China

In addition to looking forward to visiting a new country and spending time with Derek, I was eager to get away from weather-related problems in Boquete. They seem to have followed me, however, as Derek and I drove from the New Orleans airport to Lafayette in a blinding rainstorm, turning a two-hour trip into a three-hour one. Then we woke up the next morning to snow, the first in recent memory for Lafayette. Derek's dog Scooter was unimpressed, as she had seen snow in Pennsylvania and Wisconsin, but his other dog, Posie, a native of Louisiana, seemed to be both bewildered and ecstatic simultaneously. She ran through it, rolled in it, ate it, and peed on it. During their walk later that morning, Derek and the dogs (good name for a band?) met up with a photographer for the local newspaper and consequently had their picture featured on the front page the next morning.

The flight to Newark and on to Hong Kong was Business/First Class, which had its advantages. We were served a four or five course excellent dinner, had private televisions with hundreds of movie channels, were offered lots of free booze (which we took advantage of very sparingly so as to ward off dehydration), and enjoyed large seats which reclined almost completely so as to make comfortable beds. Derek gave me a set of noise-cancelling headphones as a birthday present which, when used with ear plugs and an eye mask, afforded a reasonably comfortable night's sleep. So we weren't exhausted upon arrival and got right into the swing of things. The plane on the return trip wasn't quite so nice--no personal t.v. movie library, for example--but the seats and the service were the same.

We stayed in Peninsula hotels in both Hong Kong and Beijing, which were truly first class as well. Their hotel transportation consists of a fleet of Rolls Royces, and both have shopping arcades featuring Armani, Prada, Hermes, Chanel, Dior, etc., etc. The rooms were deluxe, with down comforters, marble baths, the deepest bathtub I've ever seen, loads of bathroom toiletries, two control centers for lights and temperature, flat screen t.v., and the list goes on and on. Breakfast came with the room, an elegant sit-down one with many choices in Hong Kong, and the most extravagant buffet I've ever experienced in Beijing. We woke up every morning talking about breakfast. In fact, the restaurants in both hotels were so good that we rarely went anywhere else to eat. The Hong Kong Peninsula was very British colonial in decor and service, as might be expected, while the one in Beijing was very contemporary. The service in both is unsurpassed. It was like staying at a luxury spa--in fact Derek took full advantage of the hotel spa in Beijing, having two massages during our stay. He also availed himself of the exercise facilities and declared them superb. (I took naps during his exercise runs, having gotten more exercise than I wanted hoofing it around town.) Derek and I had lots of laughs together. One of note was our receipt of a message delivered to our room, in an envelope on hotel stationery, reminding us to schedule a limo for our departure. It was signed "Chief Concierge, Fergus Gu." We later saw someone at the airport who might aptly have been named Fergus Gu and got the giggles all over again.

The weather was beautiful in Hong Kong. We were there only two days, and the highlight of the visit was a trip by ferry to Hong Kong Island where we took a funicular railway, the world's steepest, to Victoria Peak, which overlooks all of Hong Kong. We ignored the couture shops and instead invigorated the economy at the various markets, where you can buy most anything very cheap if you're willing to bargain. In fact, bargaining is expected. It's a way of life in China. We made no major purchases, however, limiting ourselves largely to souvenirs and small gifts.

The weather intervened again in Beijing. It was bitterly cold when we arrived and got colder. Our first day was devoted to the obligatory trip to Tinneman Square and the Forbidden City, both outside venues. And we walked both ways in the cold. I didn't think it was possible to be any colder than I was that day, but then, on our last day, we made the trip to the Great Wall. It was hovering around zero when we left Beijing with our guide and was even colder when we got to the Wall, which is in the mountains. After driving a ways up a mountain and then walking a bit uphill, we were transported to the Wall itself by cable car. We got a few pictures before all our cameras--mine, Derek's, and the guide's--quit because of the cold. I didn't realize cold affected digital cameras, but I thought it was awfully coincidental that our batteries would expire simultaneously, so I looked it up on the Internet.

We ate Peking Duck, of course, which is excellent. We went to markets in Beijing, too, where the haggling is much more intense than in Hong Kong. We also visited a number of regular stores, but the aggressiveness of the sales staff was almost unbearable.

Derek spent most of one day with some university students. He had written ahead upon the advice of a colleague in the States, asking to visit. After we arrived in Beijing and the arrangements were made, he received an e-mail asking what the subject of his seminar would be. So he obligingly gave a seminar the next morning followed by a luncheon with about 12 people which lasted well into the afternoon. He was enthusiastic about the experience and had lots of good stories. At various times during lunch, he reported, each of the participants stood to offer a toast. They also made notes of any idiomatic use of the English language, such as when Derek said, in response to whether he was comfortable with certain of the foods, "When in Rome . . . ." It was interesting to me that most educated Chinese speak virtually flawless English in terms of grammar and syntax. The differences in the languages, however, particulary the tonality of Chinese, I would guess, makes pronunciation very difficult. Without exception, we found the Chinese people to be warm and welcoming.

Everything I had read and had been told emphasized how crowded and smog-ridden Beijing would be, but we experienced neither. I don't know how to account for this. I've felt much more crowded in New York City than I did in either Hong Kong or Beijing. And one would have expected all their coal furnaces to be burning around the clock, given the weather, and yet it was not smoggy. Go figure. Beijing was extraordinarily spiffy, no doubt due to the Olympics, which, I understand, gave rise to a lot of cleaning up. All the taxicabs appeared to be new, the streets were being swept constantly, and we really had to get far off the beaten paths to find any sign of litter or junk.

We got back to Newark and then New Orleans pretty much without incident and spent the night of the 22nd there. Derek left the next morning for Lafayette, and a little later I headed for Atlanta to catch my flight back to Panama. My scheduled Atlanta flight had been pushed back in time so as to make it doubtful that I would make the Panama flight, so I went early and got on standby for an earlier flight. Everything was packed, and I was very tense when they began calling standby passengers for boarding. I was the last name called. Then, of course, the Panama flight was delayed an hour out of Atlanta, so I didn't get back to Panama City until 11:00 p.m. After negotiating immigration and customs, which took forever, I spent another half hour in baggage claim before finally admitting that one of my bags was missing. Another 45 minutes in the lost luggage line and a half hour trip into the city put me in my hotel close to 2:00 a.m. I flew out at 9:30 a.m. the next day, made it to David about 10:30, and was home in Boquete by noon. After a hassle too long and boring to explain, I finally got my bag Monday. I suppose it was asking too much that everything go smoothly.

Doc brought a turkey over Christmas morning to put in the oven, and Charly and Maryellen made the rest of the food. So we had a great Christmas with friends. Larry seems to have fared okay without me, but he reported that Demaris and family showed up unannounced on the Sunday before I came back and swept through the house making sure everything was clean and in order. I had a lot of catching up to do, but things are returning to normal.

La Inundata (The Flood)

Most of you know about the floods here as a result of e-mails and/or phone calls, but, primarily because I'm bored and suffering from near-terminal cabin fever, I'll spend a little time summarizing the situation and bringing everyone up to date.

According to locals, this is the worst flood to hit Chiriqui and Bocas del Toro in over 40 years. Although we routinely get very heavy rains here, most of it comes from the Pacific in short-lived torrents which wash quickly down the rivers and out to the ocean. This front, however, was in the Caribbean and has lingered well over a week. The Telemanca Mountains, behind our house, lie between the Province of Chiriqui and the Province of Bocas del Toro, a series of islands in the Caribbean off Panama's north coast. (Remember, Panama runs east to west, not north to south like most Latin American countries.) Prolonged rains in the moutains resulted in catastrophic amounts of water running downhill, into the rivers of Chiriqui. Thus, the flooding.

The Caldera River flows out of the mountains and through the Town of Boquete. The northernmost bridge over the Caldera is the one just north of the historic Panamonte Hotel and is on the main route to Palo Alto, where we live. When the Panamonte Bridge (barely a year old) collapsed from flood waters and rocks, it formed a semi-dam which flooded the roadway to its east, which leads to our house, and completely undermined a brand new hotel there, La Ladera, prominently featured in the flood photos. Had only the bridge been destroyed, we would have had access to the new bridge next to the fairgrounds, accessed by the same road. Fortuitously, that bridge, which has been under construction for over a year, opened the day before the flood. Otherwise, all of north Boquete would have been completely cut off because the only other bridge serving our area, which lies at the other side of the Palo Alto/Alto Lino loop, also was so badly damaged as to prevent vehicular traffic. To get to the new Fairgrounds Bridge, however, involves a long trip in four-wheel drive up through Jaramillo, over a very rough dirt road made even rougher by the rain, and down a disintegrating paved road which forms part of the Jaramillo loop. It is this harrowing, treacherous trip that Larry has made several times over the last five days to get food for us (from dwindling supplies) and gasoline for the generator.

We have a reserve water tank, but the pump requires electricity. We have a generator, but the generator requires gasoline. So our principal source of stress has been access to town to acquire gasoline. That stress has been alleviated. The good news is that water was restored late Tuesday and electricity late yesterday morning. While it clearly will take a long time to replace the Panamonte Bridge, heavy equipment is on site redirecting the flow of the Caldera River and clearing the roadway to the Fairgrounds Bridge. And we just received news within the last hour from friends Jane and Barry that Los Naranjos Bridge, at the other end of the Palo Alto/Alto Lino loop, has been sufficiently repaired to allow cars to cross.

We felt much better, of course, once water and then power were restored, but then cabin fever set in. Our house suffered no damage, but the garden is a wreck. But with the continued rains and intermittent winds, there's nothing we can do. Because the authorities are limiting access to the area to residents, Demaris and Juvenal haven't been with us this week, and Edwin, although he lives in our area, wouldn't have been able to get much done with unceasing rain. (He did make the trip up to check on us, however, which we appreciated, and has called every day--even though he and his family were experiencing the same deprivations.) Having been busy almost constantly since we moved into the house, this situation has left us totally unprepared to do nothing. I told Larry today that I feel "retired" for the first time; and I don't like it much.

There are so many people displaced and so much charity work going on, but it's been headed up by persons in parts of town not so stranded. Luckily, many gringos live in areas of Boquete that didn't suffer significantly, and, judging from e-mail accounts, have done heroic work with all the people in shelters. We did manage to donate food and pillows and blankets on one of Larry's trips to town, but we haven't been able to be in the thick of things because of fears that we wouldn't be able to get back home. Bocas del Toro has had even more severe problems because the long road between David and Almirante, by which all their supplies are delivered, was heavily damaged by floods and landslides and may take up to three months to repair. The latest news is that fuel and food are being brought in via helicopter.

We had sausage and bean soup for Thanksgiving today, and I'm going to put up the Christmas tree over the weekend just to have something to do. By the first of the week, surely the rain will have stopped and we can get down to the business of cleaning up and seeing what we can do to help others.

Terremoto and more

I've been reading a novel, Company of Liars, set in the middle ages which contains, at the end, a glossary of medieval terms used in the book. Among them is "hue and cry," which is explained as follows: "The first person to discover a robbery or a body was legally obliged to raise the hue and cry--in other words, sound the alarm and rouse his neighbors. On hearing this, all able-bodied men had to start hunting down the perpetrator. Failure to comply with this law meant heavy fines for the individual and often the whole community."

There was quite a hue and cry when we experienced a terremoto night before last. Although it sounds like a monster in a Japanese horror flick, it is, in fact, an earthquake. It was our first since moving here (although we did experience a tremor on a visit), and it was a good one: 6.3 on the Richter scale. The four of us, including the dogs, were sleeping peacefully when, at 1:10 a.m., we were awakened by a bodacious noise and the violent shaking of the house. I knew immediately what it was, but Larry, easily disoriented at any time and especially so when yanked from sleep, managed to stub his toe and bang his hand against something as he first ran in circles and then to the front door, suspecting an attempted break-in. Not that I was the cool head of reason, mind you. I, too, leapt out of bed and ran a few circles, not knowing anything else to do. Just as during the real attempted break-in right after we moved in, the dogs never emerged from under the covers. They raise a great hue and cry at any and every little thing out of the ordinary during the day, but sleep apparently is sacrosanct. I'm convinced we could be murdered in our beds without so much as a peep out of them.

In any event, it lasted a purported 20 seconds, with a 4.7 aftershock of a few seconds, but it seemed more like five or ten minutes. And it was at least 30 minutes before we calmed down and ascertained that the house was still standing and that we both were alive and relatively unscathed, but for Larry's hand and toe. There appears to have been no damage, and we surely would know since it's been raining steadily for the past 48 hours. A gringo friends who has lived here for six years says it was by far the worst she has experienced.

On a happier note, the waterfall and fish pool are finally done. We have begun planting around it but will wait a while for it to settle before adding plants and fish to the water. It'll be lovely once its draped in vegetation, and the sound of the waterfall is lovely even now.

Doc, Charly, and Ramon have filled the holes in their hearts with TWO puppies, a black female and blonde male, cocker spaniels. Rafael and Mathilda are precious and have put smiles back on their faces.

Randy and Maryellen have returned. We celebrated Saturday night with a big dinner here, preceded and followed by football on t.v. My visa for China finally came through, and I've made all the necessary reservations--hotel in New Orleans, dinner in New Orleans, airport parking, airport pickup in China, etc. We'll be doing Thanksgiving here next week, after which Larry insists that I put up the Christmas tree before taking off. Charly and Maryellen are in charge of Christmas dinner inasmuch as I don't return to Boquete until Christmas eve.

Although the fish pond and waterfall are coming along admirably, we've had a lot rain and sorrow the last week and a half. Doc and Charly lost Gustavo, their beloved red cocker spaniel, last week. Doc says it best in his own blog:

Gustavo was a serious little guy. He went about his job of being the family dog with purpose and intent. He was not, you know, just some silly puppy. He was a real dog, he seemed to say, and he wanted to be treated with the respect a real, meaning, big, dog would get. From the time I opened the door in the morning to let him out until he and I "walked the perimeter" at night to chase away whatever needed chasing away, he was all business. There was serious dog stuff to do everyday and he was just the dog to do it. Even playtime, when he would bring his stuffed Garfield and drop it at the feet of whichever of us he decided should play tug-of-war was done with a kind of "this is important stuff" attitude on his part. It was as if he were consciously entertaining us and not the other way around. He was loyal and dedicated to our little "pack" and was most content when we were all together. He could relax then, hang out and not worry about an absent member. Gus was, though, almost from the beginning, my dog. Whether he designated me "alpha", as dog trainers like to put it, or whether it was because I took him for long walks and frequent car rides, his favorite things in life and, with him along, a couple of my favorites as well, he became my second shadow. I grew, over his four short years, very accustomed to having him close at hand and always felt vaguely uncomfortable when he was not. I think Charly felt the same. For that reason, she and I made it a practise to take Gus with us whenever and wherever dogs were allowed. Nothing would put more sparkle in his eyes and move his stumpy tail to wag then hearing Charly say "you gedda go, you gedda go" as we walked to the car. And conversely, nothing would make his whole body sag and droop more than when we told him he had to stay home. At those times, we drooped a little ourselves. When he did "gedda go" Gus would prop himself happily on the back seat with his fore paws on the console between the front seats. This gave him a windshield view and enabled him to get to the serious business of warning other critters away. We were never able to cure him of growling ferociously at whatever beast we happened to drive by. After awhile we just quit trying. What the heck, it only lasted a couple of seconds and it seemed to make him so happy. With Gus, serious and happy went hand in hand. I have written several blogs about Gus, mostly humorous accounts of dog and man that I'm sure Gus would take issue with had he been able to read. Silliness, he would no doubt point out, is a human trait, and he was a dog. Dogs he would say, are serious creatures. Then he would roll on his back and wait for the tummy rub. Gus passed away a couple of night's ago at veterinary hospital in David where we had taken him for treatment of an undetermined illness. The vet said he died of a heart attack related to a heart ailment, probably an inherited condition. There is nothing wrong with my own ticker that I know of, despite the ache of loss that surrounds it. It is where Gus lives now, and always will.

And, in a later blog:

Woowoo Charly, RTGFKAR (Ramon, the Gringo Formerly Known As Raymond) and Yers Trewly are going about the business of getting used to being Gusless. It's a slow business. We keep seeing him in our minds eye in all those day to day moments when we would interact. Play time, feed time, walk time, treat time, bed time, spontaneous mess with the dog time. He's everywhere. But, of course, he's not. We are getting better though. We are able to talk a little about him now without breaking into sobs. We are even making plans to do this and that instead of just mope-ing around the house. Today we were going to play golf if it hadn't rained. It's October though. Rain is a regular feature. Our back up plan is movie rentals. I'm thinking something loud and heroic. Batman maybe, or Indiana Jones. Certainly nothing sad or soppy. It's a process, this grieving thing. We know that. And we know that grief will eventually fade and be replaced by something better. Good memories of happy times. It's a process. A damned, fucking, slow process.

Gus was dear to us, too, and we really miss him. He was, as Doc said, a very special dog. In fact, we came to meet Doc and Charly on a visit here prior to our move because of Gus. We were having lunch at a restaurant by the river when Doc and Charly arrived with Gus, only a puppy then. I got up and began playing with him, and a lasting friendship was born.

I'll write something more upbeat soon. As Doc says, we'll get through this--and the rainy season.

Steve is back!

We're in the middle of the third week of construction on the waterfall and fish pool. This time Cesar has deigned to have a helper (his brother, as it turns out, whom he can and does harangue mercilessly for not performing up to Cesar's exacting standards), so things are moving along at a somewhat brisker pace than did the Great Wall of Palo Alto. Once again, they are largely unhampered by the daily rainfall (October is the rainiest month here), devising ingenious if primitive methods of covering themselves and the cement work. Today Joel, the brother, was observed sitting on the ground beneath a sheet of corrugated tin propped up by sticks, while Cesar was clad in an oversize garbage bag. Steve was on site, too, erecting and welding a large trellis on the side of the garage to support a flowering vine (petrea volubilis). While he was here, we spotted a couple of other places on the house crying out for trellises and flowering vines, much to Larry's consternation. He confessed his fear that we're never to be without a surround of workmen, tramping over his beloved sod. It could be. One things leads to another, you know.

We celebrated Larry's and Charly's birthdays Saturday night with a food and drink fiesta. We hosted, in addition to the usual cast of characters, a number of Panamanian friends, new and old, mostly neighbors and service providers. We reasoned that it's always wise to stay on the best side of the water administrator, the liquor store salesclerk, the plumber, the electrician, and, most of all, the TV man. The latter is a regular fixture at our house inasmuch as the touching of just one incorrect button on the remote control throws everything out of whack in a way that is correctible only by a 15- to 18-step process that neither of us--or any of our friends--have mastered. Luis, the TV man, paid us back by drinking and eating copiously, as did his assistant, Fernando, when he wasn't putting the moves on Michelle, the liquor store clerk. The dogs played so long and hard with Jose and Dharma, the daughter of one of my Panamanian students of English, that they slept past their feeding time Sunday morning.

I never got back to Paradise Gardens for pictures, but I found three on The Boquete Guide, an internet news organ developed by a local ex-pat, which I have pirated and am including.

I'll post pictures of the water feature when it's completed. It's off to bed now because Steve and I set out early in the morning for an all day plant-hunting expedition.

News from Boquete

I have involuntarily embarked on a new undertaking: teaching English. A couple of weeks ago Graciela, the girlfriend of Dexter (who, you may remember from my earliest e-mails is the Carmel, California surfer/carpenter who lives in the casita behind the house we rented while waiting for our house to be built), telephoned and asked whether I would be willing to conduct classes in English for her and a girlfriend or two. I wasn't keen on the idea, particularly inasmuch as teaching English as a second language is a whole discipline in and of itself and with which I have not a whit of familiarity, but, not knowing how to say "no" without appearing uncaring, reluctantly agreed to give it a try. She and Kelly, the wife of another gringo whom we know, Peter, came for the first lesson today. (Another girlfriend joined us on Friday for an organizational meeting, but she knows much less English than Graciela and Kelly and apparently has dropped out as she was a no-show today.) They were eager to make it a several-times-a-week undertaking, but I explained that preparation for classes would take several hours and that I therefore could commit to only one day a week. They agreed to Tuesdays from 1:30 to 3:00 but stayed today until 3:30 and left then only because Dexter telephoned Graciela to report that his van had broken down somewhere about two hours distant.

I spent about six hours preparing: writing out "lessons" and running downtown to have them copied. Anxiety-ridden, I dreaded their arrival. But everything went exceedingly well. Because they have a very personal interest in learning how to better communicate with their partners, they are eager learners and have lots of questions. Both are very personable, so we had fun as well as accomplishing a great deal. It goes without saying that I'm improving my Spanish as well.

The big news on the home front is that Derek and I are going to China in December, Hong Kong and Beijing to be exact. Last summer Derek and Jill attended a conference in the northeast where a number of trips were offered for auction by a travel agent benefactor of the organization. As somewhat of a lark, they bid $5000 on a one-week China trip, and won. In the meantime, Derek and Jill have parted ways, amicably, and Derek was left with a trip and no companion. I'm flattered that he asked me to stand in (although there may have been ulterior motives related to extra money which likely will be required). So I've been deeply involved in making airline reservations to the States and back, to Panama City and back, for hotels in New Orleans and Panama City, and for obtaining a Chinese visa (problematic because there's no Chinese embassy in Panama). I'm slowly getting it all worked out with the help of Anavilma, a very warm (she kissed me both upon my entering and leaving her office) and resourceful travel agent here in Boquete. I leave on December 10th for a couple of days in Lafayette with Derek and the dogs, we leave for China on the 14th from New Orleans, we return to New Orleans on the 22nd, and I'll be back in Boquete on Christmas Eve. My main concern is that I have NO clothes that fit and insufficient funds and inclination to purchase a new wardrobe.

Work has yet to begin on the waterfall and fish pond. Steve is up to his you-know-what in alligators (and fer de lances and other nuisances) at their place in Chorcha. George, the electrician, who has been working with him there, dropped by this morning to report that the road is virtually impassable because of rain, that the only electricity they have is a generator because it will cost a prohibitive $60,000 to run wires, that they managed to get a pump for running water installed barely a week ago, that they're all living and sleeping in one room, etc., etc. Workers are abandoning them right and left because of the oppressive conditions. That being the case, I certainly haven't been aggravating him with any of my quotidian demands.

I took a couple of hours off and went to Paradise Gardens Sunday a week ago. In addition to the two ocelot kittens, Paul and Jenny have now acquired, from some local indigenous persons, i.e., Ngobe Bugle indians, a baby sloth which is absolutely, without a doubt the cutest animal I have ever seen. (I didn't think anything could be cuter than a baby kinkajou.) I neglected to take my camera this time, and lost some great pictures of the ocelot kittens and other animals when my computer crashed, but I'm determined to return later this week for whatever photo opportunities might avail themselves. I'll send them on.

Further adventures: getting a haircut in Boquete

I was bragging only last week about not having been sick since arriving in Panama a year and a half ago. That brought on, upon awakening Saturday morning, the mother of all colds. My chest is congested, my head is congested, the area between my nose and upper lip is raw, the house sounds like a tuberculosis ward; you get the picture. So this morning, instead of greeting the day with my usual good humor and high expectations, I have been ruminating, in my debilitated state, on things that have gone wrong. I've mentioned many of them, I know, the petty frustrations in particular, but I haven't related a particular ongoing one: getting a haircut.

When we arrived, it was windy season, and my long, offswept bangs were more offswept than desirable. I turned first to my good friends Charly and Jane, who enthusiastically recommended Roxanne, conveniently located on the main street downtown. I went to see her (no appointment necessary, I was told) and found her engaged in a protracted coloring job. Having nothing in particular to do, I waited in a room filled with magazines in Spanish and eventually received a haircut. It was nothing to write home about, but it was serviceable, and Roxanne, though harried and not particularly amiable, seemed okay. So, I returned three or four weeks later to find her too engaged to fit me in. Returning the next day, she was similarly occupied and, without so much as a hello, pushed me off on a male haircutter in her shop. He scalped me. Larry teased me all week, as did various friends.

I heard from someone that there was an excellent haircutter at the more upscale salon in the new Los Establos Plaza. I dropped in and was told, although everyone was sitting around twiddling their thumbs, that an appointment would be necessary. I made an appointment and returned the next day to see Ronnie, a Scot married to a Panamanian woman. He was very chatty, but I understood less of what he said than I generally understand the locals. Neverthless, the haircut was pretty good, so I returned. A couple of times he didn't show up at my appointment time, allegedly having had to do some work on their farm (this information was relayed without apology), and on other occasions his cell phone didn't work, making appointments a chore in itself. But I stuck with him until he abruptly decided to return to Scotland for a year (to make some money).

Adrift again, I consulted my neighbor, Penny Ripple, who always looks like she dropped into Boquete off Fifth Avenue, and she recommended an American, John Marks. (She mentioned that he charges $15 as opposed to Panamanian $4, but she assured me that he was worth it, noting that she had been pleased with Ronnie for a while but that her style had "fallen off" after a while.) I called John and found him to be in Bocas housesitting for a friend. At the time he was to return, he decided instead to return to the U.S. to call on his ailing mother.

Keep in mind that I never started searching for a stylist before my hair was so far gone as to be embarrassing, so all the delays were giving me a positively feral look.

So I went back to Los Establos, where I made an appointment with Miriam, who was doing absolutely nothing at the time but insisted on gazing at her appointment book, largely blank, and "fitting me in" three days hence. The first cutting was fine--hell, anything was an improvement at that point--so I stopped by again in several weeks to make a second appointment, their telephone being consistently busy. When I arrived at the appointed time of 9:00 a.m., the shop wasn't open. I sat outside over a cup of coffee for twenty minutes or so until another of the stylists arrived, unapologetically, and went to open the door. Alas, she had left her keys at home. A second stylist arrived shortly thereafter, also without keys. One of them left for home and keys, apparently a long trip inasmuch as it took 45 minutes. Eventually, I received a haircut.

The third time I visited Miriam, she announced that they were closing the shop because the rent was too high in Los Establos. She didn't know where they would be relocating, but she took my phone number and said she would call with the information. When no call was forthcoming, I once again turned to Penny Ripple, who enthusiastically recommended Flory, on the second floor of the Don Andres building.

I dropped by the next day and, after some searching and questioning, finally came upon Flory's unmarked shop. She was very friendly and gave me a decent (not to say good) haircut, so I had the foresight to make another appointment in three weeks. When I arrived, she wasn't there, but her assistant, who was busy sweeping the floor, called her on her cell phone and she arrived within half an hour. I was not so lucky on my third visit, however. This time she was nowhere to be found, and the assistant explained, without apology, that she was attending a funeral. I waited a while, but Panamanian funerals involve a long church service and then a procession through town to the cemetery (tying up traffic for an eternity), so it was in vain. I decided that I had been pushed around enough and wasn't going to take it anymore.

A few days later Steve's wife Michelle showed up with a stunningly flattering haircut. Upon questioning, she said she had dropped into a barber shop up from Melo's, the feed and fertilizer store, and had seen the younger of the two men there. Filled with new hope, I ventured there myself days later, was swept into a chair, and, without any fuss or conversation, was given a haircut no better or worse than others I had received. Charge: $2.50. I've been going there ever since without incident. I'm just waiting for him, whatever his name is, to fall victim to the plague or be run over by a taxi. (Larry's first barber, Jaime, to whom he was inexplicably attached, dropped dead within a few months of Larry's first visit.)

My computer's hard drive crashed last week and I lost all my pictures. I feel too bad to go outdoors to take some, so this missive will be photograph free.

Bonnie

Perfect Weather for Gardening

We're gently moving into the rainy season. Days are mostly beautiful until 3:00 or 4:00, when we have rain--some days a little; some days a lot. (I finally understand why Cesar and Edwin start work at 7:00 or 7:30.) We've been busy rooting new plants, from existing and thriving plants, in small plastic bags that are sold everywhere for that very purpose. Cesar has completed a ramp up the back hill and a cement sidewalk to the orchid house, has almost completed the big staircase up the same hill adjacent to the mirador, and has cemented rocks along the edges of the pathways which will contain gravel. (The cost of cement has almost doubled in the last six months, so plans had to be changed accordingly.) Steve and family have taken a two-week trip to Cuba, planned long before their tortuous move to Chorcha, but he promised to begin the waterfall and fish pool soon after their return.

Prices of property and construction are steadily rising in Boquete. A .6 acre lot a little ways up and across our road is advertised at $239,000. Five years ago we paid $65,000 for our 1.25 acre spread on a river. More remote locations up in the hills sell for less, but it's still a staggering increase. Acquaintances who currently are building were quoted prices roughly double what we paid, due largely to the increase costs of building materials and gasoline. The latter is a major concern because of the necessity of making the 28 mile trip to David for most major building supplies.

Boquete is coming of age, however. We're steadily getting more services, the latest being a pet grooming salon, "Best in Show." Manned by Roberto, an enthusiastic stylist, it features nail grinding and fancy skin treatments in addition to the regular shampooing and clipping. Chyna and Trudy and have been once and are due to return tomorrow. They don't need clipping, of course, so we got the full treatment, including treatment for a skin fungus that we didn't recognize, for $9 each. They smelled like flowers for about four days. Doc and Charly's cocker, Gustavo, was prettified for $11.

Randy and Maryellen stayed with us for a week, so the guest quarters are fully broken in now. Not only did I have two more mouths to feed at noon every day, but we managed to put on two dinner parties during their stay. One was just for the seven of us (including Doc, Charly, and Ramon), but the second, for Ramon's birthday, was for thirteen. Fortunately, Maryellen is energetic and helpful.

The day after Randy and Maryellen left to return to their sailboat in Bocas del Toro, our neighbors arrived, with two children in tow, from Daytona Beach, so we've been busy helping them with all sorts of information and guidance. In the meantime, there have been ongoing efforts to buy and install a generator, add some gutters, have more furniture made, etc.

Speaking of furniture, we needed something for storage in the garage and engaged Dario, who had done excellent work for Steve as well as all the cabinets at Ramon's house, to construct a long, low cabinet for storage of tools, fertilizer, etc. He came by, measured, took money for supplies, and said he would return with the piece in a month. Five weeks later he showed up with a gorgeous six-foot long cabinet : beautifully stained, paneled doors, fancy hardware, trim. We were so stunned that we didn't know what to do or say and therefore stood by while he moved it (with the help of three other men) into the garage. After looking at it for a few days, we conceded that it didn't belong there and, again with massive manpower, relocated it to the greatroom. It's stunning there--just the size for that big room. It looks like a piece of very, very expensive store bought furniture, for which we paid $700. (We went to David and bought stainless steel shelves for the garage.)

There are ongoing wildlife adventures. Trudy caught a rabbit in the backyard and brought it into the house, and both Chyna and Trudy manage to catch a bird from time to time. There clearly are snakes in the big rocks out back (we've found snakeskins four and five feet long), and I worry that the dogs are going to encounter them sooner or later. They nose around the rocks constantly in search of lizards. I saw a coatimundi bound out of the orchid house at dusk one afternoon, and we hear lots of mammal-like sounds down toward the river. Paul and Jenny at Paradise Gardens have two new ocelot kittens, two new howler monkey infants, and lots of baby coatis that have been orphaned. They nurture them back to health, rehabilitate them, and return them to the wild.

Yahoo and Maisie (Paul and Jenny's first howler) are now happily ensconced at Steve and Michelle's place in Chorcha where, although they have a fancy monkey house, they run free most of the time. They have attracted the attentions of a male howler from the jungle, who visits them regularly, and, although Michelle reports that they're very friendly with him, they haven't seen fit to leave home and join the troop yet.

I have an obligatory trip to David tomorrow for a visit with Fatima, our lawyer, and to buy landscaping fabric for the paths in the back that will be covered with gravel. So it's off to bed.

Starting off a new month

Things are picking up around here. Randy and Maryellen are back from months of sailing (but only for about a week), Dan and Kay have returned from their birding trip to Bhutan, Alan is back from the States, and the neighbors are due from Daytona Beach shortly. Cesar has returned at last and is working on steps and pathways in the back, and Steve promises to resume work on the waterfall and fish pond if he ever gets his family moved to Chorcha. Samuel has built me curtain rods for the guest room and a beautiful flower box which is mounted on the wall on the terrace. He currently is working on a headboard for one of the rooms and then will move on to two or three tables for the same rooms. We finally purchased a big stainless steel storage rack for the laundry room, so I'm actually able to move about in there. Today is Larry's golf day--ergo, my dia de libertad.

Last fall I dutifully attended the Tuesday morning expat meeting at which there was to be a learned presentation on Panama's labor laws (which are as complex as everything else official is here.) Most of it thoroughly confused me, but I did take away one meaningful bit of information: when workers work all day, the employer is expected to feed them lunch. We have Demaris two days a week to clean house, Juvenal two days a week to mow and weed, and Edwin two days a week to garden. Ergo, I feed them those days--plus another day for Edwin when he's working next door. I made the mistake of cooking up a full, hot meal in the beginning. All three were exceedingly grateful and praised my cooking skills to the hilt. Edwin says I'm the "numero uno cocinera," and he says it often, patting me on the shoulder; Juvenal's eyes light up at mealtime, and he dutifully clears the table for Demaris and me and gives me a kiss on the cheek to boot. So what's a woman to do in the face of all this flattery? Cook. Five days a week I cook all morning and spend considerable time otherwise planning menus and laying in supplies. And all three can really eat. Two platefuls is the norm.

One week I was in a time bind and made sandwiches. They were gracious, but the disappointed looks on their faces broke my heart. So it's back to full course, hot meals Monday through Friday. I griped about it to Jane, who looked at me in astonishment and said that their workers bring their own lunches. "No es el costumbre," she admonished. But I'm caught now. The only good thing is that Larry and I have our main meal during the day, leaving me a somewhat freer evening, and I guess it's better for our weight that we eat lightly at night. But it's ironic that I'm working so hard for the workers. Larry has pointed out, however, that they're not likely to leave us anytime soon because they look forward to eating so much. Around the table is also a good time for bonding, for getting to know them better, and for practicing my Spanish skills.

We get rain almost every afternoon now, so the plants are really beginning to fill out. I got my first gardenia blooms last week, and virtually all the hibiscus are flowering like crazy. The palms are a bit slower to take off, but I'm seeing positive signs even there. This time next year it should look like a reasonably mature garden.

I'm off to the terrace to prop up my feet and read a book--after I feed Edwin.

Update from Boquete, Panama

We're chilling out, watching the FSU/Wichita final game. I got out this morning and took some pictures and will be attaching a few.

No big news since my last post. We had dinner again at Steve and Michelle's last night: another banquet of about a dozen dishes. There was beef curry, a Thai chicken dish, almonds sauteed in syrup, stuffed grape leaves, a fancy rice, many dips, many appetizers, many different breads, and ribs off the grill. We also met some new people, mostly from Great Britain, including a retired undercover cop from Manchester who had lots of interesting stories. Paul and Jenny brought their new resident of Paradise Gardens: a three-week-old howler monkey abandoned by its mother that has to be fed every two hours. We all took turns cuddling and feeding him. Jenny makes his "nappies" (she and Paul and British) out of paper towels.

Steve and Michelle sold their house at last and must be out by the end of the month. So they're frantically trying to put up some type of abode on their property in Chorcha. Ergo, he hasn't started on the waterfall and fish pool yet. In the meantime, Edwin is really whipping the garden into shape, being freed of weedeating and mowing by Juvenal.

We had Juvenal's birthday party at our house about two weeks ago. He made an excellent chicken dish, and Demaris and her clan came with potato salad and rice. The chicken was so delicious that I demanded that Juvenal show me how to cook it, so, when he and Demaris were here working on Thursday, he prepared lunch for us. I thought I had all the ingredients but had forgotten cilantro. No problem, he said, and ran out and found some in the garden that I didn't know I had. I made the rice dish, Demaris a fancy salad, and the dogs helped out by being constantly underfoot. Juvenal remarked that it is fortuitous that we have a large kitchen.

Larry was down for over a month with an inflamed sciatic nerve. We tried our friend Roady who is a chiropractor, our friend Mary Ellen who is a massage therapist, but finally went to David to see a neurologist. He gave Larry a prescription anti-inflamatory and codeine for the pain--cost: $40. Larry couldn't withstand the codeine so took only one dose, but the anti-inflammatory got him through the worst of it. He hasn't been able to play golf for a month but plans to return Tuesday. I'm gladder than he is.

Interesting place, this Panama

I read somewhere recently that relocating to a foreign country is right up there with marriage and divorce on the stress meter. I believe it, because it's only been within the last month or so that I've really felt at home and at ease, i.e., have a workable understanding of the region and the culture.

Although the town of Boquete is small, it is just the bottom of the bowl, so to speak, as it is surrounded by mountains which in which lie the various communities: Palmira, Alto Boquete, Jaramillo, Volcancito, Bajo Mono, Alto Quiel, El Salto, El Santuario, Alto Lino, Las Naranjas, Palo Alto, etc. Roads to these outlying areas form a series of loops from the town, some a few miles long and others many miles, so folks are pretty far-flung for what generally is considered to be a small town. There is only one road in and out of Boquete, the road to and from David, but dozens of roads looping through the mountains. I think I've been on most of them now and have less fear of becoming hopelessly lost.

There is excellent information about Boquete on a new website, http://www.boquete.org/, including a map of Panama clearing showing Boquete's location in relation to the rest of the country.

It also has taken a while to become acclimated to the Panamanian culture. Here are a few things I've learned:

1) Panamanians are incapable of saying "no" to any request. Ask them for the impossible, and they'll assure you enthusiastically that it can and will be done. To refuse you would be a breach of something peculiarly Panamanian. It took a while to catch on to this, prior to which we thought we had landed in a country filed with liars. But there are subtle ways of knowing when "yes" means yes, when it means maybe, and when it means not in this lifetime. I can't explain it, but I know it when I hear it.

2) Panamanians are incapable of saying "I don't know" when asked directions. They may not have the remotest idea where a person lives or where a business is located, but they'll give you earnest directions anyway. I've found that I can trust such directions if, and only if, there is no hesitation prior to their response.

3) There is absolutely, positively nothing worth getting in a rush about. Whether something is done today, tomorrow, next week, or next month--hey, it's done, isn't it? We've developed patience neither of us ever had, and for the important things (plumbing, electrical, etc.) we've developed a network of contacts so that if one doesn't feel like doing anything that day (although he'll agree to take care of it immediately--see number 1, above), another one may be in the vicinity, need money, and drop by. Larry has developed the habit of rewarding workers with a beer or two upon their departure, which helps in ensuring their return as needed.

Steve and company have returned and currently are working on the waterfall and fish pond out back and a pergola/deck overlooking it. There's a rock formation already in place that's perfect for a cascading waterway. In fact, our property has no dearth of rocks, big and small. The entire area is rocky, of course, because of past volcanic eruptions, but I think we have more than our share. Those underground make it a real plain to dig (although the locals seem used to it), but the large rocks above ground make beautiful landscaping features. We also have pathways to construct throughout the upper gardens. We're getting lots of sun now and regular late afternoon showers, so all the plants are growing like mad. It's hard to believe that the property was a big mud hole nine months ago. The orchid house is filled with tendrils of plants about to burst into bloom, and a few already are blooming. I should have some good pictures soon.

I'm attaching a picture of Demaris' sister Iris and Iris' son Jose, the apple of the family's eye, taken at brother Angel's birthday party last Sunday. He, Jose, calls us Tia Bonnie and Tio Larry and includes us in all the family pictures he draws. (When Iris spanked him several weeks ago for fighting at school, he announced that he didn't want her to be his mother anymore, that he was going to live with Tia Bonnie and Tio Larry.) He's very bright and loves learning, so we paid his tuition at a private school this year ($40--but might as well be $4000 to his family). Every time we take Demaris home he demonstrates how much he's learning by dragging out all his books and papers.

Gotta take the gardener home. Send news from back home.

On the cusp of the raining season

As I write, George (our electrician and general handyman) and Larry are working, for the second day in a row, on trying to install our propane gas logs in the fireplace. I should have known that it would be a trial inasmuch as just getting the logs here was a colossal headache. Unheard of in Panama, they had to be ordered from the States and shipped, at great expense. I got a lead from a friend on a cheaper way of shipping very heavy items than Mailboxes, Etc., so I gave them a try. Aerocasillas by name. Three weeks, they told me.

After six weeks, I got an email from Aerocasillas in Panama City. They needed an invoice for customs purposes, so I emailed the invoice that had been emailed to me by the log company. After a couple of days, Aerocasillas emailed again asking for a description of the item (although it clearly stated what they were on the invoice). I replied in both Spanish and English. Two days later, they asked for a picture. I dutifully got a picture from the company's website and sent it on. Then they wanted to know if the logs were wood. I patiently explained that they were artificial logs, that the fire comes from the propane. Hearing nothing further for a couple of days, I wrote and asked if they had everything they needed. "Yes," Sra. Lorena Campos replied, "but you have another package on the way. If you provide me the invoice now, it will speed things up." I responded that I wasn't expecting another package.

Finally, the package arrived at the Aerocasillas office in Boquete. Larry and I took one look at it and knew something was amiss. Opening it, we discovered only the iron grate: no logs. I wisely refused to take it until the entire order was fulfilled, realizing what the second package must be. I went home and wrote Sra. Campos, explaining that the second package had to be the logs. She wrote back that she needed another invoice for the second package. I explained that the same invoice applied to both packages, that it was one order in two shipments. That wouldn't do. Customs has to have discrete paperwork for every shipment in order to assess customs duties. After several days of back and forth wrangling by phone and email, the local rep put me in touch with a customer service representative (as though such a person exists in Panama) in David. The best she could do after a week of back and forth was putting a minimal value on the second package so that I wouldn't have to pay twice the customs--a considerable figure. So, after three months and more money than I want to think of the logs are here. Now the installation.

Our peace and tranquility here in Palo Alto was disturbed for a couple of weeks when the house next door was habituated by Dr. Dan Evers, one of the part-time gringo vets who is a friend of the house's owners. Dan and his wife Cindy arrived to close on the sale of their house in a gated community outside of town and to look for housing closer to Boquete to better serve the animals. After spending the first two days of their visit moving their stuff from the sold house into the house next door, the house sale fell through at the last moment. Then Cindy had to return to Florida after four days because of her mother's hospitalization. Dan had promised to do a mini-sterilization clinic while here, but otherwise, he said, had not announced his arrival. It is a testament to the Boquete grapevine that he had patients coming and going from 8 in the morning until after dark every day. Of course it was a great source of amusement for Chyna and Trudy, who had a bird's eye view of the garage/clinic from the low stone wall in back which overlooks that side of the neighbors' house. With Cindy gone and Dan smothered in vet business, we pretty much had to take care of him for a couple of weeks--including breaking into the house in the middle of the night when, as he was in the garage cleaning up after a day of vetting, the wind blew the door closed with his keys inside. We got free vet services, however, and a year's supply of worm pills.

We took a road trip a couple of weeks ago with Doc, Charly, and Ramon to Las Lajas Beach, about an hour outside of David towards Panama City. They kept saying how pleasant it was, but they're not from Florida and wouldn't know a nice beach if they saw one. The sand is gray, it was hot has hell, and various stray dogs fought under our feet all day. While it was nice to get away, I was glad to get home to the cool mountain air.

Otherwise, all we've been doing is working in the yard. We went through three weeks of extremely dry weather when we were watering all the time. Then we had a BIG rain last week (it tore the gutters off the house next door) and suddenly everything is growing like mad, including the weeds. Amazing. We've gotten late afternoon rain ever since, just the right amount, so everything is flourishing. Juvenal is outside weedeating at present, and we have a second gardener, Edwin, who works on Saturday. Lots to do.

Rain (and lack thereof)

It's a quiet Tuesday. Larry's playing golf, and there are no workmen for the first time in months. The front landscaping is in place, so we decided to give Steve and company, as well as our pocketbook, a rest before starting on the waterfall and walkways out back. There are scores of plants out back, however, in addition to those out front, that up until a few days ago we wore ourselves out watering. After the wettest of wet seasons, we suddenly were hit with no rain and lots of wind for about a week and a half, drying everything out virtually overnight. We have four inter-connected tanks that catch rainwater from the downspouts, a pump to pump it out, and water lines and four faucets on the back part of the property. We emptied the tanks in two days of constant water dispersal via sprinklers and hoses. Out front, we used house water, and lots of it. Finally, three days ago we starting receiving late afternoon and early evening showers, saturating everything thoroughly and refilling the tanks. It's still windy, but nothing like that few days in January. With the sun and moderate rain, things are really beginning to grow.

There continue to be aggravations, compounded by the general inefficiency of Panamanian businesses and government. It took us five days "will-be-there-today" to get our automatic gate working properly. I've been waiting for two days for a plumber to unclog a water line to the kitchen so that I have more than a trickle of water to the sink. And I just got a call from C & W (Cable and Wireless--aka Clueless and Witless or Corrupt and Worthless) telling me my phone bill hasn't been paid even though I set it up for automatic charge to a credit card of which they have copies. Naturally, they can't look up their own records but insist that I visit their office to straighten it out. The house papers still haven't been properly filed with the Public Registry because of a dispute about the value of house--despite two bank appraisals and an appraisal by the Town. Garbage collection is regular unless there's a holiday, and there are many, in which case it throws them off completely and we don't have a pick up for weeks. Finally, we've been waiting an eternity for some patio furniture and a couple of indoor tables which were ordered in mid-December and partially paid for. Oscar, the craftsman, who made our gates in record time and therefore won our confidence, apparently is still is town because there are reported sightings of him, but we can't run him down to save our lives.

If I get one major thing accomplished a day, I feel good. Today it was renewing my health insurance. Yesterday it was getting the gate fixed. Sunday it was doing income taxes. And so on. In between, there's always watering, weeding, and household chores. It hasn't left much time for recreation, but I did get away last Thursday with Jane (of The Coffee Estate Inn where we always stayed when we came down as tourists) and Kay Wade for a girls-only road trip to Concepcion, Volcan, and Cerro Punto. We swore we would do it more often, but it was Jane's first day off in months. They've had a full house since November and, in addition to serving as innkeepers and all-around problem solvers for picky guests (you should hear her stories), they also offer gourmet meals at night. And Kay and her husband Dan were leaving for Bhutan on a bird-watching jaunt the following weekend. So when we'll get together again I don't know. Doc, Charly, and Ramon are just as busy settling into their house and landscaping the property, although we do see from time to time for a dinner out or a quick visit.

One day I hope to be retired.

The latest from planet paradise

So much for writing more often. The weather has been great, so it's hard to stay indoors. Plus, I made the mistake of telling Doc that I type over a hundred words a minute, so he unloaded pages and pages of his writings that were lost during a computer crash. I've been working my way through his short story, a P.G. Wodehouse tale featuring Bertie and Jeeves, entitled "The Case of the Missing Mashie." My favorite line so far is his description of golf as "a not unplesant way to while away an afternoon and rid yourself of unnecessary self-esteem, simultaneously."

I realize that it's risky to feature a picture of a monkey in a blog bearing one's name, but several readers have expressed a desire to see the infamous Yahoo, so here she is. She will be relocating soon to Steve and Michelle's property in Chorcha where Cesar, since he finished our wall, is constructing a monkey house. It's probably time because she's really been obstreperous of late; I had a devil of a time getting her picture, as you probably can tell by Michelle's disarray. Shortly after the photo shoot she managed to free herself of Michelle and scampered to the top of the wall, where Steve was busy inserting plants between rocks. It took me, Larry, Steve, Michelle, Gareth, and Rebeca to finally recapture her, accompanied by screeching from her and baying from Trudy.

The highlight of the past week was a trip to Volcan with Doc, Charly, Ramon, and their friends Sam and Judy Sacco. We lunched at a new Thai restaurant there, and, although Thai has never been a favorite food of mine, this meal was spectacular. We ordered five dishes between the six of us (Larry stayed home to oversee some work that was being done) and ate every morsel even though the portions were herculean. Afterwards, Paul, the chef/proprietor, gave us a tour of his garden/greenhouses filled with carnivorous plants. There was every variety of pitcher plant, sundew, Venus fly trap, and nepenthes (look that up in your Funk and Wagnalls--or, better yet, google it for some really weird pictures) known to man. Paul, who hails from Hollywood, California and is covered in tattoos, also advised that he has a side business in that ancient art should we be inclined to memoralize the day with some body decoration. All that said, he seemed like a regular guy.

Time

The best thing about retirement is having control over how you spend your time, not necessarily having more time. In fact, I haven't the time to do a fraction of the things I want to, even though I arise at 5:00 a.m. most days. Even though I know it's foolish to plan anything down here, because plans inevitably go awry, I nevertheless decided earlier this week that I simply had to start setting some priorities. I came up with three principal ones.

Sitting on the terrace in the early morning and late afternoon watching the birds when they are the most active is a must. Every morning flocks of white egrets pass through the back yard on their way, presumably, to the cow pastures further up the road. While they're soaring overhead, dozens of sparrows hop about in the grass or on the terrace searching for bugs, and the songbirds dive and swoop about. We also have some large, black grackles that largely stay high in the trees or on the roof, making enough noise to, as they say, raise the dead. Occasionally, flocks of parrots come by; you can hear them screeching long before you see them, which is a nice warning of their arrival. As flowers are beginning to bloom, more and more hummingbirds are about. There are dozens of species of hummingbirds in Panama, ranging from the teeny tiny to the ones I saw in Cerro Punta that were about four inches long (and irridescent). Interestingly, they perch a lot here--on branches and fences--so I hope to get some pictures sooner or later.

Learning how to speak Spanish more fluently is my second priority. To that end, I've committed to studying at least an hour a day, more if possible, i.e., if the weather is bad and I can't be gardening.

But gardening is certainly the top priority. Now that a lot of the basic plant areas are in, I spend hours potting, planting, weeding, digging rocks out of the ground, tying orchids to trees, fertilizing, propogating (plants), mulching, etc., etc. We're a ways from having the botanical garden that Steve envisions, but I do have a few blooms here and there, including a few orchids. I think it's going to pay off handsomely.

Catch-up and creation of blogsite

The weather has been beautiful for two weeks, so I've spent virtually every waking moment outdoors. It's raining today, so I'm taking the opportunity to stay indoors and get current technologically. So here goes my first Blog.

The big news is that the Great Wall of Palo Alto, as Doc calls it, was finally completed about 4:00 Friday afternoon. Cesar has been working on it, you will recall, since late August. There are two gaps where one of the sections is set back in order that it not appear to be a fortress; they will be inset with iron bars matching the driveway and pedestrian gates. Two pictures included.

I keep forgetting to mention that, for reasons I can't understand, I've dropped a lot of weight in the year that we've been here. I'm down to a size 10, approaching a size 8. None of the clothes I brought with me fit. I ordered several pairs of size 10 khakis and have been living in them. I don't know what I'll do if I ever have to dress up. And I have a closet filled with things that I can't wear.

It's coffee picking season, so we are entertained from sunup to sundown with the yodellings and chirrups of the coffee workers surrounding us. They have a unique form of communication understood only by them, but it manages to keep the dogs' ears perked up all day. They, the dogs, are becoming accustomed to lots of new people and new sounds, so only certain things now send them into barking frenzies. Noisy vehicles on the road always get a rise out of them, as do horses and cows traveling out front. They're blase now about the workers, unless, of course, one is so inconsiderate as to knock on the door or ring the doorbell.

I made my first trip to the vet on Friday morning. Chyna had been getting up at night for two days to go outdoors and had been drinking an inordinate amount of water. We arrived at Dr. Chely Castillo's at 9:30, made our way perilously through her menagerie of rescued animals, and were ushered into the clinic. Before even beginning an examination or asking me any questions, Sra. Chely launched into an extended critique of Chyna's weight, complete with wagging finger. Upon hearing of Chyna's symptoms and finding that she had a fever, she assumed, as had I, that a urinary tract infection was the most likely diagnosis, but she insisted on a blood test to make sure. Blood was withdrawn and an antibiotic injection given, and she advised me to return at 2:00 for the results. She then gave big old bulldog Chyna a big kiss on the lips and sent us on our way. Following a quick trip to David to buy groceries, I returned to learn that the blood tests indicated an infection of the liver rather than the kidneys. Sra. Chely explained that it most likely was due to her being overweight, and she explained in great detail, in Spanish, why it was imperative that Chyna not only lose weight but also go on a special diet. The new regimen requires a special treatment dog food by Science Diet that costs $2.25 a can and $23.50 per medium-sized bag. After paying the vet, the lab, and the dog food store, I limped home about $125 poorer. It's clear that Sra. Chely charges gringos more than she charges locals, but I suppose that's to be expected. There was a young boy at the clinic with his sick puppy on Friday and it was clear that he had little if any money. Nonetheless, Sra. Chely took care of the puppy and sent them away with additional medicine. She's also the principal vet at the many spay and neuter clinics held in the area and lauded my participation in them. As is typical of Panamanians, she hugged me when I left.

Further on the subject of dogs, we nearly acquired another one. A beautiful husky, with one blue eye and one brown, took up at Doc and Charly and Ramon's house. He had been there a couple of days when he decided to accompany Larry back here after he visit. He decided he liked it better here, followed Larry around everywhere outdoors, and cried at the front door. We finally let him in, Chyna didn't engage him battle, and a peaceful night was passed with him lying next to the bed. Larry named him Loco Lobo. The following day, however, he began making some subtle noises suggesting that he desired to be the alpha, and we noticed Chyna's hackles rising ever so slightly. We began looking around for alternative living arrangements for him (after having received no responses to our DOG FOUND pleas on the Boquete internet forum), and received a welcome call from Demaris saying that Juvenal wanted him as a companero. He was promptly delivered to Juvenal's casita, where he apparently will live happily ever after.

During the time that Derek and Jill were here, Steve and family were forced once again to leave the country for three days in order to renew their visas upon reentry. They made it a mini-vacation in Costa Rica but met with misfortune. While out for dinner one night, their bungalow was broken into and various items stolen, including Steve's camera full of pictures and Gareth's iPod full of music. They were very perturbed and have sworn off Costa Rica because of the crime rate there. The door of the bungalow actually was broken down, and the police told them that the only surefire protection was to always have someone in residence. Inasmuch as that would defeat the purpose of a family outing, they're looking into going elsewhere in the future. Since their return, Steve ordered a new camera which he had shipped to Dan and Kay Wade in Texas, who brought it with them upon their return to Boquete after the holidays.

Having left all of our family in the States, we have acquired a new one here: Demaris' clan. I forgot to write that the entire household came over on Christmas Eve, dressed to the teeth, and spent a couple of hours with us, Doc, Charly, Ramon, and Ramon's daughter Laura who was visiting from San Francisco. Doc remarked later that having had them come by, particularly with 5-year-old Jose so full of Christmas, made it seem so much more like the holidays. Yesterday, Demaris and Juvenal came over to cook, accompanied by Demaris' mother Maria, her sister Iris, her brother Angel, her brother Jaime, and, of course, Jose. (Brothers Eric and Alberto were away for work purposes.) They arrived at 1:00 and left at 7:30. Demaris, Maria, and Iris cooked up a typical Panamanian meal of beef with red peppers, garlic, and onions (producing a super gravy); rice and guandu (the local pea); and plantains baked with butter, cinnamon, and strawberry soda. We found a t.v. program airing a salsa band and dancers from Miami, much to everyone's delight. Jose danced, played with the dogs, and showed us his attempts at learning how to break dance like one of his cousins. A good time was had by all, as they say.

Demaris and Juvenal are back here today working, and it's time for me to prepare lunch for all of us. I'll try to be more dutiful with my updates here on the blog, probably writing less but more often. So check back whenever you can.