From village to village and ridge to ridge, we drift with the wind enchanted. We greet people as we climb up and down and cross small albeit fierce creeks and rivers. Gazing afar, we see the Pacific Ocean over more hills and peaks. Sometimes I am lost in what my eyes see. With so much to see and take in, we move at a snail's pace. This is the Comarca Ngäbe Buglé.
We greet people shouting “ñon toro deka” or “dre kukwe” or “¿entonces?” in the friendliest of tones. Some respond to us with a smirk of a smile, others run into the bushes (hmmm interesting). Every other house, we sit with the people sharing stories, laughing, engorging on copious amount of local coffee. We explain our work to them and ask them what they produce. Most of people produce coffee and yucca for their main diet. Some have to walk days to get rice and other implements for their household. According to most people rice doesn't grow in this part of the world for one reason or other. Well, it grows, but they get empty spikelets. Kent and I ponder on some conditions that might cause this destitute of rice that people love so much. In some areas, we promise to return with answers and move on.

We climb up a steep incline hugging the slope, zigzagging left and right. We come to a rock that is size of a VW bug car. Kent steps up on to the rock looking far down into the valley. About 5 miles below us is the Tabasara River meandering left and right like a snake carving through the valley and eventually feeding into the Pacific Ocean. In silence we listen to the endless song of the river. A smooth wisp of the wind passes through the grass breaking my attention. This is a delicious view, an experience that is purely innocent, sweet, and tender; my soul is soaked. My whole being is one with the wind, rock, sun, birds, and the trees as I imbibe my surrounding through every pore. I go and come with strange but delightful union in what I see, a part of nature. I close my eyes and feel the wind on my face as it whips across the mountain. The feeling of freedom from being here in this place makes my whole body shiver. It's strange yet wonderful.

On top of the Banco is an empty lawn with 360 degrees of stunning beauty. The dwarf trees on the roof of the Banco look like mosses holding on for dear life. The majestic continental-divide juts into the sky to the north and the glimmering Pacific Ocean commands the view to the horizon in the south. A soft pink, radiant sun dips behind Hato Chami in the west. The brilliant color of the sun is turning the surrounding mountains into a masterpiece of light and shadows. The silhouette and the contour of the mountains display a great painting. The magical colors evoke a feeling of wonder at this dwarf (my town's people claim there are dwarf on this mountain) infested land for the two lone figures perched on a mountain watching the planet pass. The colors fade quickly. Pink and lavenders deepen to dark blue and black. The land below us becomes dim and mute. In the distance, we can see civilization emanate warm light on us. It is suddenly cold, creepy. I bust out my machete and hack our way through a patch of woods looking for some trees to provide us refuge for the night. While Kent puts up the tent, I chop up some wood and make a fire as our sentinel from the night crawling dwarfs and tigres. The young crescent moon shines across the dark sky revealing every detail in the valley below us. The wind and the chill make me edgy and I run into the tent hoping to evade my fears.

A sleepless night due to the cold, I throw my backpack over me to trap the heat. My whole body tightens in fear that the wind might carry us away. Last nights's blowing gales recede to episodic gusts. It is no comfort to know that nippy air and violent winds are normal and expected weather on this hill. My guess is that the wind is caused by continental differences in air pressure modified by the topography. It is generally dry in this area and cold and rainy in the near by continental divides and thus the cold front rushes down the valley smothering anything in its way. According to the local source, its always windy here. Thus no one resides on top of this beautiful mountain.This morning's sun is bright, but the wind steals its warmth. We take in the last view of our surroundings and climb down the hill. We look for the hidden trail under the over grown grass. Last time we came the trail was visible, but today we've to guess our way. I can hardly spot Kent about 50 ft. ahead of me. Occasionally we gritar or shout at each other to know our whereabouts.
We visit our friends that were expecting us with their photos taken couple of months ago. Joyful of our arrival, they were a little worried that we wouldn't return. As we hand over their photos, they look with amazement and embarrassment. Some of these people have never seen photos of themselves before and I was wondering what it was going through their head. I remember the first time I saw my photo in Nepal. I was awed and kind of embarrassed how serious I looked next to my grandmother. Ever since then I have decided to smile for all the photos of me. I wonder if these people will think the same...
We drift on with the wind towards my village, occaisionaly stopping to chat with the people. Most people ask us what our mission is in suspicion that we might be miners looking for gold or other natural resources. We explain to them what we do and name people in my town, alas they are quick to be friendly again since most people around here are related to each other. Back in the day outsiders used to prance around this areas looking for possible mining sites. These people are naturally afraid of loosing their land and thus are skeptic.
With torching sun above us and hungry stomach, we concentrate on getting home. We visit some people I know and they offer us with coffee with copious amount of sugar to help us through the next hill before arriving at Kalli's house, where a live chicken awaits my razer-edged machete.
Alas we arrive at Kalli's. She greets us with beef jerky sent to her from United States of America. God Bless America!! A blessing to my mouth. I can no longer fend off this hunger and so I sharpen my machete as Kent runs after the wild chicken as it runs into the bush. It knows this machete is about to go through it's neck. Alas Kent finds the chicken and he hypnotizes it before we decapitate it and take it down to the creek to eviscerate it.