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.

Felipe: RIP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holiday time begins

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

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

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


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

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

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

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

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

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





   

Life in the Heart of the Rainy Season

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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


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

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

Another flood

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Boquete Dogs

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Panama Census and Other Matters

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

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

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

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

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

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

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