tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-72823654864804842752011-12-27T06:50:39.467-08:00Life is ElsewhereChristopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.comBlogger60125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-28909225879507047032011-12-23T09:29:00.000-08:002011-12-27T06:50:39.502-08:002011-12-27T06:50:39.502-08:00Journey
She looked up at the idling truck. The rain wasn’t falling hard but was steady and cool and she was soaked and so was her son and it didn´t really seem to matter anyway. She climbed into the bed of the truck, turned around to pick up her son standing with his arms out and raised like he was reaching for something too high to touch and he wasn’t heavy to lift but he felt sad and tired and she Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-45642298578819057032011-12-10T15:41:00.000-08:002011-12-10T15:41:18.400-08:002011-12-10T15:41:18.400-08:00Broken Pages
Clear tape and scissors. That’s all you really need. And, sadly, the older ones usually fall apart first. Classics and first editions; I love reading old books. Their covers can be quite handsome too having preceded ´´Oprah Book Club´´ and ´´NYTimes Bestseller´´ stamps that seem more like promotional stains on good cover art. One time I spotted One Hundred Years of Solitude and quickly grabbed Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-36326425109482875282011-11-18T08:50:00.000-08:002011-11-18T08:50:53.315-08:002011-11-18T08:50:53.315-08:00Life Of Three Birds
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Helvetica;
panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:536902279 -2147483648 8 0 511 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-sizeChristopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-62544597517288090912011-11-06T14:06:00.000-08:002011-11-06T14:12:27.266-08:002011-11-06T14:12:27.266-08:00By The Sea
<!--
/* Font Definitions */
@font-face
{font-family:Helvetica;
panose-1:2 11 6 4 2 2 2 2 2 4;
mso-font-charset:0;
mso-generic-font-family:swiss;
mso-font-pitch:variable;
mso-font-signature:536902279 -2147483648 8 0 511 0;}
/* Style Definitions */
p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal
{mso-style-parent:"";
margin:0in;
margin-bottom:.0001pt;
mso-pagination:widow-orphan;
font-sizeChristopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-65340037001099124072011-10-24T15:55:00.000-07:002011-10-24T15:59:09.308-07:002011-10-24T15:59:09.308-07:00CartographyI made pretty much the whole thing. Africa looks like a bright and beautiful quilt. Scroll fast for a flip-book effect.
The world seems so much smaller once you`ve painted it.Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-47842237463194311122011-10-18T10:50:00.000-07:002011-10-18T15:31:48.567-07:002011-10-18T15:31:48.567-07:00Fiesta!A mejorana is a five-string guitar. The people love them and they celebrate. Every year. This is the Mejorana Festival.
Bonnie`s beach house
Polleras
Street-meat
Diablicos sucios
Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-43284077411847267812011-09-21T17:44:00.000-07:002011-10-18T15:58:52.618-07:002011-10-18T15:58:52.618-07:00Something Is Called ElationWhen I was somewhere else
I would walk down streets in the dark at night.
When I was somewhere else
I would get lost and not mind and
just be content that I was somewhere
and moving and that was OK.
When I was somewhere else
everything was new and beautiful and
I smelled the air around me and
I noticed small things around me
like metal fountains with leaky faucets
and front doors to old Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-33606419909465734092011-09-01T21:03:00.000-07:002011-09-01T21:06:52.813-07:002011-09-01T21:06:52.813-07:00Literary Interlude: McCarthyThey rode out along the fenceline and across the open pasture-land. The leather creaked in the morning cold. They pushed the horses into a lope. The light fell away behind them. They rode out on the high prairie where they slowed the horses to a walk and the stars swarmed around them out of the blackness. They heard somewhere in that tenantless night a bell that tolled and ceased where no bell Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-71658323115372685952011-08-22T10:24:00.000-07:002011-08-22T10:24:38.048-07:002011-08-22T10:24:38.048-07:00Changing Energy
I built a stove at the school. I plan on building more. Here´s what it looks like:
Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-78004448777760842532011-08-16T17:39:00.000-07:002011-08-16T17:39:22.127-07:002011-08-16T17:39:22.127-07:00Ascent
And when we got to the top we
were above the clouds that were blue and red across the setting sun and it was
colder then we thought it would be and it was later then we thought it would be
and we were tired and that’s what I remember and we were happy.
We rested soon after setting up the
tent, eating smashed sandwiches and drinking whiskey, trembling in our sleeping
bags while the Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-24445855299496694962011-07-18T08:25:00.000-07:002011-07-18T08:25:56.464-07:002011-07-18T08:25:56.464-07:00Life Of Birds: Piaya Minuta Panamensis
The Little Cuckoo says: I thought I knew what was next. I thought I knew. The sun made things
light but then blinked out again. Both eyes shut. And then it was time. Time to
rest. Time to think. And the sky can be like a million thoughts: dark and
clouded but sometimes clear and infinite. Moving through the night. Like light
speed. Moving into another day. And always dreaming in between. With Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-11570002441479555972011-07-01T10:55:00.000-07:002011-07-01T10:55:01.700-07:002011-07-01T10:55:01.700-07:00And Why NotWhy not smell the night.
Think about where you were. Think about where you are: Panama. Before:
Portland—Chico—San Francisco. That European holiday. Always remembering that
European holiday. But now: Panama. One year. And I don´t know where I´ll be
next. Spain? Thinking Spain. Maybe Japan. Japan. After: [insert location here].
Someday France. Someday so many. Too many. Now: Panama. After a year: Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-28548262166737476082011-06-17T09:41:00.000-07:002011-07-24T13:56:05.858-07:002011-07-24T13:56:05.858-07:00Nicaragua DaysDay 1
Going to Nicaragua.
In Costa Rica.
Feeling adventurous.
Day 2
In Nicaragua.
Giant white pin-wheels collect the wind from the lake. It all looks like country.
At a family’s house in Managua and I had chicken soup for lunch. I want to drink later.
At an Irish pub and I should go to another bar but I’m too lazy.
Day 3
On my way to Granada. Might have a date when I Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-18085182172481614082011-05-24T07:16:00.001-07:002011-05-24T07:16:31.293-07:002011-05-24T07:16:31.293-07:00Life Of Birds: Cassidix Mexicanus PeruvianusThe Great-tailed Grackle says: If my whole body lay limp and dying in
the rain, would you still see me? Would you know how it felt? Other types of
feeling, being, knowing all mixed up in one big way so as to make it hard to
figure out which way is up and you only know how to feel the rain as it pelts
you, molds you, moves you to consider just for a second, like a moment, how
mysterious this life Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-64007211269290371662011-05-05T07:11:00.000-07:002011-05-06T04:13:57.768-07:002011-05-06T04:13:57.768-07:00Empty NightThe sun is melting. Like an egg in a frying pan. You turn on the lights and here come the bugs, the frogs and toads that eat the bugs and you have to turn off the lights because there are so many bugs. Sitting in the dark, looking out into the night. It reminds you of being a kid, the blue vinyl luggage on top of the car, tied down with a rope and tight tight knots. Bugs are smeared across every Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-64075021089775504532011-04-28T09:22:00.000-07:002011-04-28T15:30:40.327-07:002011-04-28T15:30:40.327-07:00Life Of Birds: Ramphastos SulfuratusThe Keel-billed Toucan says: And I´m still wondering what it means to be on the other side of the sky and me; a blind wind, a blind sea, under the sun and clouds that see more like people do looking over a skyscraper in a city staring down at me, like a speck on a wave of everything, moving against me (always against me!) and sometimes with me long enough to where I barely feel anything at all. Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-54518499622606677302011-04-04T09:09:00.000-07:002011-09-02T04:56:49.259-07:002011-09-02T04:56:49.259-07:00WindowsAnother Trouble
When they found the horse dead in the field they told him he should burn it. He sat thinking about this and about how the horse had gone and died in the first place. Nothin around him told him. Not a trace. Not a clue. He thought maybe a snake had gone and bit it in the middle of the night. Or maybe it was sick and dying all along and just so happened to drop dead a few hours Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-51874769988237780612011-03-25T09:32:00.000-07:002011-04-28T09:39:11.498-07:002011-04-28T09:39:11.498-07:00Dead Man FloatWhen I got to the beach it was hard to walk right. The rocky dirt road, about four or five miles worth, made it so my hands wouldn´t stop shaking. And it was hot. So hot I thought my plastic water bottle would melt if the water in it started boiling in the sun. But not long later the pains from a long bike ride blew away with the breeze from the deep blue ocean that sparkled like champagne does Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-41627254572320087262011-03-16T10:35:00.001-07:002011-05-06T06:31:10.166-07:002011-05-06T06:31:10.166-07:00Another Way To Think
You´re OK.
You have what you need.
You´re passing through
That´s all.
Not so strange.
But kinda strange.
The mountains, jungle, people.
Things you haven´t seen before.
And you know they know this.
This could get strange.
Honestly.
But you´re OK.
And if you feel like missing home.
Don´t, don´t look back.
Someone once told me:
You are the happiest
The farther you are
Away from Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-73413900924798637482011-03-03T06:28:00.001-08:002011-03-04T06:05:18.408-08:002011-03-04T06:05:18.408-08:00HiatusI haven´t done an impromptu post in quite some time but seein´ as my computer´s been deader than four AM on Sunday mornin´ for about the last month or so I kinda have to make do with what I wanna say at this very moment in a hostel downtown around nine o´clock on Thursday morning. I hope to fix my computer soon but it´s becoming clear that this won´t be an easy task and there´s nothing wrong withChristopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-82435621634625502892011-02-27T16:35:00.000-08:002011-04-28T09:47:13.320-07:002011-04-28T09:47:13.320-07:00Literary Interlude: Cortázar
I touch your mouth, I touch the
edge of your mouth with my finger, I am drawing it as if it were something my
hand was sketching, as if for the first time your mouth opened a little, and
all I have to do is close my eyes to erase it and start all over again, every
time I can make the mouth I want appear, the mouth which my hand chooses and
sketches on your face, and which by some chance that I Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-48864921226122715162011-02-02T11:48:00.001-08:002011-02-08T08:26:50.066-08:002011-02-08T08:26:50.066-08:00La MatanzaMatanza literally means "the killing" in English and putting one on is one of the many acts of generosity Panamanians do during the long summer months. I went to my first one last Friday, the second one this year in Flores. My neighbor left at about four in the morning along with five other guys to kill the cow, (hence the name). I left a little before noon with a couple of Peace Corps trainees, Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-32218465720797774152011-01-21T07:55:00.000-08:002011-01-21T07:55:40.179-08:002011-01-21T07:55:40.179-08:00ReflectionLast week I welcomed 42 trainees to Panama. This is the latest group to arrive, the 67th to serve in Panama, and their energy seemed so familiar. I was in their shoes just a little over nine months ago and it was nice answering questions, talking about Las Flores and meeting people from all over the US. I'll be hosting a couple of aspirantes next week where I'll get to show 'em around Flores and Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-47118044015519640792011-01-17T06:13:00.000-08:002011-01-17T07:19:26.603-08:002011-01-17T07:19:26.603-08:00A Good WordLa Vaina is a Peace Corps Panama newsletter made by volunteers. It has essays, photos, blog entries, things like that. I wasn't planning on submitting anything until Allison, a friend who happens to be an editor of the newsletter, read the following essay and asked if she could put it in the January 2011 issue. An excerpt from my blog post, Country Home, was in the October 2010 issue.
es• Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7282365486480484275.post-49206259907462658032011-01-14T12:21:00.000-08:002011-04-15T08:58:21.936-07:002011-04-15T08:58:21.936-07:00Life Of BirdsUnfortunately the roosters make more noise than the rest of them, especially in the mornings when they're most commonly heard. But if you can block out the roosters you'll hear the whistles and peeps, chirps and chimes from the birds that live within earshot of my balcony. They are calmly chaotic sounds, like when an orchestra is warming up, and on most mornings I'll wake up, lay in the hammock, Christopher Colwellhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15409498401944572037noreply@blogger.com1