My trip to Turkey

The anticipated-for-a-year trip to Turkey came off as planned, and it was sorely needed. Aside from a three-day trip to Boca Chica with Charly and a three-day trip to Bocas del Toro with Charly and Maryellen, about a year apart, I hadn't been anywhere in nearly two years, since Derek and Wah Wah's wedding. It also came a month after the big Bid 4 Boquete event which, as usual, was exhausting but profitable. We brought in over $75,000 this year to feed the hungry, help the handicapped, support the schools, and spay/neuter dogs and cats.

The flight from Newark to Istanbul was 11 hours, but it went relatively quickly due to my having my new Kindle Fire loaded with books and our having personal t.v.s loaded with the latest movies. The drive from the airport into the city was splendid, replete with evidence of Istanbul's (Constantinople's, Byzantium's) historical past and late winter/early spring flowers in bloom everywhere. It was chilly and we were tired, but we managed some exploring on our own before dinner and orientation at the hotel.

The next morning we toured the Blue Mosque, a 17th century Ottoman structure famous for its minarets and blue tiles; continued to the nearby Hippodrome, where chariot races and athletic events took place during the Roman era; and wrapped it up with the Haggia Sophia, the great Byzantine basilica built in the 6th century which remained the largest cathedral in the world for nearly a thousand years. It later was converted to a mosque but now serves as a musuem and is undergoing reclamation of its Christian past. We perceived right away that our guide, Sendar, a native Turk who was schooled in England, was a godsend, and so he proved to be. Pleasant, imminently knowledgeable, and enthusiastic, he made the trip both fun and educational.

That first day proved to be an omen, weatherwise. It was cold (in the mid thirties), raining, and windy. We came prepared for nippy weather with sweaters, scarves, appropriately warm undergarments, and jackets, but we were in no way ready to face those conditions. We were miserable at the outdoor venues, and the indoor ones proved to be little better. We were cold to the absolute bone and raced back to the hotel at morning's end and into the sauna and Turkish baths, which were restorative. We pampered ourselves late that afternoon with high tea at the Pera Palace Hotel where Agatha Christie and other famous folk rested up following their trips on the Orient Express.

The following morning the eight of us gathered with Sendar and approximately 25 others on our Mercedes-Benz bus to begin our tour of Turkey beyond Istanbul. After a few hours drive through beautiful countryside listening to Sendar's first lessons on the history of Turkey, we took a ferry across the Dardanelles to arrive at Gallipoli, the site of the famous WWI battle that set the stage for the demise of the Ottoman Empire and the emergence of modern Turkey. (If you haven't seen the movie, starring a young and unsullied Mel Gibson, make it a point to do so.) We drove on to Canakkale and proceeded to the nearby ruins of Troy, where we toured the 4000-year-old city and legendary location of the Trojan War immortalized by Homer. We overnighted in Canakkale, where the Trojan Horse from the movie Troy is proudly displayed in a public park.

On day five we drove to Pergamum, a powerful kingdom during the Hellenistic period, and visited the ruins of the Asclepion, an ancient Roman spa and healing center where Galen, one of the fathers of medicine, practiced his trade. We continued from there to Kusadasi, a city believed to be the birthplace of Homer, where we stayed overnight.

The following day we visited the nearby ruins of the city of Ephesus, first settled in the early Bronze Age and subsequently a great Greek city and still later a great Roman city. Ephesus was one of the seven churches of Asia cited in the Book of Revelation. The gospel of John probably was written there, and the Basilica of St. John is nearby. We spent several hours there, walking among the ruins that covered several square miles, but were told by Sendar that only 8% of the city has been excavated to date. It was fascinating to see evidence of so many civilizations existing on one spot, and we all agreed that it was a tour highlight. Later that day we visited the house where the Virgin Mary resided when she relocated to the area after the death of Christ, as well as the scanty remains of the Temple of Artemis, one of the seven wonders of the ancient world.

More ruins were in store when we traveled to Pamukkale the next day: the ancient city of Hieropolis, a UNESCO World Heritage Site situated atop the Pamukkale hot springs, and its accompanying vast burial grounds, the Necropolis. Hot springs dot the area, and our hotel was very near one. Nevertheless, we awoke the next morning to snow on the ground and snowflakes in the air.

That morning we departed for Konya, the home of Mevlana Celaleddin-i Rumi, better known in the west as Rumi and in Turkey as Mevlana, the 13th century Muslim saint and mystic who founded the Sufi branch of Islam and developed the whirling dervishes or Sema, a form of meditation. We visited his mausoleum, which also serves as a lodge and school for the training of today's dervishes. Konya, where we stayed the night, is also renowned for its Seljuk architecture.

The Cappadocia region, our next stop, was a far piece away, so during the trip we stopped to visit the Caravanserai of Sultanhan, a precursor of the motel, located along what was once the Silk Road from China to the east. We landed in the city of Nevsehir in Cappadocia that afternoon and first visited a carpet atelier run in partnership with the Turkish government to train carpet weavers. I was flabbergasted by the sheer beauty of the carpets, which were displayed for us dramatically, and equally flabbergasted by the discounts which could be had there. Several people made purchases, but I was thwarted by not being able to devise a means of getting a carpet to me in Panama.

After settling into our hotel in Nevsehir, we attended a performance that night of whirling dervishes, held in another ancient caravanserai. While commercial performance of dervishes are common in Turkey, ours were the real thing: straight from the Sufi headquarters in Konya. I was mesmerized. The whirling, or Sema, is performed by spinning on the left foot, looking upward, and meditating. The ceremony represents  a mystical journey of man's spiritual ascent through mind and love to the "Perfect." The performance lasted nearly an hour.

The next day we did a full day tour of Cappadocia, famed for its highly unusual topography and dwellings cut into sides of hills, some of the oldest of which were inhabited by early Christians hiding from their tormentors. Several of us were scheduled for a balloon ride over the region early that morning, but it was cancelled because of inclement weather. I was deeply disappointed because I had heard from other that it was the absolute highlight of a Turkey trip.

On day 11 we proceeded on to the capital city, Ankara, where we toured the Mausoleum of Kemal Ataturk, founder and first president of the Turkish Republic. (He also was a war hero at Gallipoli.) That afternoon we went to the Anatolian Civilizations Museum with its unique collection of archeological artifacts from the Paleolithic Age to the present.

After overnighting in Ankara, we returned to Istanbul on day 12, arriving in the early afternoon and taking a half day Bosphorus cruise (some pricey real estate there, as well as palaces from earlier eras) followed by a visit to the Spice Market that was remarkable for its smells and artful displays. That night we had a farewell dinner featuring fish from the Black Sea in a charming downtown area.

We learned that Turkey is 95% Islam, but it is a secular, democratic, constitutional democracy with full freedom of religion. The only outward signs of Islam were women's kerchiefed heads and minarets. We saw only four burqas, and they were on women at the exceedingly crowded spice market on our final day. Minarets, on the other hand, are everywhere, both in the cities and the countryside, as they are used to call the faithful to prayer five times a day, beginning at 5:00 a.m. It's a wonderful but eerie way to be awakened.

Scenery ran the gamut from huge cosmopolitan cities like Istanbul and Ankara, to less populous but modern cities, to quaint villages, to long stretches of agricultural land and vacant land. The Marmara Sea (part of the Turkish Straits, which also includes the Bosphorus and the Dardanelles) lies to the north, the Aegean Sea lies to the east (we could see the Greek island of Lesbos when driving along the Aegean), and the Mediterranean Sea is to the south. Turkey is roughly the size of Texas. Geographically it is very diverse, with numerous seaside towns, snow-capped mountains, rivers, lakes, and valleys. It is a fascinating, beautiful country. Miles of olive trees would be followed by miles of fruit and nut trees in full or almost full bloom. Wildflowers were everywhere. Even the ruins were carpeted with chamomile, poppies, and other unrecognized flowers. We saw species tulips in bloom along the roadside. (Tulips originally came from Turkey, you know.) As an avid gardener, I was enthralled. The food, very Greek/Mediterranean, was delicious, with an emphasis on vegetables prepared in savory sauces and kebab, mostly of lamb and chicken. And we couldn't get enough of the sweets, largely honey and nut based. Olives of more kinds than I knew existed, and exotic fruits like giant figs and pomegranates, were plentiful. Our breakfasts and dinners consisted of overflowing buffet tables of a wide variety of foods. I couldn't button my jeans when I returned.

All in all, an excellent trip. But a slow return home. Following another 11 hour flight, we arrived in Newark and spent the night there. Our connecting flight to Panama didn't leave until late the next afternoon, however, so we were obliged to spend the day at a big outlet mall across from the hotel, being saved from financial ruin only by the deficiencies of our luggage. The flight to Panama arrived late at night, necessitating another night spent there before flying out to David the following morning.

Larry survived. He ate better than he usually does when I'm away largely because of a new neighborhood restaurant owned and run by an Egyptian/Canadian chef, George, who has a delicious and inexpensive menu. The animals survived, too, though Kitty Kitty punished me with a bite immediately upon my return. Everything's back to normal now. Larry is watching sports on t.v., Chyna is resting her old bones, Kitty is hunting varmints in the garden, and Finny is fetching. And I've been to two meetings devoted to planning next year's Bid 4 Boquete event.

We're in the midst of the holiday season and the coffee-picking season here in Boquete. As our property is in the midst of coffee fields, we hear throughout the day "chirupping" sounds that baffled us at first until we realized they were sounds of the indigenous Ngobe-Bugle coffee pickers, communicating among themselves from afar. It's not an unpleasant sound, resembling that of confused birds. In any case, the workers are hard at picking, and the fields are buzzing with activity. So is the town. School just let out for three months, vacation conveniently coinciding the coffee picking so that more field hands are available. Everyone is getting into the Christmas spirit: decorations cover even the most humble casas, and the town square is awash with lights. The number of events announced daily via e-mail is staggering.

I haven't written as much about Boquete coffee growing as I should. Many expats who have relocated to the area grow coffee on small fincas (farms) and have their own special coffees and packaging, most of which is sold locally or within the country. Most Panamanian coffee growers of long standing and substantial property holdings sell their coffee all over the world, and Boquete is a prized location for coffee brokers. The Rogers Family Coffee Company (www.rogersfamilyco.com), a major supplier of Starbucks and known for its gourmet coffee, long has had a coffee operation here (where Tony, Dalys' husband, is employed) and recently has built its own beneficio (coffee processing plant) in the nearby Jaramillo community of Boquete. Hacienda Esmeralda, owned by the Peterson family, is the most famous, however. If you have a chance, take a look at their website, www.haciendaesmeralda.com, to read their history and that of the enterprise. In 2010, their special geisha coffee was the top coffee in the world, selling for $170 a pound. The current family matriarch, Susan Peterson, serves on the Foundation Council of Bid 4 Boquete, so I've come to know her and her husband Price well. The stories of their life here for over 30 years, raising three children miles outside the town proper without even a telephone, and having to ride horses into town for necessities, are fascinating.

Having been such early inhabitants, the Petersons also are big property holders in the area. In addition to their coffee and dairy farms, they have property downtown, a piece of which they donated several years ago for the construction of a new Boquete library, along with a sizable monetary gift from the family foundation. The new library, which also has public computers and space for community meetings and art exhibitions, is now a reality.  It's a gorgeous, modern, three-story building with lots of glass. Moreover, it has the distinction of being the only lending library in Panama. Buying books, organizing them, processing library cards, organizing literacy classes, etc. has been a big undertaking, but the expat community, dozens of members of which are regular volunteers, has been of immeasurable help. The library also had a Peace Corps volunteer trained in library science for a time. My good friend Marjorie Sarner, a U.S.-educated Panamanian married to an American, who is member of the Library Board of Directors, reports that getting the library fully functioning has been a mad house, the very concept being so new to Panamanians. She laughingly told me recently that they had to disable the elevators except when transporting books, disabled persons, or equipment because the children want to ride them relentlessly. And when the elevators break or malfunction in any way, getting them serviced (you will not be surprised to hear) is a devil of a task.

Tourism is on the upswing, with the major tourist season beginning in January. There also is a steady stream of new expats. However, many appear to be renting rather than buying, whether for reasons of a trial period (very smart, as some people just can't make it) or limited funds no one knows. Prices definitely are up but still low by U.S. standards, particularly labor. We have a number of new restaurants that are exceptionally good, and the new trade agreement between the U.S. and Panama promises to bring U.S. beef here free of import duties. I believe I've mentioned that Panamanian beef, because it is grass fed and therefore very low in fat, is better for you but tough and tasteless. We do long for a good steak every now and then. Larry also waxes poetic about raw oysters and boiled peanuts occasionally, neither of which is available here.

The tree is up, and I wrapped gifts this morning after polishing off a press release for the big upcoming Bid 4 Boquete extravaganza. Now on to the Christmas day menu. It's a bit more complicated this year. Last year my neighbor/housekeeper Dalys and her family dropped by on Christmas day to spread cheer and were talked into staying for a bite. They clearly enjoyed themselves, so I decided to formally invite them for the midday meal this year. That was when Dalys told me that her son and his wife from Panama City would be visiting, as would be a nephew and his girlfriend from Canada. So our guest list has swelled from three (Doc, Charly, and Ramon) to thirteen, plus two babies and me and Larry. (Dalys and her husband Tony have four children still at home, and one of them, Margarita, has a baby, so it was a long list to begin with.) With only one oven, it'll be a challenge to produce a turkey, a ham, and various vegetable casseroles anticipated by the usuals. I'm hoping the big group will remind me of wonderful Christmases at Richard and Nellie's. Only this time, I will be Nellie.

Holiday greetings to all from me, Larry, Chyna, Finnegan, and Kitty Kitty.♠

From the Cool Mountains of Boquete

I've been reading about the heat wave in the States and being ever so thankful that I'm here rather than there. Thus far, the rainy season has been perfect: beautiful, sunny days in the seventies until late afternoon, and then a good shower to keep the garden in shape. It's been particularly fortuitous for me because Edwin is on a month's vacation, so I have garden duty. We've brought in Gerardo, one of Dalys' sons, to mow once a week, but I've been handling the weeding and pruning. I also took the opportunity to sweep through the orchid casita, repotting or remounting plants and moving some outdoors to trees which finally have grown enough to provide them some shade. The garden is on the cusp of maturity, and I spend a couple of hours each week hosting tours for folks developing their own plots.

Larry's recovery has been slow, and it's clear that it'll never be complete. We had a setback this week when he began experiencing pain and reverted to using crutches. After five days, the surgical site opened slightly and began oozing a clear fluid tinged with blood. He reverted to soaks in epsom salts, cleaning, and bandaging to forestall infection, but most of the pain went away, along with the crutches. A visit to Dr. Chen downtown confirmed my diagnosis that this is part of the healing process within the foot, that the fluid buildup, most likely lymphatic, needed an escape hatch. After fasting tomorrow, he goes in Monday for a complete blood test to make sure all is okay.

We just went through a three-month period during which everything chose to break at once: the pond pump, the generator, the remote control for the gate, the ice maker, and the under-cabinet lights in the computer room/study. It took an eternity and then some to have everything repaired. Promises made, promises broken. Trip to assess the problem followed by trips to obtain parts. Parts not available, parts ordered, wrong parts received, more promises, more promises broken, etc., etc. Now everything is working, and we're waiting for the next shoe to drop. Interspersed with these aggravations was a multitude of trips, phone calls, and e-mails just to pay property taxes. Panama has many, many charms, but customer service and efficiency are not among them.

In addition to gardening and continuing work with Bid 4 Boquete, I've really been enjoying my book club. Interestingly, although we choose one book a month, everyone seems to branch out and comes to discuss a larger body of work. Tomorrow, for example, we meet to discuss The Paris Wife, a historical fiction piece from the point of view of Hadley Richardson Hemingway, Hem's first wife, about their years in Paris in the twenties. The club members I've spoken with found it unsatisfactory, as did I, and therefore branched out to read a Hadley biography as well as A Moveable Feast and The Sun Also Rises, which flesh out the period. Some have read the entire Hemingway canon in preparation for the meeting. This is the usual pattern, confirming our reputation as the Boquete literari. But now we've branched out into travel. One member who harbors a fascination with Turkey researched and discovered a $1500, 13-day trip to Turkey next March. Another member agreed to go with her, word got around, and now seven of nine book club members are making the trip, along with the daughter of one member. We'll fly out of Newark, spend three days in Istanbul, and then travel by motor coach to Candakkale (near the site of Troy, which we'll visit), Kuddadasi, Pammukkale, Konya, Cappadocia, and Ankara, before returning to Istanbul. Hotels, most meals, entries to archeological sites, and an English-speaking guide are included. Not having traveled this year, it gives me something to look forward to. Larry's daughter, her husband, and one of the three daughters have agreed to come down to keep Larry company and out of trouble while I'm gone.

Finnegan and Kitty Kitty continue to delight, but poor old Chyna is really showing her age. For the most part, she's hung up her guns and doesn't even get excited about the occasional dog that strays onto the property when the gate is open, although the door bell still elicits a half-hearted protest. And when Kitty bites her on the butt, she just gives a desultory back kick. Chyna has to be lifted onto the bed now, and between her flatulence and awful breath is not the most desirable of sleeping companions. But we love her and will stand by her.

It's a particularly tranquil time right now, with Doc and Charly on an extended visit to the States (where they report having spent four days in D.C. with one of their sons without electricity and temps in excess of 100 degrees), Edwin on vacation, and Penny Barrett (the major co-director of B4B) off to her 50th high school reunion in Michigan. It looks like the rain may be coming earlier today, in which case I intend to curl up with another Hemingway book so as to be fully armed for tomorrow's book club meeting.

A long overdue update

We woke up this morning, in the midst of the dry season, to steady rain and a backyard that looks like a lake. So it's a good day to stay indoors and do some catching up, which has been hard lately due to sunny skies and lots of outdoor social activities. We're coming off a weekend of the Boquete Jazz and Blues Festival, preceded on Thursday by a gringo-initiated Mardi Gras parade which left the locals stunned. Bid 4 Boquete, on February 13 and 14, was a huge success (we made over $65,000), but, after months of work, it left me enervated for a couple of weeks. Then, last week, I was down with some sort of gastrointestinal difficulty of the on-the-pot-with-pot-in-hand variety. I'm back, though, and ready to catch up and set things straight.

Actually, most of our time since my last post was devoted to trying to get Larry's foot healed, making it through the multitude of holidays, and planning for B4B. So there was very little of general interest to report with the exception of our acquiring Finnegan, a handsome and well-behaved golden retriever, from Doc and Charly, whose new digs were too small for his largeness of body and temperament. He has brought a degree of happiness and tranquility sorely needed after last year's medical woes. We also were very saddened in December by the death of our good friend Randy Watts (of Randy and Maryellen, with whom we spent a memorable weekend in Bocas shortly after our arrival and about whom I've written often) after a long battle with liver disease.

Life was disturbed for everyone at the end of January, however, when the indigenous Ngobe-Bugle (NB) went head to head with the government over mining concessions in the NB comarca, semi-sovereign native land of the tribe located largely in our province, Chiriqui. The government had breached a former agreement with the tribe and given copper mining rights to a Canadian company, provoking the NB to protest in the only effective way they know: blocking the Interamerican highway with debris at various points throughout the country. The initial blockade lasted about two weeks, cutting off  travel and commerce throughout Panama. After two or three days, there was no gasoline or propane to be had in Chiriqui, no meat and vegetables entering Panama City from our region, and a scarcity of supplies everywhere. We had full tanks of gas in both vehicles and a large propane tank, so were able to last it out, but some folks were actually reduced to walking for days. The initial blockade eventually ended and negotiations were entered into with a Catholic bishop serving as mediator, but they broke down from time to time and new blockades on new roads appeared. A police station was burned to the ground in San Felix on the western edge of Chiriqui, arrests were made, one NB was killed, and no one had any clear idea of what was going on or what would happen next. A blockade was set up outside our neighboring town of Volcan, local thugs joined the action, the police station there was burned and banks were sacked. Although there were no threats against expats in particular or the Panamanian people in general, the disagreement being between the Indians and the government, this made us all a little tense. So far, however, there have been only a couple of half-hearted road blockages north of Boquete on the road to David, lasting a few hours. Negotiations have begun anew at the City of Knowledge in Panama City with a U.N. mediator having replaced the bishop. The government folded on the issue of mining in the comarca, and now the dialogue has turned to hydroelectric projects in and affecting the region. If the negotiations are going badly, the NB throw up a blockade somewhere. So we never know from day to day if and when we might again be cut off from the country and world at large. Travel of any kind is made exceedingly difficult and risky. Lots of folks were stuck somewhere between Panama City and David for days during the height of the crisis.

But if one has to be isolated, this isn't the worst place to be. Chiriqui is the largest agricultural region of Panama, so chances are that we won't starve. For the most part, life has gone on as usual here. (Cliff Thaell, the former Leon County Commissioner, and his family were here for a few months during the worst time, and he reported having been in communication with Lucy Morgan of the St. Pete Times, who, aware of the situation in Panama, had inquired about my wellbeing. Cliff told her he assumed I was fine as he had just observed me enjoying a beer with friends in an open-air cafe downtown.)

We did make it into David last Thursday to check in with Dr. Pretto about Larry's foot, the wound on which still has not completely closed. He declared the foot substantially healed and unlikely to be at risk for reinfection. Larry is walking without aid of any sort and, finally having become free of ongoing pain and therefore being able to maintain a normal sleep schedule, is in good spirits. He still soaks the foot daily and has been diligent about keeping it clean, but I think we're finally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel and are reasonably sure that it isn't a train.

I stay busy with B4B, my book club, gardening, and running around with friends. I attended the first-of-the-year meeting of the Amigos of Animales de Boquete last week and realized, about half way through, how it typified life in Boquete. Ruby McKenzie, the founder and longtime president, was relinquishing her post to two new co-presidents and made outgoing remarks summarizing the organization's many successes. She spoke of the thousands of animals neutered, the receipt of a grant from the SPCA International, the receipt of thousands of dollars from B4B, the receipt of an anonymous $10,000 donation, the efforts to acquire property and build a proper clinic. The meeting was held in a small dwelling in a downtown residential area owned by Amigos de Boquete, an organization which provides lunch to Boquete school children, funded by local resident Phil McGuigan's family foundation and law firm back in Chicago. (Phil's wife, Alicia, is one of the incoming Animales' co-presidents.) The back of the building actually contains a residential area populated by a Panamanian family, while the barred but otherwise open-aired front is the Amigos de Boquete office, storage, and meeting area, which also contains three computers to be utilized by local children. All three computers were occupied while set-up was going on, but the users eventually moved aside. During the meeting, however, children came and went, neighborhood dogs dropped in for affection from their Animales stewards, and an occasional chicken strolled through until chased out by the dogs. No one missed a word or even stumbled over one. Serious business, life and death matters and high financial stakes, was reported and debated amidst the ongoing neighborhood life, all participants serenely oblivious to distraction. And when refreshments were served, everyone--children, dogs, chickens--participated en masse. Charming. None of the stuffy, closed-door meetings I grew up on.

So, with the exception of the ongoing NB crisis, we're at ease and easing into the best time of the year, perhaps even a little early if today's rain is any indication. We managed to live through, once again, the two Independence Day holidays (from Spain and from Colombia), Mother's Day (a MAJOR Panamanian holiday), Christmas, the Flower and Coffee Fair, Bid 4 Boquete, Carnival (when the entire country shuts down for a week), the Jazz and Blues Festival, and dozens of lesser fetes. With the rain still pouring down, I'm going to go read a book.

Brief Update

For all of you who follow the happenings of our retirement here in Panama, this will serve as a brief update.

When I last left you, Larry had been cleared of the pseudomona aeruginosa bacteria and released from the hospital. The infection had taken its toll on the surgical site, however, and no amount of cleansing and rebandaging--which required trips to David every other day for several weeks--showed any sign of its healing. It was just too deep, with exposed bone. The type of surgery required was not practiced by any of our existing retinue of doctors, but, luckily for us, a new doc had joined the staff fresh from an orthopedic residency in San Antonio, Texas. Enter Dr. Juan Carlos Pretto, a young, exuberant practitioner who confidently declared that he could remove skin and muscle from Larry's calf and sew it over the wound on the right side of his foot just below the ankle. Several of the doctors doubted it would work, and Dr. Pretto gave it a 60% chance. But he convinced us that he knew what he was doing and that it was the only alternative to avoid the risk of reinfection and to provide an environment for healing.

So Larry went back in the hospital for a few days and then had a long recovery at home, plus numerous trips back and forth to David for follow-up. Eventually, it looked as though the "flap," as Dr. Pretto called it, had taken, and x-rays revealed that the bones in the foot and ankle had substantially healed. Then another problem arose. The skin was not regrowing on the calf from which the flap had been taken. For a month we washed it with castille soap and rebandanged it three times a day, but a visit to Dr. Pretto last week showed no sign of new skin. So Larry was back in the operating room last Saturday for a skin graft. The leg is now to stay wrapped for ten days, after which will be the big reveal. The big wound and flap, which Dr. Pretto is very happy with, also has not completely closed. So we struggle on, after four surgeries and more than 45 days total in the hospital.

It goes without saying that all this has eaten up the majority of my time, but I did get away with my friend Charly for three days at a nice resort in Boca Chica, about two hours away on the Pacific coast. The package was a donation from the Seagull Cove Lodge to Bid 4 Boquete last December which I had bought and was about to expire. Doc and Larry stayed here so as not to miss any football or golf on television.

Chyna and Kitty Kitty are featured in the 2012 calendar Amigos de Animales de Boquete produces as a money raiser. They are the calendar girls for the month of September 2012 (see photo above). I bought in to it over a year ago with the idea of all four animals (Trudy, Chyna, Felipe, and Kitty Kitty) being preserved for posterity, but alas.

I'm also co-chair of Bid 4 Boquete again and therefore have been very busy with that. We've upped our goal and added some new activities, so there have been meetings upon meetings, all scheduled between trips to the hospital in David.

We're in the thick of the worst two months of the rainy season, and one of the bridges to our section of town is out. The other bridge, on a long loop into town, is marginal, having never been replaced but only shorn up since the big Palo Alto flood. So we're a little nervous about the possibility of being cut off from the world.

It's just one adventure after another.

Mishap, Cruise, and Wedding

As most of you know via e-mails, Larry fell two months ago from a high tee at the Valle Escondido golf course and shattered his right foot and ankle, requiring orthopedic surgery, two surgeons, several days in the hospital, and an anticipated months-long recovery. He was officiating a tournament at the time--not even playing--and was doing a good deed: recovering a ball for a player already shooting nine on a par three in an effort to move the game along. Although he had some pins and plates, he had very little pain and was adjusting well to a wheelchair, walker, and crutches, the orthopedic surgeon felt that he was far enough along in his recovery that I could take my scheduled and paid-for transatlantic cruise. So off I went, after stuffing the freezer with food and arranging for many people to check on him and take him to his scheduled doctor's appointments and sessions in a hyperbaric chamber to speed healing.

In the meantime, and shortly before I left on my trip, Derek wrote to advise that he and Wah Wah were getting married on June 7th while her parents are in the States from their home in Sydney, Australia. So, in addition to preparing for my cruise and driving back and forth to David with Larry for doctors' appointments and sessions in a hyperbaric chamber, I set about making reservations on Solomons Island, off the Maryland coast near Baltimore, where the wedding was to take place.

Also shortly before I left on my cruise, Trudy went into a sudden decline, requiring additional trips to David to a new highly-touted Brazilian veterinarian of the female gender. Following blood tests and an x-ray, she (Trudy) was diagnosed with an enlarged heart and impending congestive heart failure, was put on a battery of medications, some long term and some short, and was sent home with instructions to live as tranquil a life as reasonably possible (not that her life ever has been much more than tranquil).

I never knew so much would be happening, of course, when I agreed to accompany friends Penny Barrett and Betty Gray on the transatlantic cruise followed by short stays in Majorca and Barcelona. But it was a splendid getaway, and I did my best not to think too much about home. This was aided considerably by the Internet and television not working for nine or ten days of the fourteen day cruise. We were "at sea" both literally and figuratively, incommunicado except for printed news bulletins issued periodically by the crew. It was three days after Osama's demise before we learned of it, for example, and we knew nothing of the flooding of the Mississippi until we arrived in Majorca. There was nothing to do but relax, eat, read, eat, swim, eat, sun, eat, play games, eat, . . . .

Larry had some setbacks while I was gone, however, and our neighbor/housekeeper Dalys and gardener Edwin stepped in to supervise foot soaks and medications. Nevertheless, shortly after I returned we realized that the foot had become infected. He was rehospitalized for a week on intravenous antibiotics, after which he returned home and I set off for Maryland.

The wedding was lovely, a small group of immediate family and a beautiful ceremony. The newlyweds will be relocating to Richmond, Virginia, where Derek has accepted a faculty position at Virginia Commonwealth University. Wah Wah hopes to get employment with the med school there in the future, but in the meantime will continue with her stem cell research at the not-too-terribly-far-away University of Maryland college of medicine in Baltimore.

When I returned from the wedding, Larry's foot was again infected. On the advice of a local physician, Dr. Chen, who had been administering intravenous antibiotics at his office in the morning and at our home at night, we went to David the day after I returned from the wedding to meet with a critical care specialist, Dr. Julio Osorio. Dr. Chen had done a bacterial culture, and Dr. Osorio picked up the results shortly before meeting with us. He took us first out of a crowded waiting room and advised that Larry had an extremely dangerous pseudomona aeruginosa infection. He admitted him to the hospital forthwith, assembled a team of specialists, and announced within a very short time that x-rays revealed the infection to be concentrated in the "hardware" in his foot, necessitating immediate surgery to remove the pins and plates. It was scheduled for the next day.

Meanwhile, back at the house, Trudy had worsened considerably--was not eating, could barely walk, and appeared to be blind or going blind. I made arrangements for a local vet to come to the house to put her down shortly before driving to David to check on the progress of the surgery, leaving Edwin to bury her in the garden. Bad, bad day.

Following surgery, Larry was put on an intravenous combination antibiotic regime round-the-clock. After several days, another culture revealed the bacteria, which we had been told was antibiotic resistant, to still be present. Another combination of antibiotics was agreed upon by the medical team, but a third culture taken after another week revealed that not only was the bacteria still present but had gone into the bones. Everyone was disheartened and extremely worried, fearing that he faced possible amputation. After consulting with an oncological plastic surgeon in Panama City, Dr. Osorio, in consultation again with the entire team now consisting of five doctors, decided to try two more antibiotics accompanied by local daily cleaning with a chlorine-based formula. This began last Monday.

Larry learned only last night that the latest culture shows no signs of the bacteria. The doctors want to do one more culture before releasing him, however, at which time he will be on oral antibiotics for at least two months. The relief I experienced was overwhelming, and I got my first good night's sleep in three weeks. As to the break itself, x-rays indicate that it had substantially healed prior to the second surgery when all the hardware save one essential pin was removed. That remains to be seen and is, of course, a secondary consideration at this point. Also, he still faces a skin graft or plastic surgery to completely close the wound. Talk about a continuing saga--and I just gave you the highlights.

So that's why I haven't written in so long!

Time to catch up

I've been neglectful of this blog lately. I've stayed pretty busy in January and February, but, too, there's be very little newsworthy too report. Mostly it's been downtime since the auction, the holidays, and Derek's visit; just getting back too normal.

I meet my friends Charly and Deb every other week or so to discuss books, but the three of us took the big step of joining a recently-formed book club. Deb had been agitating about starting one for some time, but I didn't want any more organizational responsibility--the garden club and Bid 4 Boquete are sufficiently exhausting--and I feared that our reading choices likely were too sophisticated for most casual readers. I was contacted by another friend, however, begging me to be part of a new book group and I decided to try it out. It looked good, so I begged the group to allow Deb and Charly to participate. So far so good, but the ultimate success remains to be seen. We've already lost one member who was out of her depth, and have acquired another member in her place. Doc was keen to join, but the women decided that a man would alter the group dynamics for the worse. Besides, we're trying to keep it to under 10 members.

I took a two-day road trip last week with some garden club members to Costa Rica to visit The Wilson Botanical Gardens at the Las Cruces Biological Station near San Vito. We hired a local man who runs a school transport van, as school is recessed during January and February, coffee-picking time. We exited the country at Rio Sereno, a remote immigration outpost not far from San Vito, rather than via Paso Canoas, the principal immigration station between Panama and Costa Rica. We sailed through in about 40 minutes (rather than the usual two or three hours reportedly required at Pasa Canoas) and made it to the gardens in time for lunch. We stayed on site and did a short botanical tour that afternoon, a slightly longer one that night under a full moon, and a long guided tour the next morning before setting on on our return. It was a lovely place, and I'm now armed with new gardening ideas and a long list of new plants to ferret out.

As you may recall from past blog posts, I, and every expat I know, live in perpetual dread of encounters with Panamanian bureaucracy. Unfortunately, both of our driver's licenses came up for renewal this month. Troublesome at the best of times, renewal promised to be downright daunting this time as a result of our having gotten new passports with new passport numbers since the original licenses were issued. All official documents of foreigners are tied to the passport number--the national i.d. card (carnet or cedula), motor vehicle registration, and driver's license--so when the passport number changes all bureaucracy (hell) breaks loose. I had already had my vehicle title changed to reflect the new passport number, but I nonetheless set out with trepidation for Migracion (Immigration) in David to ascertain what tortures had been devised. The reports were many and various, and I thought it best to leave Larry at home until I found out what was in store and how best to navigate it. He's inclined to go absolutely wild in Panamanian government offices, and for good reason. Personnel there are very clever about changing the rules from day to day and from employee to employee.

I set out at 8:15 on a Monday morning about three weeks ago and arrived in David (normally a 30 to 45 minute trip) at 10:00 due to interminable delays related to the road widening. As usual, it was approximately 110 degrees in David, the traffic downtown was frighteningly chaotic, and there was no parking anywhere near the Migracion office. Once I made it inside and fought my way to the front desk and explained what I needed, I was directed to a small side room with a sign saying "Visas." When I got there, I was taken back out to the front desk, where I surrendered both my old and new passports and my Panamanian cedula. Some computer work was done, and my new passport was stamped "Registrado." I was sent back to the Visa room, where I was directed back to the front, to the cashier, to pay $25. Returning with the receipt, I was told to fill out a form asking for all sorts of personal information unrelated to either my passport or driver's license. I was told that the form would be sent to Panama City and that I should return in two weeks before going to the driver's license office.

Two weeks later I returned to find the Migracion office closed for no ostensible or noticed reason. I elected to go straight to Sertracen (the private company contracted to issue driver licenses) far outside of town at the Chiriqui Mall, armed with all my documents of identification and two fat files of vehicle information and everything else that might, even unreasonably, be pertinent. There was a long line, of course. (Panamanians don't mind waiting in line; in fact, they consider it a social occasion.) Once having reached the front desk, I was asked for my passports, my cedula, and my current license and was told to take a seat. No mention of anything from Migracion or vehicle registration being needed. Some time and a couple of chapters in a novel later, I was recalled to the desk and told that everything was in order but that, unfortunately, I was not in the new "digital" system. They made copies of everything and filled out a form to be sent to Panama City for processing and said they would telephone or e-mail when everything was ready, in two weeks to a month. Right.

As it happens, my license tag also was expiring in February and, although I get the new tag in Boquete, one first must get a Revisado (inspection of sorts), which one can only get in David. The inspection facility we use is on the road to Boquete, on the edge of David, so I stopped off on the way home to accomplish that task. It's usually a simple and straightforward process (unless the computer system is down); you give them proof of insurance and vehicle registration (all brought up to date months earlier at great expense of time and money), they take a photo of the car, you pay them some nominal amount and you're on your way. Upon entering my info in the computer, however, the receptionist reported that I had an unpaid traffic fine which would have to be satisfied first. Having never gotten a ticket, I was bewildered and frustrated. No matter. I had to return to the Chiriqui Mall to the Transito office to straighten it out. Some twenty minutes later, plus another 20 minutes of standing in line, I was advised that I had incurred a parking violation (location unspecified) in June of 2009 (well before my last revisado in February 2010) and that I owed a $10 fine. Utterly defeated, I handed over $10, got a receipt, returned for my revisado, struggled through road construction back to Boquete, arrived about 4:30, and promptly consumed three gin and tonics. I consoled myself with the thought that at least I had had the foresight not to take Larry along on this reconnaissance mission. One or both of us doubtless would have ended up in jail: him for assaulting a bureaucrat and/or me for assaulting him. I was decidedly not consoled by the realization that, not only would I have to return, but I would have to go through the whole sorry mess with Larry to get his license renewed. And it would have to be soon.

Two days later, on Wednesday, Larry and I set out to accomplish just this. I explained to him what would transpire in Migracion and what would transpire at Sertracen, as our cases were identical, but that I knew exactly what steps to take so it shouldn't take nearly so long. Upon finally arriving at Migracion (road stoppages and parking problems again), I made straight for the Visa room and told them what I needed. The woman there looked at me like I had two heads and pointed back out to the front desk. There, I handed over the appropriate documents, the woman did the computer work, stamped his new passport, and told us we were ready to go. I asked about the form I had filled out for transmittal to Panama City. She knew of no such form. What about payment, I asked? I was advised 
that there was no charge for registering a new passport. I told her I had paid two days previously. The person who helped me then must have been new and didn't know what he was doing, she said, noting that she is the office supervisor. We left, thoroughly confused, and haltingly made our way through traffic to the Chiriqui Mall and Sertracen. There, everything was as it had been for me two days earlier. We both return sometime within the next month, allegedly, to get our new licenses. I'll believe it when I see them.

Larry's license plate isn't due to be renewed until next fall. I showed him on the way out of town where to go to get his Revisado and told him he would be on his own. I hope to hell that he, too, has a mysterious unpaid traffic infraction. I believe in equal opportunity for suffering. It is for that reason that I have burdened all of you with this tale of woe.