimes from a train in remote China or a coffee shop in Kyoto, a hammock in Costa Rica or a simple cabin on a mountain in Boquete, Panama.
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Kirk