March in Boquete

We're neighborless again, since shortly after my last post. I'd like to be able to report tranquility at last, but I think Dan and Cindy jinxed us with their problem-laden visit. On the Sunday before their Wednesday departure, Boquete had another spay and neuter clinic which Dan participated in as a visiting vet. Dan, Cindy, and I rode in together at 7:00 a.m. to prepare for the first patients at 8:00. There weren't as many volunteers as usual, and over a hundred animals spread throughout a long, long day. I was put in charge of the recovery unit which, among many other duties, involves taking the animals' temperature and recording it every fifteen minutes. I am now thoroughly acquainted with all varieties of dog and cat butts. After being anesthetized, shaved, and spayed or neutered, each animal receives a series of injections and then is moved on to recovery, which takes place on blankets spread on the gymnasium floor, where about 15 to 20 at a time are massaged back to consciousness and carefully monitored for contraindications. That's a lot of ups and downs for a 64-year-old body. By 4:00, things were winding down in the operating area, but still lively in recovery, when Dan came over and told Cindy and me that he didn't feel well and needed to get home. He confessed on the way that he had been nauseated and in pain all day but figured it had been something he ate the day before. By 7:00 he was in the Hospital Chiriqui emergency room having a kidney stone dissolved. He was back home at 10:00. The next morning at 8:00 a.m. Dan was again seeing patients at his makeshift clinic in the garage next door, pronouncing to everyone who would listen that his medical care had been excellent, as opposed to a trip to the emergency room back in New Smryna Beach with his daughter which involved a multi-hour wait. They left on Wednesday morning, but not without one more bit of misfortune. Dan called from the Panama City airport early in the afternoon to report that he had left a wallet filled with credit cards, licenses, etc. under the mattress next door. I retrieved the wallet, Fed-Exed it to them in Florida, and silently bid them a fond farewell.

Demaris finally returned to work last Monday from her January surgery. It was a long recuperation because of the tumor on her fallopian tubes as well as the appendectomy. We were beginning to think that things were back to normal when Juvenal called early Tuesday morning, to report that his brother, who has been hospitalized off and on for months with a mysterious all-body infection, was back in the hospital. Sadly, he died the following day. Juvenal and his entire family were inconsolable, calling several times throughout the day and needing various kinds of help. We were at home, however, awaiting news of my brother, Richard, who that very day was undergoing a triple bypass in Texas. (All appears to be going well.) So, all in all, an anxiety-ridden week.

Everybody's groaning and moaning about the dry season, as dry as it has been wet for months on end. It's dry up here in Palo Alto, but not nearly so dry as most of the province. We live on what is called the "wet side" of Boquete, so we've at least had a good bit of bajareque, the fine mist that comes down from the mountains. Nevertheless, Edwin and I have been busy watering most days. It's been windy, but not nearly so bad as last year. The weather has been lovely for almost a week now, so we're getting lots of chores down in the garden. Today Larry and I spent a couple of hours in the orchid house, tidying up and mounting new orchids. My "orchid man," Jose Miranda, showed up this morning with some new species he had collected from the Volcan area, so we were inspired to pay the orchids some attention. (To allay any twittering about Larry's newfound interest in orchids, let the record reflect that his assistance was obtained under duress.)

We now have fish in the pond--nine, to be exact--but we're struggling to get everything balanced. We're being aided by a gringo named Thomas, who also supplies us with organic fertilizer and a few organic vegetables such as mustard greens, onions, and sweet potatoes. He's using a microbiotic liquid called EM in the pond which, judging by internet reports, is good for just about everything. Thomas uses it as a compost booster, household cleanser, water clarifier, septic tank cleaner, etc. I have also acquired, based on recommendations from naturally-suspicious and credible sources, some "Gruber's Jungle Oil," an herbal concoction that neutralizes a variety of poisons, most notably scorpions and insects, and also serves as a natural insect repellant. It was developed by one Franklin Gruber, the son of a Panamanian mother and American father, who is an expert in native medicinal plants, having roamed around in the jungles and studied plants and their uses by the natives for many years. Coincidentally, he holds a degree in International Affairs from Florida State. (Cue: snake oil jokes and commentary.) I haven't met Mr. Gruber yet but hope to inasmuch as he recently relocated from El Valle to nearby Caldera.

I'm finally coming to terms with available foods. Most American products are available, either here or in David, but they come with at a price. Locally grown stuff, on the other hand, is inexpensive but often isn't the same as what we're used to. The chicken is excellent, and pork okay once you figure out what to buy. Beef, on the other hand, tends to be very tough as cattle are pasture-fed rather than grain-fed and tend to move about a lot more than do the largely sedentary North American cows. But it's possible to buy a filete entero, a whole beef loin, which, when allowed to age a week or so in the refrigerator, can be cut into servicable steaks. Nearby Potrerillos is the home of a large egg-producing operation, but eggs from free-range chickens(and the chickens do range freely here--right into my garden on occasion) are easy to come by and are out-of-this-world good. Although Chiriqui is known as the bread basket of Panama, the best vegetables from the big farms are shipped to Panama City. There's a good mercado (market) in the center of town, however, where local farmers sell their produce; and there're more and more pick-your-own operations, organic farmers who sell to a limited clientele, and hydroponically grown vegetables available. Excellent fish and jumbo shrimp from the Pacific are available from fish mongers who bring them to Boquete, but are pricey, We've also bought really, really, good tuna from our fish guy, Miguel, that can be cut into tuna steaks which rival the best of beef steaks. And, of course, there are hundreds of fruits. I'm only just beginning to learn the names of them and how to use them. What we know as limes are called lemons (limons) here, and there's a fruit that looks like an orange that is, in fact, a somewhat sweet lemon. Then there are the tomatillos, the many types of avocados, the papayas, the plantains, the nances, the guayabas, fruits I've never seen or heard of. It's a bit bewildering.

I haven't written much about Edwin. He's a very unusual gardener. First of all, he's well-educated, having been schooled in accounting. He says he couldn't take office work, however, and worked for several years at Mi Jardin es Su Jardin, a world famous garden here in Boquete located on the private estate of a wealthy Panamanian family who live most of the time in Miami. Eventually, he went out on his own and, over time, has whittled his clientele down to four, of whom, he says, I am "numero uno." He has proclaimed our garden to be the best in Boquete, consistently making suggestions and engaging in long-term plans for bettering it. Edwin carefully watches out for our interests and is loyal almost to a fault. He dislikes the orchid guy, for example, and has run him off more than once when I wasn't looking. Now he, the orchid guy, only comes on weekends when he can be assured that Edwin isn't on the premises. He is also suspicious of George and Juvenal, whom he fears are taking advantage of us. Lunchtime can be a real chore as Edwin, who is intellectually curious about everything, engages me in protracted discussions (in Spanish, of course) on a wide range of topics, eliciting my beliefs and opinions on everything and offering his own carefully considered views. We discuss politics, religion, education, cultural mores, and more three times a week. Every work day he comes to the table with a a new set of questions designed to tax my intellectual and language skills, as though he lay awake the night before pondering what theme he would bring to the next day's discussion. He is more conscientious and thoughtful than the average Panamanian, as is his wife, Maria, who speaks English and works in a local bank. They dote on their only child, Denise, and Edwin regularly seeks my counsel on how best to raise her to face life's challenges. No happy-go-lucky Panamanian our Edwin.

I'm attaching a picture of the newly-created bog garden, an area by the stone wall that inexplicably stays wet. We finally gave up trying to change the soil and just put in plants that love lots of water--papyrus, horsetail reed, cannas, and calla lillies. It's coming along but still has a ways to go, as they say.