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.