I've been reading the other Panama gringo bloggers that I know of and every one is flat jump up hallelujah happy to be here. There is some concern about the gringo man who was murdered in nearby Dolega a few days ago, but it doesn't seem to have dampened the enthusiasm for Panamanian life that is shared by, well, most of us anyway. I was feeling good, even privileged, to be in residence here until I clicked on the Fredoneverything.net site that is one of my favorites. Fred is an ex-pat living in Mexico who I find to be an original thinker and truly creative writer. Fred is not, however, the most optimistic of bloggers. By that I mean the sun apparently never shines on Fred's neighborhood. His column today, called "Why Mexicans Hate Gringos" was disturbing in that much of what he says could apply to the Panamanian/Gringo relationship as well. The dozen or so Panamanians that Woowoo, RTGFKAR, and I know well, I'm convinced, like us and find us good people. I doubt, however, that we are representatives of the average gringo attitude here. We live very low profile lives among both the Panamanian and gringo communities. We try to fit in quietly, unobtrusively, recalling Star Trek's prime directive, "First, do no harm." We don't want to change Panama in any way that Panamanians don't want for themselves. Few of them, however, know this about us, so I have to wonder as I walk through Panamanian streets, if the average Panamanian thinks I am an average gringo, which is to say according to Fred, (more or less) a rich asshole. I hope not, but I fear that it is perhaps true.
(And now I have bummed myself completely out. Or is it Fred's fault?)
(For those of you who know me and find the words "quiet" and "unobtrusive" a surprise in my description of myself, know that, for the most part, these descriptions are now true. Of course I can still be affable and out-going when the occasion is called for, but the difference is that I no longer seek out those occasions. I am content where I sit.)
And now to erase Fred's inflicted bummer, I will go read more of Conroy's "South of Broad", but not too much, I don't want it to be over in a hurry. After that, I will contemplate tomorrow's golf, a sport, I doubt seriously, Fred plays and, I hope, never writes about.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Monday, March 29, 2010
A Wrap Up
"Beach books, books defined as light, entertaining easy reads are no doubt fun and each year I peruse my share of them. Elmore Leonard, Dick Francis and a host of others grace my bookshelves while they await their turn to be exchanged for, usually, more of their kind at The Bookmark Bookstore in Dolega. The books I keep though, are the books that touch something deeper than my ordinary pleasure levels. Books that sink in, remain and add to the sum of what I am. Books wherein I find words in combination so beautiful, clever, and original that they tap into my subconscious and release the pure joy that is housed there. Books, books, books, that enrapture. And so it is with Pat Conroy's latest, "South of Broad" brought to me by daughter K on her recent visit. One hundred pages in and I was looking about for the proverbial toothpicks to prop open my drooping eyelids as night and sleepiness conspired to shut off my consciousness. No matter, this is a book I don't wish to hurry through. Raptures are even better when they can be prolonged.
K and J flew out Friday morning, back to NYC where their real lives waited to be continued. They used an airplane to depart although I'm not sure one was necessary. They were already flying on a cloud of new love. After leaving them at the airport, Woowoo Charly and I drove wordlessly to breakfast at the Grand National Hotel. We were both lost in our own thoughts; missing the lover's happy energy that we got to share for a week. We were a little down, but not awfully so. Our own lives and love do not permit the blues for long.
Well, not the real ones, anyway. I'm singing you done left me baby because all of my blind draw team picks for the NCAA basketball championship have gone bust and I am out of the pool. Each of the four other participants in the draw, Bookworm Bonnie, Redneck Larry, RTGFKAR and Woowoo Chuck, none of whom cares a whit about college hoops, has a team still in the hunt. Is this fair, I ask you, is this fair?
One further question I have for my readers: While clicking through photos of K and J's visit, I noticed that several of them featured and old guy with a large growth beneath his chest. My question then is, where do I go to get my lips sewn shut and my stomach stapled. Or is there some other way?
K and J flew out Friday morning, back to NYC where their real lives waited to be continued. They used an airplane to depart although I'm not sure one was necessary. They were already flying on a cloud of new love. After leaving them at the airport, Woowoo Charly and I drove wordlessly to breakfast at the Grand National Hotel. We were both lost in our own thoughts; missing the lover's happy energy that we got to share for a week. We were a little down, but not awfully so. Our own lives and love do not permit the blues for long.
Well, not the real ones, anyway. I'm singing you done left me baby because all of my blind draw team picks for the NCAA basketball championship have gone bust and I am out of the pool. Each of the four other participants in the draw, Bookworm Bonnie, Redneck Larry, RTGFKAR and Woowoo Chuck, none of whom cares a whit about college hoops, has a team still in the hunt. Is this fair, I ask you, is this fair?
One further question I have for my readers: While clicking through photos of K and J's visit, I noticed that several of them featured and old guy with a large growth beneath his chest. My question then is, where do I go to get my lips sewn shut and my stomach stapled. Or is there some other way?
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Dog Power
Shortly after receiving our hugs and kisses from Olga the proprietress of Punto del Encuentro and polishing off a wide assortment of breakfast fare, Special K started feeling the first symptoms of a migraine headache, nausea and tunnel vision. We were on our way to B and L's house to check out Bookie Bonnie's impressive jardin (garden)when this occurred and, upon arrival, K engaged in a quick lay-down to head off the impending mind melter. Lying in the shade on a chaise while the rest of us did this and that, K was joined by B and L's dog Trudy, a Basset hound of goodly proportions, who took it upon herself to come to K's aid. She hopped up on the chaise, a thing she had never done before and no small feat considering her short legs and ample girth, and began working her dog healing magic. It's an invisible sort of thing with touching and staring being the only techniques clear to we humans, but it's tried and true - in this case tried and Trudy - and in no time at all, K was feeling better; enough so, that later that day we walked the grounds of El Explorador and ran errands downtown with no after affects of the migraine. Nice.
Paradise Gardens, no, not the one with Eve, apples and serpents, our original destination and not our original sin, we learned is closed on Wednesdays. It is our new goal for today, Thursday. We'd bring Trudy along for emergencies, but dogs aren't allowed at P.G., which is an animal rescue center, so that makes no sense if you ask me. Go ahead, I dare ya, ask me.
We had dinner at a new restaurant, The Rock, that had, in a previous incarnation, been destroyed by a flood a couple of years ago. The restaurant has been elegantly restored and we all enjoyed our meals. K's novio (boyfriend) and I had the Fettuccine Alfredo. We both agreed that carbs were our "comfort food" and, to prove his point, J had a side of mashed potatoes. This from a guy who is lean as a whip and on a good day might weigh a 150 pounds. Curiously, during the meal, J sat quietly and lost weight while I moved about animatedly and gained ten pounds. I wonder if Trudy could help me with this problem.
Paradise Gardens, no, not the one with Eve, apples and serpents, our original destination and not our original sin, we learned is closed on Wednesdays. It is our new goal for today, Thursday. We'd bring Trudy along for emergencies, but dogs aren't allowed at P.G., which is an animal rescue center, so that makes no sense if you ask me. Go ahead, I dare ya, ask me.
We had dinner at a new restaurant, The Rock, that had, in a previous incarnation, been destroyed by a flood a couple of years ago. The restaurant has been elegantly restored and we all enjoyed our meals. K's novio (boyfriend) and I had the Fettuccine Alfredo. We both agreed that carbs were our "comfort food" and, to prove his point, J had a side of mashed potatoes. This from a guy who is lean as a whip and on a good day might weigh a 150 pounds. Curiously, during the meal, J sat quietly and lost weight while I moved about animatedly and gained ten pounds. I wonder if Trudy could help me with this problem.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Beaching
It rained yesterday so we headed to the beach. I know that sounds like a strange plan, but here in the land of milk and honey...make that coffee and bananas, if you don't like the weather, drive fifteen minutes in any direction and you will likely find some that is different. At the beach it was warm and sunny.
We parked alongside a restaurant in Las Olas (The Waves) situated just up the beach from a large hotel. Between the open air (roofed, but wall-less), very throw-back Panamanian restaurant (La Costena - put a squiggle over the "n" to make the pronunciation co-stain-ya) and the large modern hotel, lay an expanse of vacant lot featuring, if featuring is the word I want...probably not, scruffy weed-like plants and brown sand. I suspect that both the hotel and the restaurant appreciated the separation.
We lunched there after I had written our orders in Spanish for the waitress/proprietor. Three of us, RTGFKAR, Woowoo Charly and I, had corvina, which is not a new Chevrolet model, but rather, a very nice tasting white fish. They were served with their heads on which I always find somehow disconcerting, particularly when the meal is finished and you look at a plate that contains only the fish's head and its skeleton. Joe had a serving of fried chicken that looked good and both he and I were glad the chicken wasn't served with its head intact. Kira had salad. All the plates included rice and lacked only beans from being a "tipico" Panamanian repast. They were out of beans.
After the meal, J and K headed for the water's edge to fool around, cool off and look like happy lovers, which they are. RTGFKAR, Woowoo and Yerstruly dodged the sun and took comfort under a shady waterside palapa. We sipped cool beers, watched the surf showing off ten foot waves and discussed Super Colliders, Big Bang and String Theory, Quantum Physics and trying to "wrap your mind around" such things. Okay, I didn't have much to bring to the conversation, nothing at all really, but then I was too busy contemplating how hard it would be to walk to the horizon.
Eventually it was time to go, so we did.
At home, we patio-ed some more and Joe played my guitar for awhile singing us a little John Denver, James Taylor and Joe Clark while I skimmed through the latest issue of "The Walking Dead" comic book that D and D had sent from NY. Thanks D and especially D.
Later we had a pile of sushi that J and I had picked up at the Tuesday Morning Gringo Meeting/Farmer's Market early that morning. The accompanying wasabi was so mind and sinus liberating that we were all actually able to "wrap our minds" around
Quantum Physics, Quarks and such, but we chose to use our expanded intellect to tell old family stories and laugh a lot instead. What the hell, we can always get more wasabi.
Today it is off to Olga's (La Punto De Encuentro) for breakfast with B and L and then on to Paradise Gardens. (Lot of things around here with the word paradise in their names.) After that? Maybe El Explorador.
There is no rain today. The sun is shine-ing. (Spelled correctly, shining, looks like it has something to do with the front of your lower leg.)
Hasta.
We parked alongside a restaurant in Las Olas (The Waves) situated just up the beach from a large hotel. Between the open air (roofed, but wall-less), very throw-back Panamanian restaurant (La Costena - put a squiggle over the "n" to make the pronunciation co-stain-ya) and the large modern hotel, lay an expanse of vacant lot featuring, if featuring is the word I want...probably not, scruffy weed-like plants and brown sand. I suspect that both the hotel and the restaurant appreciated the separation.
We lunched there after I had written our orders in Spanish for the waitress/proprietor. Three of us, RTGFKAR, Woowoo Charly and I, had corvina, which is not a new Chevrolet model, but rather, a very nice tasting white fish. They were served with their heads on which I always find somehow disconcerting, particularly when the meal is finished and you look at a plate that contains only the fish's head and its skeleton. Joe had a serving of fried chicken that looked good and both he and I were glad the chicken wasn't served with its head intact. Kira had salad. All the plates included rice and lacked only beans from being a "tipico" Panamanian repast. They were out of beans.
After the meal, J and K headed for the water's edge to fool around, cool off and look like happy lovers, which they are. RTGFKAR, Woowoo and Yerstruly dodged the sun and took comfort under a shady waterside palapa. We sipped cool beers, watched the surf showing off ten foot waves and discussed Super Colliders, Big Bang and String Theory, Quantum Physics and trying to "wrap your mind around" such things. Okay, I didn't have much to bring to the conversation, nothing at all really, but then I was too busy contemplating how hard it would be to walk to the horizon.
Eventually it was time to go, so we did.
At home, we patio-ed some more and Joe played my guitar for awhile singing us a little John Denver, James Taylor and Joe Clark while I skimmed through the latest issue of "The Walking Dead" comic book that D and D had sent from NY. Thanks D and especially D.
Later we had a pile of sushi that J and I had picked up at the Tuesday Morning Gringo Meeting/Farmer's Market early that morning. The accompanying wasabi was so mind and sinus liberating that we were all actually able to "wrap our minds" around
Quantum Physics, Quarks and such, but we chose to use our expanded intellect to tell old family stories and laugh a lot instead. What the hell, we can always get more wasabi.
Today it is off to Olga's (La Punto De Encuentro) for breakfast with B and L and then on to Paradise Gardens. (Lot of things around here with the word paradise in their names.) After that? Maybe El Explorador.
There is no rain today. The sun is shine-ing. (Spelled correctly, shining, looks like it has something to do with the front of your lower leg.)
Hasta.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Making It Up As You Go Along
Shhhhh. It is so quiet this morning, the bird chatter that serves as white noise to our Boquete lives sounds riotous, even raucous. Hold it down out there! The dogs have been up and about for an hora y media and have not yet barked. Small miracles abound. K and J and Woowoo Charly are sleeping-in and RTGFKAR didn't make his first appearance in the kitchen until 7:30. Here at the keyboard I'm typing as softly as I can to keep the key clatter down. Shhhh everybody, shhhh.
There are darkening clouds to the north which may change our plans for the day. That's alright, they weren't hard, fast and fixed to begin with. We will just have to play it by ear, which works for me because I don't know how to read the musical notes, signs and symbols of life anyway. To my way of thinking life isn't a planned orchestration to begin with. It's Jazz. "Lead on MacDuff, and damned be he who first says, "Hold, enough!"
Kira and Joe flew into lovely and talented Daveed at 6:30 Friday eve. We loaded their small, sensibly packed bags into the car and headed home. By the time we got there, it was dark, so Joe, making his first trip here, was unable to see the spectacular landscape that surrounds us. To use a couple of Woowoo Charly's favorite lines, "it cracks me up" and "makes me giggle" to see the expressions on the faces of first time visitors when they wander onto the patio in the early morn and look about. Even if they don't say it aloud, you can see the "Wow! in their eyes. Joe was no exception.
We coffeed awhile out there and then drove to Cafe Lerida up above Alto Kiel for a late breakfast. This is another landscape painter's dream location that features good food and another "Can you believe this!" kind of view. After breakfast we took the loop around Baja Mono to see the abandoned castle and nifty waterfall. When we returned home, RTGFKAR set off for the last day of the Daveed Fair. K, J, Chuck and I just hung out. You know, good talks, laughs and for K and J, some sun. J is one of those Insta-tan people. We watched him turn from pale gringo to darkened local in a matter of a few hours. Amazing.
We all piled into RTGFKAR's car around six - he had returned and said the Fair was a disappointment, all the exhibitors were packing up and it was Daveed hot, temperatures in the nineties - and drove the short trip, dodging kids and makeshift soccer goals in the road, to Il Pianista Restaurant. There we had terrific Italian food and over-priced wine. Doris, the proprietor, was her usual patient self, as I ordered this latter. My usual banter goes something like this. "We would like a bottle of dirt cheap wine, but not just any dirt cheap wine, we want your FINEST dirt cheap wine." What we got cost twenty-two bucks a bottle and we had two. I damn near had a heart attack when I saw the price on the check. Next time its beer, or better yet, water. Makes me wonder, though, what the expensive vino costs.
Another hour or so on the patio watching the dogs romp and night fall, then early to bed and book. Somewhere just past ten.
Life is Jazz I tell ya, Jazz. And ya just gotta love it.
There are darkening clouds to the north which may change our plans for the day. That's alright, they weren't hard, fast and fixed to begin with. We will just have to play it by ear, which works for me because I don't know how to read the musical notes, signs and symbols of life anyway. To my way of thinking life isn't a planned orchestration to begin with. It's Jazz. "Lead on MacDuff, and damned be he who first says, "Hold, enough!"
Kira and Joe flew into lovely and talented Daveed at 6:30 Friday eve. We loaded their small, sensibly packed bags into the car and headed home. By the time we got there, it was dark, so Joe, making his first trip here, was unable to see the spectacular landscape that surrounds us. To use a couple of Woowoo Charly's favorite lines, "it cracks me up" and "makes me giggle" to see the expressions on the faces of first time visitors when they wander onto the patio in the early morn and look about. Even if they don't say it aloud, you can see the "Wow! in their eyes. Joe was no exception.
We coffeed awhile out there and then drove to Cafe Lerida up above Alto Kiel for a late breakfast. This is another landscape painter's dream location that features good food and another "Can you believe this!" kind of view. After breakfast we took the loop around Baja Mono to see the abandoned castle and nifty waterfall. When we returned home, RTGFKAR set off for the last day of the Daveed Fair. K, J, Chuck and I just hung out. You know, good talks, laughs and for K and J, some sun. J is one of those Insta-tan people. We watched him turn from pale gringo to darkened local in a matter of a few hours. Amazing.
We all piled into RTGFKAR's car around six - he had returned and said the Fair was a disappointment, all the exhibitors were packing up and it was Daveed hot, temperatures in the nineties - and drove the short trip, dodging kids and makeshift soccer goals in the road, to Il Pianista Restaurant. There we had terrific Italian food and over-priced wine. Doris, the proprietor, was her usual patient self, as I ordered this latter. My usual banter goes something like this. "We would like a bottle of dirt cheap wine, but not just any dirt cheap wine, we want your FINEST dirt cheap wine." What we got cost twenty-two bucks a bottle and we had two. I damn near had a heart attack when I saw the price on the check. Next time its beer, or better yet, water. Makes me wonder, though, what the expensive vino costs.
Another hour or so on the patio watching the dogs romp and night fall, then early to bed and book. Somewhere just past ten.
Life is Jazz I tell ya, Jazz. And ya just gotta love it.
Monday, March 15, 2010
The News in Sports
My last posting, the Lazarus story, was a clever idea, but I sure didn't write it very well. Someone once said that the secret to writing is rewriting and I agree with that even though I seldom do it here on Monkeymind. If I ever get around to doing a "Best Of", something I've been thinking about, I'll clean up (as in rewrite) my selections.
Broncos trade for Brady Quinn. I can't tell you how thrilled I am, because if I did I'd be lying. Now I grant you that Brady Quinn in an excellent Irish name and if the Broncos needed an excellent Irish name, this would be a good trade even though they gave up Payton Hillis another excellent name of unknown derivation although it sounds English to me. No, what the Broncos need is an excellent throwing arm attached to a stout body with quick feet and a quicker mind. To put aside the latest rumors, I will tell you that it is not true that I have been tendered an offer. Unlike Bret Favre, a decidedly funky name, I would not come out of retirement even if I had been. On the other hand, if I am offered tender, well then, I would have to give it some further thought.
But football is of no import right now. This is March and the Madness is upon me, a thing that has nothing to do with my St. Patrick's Day birthday, (Okay maybe just a little) but rather, the roundball I so dearly love. I have no predictions apart from this one: a team featuring blue in their school colors will win the NCAA Tournament. 'Nova is the team I have backed this entire season, but I think it is more likely that Duke, Kentucky or Kansas will cut down the nets at the end of the tourny. Of course, if I had it my way, Woford would shock the world and I don't even have a clue as to what colors they wear, I just like saying the name. Woford.
And, in the world of futbol, David Beckam blew out his Achilles and is flying to Finland for an operation. Who would have thunk that Finland would be a medical destination country? Are Finnish surgeons renowned around the globe? If so, it's news to me. Besides, to fix a torn Achilles tendon, shouldn't Greece be considered?
In other sports news, Tiger and baseball will return at about the same time. I'm finding it difficult getting excited about either. Must be the Madness.
Broncos trade for Brady Quinn. I can't tell you how thrilled I am, because if I did I'd be lying. Now I grant you that Brady Quinn in an excellent Irish name and if the Broncos needed an excellent Irish name, this would be a good trade even though they gave up Payton Hillis another excellent name of unknown derivation although it sounds English to me. No, what the Broncos need is an excellent throwing arm attached to a stout body with quick feet and a quicker mind. To put aside the latest rumors, I will tell you that it is not true that I have been tendered an offer. Unlike Bret Favre, a decidedly funky name, I would not come out of retirement even if I had been. On the other hand, if I am offered tender, well then, I would have to give it some further thought.
But football is of no import right now. This is March and the Madness is upon me, a thing that has nothing to do with my St. Patrick's Day birthday, (Okay maybe just a little) but rather, the roundball I so dearly love. I have no predictions apart from this one: a team featuring blue in their school colors will win the NCAA Tournament. 'Nova is the team I have backed this entire season, but I think it is more likely that Duke, Kentucky or Kansas will cut down the nets at the end of the tourny. Of course, if I had it my way, Woford would shock the world and I don't even have a clue as to what colors they wear, I just like saying the name. Woford.
And, in the world of futbol, David Beckam blew out his Achilles and is flying to Finland for an operation. Who would have thunk that Finland would be a medical destination country? Are Finnish surgeons renowned around the globe? If so, it's news to me. Besides, to fix a torn Achilles tendon, shouldn't Greece be considered?
In other sports news, Tiger and baseball will return at about the same time. I'm finding it difficult getting excited about either. Must be the Madness.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Lazarus' Story
As Lazarus stepped through the Pearly Gates and into Paradise at a prematurely early age, his mind wandered momentarily back to his childhood and his encounter with a strange little boy. The boy was an ardent student of scripture and prophecy who was always too quick to hold forth on one thing or another with his holier than thou attitude. One day, Lazarus had enough of the boy's righteousness, more, in fact, than he could bear, so he stepped forward and gave the boy a sound thrashing. This was one little kid giving another his own personal "might makes right" philosophy. The kind of fight that happens everyday on schoolyards everywhere.
Lazarus shook the thought from his mind and looked around. The street before him was indeed paved with gold and running towards him upon that glistening road with smiles and open arms were all his loved ones who had gone before him. As they smothered him with their kisses and hugs of welcome, they told him of the many wonders he was about to experience, endless food of every variety, music, dance, wine and revelry, leisure without worry and even women if he so chose. Nothing of pleasure would ever be withheld and he was here for all eternity.
Lazarus took this all in with a feeling of tremendous awe and enormous gratitude, but his mind gave up one last thought of the strange boy he had known so long ago. I wonder, it pondered, where he is now?
And it was at this precise moment that Lazarus awoke to find himself in the dirty, poverty stricken hovel that was home to his life before death. He knew at once as he looked into the familiar eyes of the boy he knew in that distant past, that he would have to live a long and dreadful existence before he would ever walk through the Pearly Gates of Heaven again.
And now you know why Jesus resurrected Lazarus from the dead.
He was just getting even.
(This little story was inspired by a line from a Jim Harrison book, in which one of the characters inquires, more or less, (I'm too lazy to go find the actual quote) if the afterlife is such a good place, why did Jesus bring Lazarus back?)
Lazarus shook the thought from his mind and looked around. The street before him was indeed paved with gold and running towards him upon that glistening road with smiles and open arms were all his loved ones who had gone before him. As they smothered him with their kisses and hugs of welcome, they told him of the many wonders he was about to experience, endless food of every variety, music, dance, wine and revelry, leisure without worry and even women if he so chose. Nothing of pleasure would ever be withheld and he was here for all eternity.
Lazarus took this all in with a feeling of tremendous awe and enormous gratitude, but his mind gave up one last thought of the strange boy he had known so long ago. I wonder, it pondered, where he is now?
And it was at this precise moment that Lazarus awoke to find himself in the dirty, poverty stricken hovel that was home to his life before death. He knew at once as he looked into the familiar eyes of the boy he knew in that distant past, that he would have to live a long and dreadful existence before he would ever walk through the Pearly Gates of Heaven again.
And now you know why Jesus resurrected Lazarus from the dead.
He was just getting even.
(This little story was inspired by a line from a Jim Harrison book, in which one of the characters inquires, more or less, (I'm too lazy to go find the actual quote) if the afterlife is such a good place, why did Jesus bring Lazarus back?)
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
This from a fellow blogger and acquaintance who lives in David. His gratitude mirrors mine.
Chiriquà Chatter (is the name of the blog.)
It’s A Wonderful Life
Mar 9th, 2010 by Don Ray
I was just reflecting today how fortunate I am. I arise every morning to a beautiful blue sky and birds chirping, the aroma of coffee and bacon in the kitchen and a new day to experience. It is like this at least 360 mornings out of the year. The other five days are even better.
I turn on the television and get news from the US and other parts of the world. I can sense the stress and pressures that exist in the location of the broadcasts, and yet at the moment, I feel very few of them.
Compared to many in the world, I am a wealthy man. Compared to many in the world, I am a pauper. However, I am a very contented person. I have good health, I have lots of love in my life. I have a few coins in my pocket at the end of the month. I eat well, feel great and worry little. What more can a person ask for.
You can’t take it with you, so having a lot more than you need won’t make you any happier. I know because I have had more and I wasn’t happier.
I try to do what I can to make my Panamanian host feel happy that I have moved here. I hope to be remembered as giving more than I received.
Panama is one place where no matter how much you have, it is probably more than many can even conceive of. That is why it is important to share a smile with those you meet. Giving the loose change to the grocery store bag boy is another way to say thank you God, for letting me be so lucky. There are many people in Panama that only work for tips and the bag boys are some of them.
I have now lived in Panama for over seven years. I feel like I understand Panama better. I feel like I understand life better. I feel like I understand me better. I feel like I have been given a real gift of being able to enjoy life to its fullest. I feel I am very very fortunate.
I am now going to go take my shower and move on to what the rest of the day brings me. I wish you all a wonderful day. Remember, smile at everyone you meet today. You will feel better and they will feel better.
It would also be a good time to tell those that you love, what a difference they make in your life. I think I will go do that now.
Chiriquà Chatter (is the name of the blog.)
It’s A Wonderful Life
Mar 9th, 2010 by Don Ray
I was just reflecting today how fortunate I am. I arise every morning to a beautiful blue sky and birds chirping, the aroma of coffee and bacon in the kitchen and a new day to experience. It is like this at least 360 mornings out of the year. The other five days are even better.
I turn on the television and get news from the US and other parts of the world. I can sense the stress and pressures that exist in the location of the broadcasts, and yet at the moment, I feel very few of them.
Compared to many in the world, I am a wealthy man. Compared to many in the world, I am a pauper. However, I am a very contented person. I have good health, I have lots of love in my life. I have a few coins in my pocket at the end of the month. I eat well, feel great and worry little. What more can a person ask for.
You can’t take it with you, so having a lot more than you need won’t make you any happier. I know because I have had more and I wasn’t happier.
I try to do what I can to make my Panamanian host feel happy that I have moved here. I hope to be remembered as giving more than I received.
Panama is one place where no matter how much you have, it is probably more than many can even conceive of. That is why it is important to share a smile with those you meet. Giving the loose change to the grocery store bag boy is another way to say thank you God, for letting me be so lucky. There are many people in Panama that only work for tips and the bag boys are some of them.
I have now lived in Panama for over seven years. I feel like I understand Panama better. I feel like I understand life better. I feel like I understand me better. I feel like I have been given a real gift of being able to enjoy life to its fullest. I feel I am very very fortunate.
I am now going to go take my shower and move on to what the rest of the day brings me. I wish you all a wonderful day. Remember, smile at everyone you meet today. You will feel better and they will feel better.
It would also be a good time to tell those that you love, what a difference they make in your life. I think I will go do that now.
Saturday, March 06, 2010
Huella Dactilar is Fun To Say and Banyo Beauty
Huella Dactilar is the name of a teenagers in trouble with ghosts and ghastlies movie I watched the other night. In English the title is Fingerprint. I wouldn't recommend streaking to your nearest video store to rent it, but if you should stumble across the film on the tube sometime, do have a look-see. (I need a rating system for my horror reviews, something along the lines of "I give this three bloody butcher knives out of five, or maybe small pictures of beheaded corpses. I'm open to suggestions.)
We went to a BIG party at a neighbor's house last night; catered, open bar, live music. One entire room of the house was dedicated to desserts. There were at least a dozen. I had samples of a few, the chocolate cake, the coconut cheese cake and the coconut cream pie. I spent long moments though, staring at all the others and remembering the days when I could have waded through plates of them and not gained a pound. Of course, in those days I could also play basketball for seven or eight hours at a time which, I'm told, has a tendency to keep one's weight in check. I had a few nice conversations at the party with semi-strangers, people I know a little but not well and one extremely entertaining moment.
I was chatting with Woowoo Charly and Bonnie the Bookie and asked them where the nearest bathroom was. "Right behind you" they said, pointing at a nearby door. There was a pale glow of light where the door met the floor, so I knocked tentatively and then tried the handle slowly before entering. The door was not locked. I entered and found myself in a small office sized room, not really noticing particulars as I was headed to the bathroom that I could see a few paces ahead. Its door was open and I started toward it when a beautiful young woman came around the corner from inside the bathroom pulling up a shoulder strap of her evening gown. (A few people at the party were dressed "to-the-nines and some even to the tens.) I was taken, as they say, aback. She was not. She gave me a big, sexy (to my way of thinking) smile as she walked past me saying, "Can I help you with something?" in English. I was too busy sputtering, "Whoops, lo siento, sorry" and the other inanities a person spouts when caught off guard to throw out a snappy comeback. I did turn to watch her walk through the office door and out into the crowd where I could see Woowoo Charly and Bonnie grinning at my surprise. I wasn't really embarrassed - I'm too old for that - but I was a bit off kilter. (I'm not really sure what kilter is but I could tell mine was out of plumb.) I think, in retrospect, what got me was the young woman's not just composure, but seemingly getting a kick out of the situation. I can still see that smile. She was either just messing with the old guy or trying to make his day. Either way works for me. It was a fun, funny, moment.
We went to a BIG party at a neighbor's house last night; catered, open bar, live music. One entire room of the house was dedicated to desserts. There were at least a dozen. I had samples of a few, the chocolate cake, the coconut cheese cake and the coconut cream pie. I spent long moments though, staring at all the others and remembering the days when I could have waded through plates of them and not gained a pound. Of course, in those days I could also play basketball for seven or eight hours at a time which, I'm told, has a tendency to keep one's weight in check. I had a few nice conversations at the party with semi-strangers, people I know a little but not well and one extremely entertaining moment.
I was chatting with Woowoo Charly and Bonnie the Bookie and asked them where the nearest bathroom was. "Right behind you" they said, pointing at a nearby door. There was a pale glow of light where the door met the floor, so I knocked tentatively and then tried the handle slowly before entering. The door was not locked. I entered and found myself in a small office sized room, not really noticing particulars as I was headed to the bathroom that I could see a few paces ahead. Its door was open and I started toward it when a beautiful young woman came around the corner from inside the bathroom pulling up a shoulder strap of her evening gown. (A few people at the party were dressed "to-the-nines and some even to the tens.) I was taken, as they say, aback. She was not. She gave me a big, sexy (to my way of thinking) smile as she walked past me saying, "Can I help you with something?" in English. I was too busy sputtering, "Whoops, lo siento, sorry" and the other inanities a person spouts when caught off guard to throw out a snappy comeback. I did turn to watch her walk through the office door and out into the crowd where I could see Woowoo Charly and Bonnie grinning at my surprise. I wasn't really embarrassed - I'm too old for that - but I was a bit off kilter. (I'm not really sure what kilter is but I could tell mine was out of plumb.) I think, in retrospect, what got me was the young woman's not just composure, but seemingly getting a kick out of the situation. I can still see that smile. She was either just messing with the old guy or trying to make his day. Either way works for me. It was a fun, funny, moment.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Keeping You Posted
Gully is not a word meaning shallow trench - these days - but rather tough, macho or even brutal. It can also be used to mean genuine as in "keep it gully bro." This is one of those things you need to know if you travel with a hyphy, (amped up), hip posse of wankstas (pretend gangsters) like I do.
I realize that most of you, having jobs and families and such are not always able to keep up with we fast paced geezers, so I try to put in the latest stuff I've become aware of in an effort to keep you abreast of "wass happenin dude."
And speaking of Dude, I learned last night or maybe it was the night before, that Jeff Bridges is up for an Academy Award. I'm sure this is for his portrayal of Dude in the Big Lebowski, but the Academy, always slow to recognize greatness, will probably nominate him for some other flick. The Big Lebowski is among my favorite movies because I was just one more acid "trip" from having it been my life story. Most people don't get to see what would have happened if they had taken a different path, but right there up on the big screen was my other could-have-been life. I certainly like the life I've chosen better, but I have to admit that being "The Dude" would definitely have had its moments. So I say Academy Members - because I know you are reading this - give the statue to Jeff. He played me better than I could have done it myself.
I realize that most of you, having jobs and families and such are not always able to keep up with we fast paced geezers, so I try to put in the latest stuff I've become aware of in an effort to keep you abreast of "wass happenin dude."
And speaking of Dude, I learned last night or maybe it was the night before, that Jeff Bridges is up for an Academy Award. I'm sure this is for his portrayal of Dude in the Big Lebowski, but the Academy, always slow to recognize greatness, will probably nominate him for some other flick. The Big Lebowski is among my favorite movies because I was just one more acid "trip" from having it been my life story. Most people don't get to see what would have happened if they had taken a different path, but right there up on the big screen was my other could-have-been life. I certainly like the life I've chosen better, but I have to admit that being "The Dude" would definitely have had its moments. So I say Academy Members - because I know you are reading this - give the statue to Jeff. He played me better than I could have done it myself.
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