They call it “Fiestas Patrias” here in Panama, or “Nation Party” in English, but it's meaning gets lost in translation. This last weekend I attended a parade that was held on November 3rd and 4th that consisted of regional bands, universities, schools, public protection groups, and clubs parading through the streets of Calle 50 and Via Espana, respectively.

When I was introduced to Dr. Stanely Heckadon, I didn´t know if I'd be disecting critters or just taking a tour or what. I got a phone call at 8:30 in the morning asking if I wanted to go to the The Laboratorio Marino on Isla Galeta and although not knowing what to expect I agreed. Because thats the type of person I am. I didn't have much time, so I hopped in a cab to the Smithsonian and off into a different world I went. When I arrived at The Smithsonian I found a beautiful piece of land that sort of reminds me of a pretty college campus. As you walk from the outdoor corridor you enter a manicured courtyard which has a giant tree in the middle that has crawling all over it.

Maid service and comfy beds are fine for a while, but it's like living with your parents: cozy, easy, and mindlessly humdrum. Balboa and I were looking for something a little different. We wanted to find someplace new and beautiful and exciting—and we didn't want to travel too far. So we started off cruising along the Pacific coast, where the mountains and the forests and the sea are sexy.

When Dr. Stanley Heckadon-Moreno—director at The Smithsonian Institute—invited me to go with him for a day of research to Isla Galeta—a marine science center on Panama's Caribbean coast—I looked around my apartment for anything that might conceal my scientific incompetence. I wanted something that would say I was experienced; that I had done this sort of thing before. I searched my drawers but all I could come up with was a broken compass and one of those oversized pencils with pictures of ninja turtles on it—they would have to do. This Smithsonian journey was on like Donkey Kong.

For the most part, I have tried only to write blogs about interesting topics. I have intentionally (and I think, for the most part, successfully) written about meaningful things like traveling around Panama and culinary feats I've found to be impressive. I've tried not to write, what we've now termed as 'the cheese sandwich blog': the boring account that emanates from long periods of time holed up in ones own apartment or jail cell, and that inevitably includes phrases like “today I ate a cheese sandwich.” For one, I don't eat cheese because I am allergic to it. And two, I just don't think cheese is all that interesting.

One of my goals when knowing I was going to move to Panama was to make sure I made it in time for Carnival. I ended up arriving much earlier than anticipated and spent many months looking forward to the annual festivities. I had been told by a number of my Panamanian friends that the interior is the best place to partake in the four day celebration.

I try stress in my blogs that Panama City is a schizophrenic city and for me, this enchanting schizophrenia is what makes it such an interesting place to live. After all, where else in the world can a $1 cab ride transport you from a 600 ft. high rise to a 300 year old city in less than five minutes?