When in Rome, do as… the Panamanians?

 

A very small part of our Spanish educational initiative

Caution: This post will sound a bit self-righteous & boastful. It’s not our intention, really. We’re struggling to learn Spanish, and consider it muy importante. If anyone reading this post has a different opinion, no problemo. De acuerdo que esta es su derecho. In that case, read this as light comedy.

Here’s the thing. We think it’s a shame that folks come to Panama, or any ‘foreign’ country, and shield themselves from the people and culture by avoiding second language skills. I’m the first to admit that learning Espanol is hard, hard work. Especially at our age, learning anything tougher than Old Maid is strenuous and discouraging. But we’re not tourists here in Boquete; we’re residents, and we happen to think that making the effort to learn Spanish is crucial to our success, and to the way we’re accepted in the community. Back in Ohio our neighbors from Ukraine brought their parents to live in America, to escape the instability and peril in their embattled country. Sadly, in our opinion, the elders made no effort to learn English, stumbling along and hiding from enriching daily encounters. Their example spurs us to learn the language of the culture we now live in. When in Rome…

As I say, this may read in a self-righteous, or self-congratulatory way. It’s not meant to at all. We’ve encountered expats, some of whom have been here for many years, with no interest in learning Spanish. We think that’s sad, but it’s their choice. There’s comedy in our efforts, that’s for certain, and here’s some of the light comedy parts. The pix below show just one of mi carina’s many mechanisms for aprendiendo Espanol.

Back in 3rd Grade

Remember the flash cards that Mrs. Ruble, your third grade teacher, pasted everywhere? Well…here at the condo it’s like we’re back in 3rd grade again, and Ms R has post-its for us everywhere we look. There’s no escaping the little note cards: want to fix a snack? Check out the note on the door of el refrigerador. Need to thaw el pollo por cena anoche? Don’t miss the note on the congelador. Ooops, there goes el electricidad again, better light una vela, it’s right by the note, next to the encendador. Necesitas un leccion en pronunciacion’? El abecedario es en el respaldo de la silla. Que hora es? Ve’ase la nota del reloj. See, isn’t this fun? And while we believe it’s all or nothing, that we either learn to speak Spanish or stick with English, we’ve learned that Spanglish is okay, just a stepping stone along the way to being Espanol-conversant, if not fluent.

No need for wallpaper

There’s nothing in our lease prohibiting wall decoration, so mi esposa has filled every nook & cranny with training aids. There’s no escaping her little notes. We can’t fix dinner, use el bano, take a shower, watch TV or leave the house without a Spanish lesson. Other methods of instruction include the following: Counting each step as we descend or ascend from our 3rd grade…I mean 3rd floor walkup. (There are treinta y seis escaleras, por cierto.) We chat with each other as much as possible en Espanol, read road signs as we drive along, try to write our journal to each other in Spanish and share palabras nuevas todos los dias.

Van los Cachorros! Go Cubs!

We’ve begun watching el television en Espanol as well. We’ve heard that the simple act of listening to the tone, timbre and timing of a language can facilitate learning it. So we listen to Spanish radio, pay attention to public conversations and use our vitally important ‘Mas despacio, por favor,’ when engaging with mas rapido Spanish speakers, trying to make every encounter a lesson. If last night’s TV session, Cubs over the Giants, was any indication we’re on our way…as are the Cubbies. Yes, this might be the year! Van los cachorros! Ellos van ganar hoy!

We’ve enrolled in Habla Ya, Spanish language school as well, and lessons are proceeding apace. There are numerous options close by, language teachers & multi-lingual folks willing to help us learn, some for a fee, many for free.

Immersion is the key

The best way to learn any language, of course, is to immerse oneself in the culture, hanging out with people who speak that language. For example, Erick, the little guy above, is Mariah’s maestro favorito. In la biblioteca de Boquete, Erick listens to her con mucha paciencia as she struggles with his native tongue. (In the scene above, he explains that his hermano es mas viejo!   In the other scenes Mariah makes a purchase at BCP’s Tuesday market, tries out her Spanish with fellow bus riders from Albrook Mall Panama City and visits the vegetable stand, all great opportunities to learn a word or two, or three.

In her blog, Let The Adventure Begin, Holly Carter mentions other ways to learn, such as listening to the carpenters, as they work on the house she and husband Scott are building. Cindy Crawford Thomas in Loving Retirement writes about group lessons, another useful path to fluency. In their blog, The Panama Adventure, Kris and Joel Cunningham mention on-line language acquisition. A fellow named Jared Romey on speakinglatino.com even writes about how not to learn Spanish, in this case by, among other things, ignoring the gender attribution/agreement issue that often trips up students. Is it La dia, or El dia?  Los caballos, or las caballos? Los? …the hell! But they’re girl horses! Romey’s focus is, as he states, ‘Functional Spanish.’ Lindsay Dow in Lindsay Does Language offers an in depth collection of language-learning opportunities such as her blogs, vlogs and YouTube offerings.There’s no shortage of resources available for anyone wishing to learn a language. The only real dilemma is deciding which one is best, and that depends on time availability, method of learning, age, access to those resources and temperament. Plus motivational level, I’d say.

The Friendly Duo-Owl

A free application for language acquisition is Duolingo. My wife has been an avid Duolinguist for a long time. In fact, one of the features of this free service is its tracking of students’ time & progress, and Mariah recently surpassed consecutive day number 325 of daily Duolingo attention.Woot!  Duolingo offers language training and simple vocabulary/verb/grammar exposure in several languages, all for free.

All the post-it notes, textbooks, shared new words and shortcuts in the world won’t result in fluency. So we try to dive in and use whatever fluency we’ve acquired. It’s not pretty, but folks seem genuinely pleased that we’re trying, and they immediately assume the role of maestros quien son felices ayudarnos.

Second First Impressions, Back to Boquete

Volcan Baru looms over Boquete

7 AM, 9.5.2016

We arrived back in Boquete, Chiriqui Province, Panama September 4th after a long, yet amazingly simple transit from Ohio. The welcome we felt from new friends was matched by the grandeur of Volcan Baru the following morning. At 11,400 feet/3,475 meters, Baru is the highest point in Panama, and the only place in the western hemisphere from which both great bodies of water, Caribbean Sea & Pacific Ocean can be seen at the same time. To us, the mountain seems to be saying, Bienvenidos a Boquete. It’s good to be here, and our second first impressions are just that, feelings of comfort, welcome and coming home. It’s too early to make (or share) durable impressions of a place after just forty-eight hours. But we lived in Boquete for several weeks this past Spring, so our second first impressions are somewhat relevant.

We’d been told to run errands in the morning, as the rains roll in by noon or so, and it’s true. The next photo is Baru cloaked in clouds and rain by 3 PM.

Same scene; hours later

We’ve been humbled & gratified by our welcome from the community here, not just expats, but Panamanians as well. Everyone we’ve run into seems genuinely glad to see us. That stems partly, we believe, from camaraderie among the expat group, the sense that we share in the adventure of transposing our lives to an exotic, foreign land & culture. Part of the embrace seems to arise from a feeling of shared values, the willingness to let go of whatever restrictions and ties that lashed us to obligations elsewhere. This is, admittedly, a bit selfish; yet one of the feelings we received on leaving the familiarity of our past lives was envy: a sense from people who wished they could go along, if only…

Halfway across Panama: Next stop, David!

As for personal second first impressions, we feel the tension between our need to get things done–visa secured, vehicle found, residence located, utilities addressed etc.–and the urge to immerse ourselves in the pervasive relaxation mode that surrounds us. The advice to get things accomplished before noon is sound; after that, the siesta season arrives, and until after 2 PM not much gets done.

Something else our grand adventure offers is an opportunity to reinvent ourselves. This activity is the essence of  American aspiration, and evidence of that endeavor can be found everywhere. If Iowa born Marion Michael Morrison can turn himself into Hollywood’s John Wayne, Cheryl Sarkisian can brand herself as Cher, Bernard Schwartz can end up on movie marquees as Tony Curtis & Prince can reinvent himself as a twisty, complicated symbol that won’t fit on a vanity plate, then we can move to Panama and start over…again. It’s a liberating thought. Not that we need to do this; the FBI/CIA/NSA/TSA have no interest in the likes of us. We know this because we had to prove it. We’re not in the witness protection program, having never witnessed any type of awkward event that might cause us to need protection. But we do know the value of beginning anew, and the refreshing chance it offers. Like a rough gem that needs clarifying, or a rare wine that improves with age, we’ve had the chance to get better and thus more refined, and lord knows we’ve needed it, at least I have. We can (and will) offer our new colleagues in adventure the very best of ourselves, and show them what and who we truly are. Not many people have a chance to escape the often suffocating assumptions and beliefs of others, and it shouldn’t require a move of several thousand miles to accomplish this, but it might, and it does.

Baru has many moods: 6 PM 9.5.16

From COPA Flight 17: 1-Volcan Baru in the distance; 2-landing at David (Da-Veed), and 3-Boquete on the horizon. 

More second first impressions of our new home in Panama will arrive over time. For now, we’re happy to be back in Panama, and looking forward to building on all we’ve seen, heard and discovered. Our intention is to live here for a very long time, likely many years. That may or may not be the end result. There are the ever present exigencies of family emergency, our own health considerations and other prospects too numerous to know or predict. For now, our second first impression of Boquete is that it’s home, and here we’ll stay. More later, enjoy the photos and thanks for reading.

The Great Pre-Departure Texas Trek

Fault lines? Or guilt lines?

Prior to any departure for a foreign land, it’s customary to connect with friends and family, touch base with old acquaintances and in general affirm the bonds of blood and friendship. Especially when the pending journey promises a long separation, or a permanent one, we tend to immerse ourselves in the bosom of loved ones and associates in an effort to reassure them of our intent to not forget, to confirm our tribal identity, as it were. Such was the case with us as we prepared to leave Columbus for Panama: we embarked on the Great Pre-Departure Texas Trek. All we can say about our 3,500+ mile, 27 day, 2 rental car, 8 airplane odyssey is that…it’s over.

The solid blue line depicted above marks the highway part of our loooooong journey, Columbus Ohio, to Austin Texas and back, driving and flying, with ten (or more) stops in between.

The dashed lines are flight legs. Mariah’s in blue took her from Houston to Atlanta/Warner-Robins GA, then on to Chicago and Cedar Rapids Iowa, then back to Austin. The red line is my flight leg from Austin to Columbus for ten days with our grandson, then back to Austin.

The squiggles above may look like fault lines on a seismographer’s map, but they’re actually ‘guilt’ lines. With tongue firmly planted in cheek, I suggest that our aforementioned pre-departure travel is often driven not by bonds of affection, but by goads of guilt. There are other emotions involved, but a lot of the attention we pay to associates and family before leaving their admiring presence is done because of expectation and long-standing ritual.

 

Day 2: New Harmony Indiana, and the NH Inn. A place marked by calm contemplation.

(It even has a labyrinth)

New Harmony in southwestern Indiana is the site of at least two former Utopian societies, the Harmonists & the Owenites. Neither sect survived. Restrictions against communal living, music and dance didn’t help; rules against sexual interaction didn’t either, not just from the standpoint of a dwindling population, but from the official disdain for the good old ‘urge to merge’ that folks tend to enjoy on occasion. Nonetheless, we enjoyed the gracious dining experience of the Red Geranium, the town of New Harmony despite the suffocating heat, then embarked for Arkansas by way of… Sikeston Missouri?

Itching for a throwed roll? Here you go.

Lunchtime on Day 2 found us where I-55 & I-57 meet, near Sikeston Missouri. Sikeston is the home of Lambert’s Restaurant where the specialty isn’t BBQ ribs, Cole-slaw in buckets, hush puppies or fried okra nuggets by the handful. No, what makes hundreds of travelers veer off the Interstate and shlep on in to Lambert’s is hungry travelers’ inexplicable desire to be pelted with steamy, flying dinner rolls. Home of ‘Throwed Rolls,’ in local parlance, (throwedrolls.com) Lambert’s staffers won’t hand you a dinner roll, but they’re more than happy to toss one across the cavernous dining room to you. Just raise a greedy mitt, and soon a fresh from the oven bread missile careens your way. Intercept the doughy projectile, slap it onto a saucer and slather it with rich, melt-in-your mouth butter–yum! Note: Cash or check only, no Credit Cards. There is an ATM in the lobby.

Nice catch, Bertina! Butter, please!

Day 3: Little Rock Arkansas, William J. Clinton Library & Museum

Presidential Limo——–Walls of executive papers—The William J. Clinton Library

A short drive past Memphis on I-40 brought us to Little Rock, home of, among other things, President Bill Clinton’s shiny new (LEED platinum) library & museum. The 17,000 square foot building contains many of our 42nd president’s executive papers, and a well presented timeline of his years in office. History buffs and writers could inhabit this museum for days and weeks. We spent several hours perusing the displays, and reliving some of the high (and low) points of the Clinton administration. One of the high points of Clinton’s years in office was the ’96 Summer games in Atlanta. A focus to any museum visit is the interactive displays, and the Clinton library is no exception. We had the opportunity to win gold, silver & bronze in Olympic perusing. Here’s proof. Gold to Bertina; Silver to Mariah; and Bronze to yours truly.

The winners for Olympic Perusing

Day 4: Dallas/Plano

With Little Rock in the rear-view, we trekked on to Dallas & Plano Texas, where friend Bertina spent an hour with a friend she’d never met. We spent the night in Plano at a unique hotel called NYLO, (for New York Loft. A cross between industrial chic and incarceration, it was a bit like spending the night at Shawshank Prison, without the Rita Hayworth movie, but delightful nonetheless. Then it was on to Austin, where things are still weird, the music’s served up eclectic & plentiful and the heat can fry ostrich eggs. We spent two days in weird old hot Austin, then clipped the grandson into his car seat and headed east to Galveston Island & the Schlitterbahn Waterpark. The lad was pleased. The waterpark brought out the boy’s inner dolphin. I’m sure I noticed fins sprouting on his back and arms. You can lead a six-year-old to water, but you can’t make him get out of it and towel off. At Schlitterbahn friend Bertina qualified for yet another gold medal, this one for backward boogie-boarding, a waterlogged effort promising to become an Olympic sport. Here she is below.

Go, Bertina! And we thought the throwed-roll catch was amazing!

Next stop: Houston. 

From Galveston Island we crossed the causeway into Houston and checked out the attractions. First on the list was the Houston Museum of Natural Science. If your museum preference tends toward fascinating, ancient, historic and engaging, the HMNS is world class. Impossible to see in one day, or one week, the HMNS was a refuge from the sticky heat and a great way to spend an afternoon. The IMAX style planetarium alone is worth the price of entry. Next it was downtown Houston to see the Downtown Aquarium, possibly the only disappointment of the Texas trek. The Houston aquarium is a good place to see all manner of fish/cephalopods/crustaceans/and various other marine critters. But the major attraction seems to be…the white tigers?

                        Something’s fishy, Mariah                 Nero, the rare White Tiger

From Houston, Mariah and Bertina went their separate ways: M to Atlanta and Warner-Robins to see the youngest daughter; Bertina back to Columbus to recover from her travels with the likes of us, and enjoy her medals.

I headed back to Austin with the grand lad, stayed one full day at an AirBnB place that was delightful, (review here) and then Wednesday, 8/11, the youngster and I flew from Austin to Columbus. On the 20th he and I flew back to Austin on the cross-country flight from Hades, and met up with Mariah once more. Two more nights in Austin at a terrific hotel called the Lone Star Court, then it was on the road, back through Arkansas, and on to Nashville where we had an appointment with the good folks at CBP, Customs and Border Protection. We’re now officially registered with the CBP in their Global Access Program. Registry in the GOES (Global Online Enrollment System)  allows us automatic TSA-Pre-check anytime we leave the country, and much easier reentry through customs on our return, to the U.S at least. Next post I’ll write about the GOES program, and why travelers should consider enrolling in it.

So…the guilt lines have been crossed, family and friends are assuaged, and we’re ready to return to Boquete and our new life turning expat into a verb. We also intend to refurbish the blog to better reflect our traveling endeavors, making it less specific to Panama. Stay tuned, and thanks for reading.

Happiness is…

Happiness is…empty rooms

Just a short post this time to note how close we really are to returning to Boquete Panama. Forty-six days from now we’ll be landing at PTY, overnighting there and then on to David and Boquete the next day. We’re writing this brief blog post more to assure ourselves than anything else, an inventory of sorts. Friends who’d been there told us how difficult becoming expats would be, and the various necessities of moving so far, with so little. But until you’ve done something… The effort has taken a toll, but there’s light at the crooked tunnel’s end, and sometimes it comes from unexpected sources. For example: Milling about in downtown Columbus last evening we received a call from Taxi Luis, phoning all the way from beautiful, downtown Ciudad Panama. Luis (senor Arce) was checking up on us, our arrival date, flight number, airline etc. He said he’s happy to meet us at Tocumen, take charge of our bags and see that the courier service transports them for us clear to Boquete–overnight! If we’d had any concern about the bags it vanished. In fact, as it turns out, our bags will arrive in Boquete before we do. We’re assuming that much else will follow this pattern.

We’ll be looking for these kinds of mind-comforters a lot. It’s funny how little it takes these days. ( I should mention that at this point in our packing & preparing the wine rack is nearly empty) Here are a few non-fermented examples:

Happiness is…

No more living out of suitcases…

Goodbye disruption…

Final packing…

No more camping out…

(Note the nearly empty wine rack)

Knowing where stuff is…

Here’s a question we’re sure every soon-to-be expat has asked at least once: “Where did all this crapola come from?” Yikes, we’ve given away, trashed, Craigslisted (is that a verb?) and donated so much stuff we’re feeling like the Ford Foundation of cheap American merchandise. And there’s still more! But we can see the end.

Happiness is…

                           Empty closets…                                       Empty cabinets…

Our world has shrunk to the desire for clean shirts, packed bags and secured airline reservations. We’re seeing and feeling the downside of modern consumerism. It’s hard work ridding ourselves of accumulated stuff, and there’s no blueprint for the endeavor. More and more products are being manufactured with a life-cycle in mind, so they’re more eco friendly and recyclable. Apple, for example, has attained exemplary levels of sustainability in their various iProducts. This is a very good thing. Consumer goods ought to be crafted to be more pass-thru/across/down/sideways friendly. In other words, easier to get rid of when they anchor us like they do. Can’t we just share those dinner dishes, cars, tool kits, patio furniture?

Happiness is…good advice!

In any case, we’re just over forty days till the wheels touch the asphalt at PTY again, we cede our baggage to senor Arce, AKA Taxi Luis, and make our way across Panama to little Boquete. It’s been a grind, and more taxing than we imagined it might be. The emotional price is high as well, and we’ve had to stare down some things that showed us just how good our relationship is. One thing for certain. If you’re not good friends heading into an expat trek, you sure as heck won’t be in the middle of it. Phew!

Keeping rituals…and knowing what day it is!

We often don’t realize how important ritual is to our everyday composure. Rituals and checklists even keep us safe at times, allowing muscle memory to take over when performing familiar actions. I learned the value of ritual in my long, safe aviation career, and they’re hard to ignore now. (A side note: speaking of rituals & checklists and such, as I write this I recognize that 47 years ago today humans first stepped on the surface of the moon. Ritual and practice made that possible.) Moving takes rituals and thrashes the daylights out of them. Recently, I misplaced my nail clippers, and the ensuing drama would have qualified me for a role in the next Freddie Kreuger film. It wasn’t pretty. Ritual is important, and it’s never good to ignore it. The morning after the great clipper caper moving meltdown I had trouble finding my drug packet. I did manage to avoid another nightmare on Elm Street rampage, but I hadn’t realized how much my daily prescription drug ritual meant. Plus, that silly little packet helps me know what day of the week it is. Happiness is…knowing it’s Wednesday! Damn, I feel better.

Here’s an upside to the struggle to move on, another reminder of how sweet and endearing it is to surround ourselves with good friends, and how much we’ll miss them.

Happiness is…

Hola, Boquetenos, hasta pronto! 

Assault on Panama:

We’re in the (rather tense & turbulent) process of moving to Panama. For those familiar with our blog, no surprise. For newcomers to the MEBEinPanama site, welcome aboard, and buckle your seat belt, it could get bumpy. Mariah and I knew there’d be jolts along the way, we just didn’t realize some of those would be of our own making. As with any grand adventure–military, commercial, marital– there are details overlooked, necessities ignored, logistical weaknesses bubbling to the surface. In any undertaking with so many moving parts there are always going to be glitches. The Space Shuttle had a million parts, so it always flew with known deficiencies. Some of those in our move have arisen from a kind of frenzy-induced temporary dementia on my part, and for Mariah the need to keep a close eye on me so I don’t wander off into traffic and injure myself. It’s always good to remember which end of the toothbrush to use, and to put on one’s socks first, then the shoes. Relax, I’m fine. Better than fine. Or at least Mariah tells me I am, and I trust her. She is a nurse, after all, and a darned fine one, lucky for me. (For another perspective on this, read John & Susan’s post on Latitude Adjustment)

Mariah keeps an eye on me

All right, troops, let’s brief for the assault on Panama. In order to simplify, I’ll use a few military adages, which is appropriate, considering the scope of the venture: Here are truisms I heard during my time in the Army.

1- No combat ready unit ever passed inspection. Just so, one of the hardest parts of a permanent move to a foreign country is knowing just what to take and what to leave behind. In a previous post I mentioned our shedding, disposing, gifting, donating spree and how we’d prioritized that. Now we’re down to bare walls, (a realtor’s dream, by the way), so we’re eating out a lot, partly because we don’t want to fill the fridge with food, partly because we gave our pots and pans away and partly because we have to show the condo to potential buyers at the buzz of the cell phone, so we keep it squeaky clean. It’s a lot like living in someone else’s house, quite frankly, and we don’t like it very much. Here’s Holly Carter on the subject in Let The Adventure Begin.

2- Two items that must be together to work properly will be shipped separately. So there is the need to keep parts arranged just so, in order to reconstruct them at the destination. The shedding, trashing, disposing and gifting of stuff has been addressed in previous posts. I won’t revisit the undertaking,  but for the ‘parts’ we’ve retained, we’re busy hoping they survive the trek, and that they function properly on arrival in Boquete. An addendum: Interchangeable parts – aren’t.

3-The only thing more accurate than enemy fire is friendly fire. This is the self-induced part. Whoever said humans are good at multi-tasking is an imbecile who was at the time he said that attempting to walk and chew Wrigley’s Spearmint while tripping on his shoelaces. Now, I’m a reasonably smart guy. I flew helicopters for a living, and managed to stay alive doing that for forty years. I even have a book about it. Flying helicopters for that long is not strictly related to smarts, of course. The case could be made that flying helicopters at all is proof otherwise. Indeed, an old and relevant aviation question is this: If helicopters are so safe, how come there are no vintage helicopter fly-ins? Nonetheless, the FAA doesn’t allow complete klutz-ohs to take aircraft into the air. But lay a set of must-do-to move-to-Panama tasks at my feet and I can crash and burn like a stunt pilot. Here’s an example: The Apostille folks in DC received our application okay, but the credit card authorization departed in the U.S. mail completely unsigned. Signature required for a CC purchase? When did that start? As Homer Simpson says, DOH! Here’s another example, along with a warning to those contemplating a move similar to ours. Despite our burning, examining, shredding and coveting of vital documents, some ass-hat hacker got hold of a bank statement. Twice in ten days our on-line account was automatically locked due to this creep’s (unsuccessful) attempts to key in a password. Nice try, ass-hat! Get a life. (another note to those considering this move: be careful during real estate showings, they offer a lot of exposure: Hide documents, clean out drug cabinets, unplug computers and don’t leave jewelry and cash around. One place people never look is the freezer. We put stuff in there in case of a fire, but it’s a great hiding place, too.)

4-If it’s stupid but it works–it isn’t stupid. Some of the things we’ve had to do to move to Panama seem pretty outlandish. Documents must be not just notarized but ‘Apostilled,’ whatever the freak that means; we’ve had to create an account with a large, international $$$ firm to access our cash from Boquete & know it’s safe (see note above re: ass-hat); we had to acquire a Miami address in order to ship letters, magazines, important documents, Amazon purchases and the like, since Panama seems (quaintly) averse to the whole street address thing. It’s all good. Mail boxes are overrated.

5-When the pin is pulled, Mr. Grenade is not your friend. At some point, regardless of our level of readiness, we’ll have to pull the trigger, stuff the bags, make airline reservations and boogy on down to Boquete. (See note 1) Once we’re committed, here’s hoping we’ve not forgotten anything crucial–all the Spanish we once knew, passports, passwords, the perilous toothbrush, socks (for both feet.) Giving up the illusion that we’ll be ready to go is helpful. We will not be. Forget it. You move with the plan you have, to quote Donald Rumsfeld, the revered mastermind of our spectacular success in Iraq. Here’a partial list of things left to do:

A) FPCA info for absentee voting.

B) ‘Last time’ items: Not morbid, just a nod to the sentimental side of this departure: Visit certain folks, go to favorite restaurants like Northstar, Fusian, Late-Nite-Slice, White Castle (don’t tell Mariah about this one), and of course ice cream at Jeni’s Splendid–world’s best, far and away. Loooove me some salty caramel, yum! Plus, we gotta get down to the old ball yard and watch our Triple-A Columbus Clippers play one more time.

C) Cancel utility accounts, magazine & paper subscriptions, old, unread and unheeded junk-mail proposals that inundate the mailbox. (See, I told you, mailboxes are overrated). Plus, cancel the aforementioned credit cards. Here’s our Visa number BTW, if you’re wondering: xxxx xxxx xxxx xxx2. It expires July 1st, so hurry. Kris Cunningham’s The Panama Adventure has fun details.

Required Bon Voyage cake; ‘last time items’; packing insanity; Down to bare walls

Back to the assault:

6- To ensure perfect aim, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target. Best advice I ever got from the DI on the target range at Fort Polk in 1969. I’ll give credit here to a few of my Panamanian amigos who’ve perfected the art of passive acceptance. Take what life tosses at you, and call it roses. The looming disaster is only one if we make it one, so chill…

7-Anything you do can get you killed, including nothing. A variation is needed here: Anything that can get you befuddled will…including nothing. The lesson? Do something, even if it’s the wrong thing. We learned this while trying to speak Spanish. If we’d kept our Gringo mouths shut and locked up like a duct tape demonstration we’d have gotten blank looks. Instead, we tried, mumbled, gargled, spewed broken Espanol/Spanglish like a babbling infant, and…got all kinds of help. Cool.

Do something, even if it’s wrong…

So the adventure progresses. The condo is being marketed, the material goods are nearly packed and the military style assault on Boquete Panama looms. Here’s one last bit of harshly-acquired wisdom from my aviation days: The strength of the turbulence is directly proportional to the temperature of your coffee. It is what it is. Do what you can, learn the challenges, know your limits and get on with it.

Expatriating & ID Theft

The shredder’s whinge and rattle sounded like Donald Trump’s tax prep office

Mariah and I are in the middle of a move from Ohio to Panama. The house is upside down; we’re upside down; our world’s upside down. All this upside-down-ness offers a real upside-up for identity thieves. Here’s why.

Those who choose to prey on their fellow humans, either for sport, for fun, for profit, or just because they’d rather be saprophytes and leech off others, those individuals thrive on chaos. And chaos is what a move of 2,000 miles (to another country) creates. The sinister and exploitative among us understand that chaos and confusion force us to misread, forget, overlook and zone out, perfect conditions for allowing them in to do their nefarious work. We’re in the middle of the same disruption John & Susan experienced in their move, as Susan says here in her 4/15 blog post.  Or this post from Joel & Kris about the insanity surrounding their move to David in 2012.

Almost there…Amazing the stuff we accumulate. This is nearly empty. Note the forlorn little box that holds ‘movable’ items!

The other side of this scenario is that due to this disrupted, emotionally charged environment, we’ve lost a bit of our usual equanimity and poise. We interrupt each other mid-sentence; minor irritations become monumental obstacles; we forget stuff. If multi-tasking was difficult before, it’s impossible now, and we realize that we need to check each other for oversights and omissions. “Did I turn that iron off? Duh…we gave the iron to Goodwill. Then what’s this ironing board doing here..? Holy buckets, I’m losing it.” We may at one time have had a memory like a steel trap. But in the midst of a move like this, with boxes everywhere, whole days and nights of utter confusion, dismay at the mountainous tasks that need to be accomplished and despair at what items must be left behind, we’re fortunate to remember our address, much less passwords. Cindy & David of Tombseekers go into detail about moving ‘stuff’ to Panama. It’s not easy, nor inexpensive, and reading about their experience convinces us that, as Ludwig Mies van der Rohe said, ‘Less is more.’ He could have added, ‘…and cheaper, too.’

Bare walls, another Goodwill load, fresh paint, yep, we’re moving!

Speaking of bank accounts and passwords, one realization we had amidst the confusion is that changing them is a fine idea, for a lot of reasons. One of the biggest reasons is that files are being discarded, and though we’re extremely cautious to sort them, the chance of a sensitive document escaping the ‘burn pile,’ or an info-rich document finding its way into the (very public) trash can is high. I can’t claim that it’s been all drudgery. For a solid hour last week we fed papers and files into the maw of the Chiminea and watched years worth of tax returns, mortgage documents, medical files and assorted outdated and/or superfluous papers singe and turn to ash. Given the IRS requirement to keep files for three years, there’s still a small stack of stuff, but nothing like before. Think the Sunday New York Times Versus War and Peace. Once the weather turned too hot to sit by the fire we finished up the erasure process with the shredder. The machine’s whinge and rattle, the grappling of its little teeth went on so long it sounded like Donald Trump’s tax prep office.

And the elimination of paperwork is a critical nexus when it comes to ID theft. We’ve been careful to pore over every document for traces of ID: Social Security numbers, credit card numbers, credit score info, medical records, VA accounts, even utility bills that may contain fragments of traceable data. It’s easy to become paranoid during this process. But the fact remains that ID thieves are out there, they’re ambitious, they’re sophisticated and they’re always looking for (and finding) new angles to exploit.

We’d planned to scrub the computers and hock them on Craigslist, or schlep them to a local consignment shop to see what they’d bring. On second thought, despite assurances from several ‘experts,’ we weren’t comfortable having those ID info-rich machines out there somewhere, their innards being probed and tweaked to see what data about us they might contain. We were convinced that the scrubbing was sufficient. But there’s a difference between being convinced and being comfortable. The computers will be given away to trusted friends.

The actual dinner table exited via Craigslist, so the card table took its place.

(Note the nearly empty wine rack. There’s a reason it’s like that)

Then there’s the existential aspect of a move across thousands of miles. Not to lapse into airey-fairey mode, but after witnessing the contortions and alterations we’ve been through over the past few months, we begin to understand that our ID has indeed been accessed. We’ve met the enemy and he is…us! Holly has a lot to say about this in Let The Adventure Begin. As Heraclitus said, we never step into the same river twice, and a move of such magnitude proves it. After all the disruption, uncertainty and upset across 2,000 miles to a new home, will we have a new identity as well? Of course we will. It remains to be seen who we’ll be, and what’s become of our identity, but at least we’ll recognize the thieves.

What’s that Thing-A-Ma-Bob?

Just a quick post with a chuckle for my loyal readers. Years ago a friend of mine in Iowa retired and headed south. He affixed one of the above thing-a-ma-bobs to the front of his car. (Not the dumpster, the other red thing-a-ma-bob) When I asked him why he’d do this, he replied: “I’m going to drive south until someone asks me, ‘what the hell is that?’ then I’ll stop.”

The above picture is our red thing-a-ma-bob parked next to our dumpster. Those of you reading this from Boquete, Panama, or anywhere south of approximately 20 degrees north latitude might be tempted to ask: ‘what the hell is that?’ Here’s my response: “I intend to forget what they’re used for.”

And here’s a reminder, as if any of us need one. The picture was taken in April. In April, I tell you. Late April.

I rest my case, and hopefully my red thing-a-ma-bob.

Impressions of Panama: Land of Contrast

1-Miraflores Locks                   2- Chickens as baggage

Panama is a land of contrasts: Home of an engineering & operational marvel, the Panama Canal; Home of simple farmers who fly prized chickens on COPA, the national airline.

1-Public transport in Panama City      2-Ancient transport still in use

 Panama City is a vibrant, dynamic and emerging first-world city with all the modern conveniences, and many of the growing pains of any metropolis; Panamanians cling to their heritage with tributes to the old, venerable ways.

1-Panamonte, Boquete, 2-Farmer’s Market Boquete, 3-Local festival, new friends

Modern facilities can be found anywhere in Panama; right next to traditional methods of doing things. Panamanians cherish their social ties; while welcoming new friends.

1-Learning survival skills                       2-Learning language skills

Contrasts also include the bad and/or threatening and the good & serendipitous. Yes, there are dangerous creatures lurking about in Panama, and it’s good to heed the signs. At the same time, there are opportunities to read hopeful signs, as residents do all they can to welcome us into their midst. (Here at Boquete’s wonderful new Biblioteca, six-year old Erick teaches Mariah a Spanish phrase, with due emphasis to make sure she ‘gets it.’ These two are on track to be life-long friends.)

Boquete’s Biblioteca

1-Optical scope at SETI observatory   2-Dreamcatcher, an ancient counterpart

The mountains of Western Panama hide artifacts of many things ancient and modern. They contain the dreams, aspirations, triumphs and tragedies of extant and lost civilizations; they hold the evidence of humankind’s yearning to discover what lies across the next mountain…and the next; they house the old and the new, the bones of explorers, the hardware to explore the far reaches of the universe. Ben Schuetz is ensconced in the hills above Boquete involved in a tireless search for extra-terrestrial signals. Panama is a land of contrasts indeed. Like the ancient Nazca with their so called landing strips, and their enigmatic lines across the Peruvian terrain, the tradition continues of reaching for the cosmos, of transcending the primordial bounds to imagine a world beyond. Does simplicity engender and encourage quiet contemplation? If so, these ancient hills and the serene, simple environment of Panama may be the best place in all the world to indulge a life of the mind.

1-Alleged UFO landing strip                2-Nazca figure in Peru

We encountered many contrasts, many confounding and serendipitous discoveries during our nine weeks in Panama. It’s a land that cherishes its ancient past, while emerging headlong into and discovering the modern world. Meanwhile, people from all over the world all discovering Panama. Expats from North America, Canada, Western Europe, South America, Asia and several other places are coming to Panama for its stability in turbulent times, for its laid-back easy life, its temperate climate, safe and wholesome atmosphere, cultural richness, social and travel opportunities and its access to the rest of the world. Here are a few more pictures of our own exploration of Panama, a place of contrasts that we intend to call home very soon. Enjoy, and thanks for reading.

Panamanian friends

1-Life at Finca Luz; 2-Street fair, Boquete; 3-Lazy at Limones; 4-Boquete & Rio Caldera; 5-Panama City; 6-By & the late Mort Rabkin; 7-‘Downtown’ Boquete; 8-An appropriate sign in Boquete from Panama Pathfinders–and they mean it!

Adios Finca Luz

Finca Gothic

It’s been an interesting, and quite revealing three weeks for us city people here at Finca Luz. In Espanol, Finca Luz means ‘Farm of Light,’ and this little spread on the side of Jaramillo Mountain in Western Panama has certainly enlightened us. While there are numerous charms, attractions and benefits to living in such a bucolic setting, we’ve learned that some of what makes it charming, attractive and beneficial does not fit the style we’ve become accustomed to. It’s not sad, negative, good or bad. It’s just true.

We came up the mountain as house sitters for friends away in the States, and were happy to help them. Our presence here at Finca Luz allowed them to focus on the important family matters that had drawn them to North Carolina. They needed to know that the coffee, casas and critters back in Panama were well attended. On our end, the opportunity allowed us to focus on what mattered most to us in our exploration of Panama as a retirement spot. If our friends’ experience away from Finca Luz provided comfort to them, our experience on the farm provided a revelation to us. Our time here became a metaphor for our overall experience in Panama, the rawness, difference, beauty and exhilaration of living close to the earth, and absorbing its crude and visceral lessons. And, like Holly says in Let the Adventure Begin, to explore a casual, uncluttered life.

Pre-Wrapped Farm Fresh Chicken

The main product here at Finca Luz is Mariposa Azul Coffee, a wake-up beverage from some of the finest beans in Panama. And they certainly woke us to a few things.

Here’s an example: During our short stay at the farm we lost two chickens. I shouldn’t say ‘lost’ lost, I should tell the rough and grisly truth of it. You see, when Senor Coyote is hungry, Senor Coyote is going to eat, and hens were available. Good god there were feathers everywhere! It was ghastly. Gruesome. Like real life, in other words. It looked like the aftermath of a six-year-old’s pillow fight. I’m afraid we’ll always be city folks, people who reach for our fresh meat wrapped carefully in its pristine, sanitized package, never once thinking about the violent, blood-spattered path that shrink-wrapped ‘Prime Choice’ selection followed to its hygienic shelf. Not to put too fine a point on things, nor to inject a political stain into this post, but for those of us in the good old U.S. of A, the luxury of that antiseptic meat shelf is something we take for granted. It behooves us to give more thought to other, similar offerings and the carnal system we’re shielded from. These so called externalities, the sub-surface gristle and grit of our food infrastructure system are kept from public view lest the Dow take a major plunge.

                     All in a day’s work

1-Gathering eggs;  2-Feeding Critters; 3-Fetching bananas

Here’s another example: While our little casita is warm, comfy, safe and adequate, it’s not quite the standard we’re used to. There are insects aplenty. Creepy, crawly, fuzzy fellows that explore the bedding each night and aviate across the room at all hours. There are wild, wooly, animalistic groans and moans just beyond our flimsy doorway, and things that go bang and whimper in the ink-black night. When the rains come it is biblical, gushing, flooding. This we expected. What we didn’t anticipate was the racket. The roof of the little house is tin, one layer, with zero insulation. We’ve never actually been frightened by a deluge of water before, but this torrential freshet is like the Anvil Chorus, Verdi’s gypsies from Trovatore celebrating their deafening work directly above our heads.

All these are ‘first world problems’ as a friend labels them. We’re aware of that. We’re spoiled rotten gringos, we’re aware of that, too. But it’s been good to learn of those personal quirks and expectations on a gut level, and to be forced to deal with our need for such creature comforts. Cindy & David mention this in Loving Retirement in Panama. No electric? Candles are good. No pressure or hot water? Showers are overrated.

It’s easy to dismiss feelings of unease and wariness when confronted with difference and oddity. But we must listen to those visceral feelings. We’re planning to live in Panama, not to vacation here, so we must address these fundamental issues and either work to live with them, or realize we cannot. Like John & Susan in Latitude Adjustment, we look forward to several anniversaries in our adopted home.

Snakes, beetles and beasties, oh my!

Something else Finca Luz has taught us is that the beauty atop this green studded mountain is all the more luxurious & elegant because it’s ferociously, blatantly feral. Like Rousseaun art, The Equatorial Jungle, or Tropical Forest, this is life at its fundament. No protective wrapper has been applied; the viscera and gore are in your face and nostrils and it sticks to your skin; no shielding exists for our delicate, over-civilized eyes and sensibilities. Farm life is nothing if not aromatic.

We’re grateful for the opportunity to help our friends in their time of need, and we gained a great deal of respect for what they do every day, indeed, what folks who toil like this do day after day. It’s shown us how easy we have it, partly at their expense. The word pampered comes to mind. And we’ve been grateful to learn these lessons about our pampered selves, to have Finca Luz, the Farm of Light enlighten us.

Onward. We depart Panama soon, back to Ohio to close that chapter, to liquidate holdings, settle affairs, say goodbyes to dear friends and then make our way back to Boquete. Next blog: The expanded version of what we’ve learned, and some in-depth advice about becoming expats.  Gracias por leendo nuestro blog!

RIP Morton Rabkin 1937-2016

Meeting Mr. Rabkin at Morton’s Panaderia, October 2015.

We didn’t know Morton Rabkin well, having met him only recently as Mariah and I explored Panama & Boquete last fall, then recently as Mortie ‘The Rye Guy’ peddled his wares at Tuesday Market. But judging from the reaction of the community at his passing, and the outpouring of sympathy from friends & fellow Boquetenan’s, we’re sad too, that we didn’t get to know him well, and that our community has lost a real friend.

“Blessed is the True Judge,”as our Jewish friends say. RIP Morton Rabkin, we’ll miss you, even if we did not know you well.