Yella meets the 1000 Pound Gorilla

Yella arrived in Boquete yesterday.  She took the midnight Frontier flight to Costa Rica then Air Panama to David arriving a 1:30 pm.  Great price and a 13 hour trip.  All around the best flying to Panama yet.

Just to properly introduce her to Panama, I tell her about the progress or, more aptly put, the complete lack of progress on our house.

Last week, our builder said we would regrade the road (3 days work), paint the house (like a fool, I rushed out and bought the paint), finish the tile (oh ya, that's a biggie, he was 99% done already) and cut up all the felled trees.

None of it, nada, happened.

I lost the battle of self control and got pissed.  I have been here 4 weeks and should know better but enough is enough.  This is, of course, the kiss of death in the realm of Panama contractors.

Now for Yella.

She jumped on board, got pissed and layout out, to me before we meet with him, that we would start charging him for stuff not completed on time.  I have trouble even typing "on time" in Panama because I am racked with hysterical laughter...not the good laughter.  The manic, maniacal nasty stuff.

I pause to wipe the snot from my upper lip.

We go round and round about what threats are going to help and what threats will cause too much damage.  I my opinion, and after all, I have been here 4 whole weeks so I know, we can't push too hard.

Round and round we go...

Then to top it all off, he calls late Friday afternoon and wants us to meet him at the bank the next day to pay him.  Hell, it takes me at least 7 days just to get him to answer his phone and he wants us to pay him in the next 18 hours!  Forget it!

So we meet him at the bank the next day.

Now the 1000 pound gorilla arrives...the contractor disguised as a nice guy with all the answers.  How does he do it?

For Gods sake,  we pay him and feel good about it.  Someone please just shoot me now.

Yella is all a glow with confidence about his promised performance but I know...

For Yella, this is the first time meeting the 1000 pound gorilla so we must forgive her.  After all, if I'm still going up and down every 7 days from high to low, why shouldn't she? 

Yella says to me today: "Doesn't this feel like a multi-level marketing scam, with everybody living down here saying how great it is, so the real estate value will go up, when in reality it is just frustrating here?"  

Some times it feels like than. Where is that salad from yesterday that tastes like desert? 

Oh ya, I have to sign up 3 people under me to sell lettuce and tell every one how great it is, then I get rich eating salad.

It was a bad day.  Can you tell?

This isn't Kansas anymore, Toto!

Living in the USA gives us experiences and ways of thinking that are now transparent to most of us. We don't notice the large body of thoughts, values and expectations that are seamlessly woven into the fabric of life...We don't notice it and are not conscious of it.

Unless you travel outside the USA.  Then this hits you in the face point blank.  Here are a few of them that have come up in the last couple of days.

Driving somewhere:  We expect to get in the car, drive and arrive where we intend to go.  Right?  Barring an obvious problem like a blizzard (just to rub it in, I must point out that we don't have that anymore) we think we will get there.

I was driving to David, a town 30 miles south of Boquete to buy some tires for the Beast, my diesel Toyota.  Twenty minutes into the trip, traffic stopped and was backed up a mile.  Everyone was out of their car walking up the road to the problem.

An accident, you say.  No.  A protest.  I thought this was a American tradition but it turns out that the Panamanians have it down.  They simply fell a tree across the road and talk to anyone who will listen.

I turned around and went the long way around...adding over ninety minutes to a 45 minute trip.  Last I heard, the governor of Chirique was on his way to talk to the protesters.  I guess it works!

Now more about electric power than you probably want to know.  

They told us Boquete gets "brown outs."  You and I in the USA know about brown outs--a slight dimming of the lights, a condition rarely if ever experienced.  We must not have that, damn it.

Here, a brown out is best described as a black out.  The voltage drops so low that refrigerators, microwaves, computers all quit running.  Everyone has low voltage protectors on everything.

But this is not all the story.  Here's the part that is too much information, so shut up and learn something.

220V into your house is actually two 110V lines forming two distinct legs of power for your various 11oV stuff.  You probably don't know this because in the USA our power is PERFECT like everything else.  ( I know, you are now writing your list of all the stuff that is not perfect back home, but just stop it.  Compared to the rest of the world, you live in perfection.)

Now, back to the two 110V lines.  Here one side of the 110V may have full voltage and the other side may be low.  This creates a vicious problem to solve with power.  Gringos here actually know this stuff...just to survive.  Every house here has a voltage tester, go figure.

And you thought you had it bad.

I hesitate to bring up hot water in the this blog.  I should dedicate a book to this but here goes.

We Americans love our hot water, yes we do!  We use copious amounts of it and we love it so much that we store it in 50 gallon tanks that always have hot water ready just for you.  We don't even think about it.  It is just the way it is.  No one really ever considers how much that costs but it is expensive.

In Panama (and, most of the rest of the world) hot water is a luxury that only the wealthy use.  It is produced by an "on-demand", normally gas flame, water heaters.  

This is where it gets tricky.  If you take a shower, the first minute or so is hot, then it gets cold for a couple of minutes, then it gets hot for a minute and so on.  Very frustrating.

You try dancing in and out of the shower wet and naked.  Not a pretty picture, is it.

In another blog, I will explain why.  It is too lengthy for this one.

While in the shower, the bottle of gas may run out adding another dimension of discomfort to a cold, wet shower.

Plus, "D" size batteries provide the ignition for the gas flame and they may be used up.

All in all, a hot shower is very rare and a highly prized luxury coveted by most.

So there you have it.  Three examples of how American thinking "just ain't so" down here.

So you ask, "how can you live down there?"  I'll tell you.

This morning I went to a state of the art, hydroponic farm and bought freshly cut, as I watched,  lettuce that was perfect.  3 heads of Romain, 2 heads of butternut and  a head of red lettuce.  Plus a half a dozen red peppers that are as sweet as apples.  

I paid $4.  And, I will have a salad today and for the rest of the week that tastes like desert.

That just one reason.

A 2 Nap Day

I can't remember what I did today.  No, I'm not drunk or stoned.  Life is definitely slowing down. 

 There was no one working on my house today and I couldn't even work up a good resentment.  

Should I start worrying about myself?

The antibiotics are kicking in and my sinus infection is on the way out.  Man, do I feel better.  I took a 2 hour walk today and it felt wonderful.  I have been dragging and didn't even know it.

Last night I decided to go to Christophe's restaurant and have his spectacular fish.  When I got there, every seat was taken (only about 20 seats).  And, no one had been served yet so waiting was out of the question.  I went the long way around to Aura's, a small Panamanian house restaurant, and it was closed.  Damn, they have great fish too.

By this time I was not only hungry but frustrated.

I stopped at Amigos, mainly a bar but serving food.  It was packed with gringos and Hispanics.  A couple I know invited me to sit with them which was great because I was feeling low by this time.  We had to shout to carry on a conversation.

This leads me to my point.  Why do drunks talk so loud?  Now, this should be a rhetorical questions because I used to be a major drunk.  You guessed it, I was too drunk to remember.

Sitting next to me was a young lady, well not a lady, she was too drunk to be classified a lady. She had one of those voices that resembles a fog horn driven by 3 dozen air compressors.  Her voice was thin and sharp with a stiletto, penetrating quality. like an ice pick pounded through your ear.  As I would speak to my friends, she would say something--she talked incessantly all evening about I don't know what--and I simply could not maintain my thought.

She blasted my sensibilities right out of my head.  To bad I was trying to spend time with my friends.  

She should rent herself out to crazy people.  All she will have to do is talk and whatever insane nonsense was embedded in their thinking will be exorcised out...simply with her voice.  She could be a one woman psychiatric clinic with a 100% success ratio.

If I am ever nuts again, and you can count on that, I will look her up so she can stop my crazy thinking with her VOICE.  I'm sure she could be an asset to Panama if utilized as say a strategic weapon or something.

It is beyond me how Amigos stays so busy.  All they serve is deep fat fried food which is way over priced.  I hope the booze is good because there is no other reason to go there.  Well, during the day, a lot of people go there and hang out so it is useful to meet friends...and they have the best wifi connection in town.  But, I can't for the life of me figure out why we eat their food!

After we ate, we all said, "Live and learn!"  The learning curve is steep here.  

Doesn't matter, I still love Panama.

I included a picture of our guest house just to spur those of you planning on visiting into action. Roofs on, not far to go!  Get your airline tickets while they are still cheap.

The OK Corral at Banistmo Bank

This is a bonus blog.  2 in one day.

I have been dreading going to the bank.  We have never done the most routine banking transactions, depositing and withdrawing.  I know, this sounds rudimentary, but you try it when you don't speak the language.

I sit down at the help desk and ask the girl (yes she really was a girl.  Don't get all politically correct on me, OK) for help and she says her first lie, "yes."  A big fat lie!

Most of people I have dealt with at the bank are great, but not this girl.  I think it was the hot pink lipstick on this shrimp the tipped me off that things were not going to go well.

I ask for a printed statement of both accounts.  She says, "you must use the computer on line."  I tell her they change the damn password at random and it doesn't work. She argues with me.

Finally, I tell I will pay her to do it.  Okay.  Then she asks if I am Yella.  No.  Now we go through Round Two.  Back and forth...back and forth...finally, I pull out a big enough hammer and she relents and takes all of 15 seconds to get the reports.

Round Three.

I ask for help with the withdrawal and deposit forms.  She points to the form table.  By now, the fighting lines have been drawn.

I snip, "how the hell can I tell which one is which when I don't speak Spanish?"  She responds with something I don't understand but I do understand...you get the picture.  She begrudgingly helps me with one slip but won't budge with the other one.

A draw at best.

I stand in the counter line to try the actual transactions.  A much nicer person,  without hot pink lipstick I might add, helps and...

I did it!  Victory!  Hallelujah!  Trumpets play, the heavens open up...

Not really, but that's what it felt like.

Like I said at the end of the last blog entry, the simplest of things mastered seems like such a major victory.

Move Over, There is a New Doctor in the House

About 10 days before Christmas, I got a cold.  This really torqued me because I never get sick.  

Even worse, the damn thing came back at the first of the year.  Now I was really upset.  And it is still hanging on.  I can't shake it.

Ah, but I am a man.  We must be tough, be determined, be...well, stupid.  I will not succumb to going to a doctor.  Never!  

The cold won.  Who ever heard of cold lasting 5 weeks.  It has beat me into submission.  

So I called a friend to get a recommendation for a doctor.  Now, this is what I love about Panama.  She said, "Oh, I get sinus infections from time to time and here is what the doctor prescribes..."  I say I'll need to go to the doctor and get a prescription and she says, no you don't.  You just go to the pharmacy and buy it.

Whoa.  Not bad.

I can buy them today and start the medication, not having to wait until tomorrow and pay more money to see a doctor.  But, there is some risk.  Why not, I'm in a somewhat lawless land, Panama.

The comedy of errors is about to start.

I go to the preferred pharmacy, Any's.  Theoretically, some of them speak English, but not this time.

I order the drugs and they bring them out.  But I notice much chatter and sideways glances at me.  I am getting decidedly weird and thinking I should flee before I am arrested for buying some kind of illegal drug.  I must have inadvertently ordered cocaine or something.

I come to find out I had just ordered $400 worth of drugs because I asked for 30 pills when I only needed 4.  

Someone took pity on me and got an English speaking person.  Thank you!  We got it straightened out and I walk out with a reasonable amount of drugs, about $60 for 2 prescriptions.

Now, I don't know the dosage so I call my friend and get it.  But, I am spooked now.  So I get on line and look it up.

All is well, the drugs appear to be appropriate.  We shall see.

The simplest of things are no longer easy.  But it sure is fun to beat the system!

How to Create Your Own Insanity

Step One.  Set an expectation.

Step Two.  Actually try to make it happen.

Step Three.  Make up plenty of interpretations explaining not getting what you want.

Step Four.  Repeat Step One through Step Three liberally. Until you are totally crazy.

Last Monday, I asked my builder to go with me to the electric department to get a contract to install the power poles to my property.  He said, this being the fatal flaw, call me and we will go.

After three or four calls a day, with no answer or call back, all week, I was furious.   I decided: he's avoiding me; he is fed up with me; he has make a terrible mistake and doesn't want to tell me; Panamanians use avoidance when they simply don't want to deal with you;  I will never get electricity to my house;  the entire move to Panama was a mistake; he has procrastinated dealing with the electric service for some unknown reason; and so on...

In desperation, I went to his house late Friday afternoon.  I really didn't want to be the pushy American and show up at his house, but I was totally insane at this point and would have traveled on foot to China if necessary.  He is leisurely shoeing his horse and appears a little annoyed that I invaded his private domain.  Too bad!  Grrrr!  

He then tells me he submitted all necessary paper work and permits for the electric installation a while back.  He explained the details of the process and what would happen next.  He also told me all that he had done last week and it was impressive.  In short, he had been doing his job.

Now for the ambiguous part.  

He claims his cell phone is broken and gives me a new phone number.  I have no way of knowing if this is indeed the truth or if I am being played.  Locals laugh at me when I tell them the story.  And, his old phone is still supposed to be working...a little.

I may never know.  People tell me, you get used to it.  Hmmm...

  

Bumper Cars Latin Style

It's been a few days.  I have been so frustrated with my  inability to get anything done that I have been unable to screw up any humor.  So here is my feeble attempt.

My thoughts about driving in Panama.

Yesterday evening, in total darkness, the car in front of me had no tail lights, the car at the intersecting road had no lights what so ever and, of course, it was raining.  

I had a firm grip on the steering wheel, with white knuckles, eyes scanning the horizon, periodically gazing behind me, at an elevated state of consciousness.  It was not enough.  

You can NEVER let your guard down driving in Panama.  A simple loss of attention will cost you a accident because you can't logically predict what the traffic...vehicles, pedestrians, bicycles, etc...will do.

Anything is possible.  Cars stop on the road.  Cars blow by you at insane speeds, in the middle of a congested village.   And the all time favorite, driving 5 to 10 miles per hour, yes truly that slow, forever and ever!

Now about the horn.  I like the way they use the horn...liberally and with purpose.  

I must mention this first.  Rarely does a Panamanian driver act in anger.  This is very important. If the horn was used in anger, all the benefit and courtesy would be lost.  This absence of anger is so un-American!  Where is the finger when you need it?

The horn is tapped to let a pedestrian known a car is approaching; when you are going to pass; if you think someone might pull out in front of you; to move someone over (this is required a lot); to give someone permission to pull out; to say hi; and, sometimes, just to pass the time of day.

Needless to say, a car without a horn is impotent.  You might as well be out of fuel if your horn is broken.

Another hazard from left field.  They tint all the window glass very dark.  At night you simply can't see.  I frequently roll down my side windows to get a good look.  Am I the only one who looks?  

So, is it dangerous to drive or ride?  Hmmm?  Yes and no.  All vehicles, that is every last one, has some kind of minor damage.  But is this so different than home?  No one in panama repairs damage so all of it is visible.  Thankfully, they have no incestuous relationship with sheet metal as we do in the good ole USA.  This incessant running down to the body shop to repair dents is preposterous and we should be ashamed of ourselves.  Really!

All kidding aside, there is real danger with the drunks on the road.  It gets amplified because vehicles sometimes have no lights.  I am a little hesitant to drive at night when drunkenness is more prevalent.

So. if you are looking for aversion therapy for your OCD fixing of dents, come on down.

If you are an adventure seeker, a roller coaster rider, jump out of airplanes, play Russian Roulette, come on down.

If you have an obsession with fixing automobile lights, for God's sake, come on down!

Ear Plugs: The Quintessential Panama Necessity!

My friend said Panama has 2 volumes: loud and louder.  This is a gross understatement.

Panama has ear splitting, head rattling, chest pounding, migraine starting, sleep depriving, body rush noise.  Really!

Boquete is in the middle of the Flower Festival, so there are lots of people.  And, when you have lots of people, a low life form of human fungus erupts...politicians.  And Boquete has broken out in presidential candidates.

As I was walking on the main drag, a line of over 100 cars started to pass me.  Each car had big flags with the candidates name proudly displayed.  All honking their horns...non-stop, continuously, making a brain rattling screech.  Added to this, the cars are full of people, all leaning out the windows and yelling.  Plus, a B-boy sound system fit for a rave is cranked up and booming.  And, people on the side of the road are screaming, trying to get the politicos attention so they will throw tee shirts to them.  Loud, louder, and very loud.  

At least, this is during the day.

The main noise event starts at 10 pm and goes to 4 am.  That's right, 4 AM!

I thought the Flower Festival would be a quite, sedate, well...flowery sort of thing.  Not on your life.  This is just a thinly veiled excuse for a PARTY!  

I watched them build a series of stages that would make Woodstock proud.  They worked all week, with professional sound and staging teams brought in from Panama City.  They erected a network of walkways, platforms and stages from 5 to 30 feet off the ground.  Then they added rock concert style lighting and last but not least...THE SOUND SYSTEM.  

I don't know where they got this system.  The decibels would dwarf an AC/DC concert in their prime.  I happened to walk by when they did a sound check.  It almost knocked me to the ground.  I was stupefied.

Friday night they cranked it up.  I was a mile away...a mile away!  The volume still pounded my chest.  Sleep was not an option.  For anyone within 10 miles.  I know you think I'm exaggerating.  I'm not.  Mercifully, they stop at 4 am.  

Now for the Creme De Le Creme.  They play Spanish techno.  The same song.  The same beat. All night.  And again tonight.  And for the next 8 nights.

A friend took pity on me and gave me ear plugs.  God bless her!

I will say this: these people know how to party.  They make us in our hippy heyday look like amatures. 

Any culture that can party this hard is to be revered.

Party on, dude! 

Hurry Up & Wait

Things down here go at their own pace.  

I have been trying to get an Internet provider to survey our property for an installation since Sunday.  He finally showed up today, at the last minute.   My second appointment didn't show up at all.

And that's the way it goes.  Here are some more quirky aspects to Panama that make me chuckle.

They are "fixing" the potholes in the black top, asphalt road in front of the fair grounds for the festival.  The holes are filled with sand...that's it...no asphalt patch, just sand.  Of course, the sand is pushed out of the potholes in a matter of hours.  You might say, why bother.  I can't answer that but it made me laugh.

The curtains in my room are floor to ceiling panels of material.  They are bunched in the middle to open the curtains.  The way the curtains are pulled together in the middle is by bundling the middle with wire and plastic bag ties...like the ones you get to close plastic bread sacks.  I can see using a rope or string or ribbon but bag ties?  Only in Panama!

My days have been somewhat busy but the nights are lonely with Yella still in Colorado.  I typically eat dinner alone, then return to my room to read and sleep.  Meeting people this trip has been more difficult, probably because Yella is more social than I am.

This evening, I was walking past the festival grounds and saw an friend from a past trip.  She invited me over to meet her friends and join them.   A little bit of friendship and camaraderie goes a lone way to dispelling loneliness!   They went out of their way to include me in their group.  I am very appreciative.

One last thing.  Keith helps people buy used cars here.  Buying a used car is tricky in Panama because they rarely maintain anything.  Typically, they sell the car when it runs out of oil, having never changed it.  So, you can imagine the challenge.  Keith has been here a while and knows cars so he locates, checks out and licenses cars for us green gringos.  

I have him looking for a Toyota, 4x4 truck because our road is a mess...a huge mess and I won't fix it because my neighbors (except Bill) won't chip in to help pay for it.  So, I will buy whatever it takes to get up the road...tank, bulldozer, off road vehicle...whatever.

Keith located a Hilux in Panama City so I am taking him to the airport tomorrow at the totally uncivil time of 6 am.  With any luck, he will return on Saturday with a truck for us.  This is one of the big milestones in the acclimation process.

Now, if I can only get the house finished in 2 weeks...

Ahhmm...maybe I should read the first line I wrote for this blog entry

The Art of Double Talk

Here is a picture of the hostel where I am staying.  I like staying at a hostel rather than a hotel because younger people tend to stay at the cheaper places.  A more interesting group.

Yesterday was a "get things done" kind of day.  I have to be careful because I am in Panama where the culture is not completion oriented.  

Among other things, I met with my builder in the afternoon.  He was 45 minutes late just to let you know how things go here.  

My builder, Toto, is a very nice guy who I like a lot.  He has done an exceptional job for us.  But, there is a communication problem created by the different native languages and the culture.  We are forever misunderstanding each other.  I just don't think it can be avoided.

And, he is a master of double talk.  A verbal slight of hand trick.  A trip down "what did he say" land.  I have pretty much given up on actually thinking that I know what he means.  

The building process here goes as it will go and no amount of guiding, influencing, nudging, forcing, begging, pleading, cajoling or just plain out requesting will influence the outcome.  

Now, for the most part, the outcome is more than satisfactory.  But...I am trying to make plans for when Yella should arrive in Panama and arrive to a house that is habitable.  There is the rub.  I will never get an expected completion date from Toto.  It moves, changes, disappears, slides around, hides and jumps.

That is just the way it is. I know, I should just accept it...but...then I have only been in Panama a couple of days and I am not fully acclimated so back off!

On another note, I ate lunch at a Panamanian cafe yesterday.  I had rice and beans and incredibly fresh cucumbers, onions and tomatoes for the grand price of $1.50.  

That certainly helps some of my frustrations!

First Night In Boquete

On my first evening in Boquete, I treated myself to one of the best restaurants in Panama. 

I met Christof, the chef, owner, et. al. last April when I spoke at the weekly expat meeting about health and aging.  He is interested in preparing healthy yet tasty meals, so he attended.  I am impressed that a French gourmet chef, an expert on food and nutrition, would take time to go listen to someone he doesn’t even know, on a topic in his area of expertise.  That says a lot about his dedication to his art.

This little restaurant was full with families and friends, vibrant with chatter and laughter.  He comes out, I should say, he runs out, of the kitchen and tells me he is slammed and it will take a while to get served.  His waiter failed to come to work today.  I say, “get me a cup of coffee and I’ll be happy.”  He says he doesn’t have time to make it, so I tell him it’s OK and I’ll wait.

Then, I see a friend who had asked me to speak at the weekly expat meeting last April.  He let’s me know that he is now married and his wife is pregnant so we go through a round of congratulations.  He invites me to speak again at the meeting, which I accept.  Being connected and having friends in a new country sure makes the move easier.

Meanwhile, Christof is being helped by his 8 and 11-year-old daughters.  He is running the entire restaurant with only them tonight…and he asks them to make coffee for me.  In the midst of all the chaos, he takes care of me with the assistance of these cute little girls.   

All of this moves me.  The warmth, laughter, and camaraderie in the middle of breakdown, seems so…well...personal and embracing. 

That’s what I love about Panama.  It has the ability to move me.  What a gift.

In order to round out the eclectic Panama experience, I must mention the water on the floor of my bathroom at my hostel. 

When I first see the room and the water, I do the American thing and get the maid to mop it up, which she is more than willing to do…even though she knows a leak is causing the puddle and the puddle will return quickly.  There is never a thought about FIXING the leak.  There is no such thing as maintenance in Panama.

In the USA, this would be completely unacceptable.  But in Panama, it is somehow not only tolerable but charming in a quirky way. 

To put things in perspective, I am paying $25 per night for the room with a private bath.  With a puddle thrown in for just to keep things interesting!

In the USA, everything works, all the time…or we raise such hell that it gets fixed.  I doubt that this demand for perfection ever crosses most of our minds, as if there could be any other way.

There seems to be something more human, more real, and more vital about being unable to predict exactly what will happen in the next moment.  I know this drive most people nuts, but I find it challenging and stimulating.  We’ll see how I feel after traipsing through water for 3 nights!

Oh, by the way, my trout in jalapeño sauce was magnificent!

First Night In Panama!

The car didn't stall, the airports didn't close, the airplane didn't blow up and my ride showed up in Panama City even though the airplane was an hour late.  

I made it!  Alive!  

It is so great to be in Panama.  I don't know why.  I arrived too late to go out and eat at one of the 5 star restaurants.  I am dining on coke, sugar cookies and Fritos and playing around with my Skype Internet phone which I don't think is working very well.  It is still fun.  It is making me giddy just sitting here and plunking away on this blog.

A word on air travel.  God is officially experimenting with new and better forms of hell by using air travel as His laboratory.  We were delayed an hour in Miami because of a "bureaucratic paper work problem" around a minor (translate: the toilet wouldn't flush) repair.  The pilot, who must of had a distracted moment of honesty, actually announced this to all of the passengers  over the intercom.  Fortunately, he did this in English and most of the people spoke Spanish so a riot was avoided.

However, to make up for this inconvenience, the airline supplied a screaming baby in the seat directly in front of me for the ENTIRE 2HR & 20MIN MIA to PTY trip.  This 2 year old boy had the lungs of a howler monkey on steroids.  Those darn airlines, always thinking of you.  

The service was so bad in DEN, for the check in, the airline agent never acknowledged me, made eye contact, much less spoke to me during the entire process.  I had to practically jump over the counter and to insure that my bags were tagged properly.

Enough bitching.

I am finally starting to relax.  This process has been like winding a spring tighter and tighter for 8 months.  Let the unwinding begin!

To be continued.