We went back to my friend’s place and I began preparing my bag.  I would travel to the San Blas Islands the following morning, or so I thought.  That evening we were watching the news and Panama instituted a travel ban within the country for tourists.  Only locals were permitted to visit the country’s beaches.  It was Thursday evening and my flight to Costa Rica was already booked for Monday.  Panic struck.  If I was going to get the portrait, it was going to have to be one of the Guna women who lived in the city.  I wanted to photograph the image on an island where the indigenous community resided,  but the capital city was my only option now.

On Friday afternoon, I packed up my camera, paints and paper.  I headed to Casco Viejo where I had seen the vendors set up shop.  My friend was working that day and couldn’t accompany me.  I was on my own and I was horrified.  I’d never had to explain my project in its entirety in Spanish before.  There had already been a miscommunication with Nereydas in Mexico about the painting component and I had sent her a detailed written document translated into Spanish in advance.  What could possibly go wrong?

When I arrived at the vendor’s corridor, there was only one woman set up there.  I walked by, smiled and said hello.  She was friendly, but I kept walking.  I wasn’t ready yet.  I did a lap around the old town and sat for a while staring out into the sea.  After running through the Spanish dialogue in my head a few more times, I got up and made my way back to her table.  I started browsing her goods.  Looking through a stack of embroidered patches, she named each animal on them.  I found one with a lizard and bought it, hoping that if I supported her she would be keen on being a part of the project.

I started the conversation by saying I had a question.  Then, I rattled on in my best broken spanish.  Being that Panama was only the second country I’d visited, I had no way of showing her an example of what I was talking about.  Once I had finished, I asked her if she wanted to be a part of it.  She said no.  I don’t know if she wasn’t interested, or if she had no idea as to what I was even talking about.  I thanked her for the embroidered patch and left. 

It was now Friday evening.  Two days left.  I returned to my friend’s house and explained what had happened.  He laughed and blamed it on my Spanish.  I agreed.  Then he mentioned a colleague of his who runs an organization for the Guna people.  In fact, he was Guna himself.  I reached out to him and we set up a call for the following morning.  On the phone I explained the project and my failed attempt at photographing the woman in Casco Viejo.  He commented that the strategy seemed rather invasive and I couldn’t have agreed more.  I explained my original intent to visit the islands and immerse myself in their culture.  I mentioned how I planned to work with local organizations in each country and develop a system to give back to those communities.  I told him how my actions the day before were out of desperation because of the flight to Costa Rica which was fast approaching.  With this, he mentioned that he had an aunt living in Panama City who would probably do it.  I thanked him immensely for saving me on this one and we organized to shoot the next day.

I coordinated the details with his cousin.  We would meet at Casco Viejo.  I had decided that in the photo I wanted to show the juxtaposition of colonial architecture with the dramatic city skyline.  It would prove to be a dynamic backdrop against the intricate embroidered clothing worn by the Guna people.  Albecia and her daughter arrived.  She was wearing the most beautiful handmade yellow and green clothing.  I spoke to her daughter in Spanish and she would translate to her native Guna language.  This made communication rather difficult and unfortunately I never had the opportunity to have an actual conversation with Albecia.  We took the portrait, painted the line and parted ways.

I left Panama the following day with mixed emotions.  On one hand I was grateful to have gotten the project completed while there.  I got lucky with the last minute connection.  Thanks to my Panamanian friend, I was not only leaving with the portrait but also with an organization to work with.  On the other hand, I left feeling unfulfilled.  The exchange in Mexico was powerful.  In Panama, Albecia and I didn’t have the time to establish a true connection.  I knew it was the byproduct of covid restrictions and time sensitivity, but I couldn’t help thinking that it had been a missed opportunity.  It was my own unpreparedness that had led to this situation.  Now that I had experienced two opposite relationships, I knew better which direction I wanted this quest to gravitate toward.  With that newfound knowledge. I boarded the plane to Costa Rica.