A horse of a different color.

When you are traveling in another country, far away from what is normal for you, you may take on a more adventurous attitude than you usually have. You may feel compelled to try new things, things that you would never do at home, or things you would never have the opportunity to do at home. And you should do them. New experiences are what travel is all about.

Why not try this food? Why not eat this fruit I’ve never heard of? Why not travel in the back of a pick-up truck? Why not climb down to this cenote on this rickety old ladder that has obviously not been inspected by a government safety department of some kind? One time, I asked myself, “Why not get painted blue by the locals in an indigenous village in the middle of the Panamanian rainforest?” I mean, really. Why not?

One of my first trips to Latin America was to Panama, with some former coworkers who were doing research in the rainforest. We were going to the Darién Province, which borders Colombia and is the least developed part of the country. It is home to the Emberá (or Chocó) Indians, and an abundance of flora and fauna. And that's about all. To get there, we flew in a small plane from Panama City. It fit the seven of us and the pilot. They had to know our weight to know how to distribute us in the plane, for maximum safety or something. So, for whatever reason, I was put directly next to the pilot. In the front of the plane. Like a copilot, only without an ounce of knowledge about how to fly the plane or copilot the plane or anything regarding the plane except how to sit in it and buckle my seatbelt.

I was a bit nervous at first, but it was pretty hot in the plane, and the others in back did not have a view of anything outside. They only had the motion of flying, heat, and a lack of air. You know what that means – some of my travel companions were tossing their cookies while I just looked out the front window. I had no idea what was going on back there. Luckily the engine was pretty loud.

We landed on a dirt airstrip, and that is when the men from the photo in this blog entry carried our bags down to the river. At the river, we set up transport with some men who took us to our destination in dugout canoes with outboard motors. This canoe trip took a few hours up the Tuira River. We saw tiny villages on the shores of the river and children ran out to wave to us. We were on a river, in a rainforest. And there was so much to take in. It was beautiful and amazing.

We spent the next several days in a village on the shores of the river, visiting families and learning about their lives, seeing (and buying) their handmade baskets and other crafts, hiking through the rainforest studying plants and learning about the many creatures living there. We stayed in a “guest hut,” slept on the floor under mosquito netting, bathed in the river. For a couple hours at night, the generator would produce enough electricity for some lights. This was a rather new development for the village at the time. Light bulbs were a new technology. This short period of time with electricity allowed a little cantina to open for a while each evening, and for my friend Ande and I to go grab a cold beer. Well, it was a beer at least.

This is the hut on the hill, where we stayed.

  

The Emberá women, for special occasions, paint themselves with an indigo dye that is made from a local tree berry. They are painted in beautiful, geometric designs from chin to toe. On their beautiful, dark skin, these designs were amazing. We were intrigued. So Ande, our friend Sandy, and I asked if we could also be painted. “When in Rome...” we thought.

So one afternoon, we were painted. The local women sometimes wore shirts and sometimes they didn’t. When they got painted, they did not wear shirts. And since our entire torsos would be void of any design if we didn’t, we decided to completely do as the locals did and bare it all. I know we Americans are a little prudish when it comes to that. Topless beaches are not the norm in the U.S., so we are just not accustomed to letting it all hang out as it were. But on that day, we did. It was quite liberating. I mean no one cared except us. I think the bigger interest was in how white we were.

My friend Ande is a red head, and she has lovely, porcelain skin. To say I have porcelain skin is a stretch. Pasty is a little too negative. Milky white? Still no. How about pale? Yes, I am pretty pale. And although able to achieve a tan, I can burn but good. Which I did, on the way to the village in the dugout canoe. I was relaxing in the boat, letting my hands drag in the water, and the lack of sunscreen and reflection off the water caused the tops of my hands and forearms to basically fry. So they were rather red when the woman was painting us. She wanted to know what was wrong with me, that is how strange it looked to her. When I was painted, I was a lovely red, white and blue – the colors of both the U.S. and Panamanian flags. 

Here I am, right after the paint job.

Oh, but I didn’t know how blue I really was until the next morning. I woke up, under the mosquito netting, and one of my hands was in front of my face. Yes, it had been blue the day before. I would say a light, rather transparent coating of blue dye. But that morning, I was shocked to see how much it had darkened. We looked like the Na’vi in Avatar, only a darker blue (although I didn’t have that reference back then). It went from our feet up to our chins, just like the local women. “How long would it last?” we asked. “A few weeks,” we were told.  Ahhh, a few weeks. Super!

Now you see what I mean when I say "blue." Yeah, it darkened up a bit.
This is Ande (right) and me, with some of the girls from the village as
they performed a traditional dance around us. You can see they were also
painted, but with different results.  

But we honestly did not care that it was so dark and would last for so long. It was cool! It was a beautiful work of art on our bodies. We had full body tattoos, without the pain or permanence. It looked totally different on our white skin, this is true; I thought it looked much better on Emberá skin than on mine. But it was amazing that they had done that for us. Yes, we paid for it (not much), but they didn’t have to share that tradition with complete strangers. But they did. And it was as much fun as it was liberating. 

Since it was so hot and humid in the rainforest, and since we were often in the river cooling off, most of the dye on our faces had faded by the time we were to return home. But it was about six weeks before every bit of dye had disappeared from my body. The last place was on my back, right where the arm attaches. (Do I not wash there as much or what?) I was kind of sad to see the last of it go.

So you see, sometimes stepping out of your usual comfort zone is worth it. Taking that leap – even out of the comfort of your t-shirt – is sometimes worth the risk. I am not encouraging you to do stupid things while you are traveling. But there will be chances you get as you travel that will not come by you again. You will see things you will never see again. You will have the opportunity to participate in once-in-a-lifetime events. So to that I say “Yes, do it. Throw caution to the wind.” It makes travel that much more memorable. And you won’t be blue for missing a great experience.