The House

We are at the part of house construction here in Panama where many people lose their cool and their minds and can be found running naked through the streets yelling, "Hep me somebody, hep me Jesus." We are thiiissss close to moving in and lack only a few essentials like cabinets and closets and, oh yeah, electricity or we'd be happily ensconced already. (I like that word ensconced. "Jack was fully ensconced in the tapioca filled hot tub when the super model slid in.") The problem at this stage of construction, stage 955 of 1000, is that everything slows down. Woodworkers can't keep up with demand and bureaucracy makes obtaining electricity roughly the equivalent of getting your hands on the Holy Grail. Little wonder the lost cool, the lost minds and the naked street runners. (Never having had much cool and missing a mind for years, there is little danger that I personally or even I impersonally will suffer this fate. I do worry though about Woowoo Charly and RTGFKAR, but they too are showing Zen like patience.)

In pursuit of an actual move-in date, RTGFKAR, Woowoo Chuck and I drove to Daveed this week to register our finca (the property) and our corporation (the owner of the property.) This is the first step in obtaining electricity. The last, I think, has something to do with polishing the Grail and sending it up with a kite and a key. Woowoo waited in the car while RTGF and I entered the municipal building like lambs going to the slaughter. Inside we were greeted by a scene that looked a lot like a U.S. Motor Vehicle Agency, counters and lines and people sitting about looking bored or bewildered. We were directed to a queue we hoped was the right one. When our turn came, I explained to the woman clerk in my very best Spanish exactly what we were there for and she, of course, said, "What?" Or in actuality "Como?" which can mean what. I tried again and she got the drift and began asking us a series of questions. The problem here was that even though I could understand much of her Spanish when I could hear it, I often couldn't hear it. It was very noisy in the building and I don't lip read Spanish very well at all. Eventually, after my countless pleas of "repetas por favor", the woman took matters in her own hands and checked off a number of things on several forms and showed me where to sign. RTGFKAR owns our corporation, but I'm the prez, so I do all the "firma y fecha", signing and dating. We were then directed to another line where RTGF whipped out his credit card and payed for whatever it was we had just accomplished. We were then sent back to line 1 where some stamping of this and that occurred and we were given receipts and told to return at five o,clock. We didn't want to hang around Daveed all day so we asked if we could return on another day and were told yes. We did that two days later and are now in possession of everything, we hope, to take to Union Fenosa (a fun thing to say) our local Power company and get, well, wired. That will be next week.

As for cabinets and closets we might be doing better if we could pronounce the maker's name. Miggily or Meggelleddy or mig something. Doesn't fit our English speaking tongues. Nice guy though. Does good work. "Mig old buddy, pronto por favor."

And that's all I have time for today. I've got to get undressed and go for a jog. It just seems like the right thing to do.