Felipe: RIP

Our holiday season was interrupted by sadness when my beloved Felipe died suddenly last week. He had not been well since the last visit to Dr. Garcia in David where he received a diagnosis of an inflamed colon or intestine. He was treated for that, and the major symptoms were relieved, but he had been listless and depressed for several weeks. The intestinal symptoms returned with a vengeance Monday night a week ago, however, and he began experiencing stomach cramps and pain. He died within a couple of hours, in my arms. Consultations via e-mail with U.S. vets Joe Cordell and Dan Evers suggest an internal tumor or lesion which only an x-ray and major surgery possibly could have helped, but animal x-rays aren't available in Panama and there were no indications anyway until it was too late. We buried him in the back garden, and I'll plant something special there in remembrance of all the joy he brought to the household.

Otherwise, life has been full and happy. The Bid 4 Boquete charity event finally was held on the weekend of December 4-5: a wine tasting and live auction on Saturday night and the silent auction and variety of sales, raffles, and children's games on Sunday afternoon. We netted $55,000, more than the first four years combined, so eleven months of planning and execution paid off. Close on the heels of that extravaganza, Larry surprised me by putting on a big birthday dinner for me at a downtown restaurant with about 10 friends. That was followed by my hosting the garden club Christmas party here on Thursday, attended by over 40 people. So I spent the weekend trying to catch up around the house and garden.

Steve completed the new orchid casita, and I purchased a host of new orchids. Annie La Foley, a local orchid grower of some renown, sold her entire collection in preparation for a return to the States due to some medical protocol that her husband can receive only there. Steve and Marjorie Sarner, good friends and renowned orchid growers in their own right, accompanied me on two trips to Annie's and helped with my selections.

We'll have the usual crowd here for Christmas dinner on Saturday, and then Derek arrives on December 31st for about a week. Larry has planned a golf outing at Cielo Paraiso, and I'm putting together some hiking with Steve and Marjorie and new friends Peter Sterling and wife Sally Zigmond, retired neuroscientist/naturalist (Peter) and biologist (Sally) from the University of Pennsylvania. The weather has been beautiful for about a week now, and I'm looking forward to getting out and about before the trade winds kick up in January and February. Larry, on the other hand, will be glued to the bowl games on t.v.

On April 24th I am leaving Panama for a two-week transatlantic cruise with friends Penny Barrett and Betty Gray. Larry, homebody that he is, wasn't interested and therefore will remain behind to keep house and pets and get some well-earned relief from wifely chores and admonitions. We are leaving from Colon on a Royal Caribbean repositioning cruise to Palma de Mallorca, with stops in Barbados, Curacao, and the Canary Islands. We'll spend a couple of days in Mallorca and a couple of days in Barcelona before flying back, so I'll be gone about three weeks in all. The garden club also is planning a two-day trip to the Wilson Botanical Gardens in San Vito, Costa Rica within the next two months.

The entire community is in full holiday mode, with numerous parades and fairs which make getting about a real challenge. Extensions to the municipal park/square has made parking a minor problem, and the beginning of tourist season has exacerbated the situation. Everything is bustling!

So, other than Felipe's death, life has been going smoothly, remarkably so. Co-chairing the auction gave me the opportunity to meet lots of people and become an active member of the community. The protracted "settling in" time required had limited our social engagements, but now our calendar is almost too full. Meetings, parties, and luncheons have become the norm rather than the exceptions they once were. There have been no bureaucratic hassles of late, but I'm confident that the Panamanian government will remedy that soon.

Holiday time begins

Today is the first day of a prolonged holiday season in Panama, five months more or less. November 3 is the anniversary of the separation from Colombia, the holiday for which began at noon yesterday, and tomorrow is Flag Day. Just for good measure, Friday also will be taken as a holiday. Then next Wednesday, November 10, is the anniversary of the first call for independence from Spain, whereas the actual independence from Spain came on November 28. As this year that date falls on a Sunday, the holiday will be the following Monday. So all banks and government offices are closed for at least five and half working days this month. And most workers, including ours, get the time off with pay. The really big days are today and the 28th, when parades will clog up all thoroughfares. Drums have been drumming for weeks in preparation, and thoroughfares were clogged the preceding two days for the suspension of banners throughout town. 

Then December 8 is Mother's Day, a major family holiday and time of celebration in Panama. It falls on a Wednesday, but you can count on most businesses being shuttered on Tuesday and Thursday as well to allow time to travel to wherever madre may be. Following are Christmas and New Year's, in honor of which the entire country essentially shuts down for an indeterminate period of time.  In fact, the holiday season runs right into the big International Coffee and Flower Fair, a major Boquete event in January. Come February, it's the season of Carnival which, if memory serves, occupies a major portion of the month. With little respite, we move into Holy Week, with Good Friday a national holiday, and then Easter, following which people gradually return to work.

We're ready for it, however, as lots of work was accomplished in October, to which the bank account will testify. Back in July, I contracted for a three-wall, built-in unit for the computer room: desk, book shelves, file drawers, and cabinets. The slated completion date was November, and I budgeted accordingly. So I took on, in October, the rebuilding of the orchid casita which was rotting down because we originally couldn't find treated wood. Steve jumped right on it and I paid a major portion of the $1400 cost, only to have the cabinets come in early to the tune of $3600. Additionally, the generator and the pool pump broke and all sorts of insurance, corporation fees, and taxes fell due, precipitating a raid on the savings account. So it really doesn't matter that the country is shut down for the foreseeable future. We're not having any more work done for a while.


Because she and Barry were without guests at their B and B for a day or two, Jane and I trekked to David yesterday for major grocery shopping. Another friend has described stocking one's pantry here as "foraging for food," not because there's no food to be had but because it's spread out between half a dozen stores or more, none of which can be counted on to have what you're looking for, even though they may have had it in the past. We hit Pricesmart first, but followed up at three more grocery stores and two pharmacies, picking up a couple of items at each. With the traffic, the lack of customer service, and the parking propensities of the Panamanian populace, it was the usual Monty Python skit material.

Our trip was slowed considerably, too, by road work. The government has entered into a multi-million, three-year contract for four-laning the road between David and Boquete. Lots of money is being poured into the province of Chiriqui, particularly into the Boquete area. Ostensibly, this is for the purpose of promoting tourism, but the cynics among us suspect baser motives. Huge swaths of land allegedly are owned by politicians, including at least two former presidents, as well as by members of the rabiblanco, Panama's ruling class, so some speculate that big things are envisioned in the way of development. The current road admittedly is dangerous, and the improved amenities that will accompany its completion are not to be denied. Many residents are delighted by what surely will be an increase in property values. On the other hand, there are fears that Boquete will become a yuppie-fied mountain enclave along the lines of Aspen when quick and easy access materializes. Much of the opposition is based on the amount of ecological destruction which will occur, some of which already is evident. Whatever the motivation of the government and the ultimate effects, the road is now a reality; and it doubtless will change the face Boquete.

My time continues to be consumed by the Bid 4 Boquete event and increasing activities of the garden club. Larry finally finished painting the exterior of the house and is taking a long break before undertaking the interior. After all, it's football season. (Heartbreaking loss by the 'Noles last weekend.) 

When I was in the U.S. in June, I bought a new computer which came with Windows 7. This has caused me no end of grief as everything displays differently and it is incompatible with a number of operations, namely my camera's photo editing and storage program and my Skype microphone. The "Help" tabs give directions based on earlier versions of Windows, so I'm really out in the cold. One thing I can't seem to do is access my photos from this blog site. I've solved the microphone problem only within the last week, so who knows how long it will take to come to terms with photos.

Speaking of prolonged, vexing problems, I finally got to the root of Felipe's skin ailments last Friday. Based on the advice of three different vets, he was treated for fungus, bacterial infection, and mange. Twice. I've been bathing him every week and preparing home cooked dog food. His skin would improve just enough to make me think I had hit upon the solution when suddenly it would flare up again, then get better, then flare up. Last Friday when I was bathing him I noticed some teeny brown specks in the suds. I had noticed them before but assumed they were flakes of skin or scabs. This time I isolated one and had a look at it under a magnifying glass. It was far from clear but definitely had an insect appearance. I washed him in an anti-parasite soap and applied Revolution and, Bingo!: scratching has ceased and all redness is gone. Research indicates that they were dog lice, which apparently are not all that common here. Miraculously, they haven't spread to Chyna and Trudy. They have no interest in humans, I read, which is fortunate inasmuch as Felipe spends hours on our bed and sleeps under the covers at night.

Overall, the weather is improving although it has been raining yesterday and today. But the rainy season essentially is over. We hope.





   

Life in the Heart of the Rainy Season

Larry's watching the Miami/Pittsburgh game, I've got my every-other-day pressure cooker full of chicken and vegetables for the dogs on the stove, and Felipe and Kitty Kitty are chasing throughout the house. So I thought I'd repair to the computer room in search of a modicum of tranquility.

The town is gradually recovering from the most recent flood. We had no major damage, other than the loss of some property, and heavy equipment has been working behind our house for weeks building banks, redirecting the flow of the river, and hauling off huge boulders and trees from 6:00 a.m. until dark. I never thought the sound of chain saws and bulldozers would be sweet. We've been without water off and on as the system repairs are fine tuned, but are better off than Doc/Charly/Ramon who have no reserve tank and therefore have suffered considerably more. Most importantly, through the good graces of my friend Penny Barrett, I was put in touch with an insurance agent, Gloria Detresno, who managed to get us flood insurance of $400,000, plus full coverage for anything else that possibly could happen. This was a real coup as no company currently is offering flood insurance in any part of Boquete, much less for property with river frontage. I'm sleeping better.

Larry finally has finished painting the exterior of the house, and currently we have a Panamanian lad replacing the roof tiles broken by the painter hired (and fired) before he (Larry) took over the project. That should be completed tomorrow, after which we will take on repainting the interior. We've also been involved with replacing virtually every incandescent light bulb in the house with the new energy-saving fluorescent ones. This leads right into a typically Panamanian story.

Since we moved into the house over three years ago, our electricity bills have been between $150 and $175 dollars a month. Having nothing to compare to but the States, it was not a concern until I overheard friends mentioning that they were astonished to have received a bill for $40 one month. That led to my subsequently determining the average electricity bill here to be between $30 and $45. We took stock and realized that we have several things that close friends don't have: a dishwasher, a pool pump, a water reserve tank pump, a pump for irrigation to the upper garden, and one electric hot water heater. The minor pumps are used minimally, and the dishwasher couldn't possibly make that much difference, so we settled on the electric hot water heater as the culprit until we learned that a resident with two electric hot water heaters experienced bills averaging $90 a month. We further assessed that the minor pumps, even if going full time, use very little electricity. We hired a recommended electrician who, after a lengthy survey, determined that there were no anomalies and that we needed to replace all our light bulbs. I did so, to the tune of about $150. (The light fixture in the great room requires 16 bulbs, the one in the kitchen 11, just for starters.) When we had installed them all, I realized I had mistakenly bought white ones rather than what they call yellow but is really a soft white, so returned to David for $150 more, relegating the white to the innumerable fixtures on the terrace which surrounds the back of the house. No appreciable difference resulted. So eventually, finding a day when nothing was pressing, I made my way to David once again to visit the Union Fenosa office.

It took me a fair amount of time to find the office, and, when I finally found it and found a parking place, I discovered that in its vast confines, no one spoke English. After a long wait, however, I was attended to by a very pleasant man who eventually understood the problem and pledged that someone would check our meter within 30 days. Thirty days came and went with no visitation, so I returned to David only to be told that the meter had, in fact, been checked and that everything seemed to be in order. We knew something was amiss but didn't know what else we could do except be sorely aggrieved.

At an auction-related meeting at Penny Barrett's house a few weeks later, her handyman Gary, who, according to Penny, "takes care of all the single women and lesbians in Boquete," overheard me griping about our utility bill problem. Having been around the block with virtually every problem that can occur, Gary sagely advised that it was, in fact, the meter and that the only surefire way to resolve the problem was to break the meter and have it replaced. Upon returning home and during the preparation of dinner, I casually reported this exchange to Larry.

As my female readers will understand, information from a wife which might give rise to a project on the part of the husband is, at best, mulled over for a few days before any sign of action.The thought of destroying the electric meter carried great appeal for Larry, however, who made straight for his tool box, seized a hammer, and marched outside in a downpour to confront the tried-and-convicted offender. I suggested that it might have been better to have waited a few more days between visits to Union Fenosa, but by that time the deed was done. I reported the problem and, astonishingly, the meter was replaced within three days with a new, digital model. Two weeks later we received our bill for the preceding month. It was $70 lower, for only half a month. Flush with success, Larry is keeping a daily log of our kilowatt usage, which is roughly half of what we have been charged for over the past three years. That translates to about $3000--not to mention the the light bulbs, two visits by an electrician, and wear and tear on the hammer.


Auction activity has been somewhat less for the past two weeks because Penny's daughter is visiting and Martine is in Greece for a family wedding. It's nice to have a breather, and we're doing beyond well. We have $12,000 cash in the bank and, two months before the auction, donations valued at over $31,000. A glutton for punishment, I also took over as secretary for the Garden Club and have spent hours and hours just getting the membership list straight. I thought the job would involve little more than sending out a monthly meeting notice, not realizing that I would be fielding hundreds of e-mails from dozens of folks with varying ideas about what the club should be doing, where it should be going on field trips, which potential speakers we should be courting, and what topics should be addressed at meetings. Being retired and having maids and gardeners to do the dirty work leaves a lot of time to be filled, I've found, and lots of time for people to think about how to fill it.


There are more ways to fill one's time than charities and garden clubs. I've found it more than interesting that a local theater group, the Boquete Community Players, has been an enormous success. It's beyond me how a community this small has attracted so many people with backgrounds in the performing arts, but we have actors, directors, musicians, sound technicians, stagehands, etc., of professional quality. I haven't been to many of the productions, but the three or four I've attended have been better amateur performances than I've seen anywhere in the States. Too, the group took over a large restaurant downtown and completely converted it into an events center, El Centro de Eventos, with a stage and auditorium, a bar, a kitchen, and various meeting rooms. In addition to having at least one production a month--and usually more--the facility hosts a weekly market, potluck dinners, art exhibitions, meetings, and all sorts of other events. We're holding the wine tasting event and live auction segment of Bid 4 Boquete there on a Saturday night in December, in fact, before the rest of activities the following day across the street at the fairgrounds.

What time I have left over from B4B and the Garden Club has been spent fighting mildew, visiting vets in both Boquete and David when Chyna was sick, taking Dalys' family and pets to a spay and neuter clinic, cooking, lunching with friends, and reading. You can add to that watching football with Larry from now 'til New Year's.

Another flood

Several readers have inquired why there have been no postings of late. I haven't forgotten you, but life has been pretty ho-hum. Larry has been painting the exterior of the house for weeks now, and I've been consumed with auction activities. Nothing of interest to the outside world. Until this past Sunday.

It had been a quiet weekend. Following dog class on Saturday morning, I had set about doing laundry and continuing with some deep cleaning of the house; Larry had resumed painting. This continued on Sunday morning into the early afternoon, when I took to my bed to read, surrounded by all four animals, while Larry enjoyed some noisy sporting event on t.v. in the living room. At some point Larry made his way to town to pick up a few things, and I drifted off into an afternoon nap. I woke up about 3:30 to rain, not unusual in mid to late afternoon here during the rainy season, but I observed that it was heavier than usual and that the backyard was fast becoming a lake. I snapped a few photos, retrieved the dog dishes that were floating away, and set about preparing the pets' late afternoon meal, when Larry telephoned to say that he was stuck downtown because the road to Palo Alto had flooded down the way where it intersects with the Jaramillo Road. Edwin's house lies at the foot of where the two roads intersect, and it was flooded, he reported. He had tried to come home the other way, around the loop, but a small bridge just up from our house on the main road was out and the river was raging across the road. While we were talking, I noticed water on the floor of the guest bath and saw that it was seeping through a window beneath an overflowing gutter. I signed off, starting plugging up and mopping up, and then went to open the sliding doors to the terrace out back. When I touched the door, it was vibrating; and when I opened it, I heard what sounded like a train roaring. It proved to be the river raging behind our house, hurling boulders and whole trees downstream. The dogs ranged from being severely agitated to freaking out. Long story, but Larry didn't make it home until 8:00 that night after lying his way through a barricade.

Following the big flood in late November 2008, the government has expended considerable resources fortifying the river banks, starting with the Caldera River downtown. They had made it into only one of the mountain feeder rivers, however, and the Palo Alto River was still on the agenda. So there was widespread devastation in our area. Water flowed down the main road to town from where the bridge broke, and, additionally, the river overflowed its banks in our area, Palo Alto. Structures along the river were either flooded or were completely destroyed, including a fancy restaurant and bed and breakfast recently rebuilt at great expense following the last flood. Our area is closed to traffic except for residents (I had to go to the Mayor's office for a special permit to go to and from home), but the road is virtually impassable anyway due to all the repair vehicles and equipment.

Miraculously, we still have electricity. But our water system, the main location of which is higher up the mountain, was badly damaged. But we have a backup tank and pump, as well as four tanks that hold rainwater coming off the roof that we normally use for irrigation in the upper back portion of the garden. I think we're fine for a while. Nonetheless, Larry, fearing the worst, has become the water dictator. He turns the water off after our morning showers and toilet flushings and allows about an hour at night for subsequent flushings and dishwashing. He boiled up a huge lobster pot of water for drinking and cooking during the day and closely monitors my use of it. I'm down to using Wet Wipes to keep my hands clean.

The river came to within about five feet of our back fence, taking another chunk of our property, but there's a big drop off, and it didn't reach the top. If it had, the house and garden, which are downhill on the other side, would have been deluged. And we would have been in deep doo-doo inasmuch as flood insurance here is a thing of the past. As I write, there's the sweet sound of heavy equipment moving debris around, and I think our little river just moved way up on the priority list. That's a saving grace.

Incidentally, it has been reported that we got 14 inches of rain in a three-hour period on Sunday. Yesterday was bright and sunny all day, but neighborhood residents appeared dazed and emotionally drained.

Well, we were looking forward to a little adventure when we moved here.

(The photos are of areas a very short walking distance from our house.)

Boquete Dogs

It's been a while since I wrote about Boquete's many dogs. There are perros municipales, the town dogs, who mosey about downtown blocking traffic and doorways from time to time. More than once I've been obliged to step over a dog or two to enter a downtown business establishment. No one seems to mind. (On our first trip to Boquete way back when, we observed a dog inside a downtown grocery store peeing on the bottom shelf of canned goods. Although there were quite a few shoppers around, no customer expressed any surprise or outrage.) And there are the perros rurales who live further afield. Their sleeping spots of choice are the middle of the road, and only if a vehicle refuses to maneuver around them will they deign to move. By and large, they are much thinner than their town counterparts, the latter having the advantage of copping a handout from a restaurant or sympathetic tourist on occasion. The rural dogs, with few exceptions, get fed only when the family has excess food--which isn't often. The country dogs, particularly those attached to poor Panamanians or the indigenous Ngobe Bugle, are pitiful things. And there are many dogs that are simply turned out on their own. My beloved Felipe is one of those. More on him later.

Truth be told, though, there are far fewer dogs milling about than there were five years ago, and the situation improves every year due to the heroic efforts and phenomenal success of Amigos de Animales de Boquete. Headed by the very capable Ruby MacKenzie, Amigos holds a spay and neuter clinic every month, with major clinics in January and June at which up to 150 animals are sterilized and given rabies vaccinations, antibiotics, and vitamin shots. In other months, it's around 50 to 60. Over 6000 cats and dogs have been sterilized since the inception of Amigos, resulting in a conservative estimate of some 45,000 fewer animals being born in the last five years. Education efforts, too, have been successful, resulting in clinics now being packed with Panamanians whereas they originally attracted mostly gringos. No one is turned away, but those who can pay are charged only $5 for a cat, $10 for a dog. This doesn't pay for everything, of course, so there's a big annual venta de patio (garage sale) fundraiser and lots of smaller events throughout the year to raise money. Several veterinarians from the States have become actively involved, bringing in medicines and participating in the clinics without pay. Amigos also runs a pet adoption operation, advertising on their website and Internet forums when orphaned animals are available. This has been remarkably successful, and I know of only a few expats who do not have at least one locally-adopted animal. Many have more.

My friend and auction co-chair Penny Barrett has three: Rosita, a chicken-killing part bulldog who requires an invisible fence and a collar apparatus the size of an egg crate to keep her from decimating the neighborhood poultry population; Pinhead, a mixed breed who, as her name implies, is somewhat short on gray matter; and the indomitable Daisy, an aging shepard mix and one of Boquete's finest. Daisy came to belong to Penny after her original expat savior, Sheryl Johnson, had to return to the States unexpectedly for an extended period of time to aid her ailing mother. Sheryl, who lives in downtown Valle Escondido, first encountered Daisy when, each morning, she accompanied a group of Ngobe Bugle who pass through the development on the way to town. I'm not sure I have the details exactly right, but the story is that Sheryl observed each day how unkind the Indians were to Daisy, kicking and hitting her whenever she would stray from the path. One day Daisy wandered into Sheryl's yard and an Indian chased after her waving a stick and shouting. Sheryl came out to run interference, and Daisy ran to the back patio, backed into a corner and snarled at her pursuer, then ran behind Sheryl and pressed herself against her legs. Some sort of deal was struck, and Daisy remained with Sheryl and her husband, where she proved to be an exceptional dog: smart, well-mannered, and friendly to everyone. At some point in time, Daisy appointed herself the official ambassador of Boquete, serving as a guide and companion to people touring about on foot. She leaves home virtually every day, Penny says, as she did when she lived with Sheryl, and goes downtown to find someone to accompany on a walking tour. I see her everywhere, usually with tourists on a hike, leading them along and showing them the sights. One day a couple of weeks ago I spotted her up in the Jaramillo Mountains, miles from home, guiding a group of birders. And guests who rent Penny's apartment and house next door are never without her company when out and about town. She's a fixture at virtually every outdoor gathering, somehow knowing when and where such events taking place.

Several months ago Penny and I were meeting some folks for lunch at a restaurant downtown to discuss auction business. When Penny pulled up, I saw that Daisy was with her. She and Penny got out of the car, Penny came inside, and Daisy sat outside by the door, ears perked up. "I told her Sheryl was coming," Penny advised, "so she refused to be left behind." Five minutes or so later, I heard Daisy whimpering and saw her tag wagging. Several minutes later Sheryl's car pulled up, Daisy went into an ecstatic whirling motion, and she and Sheryl had quite a reunion on the sidewalk. When she finally came inside, Sheryl explained that Daisy knows the sound of her car, even though she hadn't heard it for months, and knew she was coming when she was blocks away. Just yesterday, I was driving home from a meeting in the pouring rain when I spotted Daisy heading home from town, oblivious to the weather, with a satisfied look on her face. Apparently the day was done, her ambassadorial work was over, and it was time for supper followed by Penny's warm bed.

All in all, Boquete has to be the best place in Panama to be a dog. If the word gets out, all the other dogs in Panama will be organizing and conspiring to move here.

My own former orphan Felipe, also known as Baby Boy ( to me) and Little Buddy (to Larry), is now almost fully acclimated to home and is looking better every day. I had been barely coping with his skin condition, using various medicated shampoos and food regimens, while waiting for Dr. Dan (Evers) to make an appearance in June. (He had told me earlier that Panamanian vets invariably treat skin ailments wrong, not knowing how to diagnose the various conditions.) I had done Internet research, talked with Panamanians who, Edwin advised, knew more about animals than the local vet, and just limped along. Felipe was looking pretty good when I left for the States for 10 days. When I returned, however, he had regressed considerably and looked a real mess. Larry, not knowing what all I had been doing, had been doing nothing skin-wise. Apparently, I had just been keeping things somewhat in check and, without mommy's TLC, things had gone to hell. Fortunately, Dr. Dan was here, having just participated in the June spay and neuter clinic. He and Cindy came by to accompany us to lunch; he did a quick examination and declared the principal problem to be a fungal infection, accompanied by a secondary bacterial infection no doubt brought about by scratching. There were signs of previous mange, he said, which Felipe probably had been born with. So off we went to Melos (the fertilizer, animal food, and all-around agricultural store) to buy anti-fungus medication, antibacterial medication, and anti-mange medication, to be used in succession. We just finished the fungus treatment, and he looks and feels 100% better. There's still a little redness to the skin, though, so I'll do 10 days of antibiotics. I think part of the setback was due to my leaving, as Felipe had become very attached to me. It took him a few days to readjust to my presence, but now he's all mine again and is thriving. He's made his way into bed with the two of us and the other three animals; he goes under the cover, curls into a tight little ball up against me, and is no trouble at all unless Kitty Kitty spots him, is feeling frisky, and sets upon him while he's defenseless. They're still sworn enemies in much the vein of Seinfeld and Newman.

The big news is that Felipe and I are going to dog school! It occurred to me a few days ago that just once in my life I'd like to have a well-behaved dog, one who actually obeys me more than now and then. There's a woman here I really like who has 30 years experience of working with animals, and she offers an eight-week course, one morning a week, for $60. It begins Saturday, and Felipe and I are enrolled. She, Kris Berg, came by yesterday to collect my money and cadge some plants, at which time she met the dogs. All three loved her on sight and, remarkably, listened to every word she said to them. I'm optimistic that the classes will go well because Felipe is devoted to me and tries hard to please me, though his puppy instincts take over all too often. There should be some good stories, so stay tuned.

The Panama Census and Other Matters

I gather from television, the internet, and newspapers that the U.S. is endeavoring to conduct a census. All the imploring, cajoling, and pleading of citizens to join the effort is seen as a bit peculiar down here where today, Sunday May 16th, is census day in Panama. Panama cuts right through all the cajoling. The entire country has shut down–no supermarkets, gas stations, restaurants, even churches are open. And people are confined to their homes until such time as a census worker appears. Panama does it all in one day. Census workers swarm across the countryside like a horde of army ants, visit every residence and non-residence, and no one is free to peregrinate until issued written permission to do so after completion of the lengthy questionnaire. To be apprehended out and about without such permission results in detainment, fine, and confiscation of vehicle, if a vehicle is employed in the escape effort. There’s been a lot of uncertainty expressed by those who plan to arrive in or depart from the country today, as well about those simply visiting and likely to be out walking about without notice. It’ll be interesting to see what develops. Because I had done my homework, our visit required only ten minutes. I had planned to spend a large portion of the day catching up on business requiring the Internet, but the Internet went down early and the electricity has been off and on. One can only hope that arrangements were made to have essential services employees on the job today.

It’s been an action-filled few weeks. Larry’s two-week dengue fever run ended with him being sicker than ever, requiring a return visit to the downtown doctor. A blood test revealed him to be free of dengue but still with a very bad blood count and likely suffering from some form of viral malady. La doctora thought perhaps mononucleosis and told him to go home and wait another week. When he was worse than ever the next day, however, we opted to travel to David to see an immunologist, Dr. Cesar De Gracia. He was alarmed by the blood tests and admitted Larry to the hospital forthwith to undergo a series of tests. Larry's first night there he suffered two seizures, which prompted an MRI the next morning. It came up negative, so the speculation was an electrolyte imbalance brought about by three weeks of vomiting and diarrhea. He remained hospitalized for three days on oxygen and two IVs, and a hematologist was brought in. She had a specialized blood test done and reported that it revealed signs of hepatitis C which, of course, he was treated for and cleared of about ten years ago with five subsequent years of annual checks. That explained nothing really as Hepatitis C is largely symptom free until it completely destroys the liver, so we were back to assuming that the dengue had played havoc with his immune system in some nefarious way. In any event, he’s been home for over a week and has improved every day. He’s pretty much back to normal now and paying close attention to eating well. A follow-up blood test yesterday revealed the platelets pretty much back to normal and the Hep C viral count very low, perhaps even just leftover traces. We intend to visit a gastroenterologist soon to follow up on this, but the local doctor believes the count to be too low to require treatment. That would be a blessing, as the treatment was a real bear, you may recall. (The entire hospital bill for three days–including two doctors and an MRI–was less than $1000.)

I am the proud recipient of the inaugural “Garden of the Month” award from the local garden club and have a sign in my front yard to prove it. Since almost all houses are off the beaten path, it’s questionable how much exposure such an award will bring, but the garden club felt that it would give all gardeners something to aspire to. Speaking of gardening, Edwin and I took Friday off and drove to Guadalupe, an extension of Cerro Punta on the other side of the volcano, to visit Finca Dracula, a world famous orchid destination. The name comes from the Dracula species of orchids, which vaguely resemble bats. Finca Dracula allegedly has the finest collection of Draculas there is, as well as hundreds of other orchid varieties. But we went primarily to see the newly-landscaped grounds, which were spectacular. On the way we dropped in on Carla Black in Volcan, a worldwide expert in heliconias and waterlillies, and toured her magnificent garden. Carla and her husband, Angel, travel throughout South America in seek of undiscovered heliconias, bring them back to Volcan, and propagate them. She has a sale in June, at which time they are mobbed by plant collectors. (I bought eight heliconias last year, most of which are blooming now.) Edwin has been redoing various areas of our garden and came back richly inspired. And we drove, for the first time, the Ruta Sur (southern route), a brand new road between Potrerillos and Volcan, cutting the time by about 45 minutes each way. Because there was very little traffic, it was tranquil. Winding first through citrus groves and then the mountains, the route was lovely and blessedly cool, unlike before when it was necessary to go to David and travel the Interamerican Highway through the lowlands before going back up into the mountains.

The trip was a welcome getaway from Larry’s medical woes and the almost constant work on the Bid4Boquete auction. My e-mails on the auction now number in the hundreds, and I’m obliged to attend at least two meetings per week. We secured a $5000 corporate sponsorship from Banco General and two other $1000 business sponsorships. We’ve catalogued every business in Boquete and many in David and surrounding areas and have assigned persons to solicit them for donation of goods, services, and/or money. The Publicity Committee, comprised of two women who worked in corporate publicity and fundraising in New York and Florida, have given us an ambitious plan which has us beating the bushes daily for volunteers to take on the many activities they envision. It’s to the point of getting out of hand, but I think we’re going to astound the community with the amount of money we raise. Auction proceeds are earmarked for the new library, food drives for the elderly and incapacitated, school programs, water systems for rural areas, and handicapped equipment and programs.

On the home front, no truce has been negotiated between Felipe and Kitty Kitty, but their altercations now are taking more the form of games than serious confrontations. One (usually Kitty Kitty) will lurk behind something until the other passes by, whereupon the lurker springs out in challenge mode. It can be startling, but is immensely entertaining. Felipe is getting healthier every day and finally is showing a lot of personality. We’ve both become quite fond of him. Interestingly, he pees in the house occasionally, but always squeezes through the gate and goes off the property to poop.

I’m making preparations for the trip home and am really looking forward to it. Everybody is on notice to sift through your stories of the past three years and be ready with the best ones for me.

And check out new pix on Flickr under Bonnie in Boquete.

April 2010

There have been some new challenges in the past month or two. There's Felipe/Leroy, of course, whose rehabilitation from near death has been time-consuming but rewarding. During an overlapping period of time, Trudy became very ill with a urinary tract and liver infection, so the kitchen counter looked like a pharmacy for several weeks. Both were prescribed expensive and virtually unobtainable dogs foods (they're obtainable in David now and again at extraordinary cost), so for the most part I've been cooking up dog food every few days to meet their dietary needs. This has been offset, however, by the fact that I'm no longer cooking lunch for Edwin. I told him it was just too restrictive on my time and bartered letting him go an hour earlier. He appears fine with the new arrangement.

On the other hand, my time again has been restricted because I allowed myself to be persuaded to co-chair the annual Bid4Boquete auction, sale, and activities--sort of the United Way of this area--which benefits four local organizations devoted to charitable causes. It's held the first week of December, but the planning is extensive and goes on all year. It began this year in February, and so far I have had in excess of 500 e-mails and 28 meetings. My fellow co-chairs are Penny Barrett and Martine Heyer, two formidable ladies. Penny is a former Assistant U.S. Attorney from Michigan. Martine is Dutch, with a degree in philosophy from the Sorbonne, who came here from Palo Alto, California, where she founded a French school (she fluently speaks five languages), was a meeting planner, and had a successful real estate firm. Both have extensive business interests here in Boquete, travel often to all parts of the world, and are actively involved in other local organizations. But that hasn't kept them from giving hours and hours to the Bid4Boquete effort. We've already upped last year's goal from $20,000 (of which $18,000 was actually realized) to $30,000 and have made significant changes. The undertaking involves seventeen committees and over a hundred volunteers, and activities will stretch over an entire weekend. There's a fancy wine-tasting evening, a live auction of luxury goods and services, a silent auction of somewhat lesser goods and services, food, drinks, a rummage sale, a book sale, a bake sale, childrens' activities galore, and raffles. We've established a legal foundation, ferreted out corporate donors, and figured out how to make cash contributions tax exempt for both Panamanian and American donors. We even have a website and Facebook page. Big doings.

I also just completed plans for my first return trip to the States (not counting my brief stay in Louisiana on the way to China) since we moved here in February 2007. The occasion is nephew Hardy's impending wedding on June 26, which Derek and his main squeeze Wah Wah also will attend. For those of you who do not know about Wah Wah from other contacts with me, she is a post-doctoral student in biomedical research at the University of Maryland Medical Center in Baltimore; she formerly was at the University of Louisiana, where she met Derek, but relocated to Baltimore last November for a better position. She is from Burma (now called Myanmar) but, as I understand it, has spent most of her life and was schooled in Thailand. I'm eager to meet her. And I'm eager to see what all of you in Tallahassee have been up to and how you've fared without me.

Larry is staying here to hold down the fort and the animals. He's been feeling peaked of late and, this very morning, ventured down to the local clinic in hopes of obtaining a B-12 injection. Instead, the doctor there noted that he had a fever of 101 and sent him down the street for a blood test, following which he was diagnosed with a relatively mild case of dengue fever. (A full-fledged case would have him delirious with fever, bleeding from the gums, vomiting, agonizingly aching all over, and covered with a rash.) He came home with a bagful of prescription medicines designed only to relieve symptoms and keep him hydrated. Dengue is a virus for which there is no "cure." As it is spread by mosquitoes and we seldom to never see mosquitoes up here in the mountains, how he contracted it is puzzling. There are plenty of mosquitoes in lowland David, but Larry hasn't been there in months; that's my job. And I've never encountered a mosquito in David that I recall. I'm getting a lot of, "I told you I was sick." Now I suppose I have to let the naps and the reclining in front of the t.v. pass without comment for a while. (Actually, I did know he was sick because he has played golf only twice in six weeks.)

Kitty Kitty (formally Juanita Bonita) still rules the house, but Felipe hasn't learned the rules yet and keeps a perpetually bloody nose. Chyna has grown remarkably good-natured in her dotage and allows Felipe all sorts of liberties she never would have tolerated in her heyday, while Trudy, having always been good-natured, endures all of his puppyish overtures without complaint. Both Kitty Kitty and Felipe are pains in the butt, but it's good to have some youthfulness in the house. I still find it hard to accept how utterly smitten Larry is with Kitty. He even went so far as to say one evening, without provocation, that she's "a delight." I can't recall him ever having used that word before.

The photo is of one of five huge bunches of bananas we have at present.

FELIPE, or No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

A week and a half ago Dalys came to work as usual on Friday morning. In an effort to be an amiable employer and simultaneously practice my Spanish skills, I remarked that I had seen their family dog, Lassie, who is old and blind, dangerously perambulating the main road up to Palo Alto. Dalys replied, sniffling a little, that it couldn't have been Lassie because Lassie died of old age about a month ago. We commiserated a bit, and she said the children had cried miserably for several days. I asked if they planned to get another dog, and she said that they clearly needed one but that it had to be a small or small-to-medium dog.

"No problema," I assured her. "The Amigos de Animales have animals for adoption, and there's even a website with pictures." We repaired to the computer room for a gander, but the only dogs currently available were too large. (I noticed that most appeared to have a little to a lot of Rottweiler blood in their ancestry, suggesting that home burglaries are not just a thing of the present.) There are lots of dogs that need homes, I assured Dalys, and I further assured her that I would put the word out for a smallish dog.

So I went to the Boquete forum, plead my case, and almost immediately received two responses. Millie, of Millie's Chic Boutique, a local salon de belleza (beauty shop), was said to have been looking for a new home for her poodle. Knowing Millie as I do, having gotten one of my bad haircuts from her, I knew that she was not looking for a Panamanian home for Fritzi, or whatever its name may be. Moreover, I couldn't quite envision Fritzi withstanding the ministrations of Roberto and Daisy, whom you may recall from the Christmas tree decorating event. So I moved on to the next offer.

An acquaintance, Dianne, an former Australian who is the proprietor of La Zapadora in Potrerillos, an eclectic warehouse of furniture, garden stuff, and other design elements from around the world, wrote to say that a small dog had been hanging out there for a period of time. It is a nice little dog, she assured me, not at all neurotic, but suffering from malnutrition and a skin condition which had developed over the past week. It was friendly, though a bit skittish, she further wrote, but she was afraid it would not last long, what with the lack of food and the traffic on the road out front. This sounded like just the ticket, so, on Sunday, I set out for Potrerillos, about twenty miles away, armed with dog food for enticing.

Dianne was busy with a client when I arrived but told me to scout around for the dog. I eventually located him in one of the outbuildings and coaxed him outside with food. It was clear that this was a dog that could not be offered to anyone; a number of ticks were visible and there were large hairless patches, red with inflammation, in addition to obvious malnutrition. He was nervous, but allowed me to pet him while he ate. Dianne and I talked a bit, and I told her I would see what I could do, having no intention of doing anything.

When I got back home, however, I was overcome with the guilt that accompanies doing nothing for a creature in need, and I had a sleepless night. Larry agreed to help me retrieve him, and a call to Dianne revealed that she had an old dog kennel that she would take with her that day. So on Tuesday Larry and I set out for Potrerillos, loaded the dog into the kennel with minimal trouble, and drove back to Boquete. Our first stop was the office of the local veterinarian, Dra. Chely, where, as Larry was unloading the dog via leash instead of kennel, he deftly escaped the chain noose and came within inches of being crushed by a pickup truck backing out of the driveway. Dra. Chely rushed to the scene, and the three of us spent half an hour chasing the dog through the back streets of Boquete, Larry cursing heartily and frequently. In his weakened state, the dog couldn't run fast, but he was quick as lightning whenever Dra. Chely tried to grab him. I alternately chased and moved the car closer until we finally caught him and returned, sweatily, to the clinic.

Dra. Chely, who is very animated, kept up a running discourse in Spanish while she removed ticks, swabbed him with alcohol, and administered three injections. She then wrote out prescriptions for a shampoo, tablets, and skin sensitive dog food, told us where they could be bought in Boquete, charged us $15, and sent us on our way. I thought the charge was imminently reasonable, given the lengthy foot race she had endured. We bought the shampoo and the tablets, but passed on the special dog food upon learning that it was $20 for a miniscule bag. I decided I would be better off cooking up a batch, following the recipe provided by Candice, our organic produce purveyor. Larry first dubbed him Speedy Gonzalez but, when I objected, switched to Leroy (pronounced LEEroy). I have to admit that it fit him admirably, but, wanting to give him something to aspire to, I suggested Felipe. That seems to have stuck, although now and then we relapse and refer to him as Leroy.

Thus began the feeding, the nursing, the befriending. He's a sweet little dog and clearly appreciates my culinary efforts. And he endures the shampoos, the swabbings, and the pills. But on Thursday, apparently feeling a little better, he registered his objections to being confined by breaking out of the kennel (it was missing some screws, so he apparently lifted the top and dismantled the door) and disappeared. It was a stormy day and night, so I was pretty distraught, and we had little hope of finding him or of his returning. Early Friday afternoon, however, there he was back in the garage. Larry decided to leave the door off the kennel and affix him to a long rope so he could ramble around the front yard, and he seemed content with this for about five days. Then he began roaming more freely and consequently became entangled by automobiles, trees, landscape lighting, etc., and we noticed his attempts to chew through the rope. We finally relented and set him free, not knowing what to expect.

He hasn't left the property. The weather has been wet, so he's been happy to hang out in the kennel, fitted with pillows and blankets, for the most part unless a free ranging dog ventures up the driveway, in which case he bares his teeth, charges, and effectively runs him off. When the sun is out, he lounges in the driveway or on the front steps. He's become much less fearful and much more playful, dancing around on his long hind legs for attention and food. Chyna and Trudy are aware that he's there. Chyna objected strongly at first, as did Juanita, who swelled up like a furry blowfish, but the objections appear to have given way to curiosity. I think they'll become used to him, like the dogs did Juanita, and pretty soon will consider him a household fixture rather than a threat. His skin condition has improved, but not quite so dramatically as I had hoped. His treatment was largely antibacterial in the hopes that the loss of hair and inflammation was brought about by scratching, but there remains the possibility that it could be mange, which will require a trip to a licensed veterinarian in David. I'm going to shampoo him again this weekend and give him a good lookover early next week and decide.

The original plan was to rehabilitate him and put him up for adoption, but we finally admitted this morning that we're becoming attached to him and that he's too happy to uproot again. So it looks like we have a third dog. I have hopes that someday Felipe will be presentable if not beautiful.

New and Improved Bureaucracy

Panama's Bureau of Unparalleled Bureaucracy has been working overtime of late. I have a vision of how it operates. Major government functionaries seek out, via a set of confusing questionnaires, the most inept yet creative minor functionaries throughout the country, lock them in a room, provide them with an unlimited supply of marijuana, and refuse to free them until they've come up with new diabolical plan guaranteed to confuse the maximum number of people--particularly those with a less than perfect command of the Spanish language.

While perusing one or more of the many forums (fora?) circulating among the expat population, I came across, a couple of months ago, information indicating that a new law has been enacted requiring owners of motor vehicles to obtain a motor vehicle identification card, a piece of plastic designed to offer proof that one is in compliance with a variety of regulations relating to car ownership and, presumably, to obviate the necessity of emptying the glove box or console of papers relating to vehicle registration, insurance, etc., every time one encounters a traffic stop/check manned by the transitos (traffic police). On the face of it, this sounds like a worthy endeavor as traffic stops invariably result in interminable delays as drivers shuffle through the paperwork, transitos shuffle through the paperwork, and the two struggle with coming to some form of agreement about what the paperwork means. The Bureau of Unparalleled Bureaucracy, however, saw it as an opportunity to produce some of its finest work.

According to the forums, the government had developed a website on which, by entering one's license plate number, one could determine the date on which one's motor vehicle identification card could be retrieved from a specified transito office. Miraculously, this worked. I discovered, back in December or so, that my card would be ready and waiting in February 2010. As this is the month in which the license plate on our principal vehicle is renewed, I figured, somewhat correctly, that the card is linked to license plate renewal. Everything gets hazy after that. (All the information on the forums was confusing and contradictory because, and this will be a surprise to many of you, people cannot write. Information is useful only if it's clear, and people cannot write. I sought clarity via responding with questions, but came away even more confused because people cannot write.)

As if this weren't bad enough, the Bureau of Unparalleled Bureaucracy simultaneously decreed that henceforth one's national identification number must be the same on all governmental documents. This sounds reasonable except that the national i.d. number is tied to the passport number, and, when a passport is renewed, as ours recently were, the number changes. So now the numbers on our cedulas, driver's licenses, vehicle registration, insurance, etc., are different from the numbers on our passports. As best as I could ascertain from the gibberish on the forums, the process by which this is accomplished begins with license plate renewal, after which one sets about getting all the numbers to match before visiting the transito office to claim the ready-and-waiting vehicle identification card. This involves several steps, the order of which remains unclear.

It appears that one first must pay a visit to the Immigration Office, the most hellish place in all of Panama, to get a new cedula (national identification card) with a new number that matches the new passport. I cannot overemphasize what a daunting task this is. The Immigration Office, located in the heart of jam-packed David, provides no parking, has no air-conditioning, offers a tiny waiting room into which are packed dozens of sweaty people vying for attention, and is staffed entirely by non-English speakers. Waiting times of hours or even days are not uncommon unless one goes to the expense of arriving armed with a lawyer or, at the very least, a Spanish-speaking facilitator who is somehow entitled to jump the lines. Once receiving the attention of a sure-to-be surly Immigration bureaucrat, there's bound to be a delay or delays in receiving the actual card bearing the new number, requiring a return trip or trips to David, paid lawyer or facilitator at hand, to once again navigate the bureaucratic quagmire. The next step--again, apparently--is to drive through more traffic congestion to the David City Hall, second floor, to change the motor vehicle registration documents to reflect the new number. It goes without saying that there will be a line of 30 or more persons and that the employee servicing the line that I'm in will close down and go to lunch or on break just as I reach the front. In any case, some paperwork eventually will be accomplished, after which a fee will be assessed. But the fee cannot be paid at City Hall. It can only be paid at Banco Nacional, a few blocks down the 100+ degrees street, after which one returns to City Hall, receipt in hand, to stand in line all over again.

On the other hand, one forum participant reports that she received her vehicle identification card merely by producing her old passport to prove that she is who she purports to be. Either she was very lucky (my guess, all things considered) or the matching numbers requirement is tied to renewal of one's driver's license rather than the renewal of the license plate. This seems unlikely as the card became available at the time the license plate was due to be renewed. I don't know when my driver's license expires. And I don't want to know right now as that presents a whole nother bureaucratic nightmare.

In any event, the license tag had to be renewed, and I know from experience that the first step in that bureaucratic process is to obtain a revisado. The revisado is loosely analogous to a car inspection except that they don't inspect anything. They just check that the vehicle is insured, take a photograph of the car, charge $15, and produce a piece of paper entitling one to pick up the new license tag. A nifty way to pad the federal coffers. There's no place is Boquete that offers revisado services, of course, so I set off for David on Thursday, got the revisado without a hitch, and drove the 25 miles back to Boquete to pick up my new license plate and pay another fee at City Hall. Alas, they had no plates. I was told to return in Marzo (March).

I'm optimistically looking at it as a reprieve as, without the license plate paperwork, I can't take whatever the steps may be toward getting the vehicle identification card. Then I read this morning on a forum that I should have been given a permiso temporal de circulacion (temporary permit to drive around aimlessly) to display in my window to avoid being fined for having an expired tag.

Back to Boquete City Hall Monday morning.

[The photo is of Novey, the offspring of Maisie, one of Steve and Michelle's howler monkeys, fathered by a monkey in the wild.]

Food

We're easing into the dry season, and today was a beautiful, sunlit, tranquil day. I dragged a lounge chair out onto the back lawn and donned a tank top, the first I remember wearing in a long time--so long that it smelled vaguely mildewed. With a new novel (Spooner, by Pete Dexter, is highly recommended) and a coke on ice, I settled in. But not before I had made a breakfast of free-range chicken eggs, sausage, English muffins, and orange marmalade.

I paid dearly for the sausages and muffins, the imported kind, but the eggs and marmalade came from right here in Panama. Putting together one's comestibles (foodstuff) is a constant challenge. I've written about how tough the beef is because cattle eat grass rather than grain and roam freely rather than being stuffed into food lots. No hormones, no antibiotics. It's healthier, for sure, but tough, and not all that tasty for the most part. We've found that buying the filete entero (whole fillet) is the way to go, but costly. Once pushed to the back of the fridge to age for a few days and then cut into portions for freezing, it's very good. Other cuts, however, demand the pressure cooker or the crockpot, and even hamburger needs a bit of bacon grease or lard to make it truly palatable. Pork is okay, so long as one knows which cuts to buy and so long as one can find them, and chicken is plentiful and good. The seafood is spotty, as we don't live on the coast. I've found that fish, for the most part, just isn't as tasty as the fish back in Florida, but the shrimp are outstanding if a bit pricey.

So the search for good, reliable protein is an ongoing. We now have a fish monger, Miguel, who travels to Boquete a couple of times a week and comes to our house with a big ice chest filled with crab, shrimp, fish, lobster, and oysters. This is Pacific seafood, and it's different from what we're used to. The oysters, which measure about four to six inches across, are inedible in our book. The fish, as noted, at times seems tasteless, as does the crab and lobster. Miguel delivers wahoo, dorado, pardo (red snapper), and mahi mahi, but it all tastes pretty much the same: like nothing. It must have to do with the freshness factor, although Miguel swears that he got it at the dock in Pedregal that very morning. So we've pretty much gotten it down to shrimp, tuna, and a sea bass called corvina, which is nearly always good. I'm going to make it my mission in the incoming weeks to locate a reliable source for good beef and pork, starting this morning when I visit Jane and Barry to obtain some of their excellent coffee. They're gourmet cooks and should know. Additionally, Emanuel Revilla-Gonzalez should be there, as he is most Sunday mornings, and should be good for some food sources. In case you've forgotten, he's the President of Banco General in Panama who has a second home just up from Jane and Barry to which he travels by private helicopter from Panama City most weekends. I intend to grill the three of them.

Chiriqui, our province, is known as the bread basket of Panama because of its agriculture. Vegetables and vegetable markets are plentiful, but the downside is that pesticides, herbicides, and fungicides also are plentiful. The beauty of Cerro Punto, an agricultural community on the other side of the volcano, is spoiled by the nauseating smell of pesticides. The incidences of cancer in that region are reputed to be extraordinarily high, and, although we don't detect similar odors around Boquete, anything bought locally is assumed to be heavily treated and therefore best soaked in a water and vinegar solution before eating.

Gringo ingenuity has come into play once again, however. There are now a number of organic farms and small time operators who have emerged to offer hydroponic and organically grown fruits and vegetables. There's a Tuesday morning market at which these fruits and vegetables are hawked, which has grown into the sale of artisan breads, specially prepared meats, herbal products, free-range eggs, Thai cuisine, pastries, organically grown coffee, etc. And a lovely young woman, Candice, originally from California, makes home deliveries of her fruits, vegetables, sauces, marmalades, etc., all organically grown and home-prepared in the Palmira area. We were particularly excited when she began offering greens--mustard, kale, turnips, etc.--and lard. Yes, lard. Look it up: one of the best fats around. She has a blog, too, advising how to cook produce new to us expats. And, at long last, a couple of good bakeries have popped up. There's a French bakery south of town which has excellent baguettes, but it's a 15 or 20 minute drive away. Closer to downtown, a baker from Atlanta has relocated to provide several varieties of bread, cakes, muffins, brownies, pies, etc. But he's expensive: my birthday chocolate cake--the best I've ever eaten, by the way--now costs $26!!! And two Christmas pies, apple and pecan, set me back $25. Ready-made pie crusts are not available here, so I set about learning how to make my own. But my food processor died, and I've been unable to find another of decent quality. (I did manage a blueberry pie for Charly's birthday, but it took me forever to make the crust by hand, and, although it tasted good, it looked like hell.)

Eating out presents its own set of challenges. Restaurants open; restaurants close. Entrepreneurial types figure that, with all the "rich" gringos in Boquete, a fancy restaurant is a sure thing. What they don't figure is that gringos, many of whom live far out of town, don't eat out every day of the week or even several days a week. The tourist trade is good for business, but only if the restaurant is located right in the heart of town, as many tourists don't have cars. So good restaurants come and go. There're plenty of small restaurants that serve cheap, tipico (local Panamanian) food heavy on rice and beans plus poultry or some form of mystery meat, but it's satisfying just once in a while. Moreover, virtually all restaurants are just as apt to be closed as they are open. There are several mainstays--the restaurant at the Panamonte Hotel, the Cafe de la Crepe, El Pianista (an Italian place in our vicinity), the Bistro Boquete in the heart of downtown, and Oasis Restaurante at the hotel of the same name--but they carry gringo prices and therefore are good only for special nights out. No fast food; no hamburger joints; no place to just pick up something quick because service is invariably slow and quality uneven. A meal out requires a real commitment.

So a big chunk of my retired life is given over to issues of food. I cook lunch at least five days a week for me, Larry, and Edwin (and Dalys on Fridays), and no sooner is lunch over than Larry is asking about the dinner menu. Throw in occasional entertaining and a batch of cookies or brownies now and then and I'm in the kitchen an unreasonably large percentage of my time. There is no bigger treat than eating something I didn't have to make myself, but, outside of invitations from friends, it's often not worth the hassle. Oh, for a KFC, a Popeye's, a Boston Market, a McDonald's, a Whataburger. (But then I probably wouldn't be a size 6.)

The Holidays and Beyond

We made it through the wet season unscathed and just were beginning to enjoy full days of sunshine when the cold front plaguing all of you up north created storms in the Caribbean which currently are moving across Panama. We've had high winds and incessant, blowing rain for two days now and are looking at two more days at least. The rain has not been heavy, just unceasing. We're hoping for no repeat of last year's flood. There were landslides in parts of Boquete in early December caused by heavy rains, but we were not personally affected. They hit particularly hard in Valle Escondido (Hidden Valley--the name should give you an idea of what the problem was), a downtown gated community. One reputedly million-dollar house was completely destroyed, and many homes were inundated with mud and water, including that of a dear friend, Pat Mains. She recovered sufficiently to host a Christmas luncheon for fifty people of December 24th. Quite a trooper, particularly since she lives alone and is of retirement age.

In fact, there were quite a few parties to attend this year, and all of them were very fancy by our standards. I remarked to several of you via e-mail that I felt like a British colonialist, what with all the china, crystal, silver, and Panamanian servants scurrying about. The festivities were more low key at our house on Christmas day, but enjoyable nonetheless. Ramon's delightful daughter, Laura, was visiting from San Francisco, and we also were joined by Scott and Vicky, part-time Boquetenos who hail from Houston, and Justin, the new golf manager at Cielo Paraiso, recently arrived from managing a golf course in Mexico. One of the highlights of the holidays was an all-day runabout with Steve. We took off down barely navigable roads, splashed through creeks and waterfalls, gathered plants along the way, got lost, and ended up at the foot of the walking path to the volcano. It was good to able to spend time with him again, as we had lots of news and gossip to catch up on. The picture above is of Steve. (I know you've been wondering what he looks like. Sort of a better looking Steve Erwin, with whom, incidentally, he was mates back in Australia. He has a great story about their transporting some crocodiles together.)

Steve and Michelle returned a few days later to help me host the Garden Club holiday party on December 31st. I use the word "host" loosely as all I did was provide the house. The Club president and her husband set the date and the time, they planned and supervised a number of plant-related games (which were fun even for me, a decidedly no-games person), and members brought all the food. I did provide the paper goods and a fortified punch, but otherwise just sat back and enjoyed everything. Steve even conducted the garden tours. So, all in all, a great holiday season.

Larry is nearing the end of the all the procedures leading up to his getting some new teeth in his head. Following six or seven root canals (I've lost count) and gum surgery which took forever to heal, he spent two four-hour sessions last week having some teeth ground down to accommodate the new ones, which are to be ready in early February. In the meantime, he has temporaries. He had been a champ up to last week, but in addition to having a sore mouth when he came finally came home, he also had a terrific backache from the dentist's chair. And the lousy weather isn't helping his mood any. I'm just trying to stay out of the way.

Juanita Bonita, AKA Kitty Kitty, is now fully integrated into the household: she's joined the two of us and the dogs in bed at night. I used to have approximately one foot of space in a king sized bed--albeit a different one foot at the top at the bottom, obliging me to sleep in all sorts of contorted positions. Now I have virtually none. And no one will give an inch. Chyna somehow morphs into weighing about 200 pounds, Trudy growls if I as much as touch her, and Kitty Kitty gets all huffy if I make her change positions. It takes a good fifteen or twenty minutes to claim sufficient space to get in bed. And, God forbid, if I should have to get up and use the bathroom at night. Animals who wouldn't be moved for love or money earlier in the evening shift around so as to make in impossible for me to reclaim any room whatsoever upon my return to bed. I anticipate urinary tract problems resulting from all of this.

Despite the wind and rain, I'm going to have to gird my loins and make a trek downtown for supplies today. Allegedly, the roads are a mess. And the annual Flower and Coffee Fair is in progress, thus exacerbating the situation. So I better fortify myself with some more excellent Boquete coffee and get cracking.