Music, Music and More Music

Two weeks ago, I accidently stumbled into playing music again.

Yella recruited a lady to sing Indigo Girls with her a while back.  Her husband is an extremely good guitarist.  Originally, he was going to accompany them and maybe, and I stress maybe, I would join them.

On the appointed day of the first rehearsal, I had to make an emergency trip to David so I would miss it.  And, if I missed the first rehearsal, I was not going to play with them  because it just would be too intimidating at that point to catch up.

To add to the drama of the day, the power went off everywhere around Boquete.  Do you think we would get used to this by now!  But nooooo.  We were surprised.  What's it going to take for this to soak in?

Somehow, I got back from David early.  I know, you are saying, in Panama early is impossible.  What happened?  There are small pockets of extremely competent services here, belief it or not.  I used a tire store that is one of them.  I had a new tire, mounted and balanced, with the spare tire  serviced, in under 30 minutes.  Not bad.  And they did not speak any English, not I Spanish.

So, to make a long story longer, (don't you hate it when someone says, "to make a long story short" when the short version would have been over 30 minutes ago!), I ended up over at the rehearsal...by accident...ya, that's it, by accident.  No, no, I didn't really want to play again.  It just worked out that way...you know what I mean...ya, sure...

I was intimidated to play with Gordon because he is good.  But, I knew the cords to one of the songs so I thought I had a head start and I could bungle through it.  The real truth is that he is generous and non-judgmental (isn't that an oxymoron? Is there anyone left on earth that is non-judgmental?) so he was kind and made me feel a little more secure in participating.  Bless him!

Of course, after the first rehearsal, I went into major practice to try and stay ahead of the game!  If I couldn't play well, at least I would know the material better than him.

  

A little aside about playing guitar.  When you start, your fingers get REALLY tender, this is code talk for "they hurt like hell!"  It takes time to build up calluses and finger strength.  It is important to pace yourself.  Well, I couldn't pace myself.  I was under the gun and pedaling fast to keep up.  

So, I have REALLY sore fingers.  We've been playing everyday.  Way too much for starting to play again after a 30 year hiatus.

We worked up 3 great songs, well sung, well arranged and, if I might say so myself, well played.  We all were anxious to see how people liked them.

They had a gig in a restaurant last night and invited us to play the 3 songs.  This is very generous.  Most people aren't willing to share their stage with you.  

We were a big hit.  Sounded good.  Except for the normal booboos in live performance, everything went well.

Today, their was an huge open mike at another bar and restaurant.  So, again, to a bigger and more enthusiastic crowd, we not only played the 3 songs with them, but Yella and I played a couple of songs by ourselves.

I liked it a lot.  So did Yella.  We have people clamoring for us to play at their restaurants and bars.  

Have we created a monster?

Is this our second childhood or what?

A little side bar on live performing...

A piano player tried to play Neil Young's "Southern Man" with us.  Only one problem.  He kept playing the wrong cords.  Sounded like shit in places.  For the most part, nobody notices because it is noisy in the bar and their is the speed of live performance.

Except for the other musicians, who have good ears!  One kept asking me if my guitar was in tune.  So I would strum a cord to prove it was in tune but I could see he couldn't hear through the noise and he still thought I was out of tune.

So now, someone is running around town telling everyone that I play out of tune.  (Or so I imagine)

Oh well.  You can't have it all!

It was a big music weekend!

One of the Best Days in Paradise!

Boy howdy, did I need one!

I've been losing sleep over this one.  

Wednesday, the day I dug a trench across my road, my iron worker talked me into asking my neighbor, a Panamanian, who I have never met, to help me dig the ditches.  It didn't look like he really wanted to do it but he said he would.  All this communication was translated through the iron worker who, of course, speaks English.

I was going to meet him today at 3:30 pm and work out the project.  This was the problem:  he speaks Spanish and I speak English.  Plus, he didn't look like he wanted to do it.

So I was worried that: one, I couldn't talk to him; two, he didn't want to do it; three, we would be off to a rocky neighbor relationship.  So round and round I went, ruminating, cogitating and funkitating.  Not pleasant.

A side note:  It is very important to have excellent relationships with Panamanian neighbors because, if things go poorly, they tend to cause problems from petty to life threatening.  And, if the relationship is good, they will help you in every way possible.  They can be fantastic neighbors!  So a lot was at stake in this venture.

I got to my road and noticed that an additional 3 trenches had already been completed.  Wow!  I didn't think he would even start before we met.   So I went to his casita.  It was all smiles and hellos (Buenas, hola, como esta, etc.).

What a relief.  I am always worried about the local culture.  I don't want to be the Ugly American.  God knows we have enough of that here already.  

I will say that it is amazing how much can be communicated with hand waving, a smattering of Spanish and finger pointing, and maybe most of all, an intention to do the right thing.

What a relief...I know, I already said that but this is big.  It is the first time I hired a native to work for me.  (Other than my builder, he doesn't count because he speaks English and has been Americanized.)  We are going to have to hire additional people to live here so this is a big step.

Not only that, I actually got another thing done today. 

In Panama, you are only allowed one thing a day so this was also big.  Shhh! Don't tell anyone, they'll report me to the Nothing Gets Done police.

I have been struggling to get the right tools to change our car tires.  Flat tires are a given here and I don't want to get stranded every time one goes flat.

Because I bought a 10 year old car and it's Panama, you know the rest of the story, none of the tools ACTUALLY fit anything required to change a tire.

I have been working on this since January and I'm down to the last thing.  I needed a thin walled socket to fit between the center hub cap and the nut.  Problem...what size?

I have tried to find someone with tools that I can work with to size the nut but NOOOOOO I can never be in the same place as the tools with my car.  You think this is simple to solve?  You got to remember we have only one car and I walk most of the time so when I see someone with tools, I don't have the F@#%$&&# car!  And, when I have the car, I can't find anyone with the tools.

My friend told me to go to the Do It Center in David where he saw a thin walled, 4 way wheel wrench.  I found it for $7 and tried it on in the parking lot.  F&%^@##$#!  It didn't fit.  Too thick.

 So, back to the store for sockets.  I'm convinced it is a metric nut because it was made in Japan.  But no #21 which is the size I think I need.  So in desperation I buy a 13/16 socket thinking "this will never work."

Holy cow, it fit.  I couldn't believe it!  What luck.  Give me a break, a 13/16 size.  I still can't believe it.

So now I am deceiving myself into thinking that I have all the tools that I need to change a tire.

We'll see.  Panama has a strange and powerful way of stopping progress.

Two things in one day.  Wow!

Ruminations on Writing This Blog

Writing this blog has opened up a whole new vista of experience for me.

I have never considered myself a writer.  Writing in the past was arduous, taxing and work.  At best, I was clumsy with a slightly weird cadence and choppy sentences.  Words out of place in the wrong sequence.  I always envied Yella and some of my friends who write well.  Their words flow with ease and grace.

But surprise, surprise!  Writing the blog is a real hoot!  And, from your feedback, many of you tell me you enjoy it and that I am actually good at it.  Go figure!

I have fun with it.  And, I try to be honest and authentic with a wry twist so that you get a true vicarious experience of the adventure.

In the beginning, it kept me from feeling so lonely, missing my friends.  The hardest part of the move for me, was leaving all the social connections at work and in the community.  The blog left me with the experience of being close to my old world.

It also gives me an opportunity to be funny...I hope it's funny anyway.  Humor is a big deal to me.  If I can provide a smile or laugh for you, I am thrilled.  

And possibly most important, writing the blog forces me into a more up beat perspective for all the challenges down here.  Trying to put a funny or quirky spin on life.  It takes the heat off the strong emotions that arise and they do arise!  The "meltdowns" that I have referred to are some of the most intense experiences that I have lived through.  It is easy to go off the deep end and rage about them.  

(Some of you are saying, "you call this upbeat?  All you do is bitch and whine!")

In the end, I have gotten a lot out of writing this blog so it has been valuable to me even if no one reads it.  

But the real thrill is in having readers...friends.

However, there are times when I don't get any comments or feedback for weeks.  This has caused me to doubt the value of the blog and question if it's worth the effort.  I know that leaving a comment on a Google blog can be a pain in the neck, and sometimes just impossible without an advanced degree in Nerd 101.  So, comments can be suppressed by the difficulty of placing them.

But WHALLA!  Bring on the Internet statistics.  I found out that Google offers free statistics on how many people visit the site each day.  And the statistics go on till the Nerds come home if you are into all that, which I'm not.

As it turns out, about 10 people visit the blog each day.  About 25% of you are new to the blog each week.  You spend about 1 minute and a half during each visit.

This really keeps my spirits up.  Feedback is the magic elixir of encouragement and acknowledgement.  The number of visitors is beyond my expectations.  I thought a few friends would stop in each week but many more of you have turned out.

So, thank you my friends.  

And, I consider all of you friends because I write the blog to a "friend".  I picture sitting down with one of you over excessive amounts of coffee, having a conversation.  And that is how I write it.

I think I will keep on doing it!

Music, Sweat & Hopium

First things first...

Our builder did show up and we spent about 2 hours in a meeting going over all that was important and more.  He again apologized to Yella and ME for the Text Messaging Showdown!

We left feeling hopeful.  

We are not fooled.  We have been hopeful before.  This is more about us feeling good for a few hours that any real, tangible results.

What's that old expression...you can't take the stripes off the Zebra.

Now for music.

I have been avoiding playing my guitar because, well, I'm really not very good.  Most people thing I am being humble but I'm not...it is simply a fact that I am a sloppy, out-of-practice amateur with a tin ear. 

When I played professionally (I use this term loosely), we were drunk, the audience was drunker and the music was loud.  It was perfectly OK to miss cords, buzz strings and only play a few of muffled notes.  Beer was way more important than sounding good.  Hell, sometimes I didn't play at all and partied while the band played!

But the bar is pretty low here, so Yella has enticed me out into the music scene.

Oh boy...are my fingers sore!

I forgot how much it takes to get the finger tips of the left hand into shape and to develop calluses.  We have been playing on most days and I have been feverishly practicing on the other days, just to keep from making a fool of myself.  Probably won't help.

We are playing 3 songs with another couple at the Bistro on Saturday night.  There will be a big crowd because this couple is popular.  The rehearsals sound good.  Yella and Richeal sing well, the songs are great and Gordon plays a mean guitar with me following along.  Oh, Yella bangs a tambourine on her butt too. 

No worries.  It will be loud in the Bistro and nobody will be able to hear the mistakes...I hope.

It is fun to be playing again.  I am thinking about getting back into it and taking lessons and practicing.  But, I have these thoughts often and don't necessarily follow through...we'll see.

Now for the sweat.

I finally bought a pick axe and went to work on my road building drainage swales and ditches.  I have been thwarted for about 2 weeks by the inability to find a pick.  This is a common tool here but, as is everything in panama, at times the most common items are not available.

I got started about 9 am and, as it turns out, this is about 3 hours too late.  It gets damn hot early in the morning!

I worked for only 2 hours, in the tropical sun, on a muggy day.  The sweat was pouring off me.  I would work a couple of minutes and then sit down in the shade for 5 minutes.  I only brought a liter of water which was woefully inadequate.  I seriously thought I might die of heat stroke.

I don't believe I have ever sweat as much as this morning.  I was soaked, and hot, and drained.  I did get one swale completed so I felt good.

My steel worked walked past me and immediately said I needed to get help.  My condition was pretty obvious.  So we walked up to my new neighbor's house and asked him if he wanted to work on the road.  He will start Friday.  I have no idea how that will work out because I have never employed a Spanish speaking person before.

But, oh, my lower back is paying for this frisky little adventure!

Meltdown Saturday, Sunday & Monday

Whoooh!  I don't want to got through this again!

Yella has been avoiding the house because she gets upset every time she visits, so she hasn't gone in about a month.  But, I knew she needed to see the progress because she will be unhappy with the work if she doesn't at least try to get what she wants.

Bad idea...really bad idea!

When we get to the house, she starts getting steamed about this and that.  I don't even notice yet.  I'm wandering around fat, dumb and happy, looking at the progress that I have been pushing for over the last 2 weeks.  You may recall that I decided to become my builder's best friend.  This was my last line of defense before completely abandoning the project and fleeing for home, defeated.

And, my "best friend" campaign has been yielding results, abiet s-l-o-w-l-y but, never the less, progress.

While I was feeling satisfied about some of the work...

Yella was working up a homicidal rage!

She is commenting about all the things that are wrong, not as requested, stupid and just plain bad with ever increasing anger and smoke coming out of her ears.  (This is a sign even a husband can read--eventually!)  She starts on a litany of all the things "SHE CAN'T HAVE!"  This list goes on for an impressive 10 or 15 minutes, all the while building in frustration and rage.

I am now seriously worried about the life longevity of our builder.  Fortunately, we didn't run into him while Yella was on her toot.

That was Saturday.

Sunday and Monday went downhill from there.  

We requested a meeting to try to resolve some of the problems.  He was supposed to meet us between 9 and 10 on Monday morning and, of course, this didn't happen.  I do hate being stood up by anyone and this is the 11th time for me, but who's counting.  Only, this time, Yella was involved.

Bad idea.  She actually expected him to show up.  Expectations always cause massive problems in Panama.

She finally reached him on the phone about 3 pm Monday.  I don't know how this happened, maybe divine intervention, or maybe satanic intervention or in the end, plain dumb luck.

But not for the builder.

She pulled out the Number #1 tool for women, the nuclear weapon against men, the creme de la creme of feminine power...tears.

Panamanian men are especially not equipped to deal with this.  She got stuff out of him that is unheard of: an apology (Panamanians do not EVER apologize or admit a mistake), a PROMISE to meet tomorrow at 11 am (a first), another apology and much backpedaling and eating of humble pie.

Way to go Yella!

To bad the personal emotional cost to her was so high because, man, was she effective.

I'll let you know how it goes tomorrow...if he shows up!

Oh My God, Our Electric is Finished in the House!

I just can't believe it!  Is this actually possible?  I think not.

I had to go to David to buy 5 more ceiling lamps yesterday so they could finish the electric.  I dropped the lamps off at my builder's house late yesterday afternoon.  He was not home.  Not a good sign.

He had not answered any of my test messages yesterday, so I was worried about getting the electric completed in time for the Bomber's inspection Friday.  

Lo and behold, I met our electrician near our rental house as he is our neighbor.  He was standing out in the rain with a friend working under the hood of a car.   We tried to talk but he knows very little English and we know very little Spanish.

After much hand and arm waving, he told us he would finish on Saturday, a day late for the Bomber's inspection.

Nooooooooo!

We hoped to convey the importance of getting it done today or tomorrow but who knows what gets communicated.  He wanted the builder to call him.  Fat change that would ever happen.  I was pretty defeated by the talk.

I texted messaged the builder but he had not responded all day.

So I gave up on the idea that it would happen today.

Surprise!

It happened.  And, I think it is actually 100% complete, a feat in Panama worthy of a National Day of Acknowledgement.

Now we will see if the Bomber's inspection really does happen and we pass.

More later.

Flat Tires 2; Tom 0

A man  must change his own flat tire or he is not a man!  So it is written in the Law of Man!

We got a flat tire that was so bad it was shredded.  How does this happen, you say?  Well, we were driving on a gravel road (translate: rocky river bed) where the sound of a flat is drowned out by all the rattles and squeaks, so we discovered the flat way after it could be saved.

No problem!

I spent much time getting the proper tools set up for changing a flat last January after my first flat, or so I thought.  I should have actually tried to change a tire.  We were missing one little tool that prevented me from accessing the wheel lugs.

Damn!  So close!

Not to worry.  Someone stopped and took us to a mechanic who would drive up and change the tire.

Two problems.

First, we had to wait until his brother-in-law returned with the truck in five minutes.  So I sat in their living room for a hour. But you knew waiting is a given down here!

Second, I being a man, would not get to change my own flat.  Does it count if I threw my back out watching them change it?  No, I thought not.  I have broken the Laws of Man.

Panama gives and Panama takes.

While we were working on the flat, 2 additional people stopped who also would have helped, if needed.  Too bad we didn't wait for the 3rd person because he is a mechanic and could have saved us the trip to town and the mechanic.

But then, I wouldn't have met a new mechanic!

You Can't Fool Mother Nature

Just before I arrived in Panama last December, the Caldera river flooded in a big way.  The last major flood was in the 1970's so many people remember it.

Starting in 2007, a hotel was constructed on piece of land about a half a mile from the river...far enough away to be out of the flood zone...or so you might think.  Many people here remember where the river was in the 1970's flood...right across the new hotel site.

But memories are short.

Even though the river is not within eye site of the hotel, a short walk to the river will tell a different story.  The river bends just above the hotel.  The line of the river above the bend is in a perfect straight line with the hotel.  If the river jumps it's banks, it is aimed straight at the new structure.

And that is exactly what happened.  The river flooded in front of and around the hotel, scouring out the dirt and rock below a good portion of the foundation.  The pictures above show the structure cantilevered over a huge void.   About 45 feet of the foundation is off 

the ground and unsupported.

I got to meet with the owner and discuss fixing the building.  This is the kind of  I work did in my past life in Colorado so it was fun to be able to contribute to a project in Panama.  

I don't know if I will be involved in the construction.  Only time will tell.

But a strange twist showed up this afternoon.  The editor of the monthly newspaper found out I may be involved with the reconstruction of the hotel and he is looking for someone to write a series of articles about the project from a technical perspective but still understandable to the lay person.

Enter Tom.

I have been translating engineer speak to clients for decades so this should be right up my ally.  

I did tell the editor that my writing style was "smart ass" and he might not like it.  He told me that is why he is called "editor" and he would take care of the style issue.

Now wait a minute.  I'm not going to let him...

I'm already off and running, objecting to editorial control and I haven't even started to write. Now that's real smart, don't you think?

It is fun to slowly get involved in the community.

The Great Text Messaging Showdown in Jarimillo

I wasn't going to mention this, but I can't hardly resist.

I discovered that my builder will communicate with text messaging.  You could blow me over with a feather!

Go figure!

He is a master of The Great Panamanian Avoidance Dance meaning that he rarely, and I mean rarely, answers the phone, much less returning messages.  He is allusive and slippery, like smoke or a mirage coming off hot pavement.  

We were at our wits end trying to get a few things done on the house.  So, I switched gears and started to force seeing him EVERY DAY.  I might have to stop by his house, hunt him down on the roads around town, send messages through his workers but, one way or another, he hears from me EVERY DAY.

This started last week. I really turned up the heat and demanded that we spend all day Saturday and Monday going to David with our attempts to start the electric service process.  (See previous posts for the background)  During those extended periods of being together, he promised that he would complete a few things this week.

Like a Sunday morning preacher promising salvation for money, he didn't fulfill on his promises, so I upped the ante.

I text messaged him asking why he wasn't doing anything.  I got a cryptic message saying, "why didn't I re-read his morning's message which told me what was going on and I should have patients!"  

I couldn't help it.  I laughed out loud alone in my car. 

This was too funny.  Him telling me I needed patients.  It just hit me as funny.  So I texted him back telling him he was funny.

Oh boy, I shouldn't have done that.

He texted back faster than an electron could travel across the universe saying "he wasn't funny and he was never funny about his business, he never jokes about serious stuff..."

I knew I had crossed some cultural line and screwed up.  So, I did what I had too, I groveled and apologized.

Interestingly, he texted back apologizing too.

I definitely had pissed him off, though.  But, you know what, good!  It is about time I got his attention about the gravity of the situation.

Today, no one was working on my house once again.  So I pondered how to text him without making him mad.  I told how beautiful the woodwork was that he installed yesterday and asked when he planned on finishing it.  

Remarkably, he texted back with the schedule.

The best thing about all this, is that we are talking EVERY DAY.  

I'm his new best friend, like it or not.

I think I'll buy him a blow torch so he can apply it to his own ass, saving me the trouble!

This is a Small Town!

I got up early this morning and ran.  Walking up the hill, I met our new neighbors who are from Colorado so we spent 30 minutes or so talking.  I have noticed that this visiting is a big part of life in Boquete.

After a shower, I went down the hill to Olga's cafe to eat breakfast and I was invited to join two friends.  More visiting plus two more people came in during breakfast which required more visiting.

After running a few errands, I headed down the big hill to David, 35 miles away.  I forgot that you NEVER go to David on Friday as this is the busiest day of the week.  It was a mess.  Somehow, I made it to my lawyer's office without an accident.

I always enjoy Noelis for her...ahm...brains...ya that's it, her brains.

Sitting in her waiting room two more people I know came in followed by another person I know.  

I quit counting how many people that is, spread across two towns and 35 miles, but it is a lot in my world.

Then, in Price Mart, I bumped into two more people and then two more people.  

This is a small town.  I kind of like it.

I Told Him So!

There is no satisfaction in saying, "I told you so!"

Over two months ago, I told my builder that we needed the final Bombers (Electrical) inspection to START the process of getting electricity into the house and he simply wouldn't hear it.  He couldn't get it.  He couldn't even look into it.  That's how stuck he was.  Stuck is stuck is stuck is stuck...well, you get the picture.

Today, he finally got it.

I arrived at Olga's for breakfast to meet him at 7:30 am, the appointed hour.  So you know what happens now.  Tom waits until 9:00 am when he shows up. 

I discovered he responds to text messaging.  Out of the blue, last week, he texted Yella.  I didn't even know they used texting down here. 

I texted him (by the way, this was a first, I am no longer at texting virgin) early this morning before 7 am trying to  set up the appointment, like it was actually an appointment.  And, he responded to every text and added some more of his own.  So he kept me informed of his tardiness as he got later and later.

Strangely, this helped.

We head down to David, I say this loosely.  We stopped here and there, and then back to here and again to there, around and around, eventually arriving in David at 11:45  am.  

But, wait.  We go to the office I went to months ago where I found out we needed the Bomber's inspection.  This is not the office where you submit the docs.  Damn, we see the same people I saw then and we go through the same stuff, then we are directed to the OTHER office TO SUBMIT THE DOCS.

@#3&8^%43!!!!

So we head out to the other office, making , of course, several stops on the way.  S@#&$!, we only had to drive 3 blocks, you would think we could for once just go directly there!

We eventually get in to see the exact person I told him to see over 2 months ago.  She reviews the docs and....

You guessed it...

She told him to get the Bombers inspection.

I just couldn't believe it.  

Did this actually happen?  Am I not in a parrallel universe that looks the same but nothing ever gets done?  Did I enter the Land of Oz?  Some one call Dr. Freud, I am in need of a Full Frontal Lobotomy.

So, we go back to Boquete to the Bombero's and get the next piece of bad news.  They only do inspections on Fridays and the paperwork is ready the following Friday.

Two full weeks of delays.

But wait, there is more.

The electrical is not finished.  How can it be inspected, you say?  It can't until it is done.

So, now we try to get, you guessed it, the 5 fixtures hung, the plug installed and the line run from the meter to the house.  My guess, it's about 2 hours of work but who am I to say down here.

What are the odds that we will be ready?

Stay tuned for the rest of the story.  I will get up off Dr. Freud's couch and let you know.

Ironclad Formula to Never Get Anything Done while Pissing Away Your Life

Where to start...

  

Yesterday, my builder and I had an appointment to go to David at noon.  By 1:00 pm he had not called nor responded to my calls or Yella's.  This was the 9th consecutive appointment he has missed.  Before I left, Yella asked me if I really thought he would show up and, like a fool, I said yes. 

Of course, he never showed or called.  So I went to my house to see if anyone was working.  He said that people were there working but, this is Panama, you have to check.

No work at the house. 

So, I called him up and left a nasty message.  This is the first nasty message I have left because I have been warned about Panamanians and anger, but, what the hell, I was so pissed I threw all cultural considerations aside and let it rip.

Then, I went over to his house to hunt his ass down.  At this point, I would have driven 2000 miles to find him.

All his vehicles were at his house so I knew he was there.  I wandered into the wood shop and talked to Migel, the foreman and, even though he doesn't speak much English and I don't speak much Spanish, he got the message that I was mad. 

As I was walking out of the wood shop, lo and behold, my builder was sitting in his truck.  I joined him with steam coming out of my ears.  He tried to placate me with a trip to city hall to pick up something he said he had 3 weeks ago.  Is this typical or what.  When I saw what it was, I hit the roof.

It was the building permit.  

You know, that thing you MUST have before you start construction.  How and the hell did he even get this far in the construction without it?  He, of course, had an explanation.  So what!  I am tired of excuses, reasons, passing the buck and all other forms of not getting anything done!

Now, according to him, we have everything to submit to Union Fenosa so they will just start the process to run electric lines to our house.  (This will take months)

We agreed to meet at 7:30 Saturday morning to go to David to Union Fenosa.

Great!  Now we are getting somewhere.  (Stop laughing...it's not funny)

He is 35 minutes late Saturday morning but hell, at least he showed up on the 10th appointment.  

Now, here is some insight into WHY nothing gets done.

Yesterday, the builder was on the phone with the guy at Union Fenosa that we had to see to submit our documents.  This is the only guy that takes the initial documents.  They ONLY one.

My builder asked him if they were open Saturday and he said yes.  This is important.  He said yes.

When we got to David, they were closed.

So, what happened.  Well, Union Fenosa has 2 engineering and construction offices and about 6 little offices that are used to collect monthly payments.  The little offices were open but not the engineering and construction offices.  So, technically, something at Union Fenosa was open.

This jerk knew exactly what we wanted, exactly who had to be there, exactly what office had to be open and he knew he was giving us the wrong information.

F@$%??^&!!!

This goes way beyond cultural and language differences.  This is just plain old crappy.

This is the first thing we've encountered in Panama that is mean spirited.  I hope it is last because it sure was a big one.

So, we have another appointment to meet at 7:30 am Monday morning and start all over again.

I think I will show up at 8:00 am.  I will probably be early.

P.S.  As I re-read this, it is written in an angry voice.  I actually didn't experience that much anger but it makes a better story, I think.  Maybe I am going native and, well, someday, I will finish this thought....

Wasted Days & Wasted Nights

Where's the time go?

I think I'm getting this retirement thing now.  

Yesterday, I started with a early morning run, then a shower, followed by a hike into town to work out.   On the way to the gym, I got snagged at the Park Central Cafe drinking coffee and eating breakfast for 90 minutes with a friend.  He mentioned he was meeting a couple of friends who are hikers, so I followed him to Amigos to meet the hikers.  This led to meeting more friends, lunch, more friends, Yella stopped in, and before I knew it, the afternoon was gone.

How does that happen?

That evening we were invited to some new friends home to eat dinner.  We were pleasantly surprised by how much we enjoyed these new people.

Things are shaping up down here!

Today, I raced across the village to meet Yella after lunch so I could get a ride up the hill to our house.  This one car thing can be tricky.  The walk up the hill is a 30 minute workout equal to a run and I wanted to avoid it today.  On the way, I caught the fishmonger just packing up.  He had fresh tuna.  Wow!  $2.50 a pound.  I bought 5.5 pounds for $5.00.  I cooked it tonight and it melted on my fork.  We'll be reheating tuna for a couple of days.

A little more on food...

We ate at the Oasis Hotel restaurant Tuesday evening.  This has turned out to be the best for the money in my book.  Actually, it may be the best gourmet food at the lowest price.  They have fish dinners, either locally raised trout or fresh ocean corvina (sea bass) both with steamed vegetables and salad for $10, then we get a 25% discount for our retirement visas!  I got the corvina and it was delicate and delicious.  There were 8 of us and everyone raved about the food.

Typically, for lunch, I go to Sobrason, a local Panamanian cafeteria style restaurant.  I get the fried rice with vegetables and a little meat, baked chicken, salad and zarsamora (blackberry) juice for $3.00.  This is good basic fare food at bargain basement prices.  Hell, where else are you going to get blackberry juice for $0.30 a glass!

Builder update...

We still haven't applied for power at Union Fenosa.  This might not happen in my life time.  I'm pretty sure I will be coming back in the next life as a power pole. 

Our builder told me to make sure we visited our house today and look at the progress on the wood cabinets and closets.  I got there and nothing had been done, so I called him up and let him know I made the trip for not, only to get the typical Panamanian explanation: it rained so they couldn't hall the wood to the house.  Ya, right.  I still have a problem with this loosey goosey stuff.  I certainly had better things to do than waist my afternoon chasing his pipe dream. 

He has now missed the last 9 meetings that he scheduled with me.  

This truly is a lesson in patience.  Like a fool, I think we will meet tomorrow and go to Union Fenosa.  I'll let you know but you already can figure this one out.

The Rainy Season is Upon Us & I Like It!

Clear, crisp, fresh mornings and cloudy, rainy afternoons with no wind!

Perfect weather for this past Coloradan.  

The Inter-Tropical Convergence Zone (ITCZ) has moved south of Panama.  So what, you say.  There is much talk about the ITCZ whenever weather is discussed.  This is the weather pattern for the rainy season or, as the marketing gurus call it, the GREEN season, like that fools the tourists. 

I have always preferred the rainy season.  Most mornings are clear and sunny.  The temperature is a little warmer without any wind.  And, everything gets so green and lush.  It is simply beautiful.

The dry season is known for it's wind and fine mist, Bajareque, so it tends to be cooler and the wind gets old after a while.  Isn't if good to know that even the weather in paradise is easy to criticize from season to season?

Now for a report on learning Spanish. 

We take Spanish lessons twice a week for an hour.  This costs us $5 a head per lesson which is pretty cheap.  The school we attend has had several excellent teachers.

What is interesting is the different ways each of us succeeds and struggles.  Yella, Eric and I are in the same class.  Yella is a singer with great ears.  I am a student used to structured learning and Eric, who has lived in Panama for 5 years and resisted learning the language, is somewhat resentful with it all but his wife has become fluent in the same 5 year period and asked him to learn the language.

That is the set up for how each of us is progressing.

Yella hears the spoken words pretty well and is able to grasp the meaning audibly but she is challenged by the exercises in the workbook.  I have a tin ear and struggle to hear the words but I am a whiz at the written exercises and I can read Spanish pretty well.  Eric actually knows more vocabulary than either of us and, when he is willing to give up the resentment, he does the best of all three.

The lessons are starting to get difficult.  They push us hard demanding to speak Spanish whenever possible.  There are times when I have no idea what is going on.  As I look at each of our faces, the same struggle is apparent from time to time.  The teacher is very observant and stops when she or he sees the confusion and makes sure everything is understood by each of us before she moves on.  This seems to be paramount in the learning process.  If they move to fast, surely one of us would quit.

The hour, which sounds like such a short time, is taxing, fatiguing and confronting.

What is that about teaching an old dog new tricks?

This language thing is going to take some time.  We are considering enrolling in a 30 day, full time school as soon as we have reached a threshold where we have gained some minimal ability with it.  They tell us that we will "click" and leap forward with the learning at some point.

I can't wait.  This is difficult...but rewarding too.

There's a Shift in the Wind

I slept well and awoke to peace.   

First thing this morning, after a shower and shave, I sat down to read my novel, full of serenity and patience, waiting a couple of hours for Yella to get ready to have breakfast with friends.

What's that, you say?  Tom being OK waiting on anything?  Because this has not been my state since I arrived in Panama and probably never before in my life.  I am impatient and antsy, constantly finding myself waiting on someone or something, pacing back and forth where ever I am, frothing at the bit to GET GOING FOR GOD"S SAKE, LET'S MOVE!

So, this relaxed condition was different and surprisingly pleasant.  Something shifted yesterday.  You may have picked it up in my blog.  

As soon as we got in the car, we started a little spat, a marital brawl so to speak--where do these things come from anyway?  Oh boy, there goes the goodwill and peace!  Nothing like a fight to destroy the previous day's contentment.

On our drive to Yella's cast party, we eventually worked it out, and, lo and behold, the peace returned.  

I don't know what to do with this.  It is new.  Maybe Panama has starting softening me up.  Time will tell.

We arrived at the cast party, which for lack of better words, was at a magnificent compound out in the sticks.  We did find out it used to belong to Noriega in one of his past lives.  So this is where all our drug money went!

The grounds were manicured impeccably, with an amazing assortment of fauna and flower.  This place had acres of grass, something that is not commonly found in Panama.  The house was a villa sprawled across 3 floors with his and hers offices, a library, and the usual living and dining rooms, kitchen, a pantry fit for a king (at least a dictator) and bedrooms complete with a stately staircase proudly displaced across the living room.

Holy shit!  Was this place nice.

Outside, they had a shelter like in a park with a bar, kitchen, a couple of bathrooms and tables and chairs for at least 50.  

There was more but I won't bore you with the details because it goes on and on.

Some people have too much money, that's for sure.

Partying with theater people was fun.  As you would expect, they are an outgoing group and the wine was flowing.  

We returned home in the late afternoon and...

The peace was still present.

Hmmm?  I hope this sticks around for awhile!

What's Panama Trying to Tell Me?

We had a visitor just leave that is fond of saying, "what's (fill in the blank here with a name, situation, place) trying to tell me/us?"  Meaning that everything happens for a reason, our job is to figure out WHY it's happening.  And, learn a magnificent lesson in life, then live happily ever after.  Just about makes you want to puke, doesn't it?  

More latter.

I wanted to leave the US because life had gotten a little too convenient; the challenge of life...the sparkle, the zest...had gone flat; many things got too easy.   I don't think life was designed by the Big Kahuna to be a downhill roll, a stroll in the park, rowing down stream--very little satisfaction in easy.  I am all for the good life, but doesn't life become good in juxtaposition to having something worth doing?

If you run out of aspirin at 3 am, you can get some and you actually have your pick of several all night stores.  Isn't that a little ridiculous?  If your drain backs up, you can call Roto Rooter in the evening and they will be at your house in an hour.  We just can't have a mess in our house now, can we?

I know, these are mundane examples but you get the picture...I hope.

(I also know that the economy is putting a huge challenge into life and I don't want to minimize the problems and suffering that come with this condition.  But, at the time we made our decision to move, the depression had not sunk it's teeth into the world.)

So, I looked forward to living a life that demands planning ahead because nothing, and I mean nothing, is consistent in Panama.  I looked forward to learning a whole new network of services like auto repair, utilities and doctors.  And, learn a new language. I look forward to meeting new friends because only slightly to crazy people come down here.  I look forward to having the time to do all those things that got put off.

I looked forward to a life that in many ways is turned back 50 to 80 years when stores weren't open on Sunday and the streets rolled up at 8 pm and children roamed freely without parents worrying.

What I didn't anticipate was the confront on the level of "WHO I AM."  That has blindsided me.

Yella, on the other hand, didn't want to come here and was prepared for the worst.  She is starting to do just fine.  Who would have guessed that?  My hat is off to her.  I thought she would be the one to cave and go home.  Now, I am more worried about myself than her.

The surprise to me is my helplessness in getting anything done.  Panama has rubbed my nose in my identity which includes being a successful manager, business owner and leader, someone adept at getting something done.  That was my job!  But, oh no, not here!

Let me summarize the last 6 weeks.  I have not been able to get the final 5% of the electrical completed in my house.  We are talking about hanging 5 fixtures, mounting one plug and running the wire from the meter to the house.

That's it.

I have failed miserably.  In hind sight, I could have done it myself but that would be cheating.

This helplessness is so disconcerting that I turned it into rage which is a much more power place than being a victim.  Ooooohhhhhhhhh!  I hate the "V" word!

Then the rage becomes so painful that I finally go to work and get responsible.  Thank God I know how to do this because it relieves the pain.

But not the confront.  

Two nights after I made my peace with the way it is, I woke up at 3 am preoccupied with the lack of progress on the house.  There is no escaping the battle between Tom and Panama.  And, I'm not winning.

So, back to, "What is Panama trying to tell me?"

Maybe it's time to reinvent life.  At a slower pace.  With relationships and conversation and helpfulness as a priority.  Delving deeper and deeper.   Simmering and steeping into the taste of life.  Boldly taking the first steps to do what was meant to do.

Actually do something that can't be completed, only started...

What would that even be...

Not many people get this opportunity in their life time.  I am so grateful.  It is a rough ride and sometimes I want to quit but, in the end, it is a huge gift.  Such a big gift.