As I write, George (our electrician and general handyman) and Larry are working, for the second day in a row, on trying to install our propane gas logs in the fireplace. I should have known that it would be a trial inasmuch as just getting the logs here was a colossal headache. Unheard of in Panama, they had to be ordered from the States and shipped, at great expense. I got a lead from a friend on a cheaper way of shipping very heavy items than Mailboxes, Etc., so I gave them a try. Aerocasillas by name. Three weeks, they told me.
After six weeks, I got an email from Aerocasillas in Panama City. They needed an invoice for customs purposes, so I emailed the invoice that had been emailed to me by the log company. After a couple of days, Aerocasillas emailed again asking for a description of the item (although it clearly stated what they were on the invoice). I replied in both Spanish and English. Two days later, they asked for a picture. I dutifully got a picture from the company's website and sent it on. Then they wanted to know if the logs were wood. I patiently explained that they were artificial logs, that the fire comes from the propane. Hearing nothing further for a couple of days, I wrote and asked if they had everything they needed. "Yes," Sra. Lorena Campos replied, "but you have another package on the way. If you provide me the invoice now, it will speed things up." I responded that I wasn't expecting another package.
Finally, the package arrived at the Aerocasillas office in Boquete. Larry and I took one look at it and knew something was amiss. Opening it, we discovered only the iron grate: no logs. I wisely refused to take it until the entire order was fulfilled, realizing what the second package must be. I went home and wrote Sra. Campos, explaining that the second package had to be the logs. She wrote back that she needed another invoice for the second package. I explained that the same invoice applied to both packages, that it was one order in two shipments. That wouldn't do. Customs has to have discrete paperwork for every shipment in order to assess customs duties. After several days of back and forth wrangling by phone and email, the local rep put me in touch with a customer service representative (as though such a person exists in Panama) in David. The best she could do after a week of back and forth was putting a minimal value on the second package so that I wouldn't have to pay twice the customs--a considerable figure. So, after three months and more money than I want to think of the logs are here. Now the installation.
Our peace and tranquility here in Palo Alto was disturbed for a couple of weeks when the house next door was habituated by Dr. Dan Evers, one of the part-time gringo vets who is a friend of the house's owners. Dan and his wife Cindy arrived to close on the sale of their house in a gated community outside of town and to look for housing closer to Boquete to better serve the animals. After spending the first two days of their visit moving their stuff from the sold house into the house next door, the house sale fell through at the last moment. Then Cindy had to return to Florida after four days because of her mother's hospitalization. Dan had promised to do a mini-sterilization clinic while here, but otherwise, he said, had not announced his arrival. It is a testament to the Boquete grapevine that he had patients coming and going from 8 in the morning until after dark every day. Of course it was a great source of amusement for Chyna and Trudy, who had a bird's eye view of the garage/clinic from the low stone wall in back which overlooks that side of the neighbors' house. With Cindy gone and Dan smothered in vet business, we pretty much had to take care of him for a couple of weeks--including breaking into the house in the middle of the night when, as he was in the garage cleaning up after a day of vetting, the wind blew the door closed with his keys inside. We got free vet services, however, and a year's supply of worm pills.
We took a road trip a couple of weeks ago with Doc, Charly, and Ramon to Las Lajas Beach, about an hour outside of David towards Panama City. They kept saying how pleasant it was, but they're not from Florida and wouldn't know a nice beach if they saw one. The sand is gray, it was hot has hell, and various stray dogs fought under our feet all day. While it was nice to get away, I was glad to get home to the cool mountain air.
Otherwise, all we've been doing is working in the yard. We went through three weeks of extremely dry weather when we were watering all the time. Then we had a BIG rain last week (it tore the gutters off the house next door) and suddenly everything is growing like mad, including the weeds. Amazing. We've gotten late afternoon rain ever since, just the right amount, so everything is flourishing. Juvenal is outside weedeating at present, and we have a second gardener, Edwin, who works on Saturday. Lots to do.
