Don't Cry for Me Argentina...Even Though It Really Hurts

[From my trip to Argentina at the end of August.]

They say that memories triggered by smells cause some of the most emotional reactions in people. It has to do with the fact that the olfactory nerve is closest to the part of the brain that causes memory and emotion. I don't know. It's really complicated. And, even though after the last blog one might think that my sense of smell would be damaged beyond repair, it's not so. Smells have always triggered very vivid memories in my brain. And thus, the second I stepped out of the terminal at Ezeiza International Airport in Buenos Aires, Argentina, a flood of memories came whooshing back like the water tornadoing out the drain of the bathtub.

Whooshing back to my mind was the sweet, smooth taste of the dulce de leche. The supurbly scrumtious alfajores bathed in choocolate and bursting at the seams with dulce de leche. The scary train rides from La Plata to Buenos Aires with Katy (There are some scary people on trains.). The bathroom incidents at multiple internet cafes throughout La Plata and Buenos Aires (By the way, Kate, Guille and Elena remembered a couple of those!). The student strike where the students themselves shut down the University because they weren't happy with the conditions and my susbsequent joy not the have class! The black and yellow taxis zipping through the streets at break neck speed. Avenida 9 de Julio and it's 12 lanes of traffic in the middle of the city. My beloved Argentine family who, at times, made me want to kill them. The meat. Ohhhh the glorious meat and all the restaurants who prepare the meat over hot coals and all the asados (bar-b-ques) we attended. The fútbol. The absolute madness, passion, and love for the fútbol. And all the learning that took place about Argentina, my friendships, and most of all me. Those were some very formative times.

So, after an eight year absence from Argentina, you can imagine how excited I was to be able to return...albeit for work. Hey, at least I was getting to the country. And I loved that country. I had so much fun while I was there. There were things I hated too, but all in all it was a fantastic experience. And, I was even going to get the chance to visit my friends for the weekend.

I got there pretty late on Sunday night and headed to the hotel through the empty streets of the Capital (The Argentine's call it "The Capital" since it lies in the province of Buenos Aires, you must be specific as to where you are traveling.). I took it all in and sweetly smiled as I remembered traversing that same path long ago. The only difference is that this time I was Blackberry Messenging Gennifer the whole cab ride. Ahhh how times change.

I didn't have too much time to reminice, however, becuase I had an 8:00 AM meeting at the office...which was a 40 minute ride from the hotel. The office lays in the outskirts of the Capital, so most of the time we prefer to stay in downtown where all the action is rather than stay out by the office. A 40 minute cab ride is a small price to pay to stay right in the middle of one of the greatest capitals in the world. And, with the exchange rate, the 40 minute cab ride was only about 20 bucks!

In Argentina there are two types of cabs. There are your regular black and yellow type in the Capital. They generally want to stay close to home. Then there are what are called Remises. The remises are regular cars with drivers who work for an agency. They don't mind taking your furthur than just the city if you need. Sometimes they're cheaper than a cab within the city. Sometimes they're not. It's weird. But, whatever you do, don't ask your cab driver to take you from Argenta Tower Hotel in the Captial to the office all the way in Munro. He won't like it. Trust me. I wasn't sure I was even going to get him convinced.

Finally he agreed, begrudeingly, and took me to the office. I thought about telling him that if he'd shut up and stop telling me how nice he was to me for taking me all the way out there that I'd give him a tip. But I didn't. And he didn't shut up. So he also didn't get a tip.

I entered the office very early since I had a meeting with the Director of the company in Argentina as well as the Director of Marketing. The meeting, contrary to what I thought it was going to be, was very good. It has been said that the director can be very difficult at times, but I did not find him to be that way at all. Mainly it's because I don't think he thinks my project is going to affect his bottom line enough to matter, so he's just giving me free reign. I'll show him.

Everybody at the office there in Argentina is fantastic. It's a small office, so I was a novelty. Everybody always wants to know who the new guy is. And, since I'm new to this side (Latin America) of the company, I was a very big question mark. Everybody met me and talked with me. I really enjoyed my time working in the office with everyone. And, I got a lot of things done for the project. It was a good week of work.

Unforunately, as seems to generally and sadly be my case, there was an "incident" during the week. And, shockingly enough, this incident doesn't have to do with farting. If only that were the case. That would have been much less painful (for the most part).

Monday I ended up working late at the office. By the time I had looked up, everybody was gone and I had no phone number for a Remis service. Thankfully I found the Director of Marketing in his office. He had a number for a remis service there close by and he called one for me.

As I was getting in the remis, I somehow twisted the surgicially operated knee in a way it did not like. I was immediately in horrible pain. The whole trip back to the hotel, I could not get it to kind of "pop" back in. When the driver let me out, I could barely get out of the car. He happened to let me off across the street from the hotel, so I had to try to cross the street, which was impossible moving at the pace I was.

Generally, after I dislodge the knee cap and knee, I can get it to go back in the right place pretty quickly and there is very minimal inflammation and pain. This time was different. After about 10 minutes of trying to get up enough courage to cross the street, I finally made it to the hotel.

I spent the rest of the night in the hotel writhing in pain. I just couldn't figure out why or how I had aggrivated it so much. Unfortunately, the pain continued through the night. It was a long night.

As soon as I got to the office, everybody was very concerned. The girl who I was working with took me immediately to an emergency clinic in one of the more upscale neighborhoods in Bs. As. I saw an orthopedic specialist within 20 minutes of arriving (for $40 bucks). He checked the knee cap and it was fine. He told me I needed to see a specialist. I explained that I was very aware of that fact...and that I knew that the only fix for my knees are new knees. He agreed! I asked for a cortisone shot and some anti-inflammatory meds. He obliged. (Shot and meds: 25 bucks. That same shot cost me 300 in the US.)

I spent the rest of the week in pain, but not like the pain before the doctor's visit. It did put a damper on my time in Argentina as I couldn't venture out and have any fun while I was in the capital. on Wednesday evening I walked the six blocks to a famous steak restaurant and was almost too sick to my stomach to eat (becuase the pain from walking was making me nauseus). That was a shame. All I had wanted to do was eat meat when I got to Argentina, since the meat here in Panama isn't so great, and I hardly enjoyed it.

Out of that fateful remis ride, however, I did meet Jorge...the remisero (driver). Jorge was an interesting, rather large fellow who took an instant liking to me, for some reason. He took such a liking to me, in fact, that he decided he was going to drive me back and forth to and from work every day...even though his route was closer to the Hilti office than my hotel. So, in theory, I would have had to pay Jorge for the trip to the Hotel to pick me up and then for the trip from the hotel to Hilti. I told him I wasn't going to do that. I would call a remis that was closer.

Jorge insisted, though, that he would charge me the same fee every day for each ride. And, he did. Jorge became my "best friend", that is, as far as he was concerned! He was very kind and was very worried about my knee. He was also very punctual, which is uncommon in the Latino world. He even got in trouble for making an agreement with me (as the remisero's take turns taking the calls that come. Whoever is in line next, gets the fare. Making deals isn't fiar.), but I called his boss and straightened it out...very nicely of course. So nicely, actually, that his boss called frantically looking for Jorge to make sure that he was going to take care of me for the rest of the week! She was apparently very afraid to lose the fair and Jorge called the hotel laughing so hard I could hardly understand him to tell me about how they had searched for him.

After the work week, I arranged for Jorge to take me to La Plata on Friday night...where I spent five months studying my last semester of university in 2001. La Plata is, more or less, 30 miles from Bs. As. and I still keep in touch with the family I lived with for those five months. Although it was only five months, it felt like years and the mother and daughter with whom I lived, Elena and Guillermina, are very special to me. It had been almost 8 years since I had seen them. I didn't want to let an opportunity go by to see them. Don't let those types of chances go by. They may never come by again.

Guille and Elena were all ready for me. Elena was a fantastic cook and I had requested that she make one of my two favorites for me over the weekend. She made all of them! So, I feasted on meatballs, gnocchis, steak and lots of other great stuff. Every day I ate way past my belly capacity! Of course, their only comment was, "You don't eat as much as you used to." I'm still not sure if that was an insult or a compliment.

We had a great time catching up over the weekend and I did some shopping...since the exchange rate was fantastic in my favor. I also bought every box of alfahores in a 30 mile radius I think. They were so happy to see me. It was very humbling to think that you could mean so much to two people. In my mind I'm not much of anything and far from perfect! It's hard to believe anybody likes me that much. I'm so glad I had the opportunity to visit them again...and I ate well while doing it too!

It was a memorable weekend filled with a lot of laughs and good memories. And, even though I didn't get to see a soccer game while there, I got to listen to one. Elena and Guille live very close to the stadium of one of La Plata's professional teams, Estudiantes. It just so happened that they were playing their cross town rival, Gimnasia. So, I got to listen to the absolute chaos of the game. I love it.

Since I didn't have time to get out and about in the city, I honestly don't have many pictures. I really only have a few of Elena, Guille, Gabriel (Guille's long time boyfriend) and "the hands".

The meatballs!

Guille and me at a sidewalk cafe in La Plata

Guille and me with "the hands"

Guille and Gabriel with the lovely Argentine meat!

Elena and me

Everybody!

I had a great time working and visiting my friends in Argentina. Hopefully I'll get another opportunity to do so. I should, but one never knows. Oh, and the knee, by the way, has to be operated on. I guess that was one heck of a twist getting into the cab.

Panamusings

And now, at the end of all my blogs I usually leave a list of little quips about things that have happened that don't warrant an entire story. I've decided I'm going to call these Panamusings and they will be included in each blog entry.

• Do you ever wish you could send an image your eyes transmitted to your brain to the "recycle bin" and then delete it for all time? On the trip from La Plata to the airport, I was suddenly attacked with a "do or die" bathroom urge (just number one, but dangerous all the same). Well, on the highway, there is not really anywhere to stop in the rush hour traffic. Thankfully, Jorge had the idea of stopping at the toll booth. They had a restroom I could use in their little central building off to the side. I went running for the restroom leaving Jorge there with the car, or so I thought. After I finished, I realized there were no paper towels in the bathroom to dry my hands so I thought I'd stop by the other bathroom (they were not marked Male/Female. There were just two.) and see if there were any towels. The door was open. Why would I think that, when I rounded the corner that Jorge, the very obese remisero would be in there with his pants down around his ankles taking a pee. Sweet mother. Thank GOODNESS the toilet was on the opposite wall so his back was facing me. But, I did get an eye full of that obese behind. You never know how fast you can move on a hurt knee until you see something like that. Let me tell you.


• There's nothing like wearing the jersey of the winning team from the day (Estudiantes) and walking down the street hearing honking and yelling in your direction from other fans. That's devotion.


• It's really handy being able to enter the country of your new residence as an actualy resident. The line is way shorter and they don't insist on taking your picture (like they do to every other person entering the country.)


• The first time in Argentina, I remember being scared to death to cross the street and thinking about how absolutely crazy the drivers were in the entire country. This time around, as I was riding around, the first thing I thought was, "Wow, these guys really drive normally. It's nice to see that again." Then it dawned on me what I had thought the first time in the country. The difference? Panama and the crazy insaneness they call driving. What a difference personal experience has on the way we see things in life.

Coming soon (I promise): The 31st birthday trip to Chiriqui with the Mexican Nightmare. We all know what trips with her mean...

Peace out!

---

Just Beachy

[Disclaimer: I must again put a disclaimer before this blog entry. This blog in no way should reflect badly on my mother or the way my mother raised me. Nor should this blog affect the way you view my mother. She raised me to be a nice, well mannered young lady who respected everyone around her. Unfortunately, through no fault of her own, it didn't take...as will be well evidenced in the entry below. Sorry mom.]

In a world where Kim Jong-Il's approval rating has plummeted to only 120% in North Korea and where there are mothers on the street like this one:

Sometimes you just need to get away and have a relaxing weekend at the beach. That's what we (my Mexican buddy) and I decided to do a few weekends ago. Pam, the buddy, also had a friend from Colombia visiting (Jessica), so we took the opportunity to show her some of Panama as well.

On Saturday morning we headed out bright and early to catch the ferry to the island of Taboga. It lays just a short 12 miles off the coast of Panama City which translates to about 45 minutes on the very slow ferry boat. But, the ride is a very picturesque one as you cross the entrace of the Panama Canal and can see the Puente de las Americas (Bridge of the Americas...the entrance to the canal and also where the Pan American Highway crosses the canal.). We saw some very large fish (maybe Marlins. I don't know anything about fish.) jumping and also a pretty big group of dolphins. Some giant birds followed us the whole trip and were swooping around the boat trying to fish. I was hoping they didn't come too close to where we were sitting as they had some serious beakage going on. I could just see one piercing my arm.

We arrived at the dock in Taboga about 9:00 AM. As we disembarked, I saw this cute little island that looked like it just fell out of a movie. You know the movies I'm talking about. The movie that takes place somewhere in a tropical country where everybody is always sweating because it's always humid, but the beach is really pretty and the houses are colorful with hammocks on the front porches. That's the kind of movie I'm talking about and that's exactly what it looked like. The dude from the bed and breakfast where we had made a reservation for the night (Called Cerrito Tropical. I'll explain what that means and why it's called that in a minute.) met us there and we grabbed a taxi to take us to the hotel.

Now, when I say taxi, I mean a tiny little truck with a wooden bench in the back for us to sit on. As for that matter, there are only three truck taxis on the island,one other car, and a couple of those "gator" all terrain vehicles. It's a very small place. We just didn't want to lug our heavy back packs to the hotel. It cost a whopping three bucks for the ride, so we figured we'd splurge.

As we approached the hotel we noticed a very, very steep hill. Then we saw the sign. It said: Cerrito Tropical and had an arrow pointing up...straight up. Cerrito means "little hill" in Spanish. I think it should have read "super huge, really steep, it'll kill you every time you have to go up or down this hill" Tropical, but what do I know. The truck chugged and chugged and got us up the hill with our luggage, thankfully.

The hotel/bed and breakfast was a cute little place. It was somebody's home and they had expanded it to give it more room. Since there were three of us, we booked the suite. We had our own private balcony with a gorgeous view of the ocean and all the boats waiting to enter the canal. We had two bedrooms with three beds, and the bedrooms had air conditioning...which is a nice luxury.. There was a private bathroom with hot water (not all the rooms had hot water) and two hammocks. It was fantastic.

After we put our things down we headed to eat breakfast. That was our first trip down the hill. Of course, going down the hill with my knees is like Chinese water torture. I was quite slow going down. But, we finally made it and had breakfast at a tiny little place with plastic lawn furniture for tables and chairs. It was here that I discovered that I absolutely love Yucca (also known as Casava). It's really tasty...and my new favorite veggie...especially when it's fried! But then again, what isn't good when it's fried?

Once breakfast was concluded, we walked around the tiny town of Taboga and checked it out. It was just as I had seen from the dock, a very picturesque little tropical town. It turns out, however, that Taboga has quite an amazing history. From pirates to the US government, there have been many different inhabitants and visitors on this island. I'll leave the history for the history buffs. But, you can read all about Taboga here.

The little jaunt around the island got us all nice and hot and sweaty, so we decided we wanted to go to the beach. To go to the beach, we had to climb the hill to our room and change: Round one of Kristin, Pamela, and Jessica versus the "cerrito". Man alive I wasn't sure we were going to make it. Well, let me rephrase that. I'm not in the best of conditions, but I exercise three times a week. My dear friend Pam, does not. I thought we were going to have to carry her up. I really did. She did make it. But, to her defense, that hill was a son of a gun. It was steep.

We changed into our bathing attire, with great difficulty I might add. Anybody who knows me knows that I have very developed sweat glands. It comes from years of sports, I guess. But, I was drenched. And, without air conditioning, there's no cooling down quickly. So, changing was difficult. Putting on sun block to block out the Equatorial blast of sun was even worse. Sun block doesn't like to stick to you when you're sopping wet. It's a wonder I didn't burn all the way through. As it was, I was just a bit burned on my hairline (through my hair...go figure. How was I going to put sun block in my hair anyway?), a small patch on my shoulders, and on the insides of my ankles. I don't know why or how that happened. I had the same amount of spf 55 there as I did on the rest of my legs.

We paid a young kid to take us on a boat ride around the island. That took about an hour and was a nice ride in open Pacific Ocean. He dropped us right off at the beach and we spent the next hours relaxing and swimming. I, in fact, fell asleep with one arm in the sun (we rented an umbrella) and ended up with one arm much darker (and a bit more burned) than the rest of my body! It was very restful there watching the boats come in and out of the canal and seeing the City in the distance.

The thunder and lightening off towards the city gave us a fair warning of the rain that was to come, so we packed up and headed to lunch. We ducked into what was basically this lady's front porch, for lunch as the rain fell in Biblical proportions. I'm pretty sure I saw Noah run by with a couple of animals under each arm. It only lasted for about half an hour, though, thankfully.

We were tired out so we headed back to the hotel to nap in the hammocks. This began round 2: Kristin, Pamela, and Jessica vs the "cerrito". Same result as the last, although I was already upstairs in our room sleeping by the time Pam made it. Everybody plopped down and fell asleep to the water lapping and the very comfortable tropical breeze.

Then I heard a rustle. It was Pam moving around in the hammock a little bit, readjusting you might say. Then there was the sound heard round the world. Pamela had awoken me when she moved around in the hammock. As I lay there I felt a bit of pressure in my stomach from all the yucca...and who knows what else. So, man, I just let one rip.

About three seconds later there was hysterical laughing coming from the other hammock, which put me in hysterics as well. And, this is how we spent the afternoon. Back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. It was quite the war. Poor Jessica was just inside the door lying on her bed shaking her head. My eyes were puffy from the crying which ensued after the laughter. It was a comical afternoon.

We declared Pamela the winner, and she was by far. She killed me. And, we called a short truce, we were all hungry and got ready to head to dinner. As we were all getting ready we heard some commotion below. The "commotion" was people... people talking. People talking in regular voices, not raised voices. I kind of stopped. Pamela stopped. She looked at me with that kind of "I wonder" look, and I reciprocated. We stood there for another few seconds just looking at each other with a look of astonished horror, and it all broke loose.

The laughter began again and it went on and on and on as we quickly realized that everything that had happened in the suite that afternoon had been completely and totally audible to the people staying in the hotel below. We could hear everything. Every word, every cough, every movement they made. That means they heard the entire bodily function barrage that took place earlier in the afternoon.

Now, you're probably thinking one of three things here (or maybe all of theM). One: I can't believe Kristin is this disgusting...or the fact that there's somebody else out there just as disgusting as her. Two: how is Kristin not completely and totally mortified by the fact that everybody heard her? Or, three: Maybe nobody was in the hotel that afternoon.

One: I know I'm disgusting. I'll be the first to admit it. That's a valid point. But, I also think it's hysterical (when in its place... and although this place was fairly public, I did believe it to be private). I also love to laugh. And, I think it's funny. And, I bet, if you really are honest with yourself...deep down there you think it's funny too. Come on. You know you do.

Two: Well, you've gotta laugh at yourself in this world when you do stupid things in life because it's laugh or cry... I choose laugh. And, I chose to laugh off this moment...because if you really do think about it, it's hysterical that I got busted. And, of course I won't learn my lesson.

Three: Oh, there were people there! Unfortunately, we saw them when we headed up to the room earlier in the afternoon. We actually had met a couple of them: a little girl and her mother from Chile.

The little girl and her mother are a story within the story. They were the most air headed people I've run into for a long time. They were very kind, but stinking funny (This from the girl who farted all afternoon in ear shot of 6 other guests). We talked to the girl a bit and she proceeded to take a very long time to tell me what her name was and what town she was from in Chile and apparently had no idea if it was to the South or North of Santiago (and this girl was at least 8 or 9). She asked us where we were from and we let her know where we were from and for whom we worked.

We also know for a fact that the little girl and her mother were downstairs in the afternoon (which will come into play later). We came into contact with them quite a lot through the rest of the weekend and each time we talked to them, it was an adventure.

Well, Sunday came around and we headed home after having enjoyed a very nice weekend on the island. We saw our Chilean friends on the boat home as well. They were very interested in how much fun we had had and asked us lots of questions. They even hounded Jessica about where Pamela and I were when she went up top of the boat to take some photos. Quite amusing in the weird, foreign stalker kind of way.

And so, We enjoyed a very nice and relaxing weekend filled with the beach, yucca, crazy Chileans and gas.

Skip ahead two weeks. Pamela and I are in the car on the way back from eating lunch on weekday. Pam tells me she talked to Gustavo this morning about some Chilean friends he has (Gustavo, by the way, is the Director of Operations for the entire company. He's from Chile.). She proceeds to tell me that some friends he knows from the Chilean Association of Panama had met a Mexican girl and a blond American girl that worked for his company when they spent the weekend in Taboga a couple of weekends ago.

I happened to be driving this day and I kid you not I almost hit the car in front of us when she said that. I looked at Pamela and I really didn't believe she was telling me the truth. I thought she was making up the story. I kept insisting that she was making it up. She wasn't.

I didn't witness the conversation with Gustavo and Pamela and that's probably a good thing. I'm sure I would have just started hysterically laughing. Pam said she just stood there with kind of a look of "oh really" on her face trying to hide the horror as Gustavo explained how he knew this family and their daughters. She did ask him what they had said about us. Gustavo said they had just said they met us and that we were nice.

I'm not so sure. That little girl was crazy. I'm sure she's already informed Gustavo's entire family of what happened on the island in full detail.

Either way, Pam and I have vowed never to speak of the incident again and I have been avoiding Gustavo and all members of his family. Every time I make eye contact with Gustavo, though, I'm always looking for some hint that he knows. I know he does. I know it. But, he's sure good at hiding it. We'll see come promotion time what all he really knows.

Kristin's lack of manners strikes again. If only she would have just listened to her mother. At least we had fun. We're also waiting for a charge to the credit card for "stained hammocks". We haven't seen the charge yet. I'll keep you informed.

Here are a few photos. I don't have too many. Jessica took the most, but I haven't gotten them from her yet.


Pamela, Jessica, and me on the ferry


The view from the dock when we landed


The famous "hands"...only I didn't actually have the hands with me. I forgot them... So, I made my own!


The view from standing in the door of our suite...and Pamela's leg in the hammock. She didn't leave that hammock most of the weekend.


Jessica, Pamela, and I on the boat ride around the island. Pam is very proud of her stomach.

And now, at the end of all my blogs I usually leave a list of little quips about things that have happened that don't warrant an entire story. I've decided I'm going to call these Panamusings and they will be included in each blog entry.

Panamusings

• The jungle hiking "adventure" that we went on ended up to be a jungle hiking "bust". we didn't see anything other than a ñeke (a big tropical rat), some ants, some spiders, and some bats. Whoppeee. I was so disappointed. I really wanted to see the monkeys! I did get a couple of good pictures with the "hands" though.
  
  


• You know your dinner is going to be fantastic when you hear the old, gross, American guy talking to the hooker...oops, I mean "escort" he bought when he got to the city. You know, he picked her "because he liked her picture best of all...and she spoke English." Alright!


• Unhappy = Kristin taking a half of day of vacation to watch the USA vs Mexico Gold Cup Final only to see the US lose 5-0. Kristin will never be staking a day of vacation on US Soccer ever again. They had their chance.


• Ummm...did I mention they show NCIS re-runs here? YAHHOOOOOOO!


• Back in the day, when I was just learning Spanish, my buddy Katy and I started watching a Mexican soap opera to try to help us out with our "listening" skills (You laugh, but it helps.). Those shows are so over the top it's hysterical. We started out having to call each other every commercial to talk about everything that had happened to be able to understand what was said. By the end of the show (a few months later), neither of us had to call to understand what was going on. It was amazing how much that really helped. And, we loved the over the top telenovela.
  
  Problem is, we missed the beginning of the telenovela. I figured I'd never see it again ever in life. But, the other night I was flipping stations and guess what I discovered? I discovered Cañaveral de Pasiones again! I've had a lot of fun reliving the fun. I just wish I could record it and send it to Kate so we could talk about it at each commercial.


• You know what's creepy? When your friend comes to pic you up at your apartment and you're on your way down and the security guard can tell your friend exactly where you are in the building and that you're on your way down. Big Brother is always watching...she says suspiciously looking left and right


• And finally, I've decided that male crotch scratching is very accepted in Brazil. Yes, that's right, I said it. But, it's become such an enormous issue (he he) that I just can't let it go. Is it really okay to do that in that country? Because the Brazilian guys in the office, although very kind, just scratch all the time. And, frankly, one sits right in front of me. Every time he stands up he scratches and it's at face level...four feet away. FACE LEVEL. Come on! I'm going to have to get some sort of visor. Either that or I'm just going to start scratching my boob all the time.

Peace out!

---

Frizz Head

When one moves, one generally foresees a few problems. However, one does not necessarily foresee the myriad of problems that did face me once I got to my apartment a couple of weeks ago. Of course, that's life. And, that's what I keep reminding my beloved mother who is adamant that she must come and not necessarily kill, but severely maul all those responsible for inflicting any type of discomfort on me (Thanks Mommy). But, as I say, that is life and the situation could be and could have been much, much worse. As I write this blog, almost everything has been cleared up. Thank the Lord for that, because it was nothing short of divine intervention.

Since no one particular story merits a telling in full nor do I actually have a full story about anything, I'll switch over to the bullet format (except that Internet Explorer always cuts my bullets off when I post images. Just know that there's supposed to be a bullet in front of the picture. Sorry about that. Use FireFox. It's way better.)

• Girls and their hair. Even if they seem not to care too much about how their hair looks, because, say, it's in a pony tail every day, they still care. It's just that the hair bothers some girls while they work (wink, wink). The fact of the matter is, we all care and we all absolutely hate it when our hair looks bad. Now, I've lived most of my life in Kansas and Oklahoma. It's pretty humid there in the summer, right? I was pretty sure I'd seen what humidity would do to my hair. I mean, I'd never spent an extended period of time in a really humid environment, but I figured Kansas and Oklahoma summers counted as that. Uh, whatever!
  
  It started happening about two weeks ago and it hasn't stopped. My hair just keeps growing. It has a life of it's own. It doesn't matter WHAT I do it's HUGE...and this includes the pony tail flying out behind me. It's enormous. And, I can't stop it. I've put in more mousse, used more special shampoos than I even care to admit, I've washed it, and I've not washed it. It just won't stop. That average humidity in the summer in Oklahoma of, at the most 50%, just doesn't hold up to the average humidity of somewhere in the vicinity of 75-80% (and that's just the average, mind you) that I live with every day. So, basically, I look something like Monica from "Friends" when they were in Barbados. It's awesome. (Thanks to Warner Bros. and "Friends" for the image.)


• Apparently every Wednesday evening is "futbol" night. Every Wednesday evening all the guys from the office drive out to Costa del Este (That's the only place we could find an open soccer facility with an hour open. There are not enough of those around here. I'm thinking I need to open a facility. It's a gold mine.) to play soccer for an hour. They let the girls play, if they want to. I, of course, having played soccer most of my life am happy to join in.
  
  I've learned three things since I started playing with the boys here: First, I've learned that, no matter how much these Latino boys say they are progressive, they are not (I learned that when they told me that girls only count for "half" a player when we were splitting up the teams the first time I played.). Second, when you show them that you actually do know how to play (apparently there aren't too many of those girls here), they do show you a bit more respect. And, lastly, I'm old. I am creaky kneed, sore lower back, aching feet old. Sweet mother. I'm gonna have to give some of this stuff up...someday.


• As for the apartment, well, after quite the struggle, almost everything has been taken care of. The electrician fixed the lights. The plumber fixed the gas. The dryer now works. They came and cleaned up all the construction mess that was still left in the apartment. I have hot water and the bathroom works perfectly.
  
  There are only two things left. One of the last two things is small. I don't have the remote for the gate to the parking garage. So, every time I need to drive in or out (12 different turns in the garage. I get nauseous every time I drive the car in or out!), I have to honk at the security guard. I just feel rude when I do that. Like, "Serve me slave!" Plus, half the time the guard doesn't hear you honk when you're at the gate...so you have to wait for like 10 minutes caged in like a pacing tiger. Sometimes people rev their V6 engines. Not me, though. The last thing that remains to be fixed is the ventilation of the dryer. I'm not quite sure why you wouldn't build in ventilation for a GAS dryer into a brand new apartment, but, there isn't one. And, currently, there's no place to vent the dryer. And, everybody has a dryer here. It's not like in other countries in Latin America where nobody has a dryer. There's no drying clothes outside here (reference the 80% humidity). The clothes actually get more wet! So, it's not like it would have been out of the ordinary to vent the dryer.
  
  Well, I can't very well run the dryer without ventilation. As nice as death by carbon monoxide poisoning sounds, I had to come up with some sort of a solution. I stood there staring at the dryer for a second. I do have access to a DD 200 (diamond hole coring rig), obviously, but I figured the building administration wouldn't like it very much if I just drilled a hole straight through the wall.
  
  Eureka, and I'm not talking about the vacuum cleaner (well, okay, so it only took me about 2 seconds to find a solution. But, I haven't used the word Eureka in, well, ever!). There's a tiny window up high in the laundry "space" (It's not a room in itself.). With my little rubbermaid step stool (which is awesome, by the way) I can just reach the window. I decided I would buy enough ventilation hose to string it from the dryer out the little window. The neighbors get a face full of hot, humid, carbon monoxidey air every time I run the dryer if their window is open, but I gotta ventilate somehow, even if it is a little white trashy. It's not like I have much of a choice. I'll send the neighbors to Oscar, the building administrator, if they come to complain about the hose hanging right outside their living room windows (HA HA HA!). It's only out there when I use the dryer anyway. Either way, Oscar is supposed to be talking with the plumber about installing the vent. We'll see. At least for now I can run the dryer without unintentionally committing suicide.


• When you're searching for a place to live, generally one of the things you really want to check out is the surroundings of said place, not just the inside. I was especially careful with that when I was looking for a place here because I'm such a light sleeper. For example, I wanted to make sure that the pool and social area weren't right below my window and that there wasn't any new construction beside the building (a difficult task here in Panama City). The one thing that's hard to notice in the middle of the day is the bar/night club across the street, cleverly hidden in a strip mall type line of stores.
  
  I guess you could say I'm beginning to get a little more used to the "boom boom boom boom boom" of Latin music coming from there until 5:00 AM every night of the week. It's starting not to bother me too much while I'm trying to go to sleep. But, just remember, the next time you're looking for a residence, make sure you check out the cleverly disguised strip malls. They might be hiding malicious buildings.


• I'm starting to feel much better about my Spanish. I mean, it's not like I couldn't speak and people couldn't understand me before, but there's a comfortability factor. I wasn't comfortable when I got here because I knew I was making a lot of mistakes. But, you know you're starting to do okay when complete strangers start complimenting your Spanish. I'm starting to get those compliments again. So thankfully, the rough transition back into "Spanish" mode is coming along nicely. The whole transition phase just tires you out. Your brain just wants sleep all the time.


• Crossing the street from my apartment to the office is such an unbelievable task, I had to write almost an entire blog about the experience. It wasn't until my Panamanian friends, nonetheless, asked me the following question that my fears were completely realized: "Kristin, how exactly is it that you cross that street every day? We won't even cross it!"
  
  I mean, it's a four lane road. You have to time it just right. You step out in the first lane while all three other lanes still have cars in them and time it just so that as you cross into each lane, there's a car in front of and behind you, but not ON you! It really is quite similar to the game Frogger (Gotta love Atari! Thanks for the reference, Genn.) So, just in case you thought I was exaggerating about crossing the road, take it from the Panamanians, it's insanity... and I live it every day (Unless I drive to work. Then I'm doing the same thing...in a car...he he he he [evil laugh]).


• The other day Jose (the fellow I have hired to help me out with a few things like buying a car, buying curtains and shades, waiting in line for me for five hours at the electric company to have my electricity turned on, basically helping me keep from being swindled since there's no hiding the fact that I'm a gringa with this hair, etc.) and I were measuring my windows for the shades I was going to buy. Come to find out, there is almost two inches of difference from floor to ceiling from one side of my bedroom to the other. TWO! I told Jose I thought he was crazy, so we measured it three different times. Sure enough, it was true. (I used my level on the floor, and floor seems to be level. So, the problem lays within the height of the ceiling. Two inches is enough to make you walk sideways, and I knew I wasn't walking sideways.and two inches would make you swerve while you walked!)
  
  I was talking to everybody at work about it and all the Panamanians go, "Oh, yeah. The interior finishing of all the buildings in Panama is terrible." I'm like, "Oh, nice, that's good to know." Then everybody in the whole office started talking about how bad their apartments were too! I'm not sure how my blinds are going to look. We shall see...


• Another complaint I have about the building is an interesting one. I've never lived in a high rise apartment. In Spain, I lived in a small building. So, I'd never actually been faced with this next thing: the fact that all service personnel, regardless of whether they are standing with me right there, have to come in the service entrance, which is far on the other side of the building. The other day the guy came to fix the dryer. He was with me. He had one small tool box. I mean, it's not like it was anything crazy like he had mud and dirt all over his shoes or anything. But, they made him go all the way around to the service entrance anyway. Apparently all blue collar type workers must enter there. Come on people. He wasn't going to mess up the precious lobby. I don't like that at all.


• Last weekend I got together with some co-workers and their families to play Pictionary (Chilean edition). It was nice to get to know some of the ladies, as I work with all of their husbands! And I tell you, I haven't laughed so hard in all my life. The men were FURIOUS that the women kept winning. They equated it with us being able to draw a line and then one of us could guess that it was the word was, like, Russia! We told them it was ladies intuition.
  
  I also learned lots of new words trying to understand the words that were on the card and trying to guess in Spanish. That made for some laughs too, though...as did when Christian's chair broke and he went crashing to the floor while all the time yelling, "Stop the timer! Stop the timer!" The boys really did hate it that we killed them...every game! It was great revenge...you know, since we're "half a person".


• For a fun and interesting twist on the Gold Cup (the North and Central American soccer championship), Panama played the US in the quarterfinals of the tournament. I was going to go watch the game at one of the many locations to do so here in the city until I passed by the hoards of people lining Avenida Balboa four hours before the game started, crowding in front of the giant TVs. I made the smart decision to watch the game from the comfort of my own home where I could cheer for the US and not fear for my life. They're still mad at me anyway because the US won on a penalty kick. It was a clear penalty. There's no room for complaints.


• I've heard the hallelujah chorus several times since I got to Panama but none so loud as this past Saturday. I was out trying to buy shades for the two giant windows I have in the apartment and three smaller ones. As of right now, the whole of Panama can see in my bedroom and living room and the people in the high-rise apartments beside my building can see me shower. And, trust me, nobody wants to see that people (I've been showering in the dark these last weeks.). Anyway, Jose and I were driving around to different places looking for shades and we came across a used car lot where he happened to know the guys. In this used car lot is this beautiful car that looks like new. It really looked great. So, of course they had a high price on it. So, I proceeded to haggle with the car dealers for the next two hours. I actually did better than Jose did with getting the price down. I'm not sure why, either, because all used car dealers in Panama City are Muslim Indian. All of them, without fail. I went to many a lot with Pamela and every owner of any used car dealership is Muslim Indian. Jose tells me that the service industry here in Panama is very segmented (Apparently the Chinese own all the laundry facilities and so on.). Because of their religion I'm seen as inferior, of course. But, I was able to bring them down by 2000 dollars to my price range! They wouldn't shake my hand on the deal (I'm a woman.), but they shook Jose's and I had my car! I had to wait until the following Monday to pick it up since I had to get the money out of the bank. But, I'm now the proud owner of a 2006 Suzuki Grand Vitara. (You'll have to pardon the picture. I can't get a decent picture of the car in the parking garage because of the way the light comes in.)


• Citi Bank Panama is quickly becoming my arch nemesis. It took me 3 hours to just make a withdrawal out of my own savings account at the bank on Monday morning so I could go get the car. Needless to say, I have begun to hate Citi Bank with all my soul. As soon as I have enough banking history in this country (in four or five months), I'm headed to another bank. They're pretty lucky I didn't have a weapon in my purse (I'm kidding. I'm kidding. But, dang I was mad. My money being held hostage. Seriously.)


• I have driven many different places since Monday, several places in rush hour traffic even. Believe it or not, I've been complimented on my driving in the craziness that is Panama City. I guess I learn fast. Those of you who come to visit me, be forewarned, however. You'll probably need to bring a few extra pairs of undies.


• Finally Pam and I have come to an agreement as of late...now that we both have cars, that when someone feels a bodily function coming on, we just kindly say "roll down the window". Spanish or English is accepted. However, it is not acceptable to not give warning. I accidentally forgot the other day and almost killed us both.


• Did I mention how AWESOME it is to finally have a car!? I've been going everywhere I can. And, the GPS maps I bought for Panama City are just pretty dead on. The Panamanians kept telling me, "No way that will ever work." Wrong. It may take you the medium length route on main streets rather than cutting through the tiny side streets, but you sure as heck get there. Thanks Panama Zone guy for making maps of Panama (Garmin doesn't have maps for Central America)


• On August 1st I get to take my first hike into the rain forest/jungle. I'm going to get a good look at the monkeys, giant lizards, and other animal and insect life. I'm really excited. Believe it or not, it's an island located right in the middle of the canal, in Lake Gatún (the man made lake that's the middle route of the canal). It's in the "interior" of the country, as the locals call it. That makes it only about 30 miles away, though. It's a national preserve called Isla Barro Colorado. You have to have special permission to even step foot on the island. It's run by the Smithsonian Institute (Yes, that Smithsonian.). I'll let you know how it goes. I'm sure I'll have some fun pictures...as I have to wear long socks and pants and tape my pant legs so nothing creepy crawly gets in! I have to wear long sleeves too. Don't worry, Mom, I'll coat myself in repellent too.

And this post has grown way too long... AGAIN. I'm not sure anybody is still reading any of these because they're so long. Sorry guys.

Just for hanging in there with me, I leave you with these closing thoughts: Kittens Inspired By Kittens



Peace out!

---

A Tear for a Container Full of Crap

Sometimes you have weeks where so many things happen at once that you just can't keep up. The kind of week that flies by so fast you don't even know what day it is. That's the kind of week I've had. It whizzed by like an F-16 flying at mach 3. I wouldn't go straight to saying that I had fun. I did, however, have a very tearful moment. A happy tearful moment.

I started this week with great hopes; very high hopes that my small twenty foot container would clear customs and that I could move into my apartment. Praise to the Lord, that's exactly what happened. I got an email from Abdel at Canal Movers, the company in charge of the second leg of the move. He said my things would be out of customs by Tuesday evening and that they would bring the container to my apartment on Wednesday.

Sure enough, I was sitting at my desk on Wednesday morning and I got a call that the container was on a truck and headed my way. I packed up my stuff and headed across the street, which I successfully crossed without being hit (For information about the crossing of the street, please see previous blog post "Crossing the Amazon in Flip Flops".)

I arrived at the apartment before the movers. I hadn't been in the apartment since I rented it at the end of May and still didn't have the key as the building administrator, Oscar, still had the keys. He still had the keys because he said he was going to get the air conditioners "tested" and also get the place cleaned up of all the "new construction dirt" and filthy bathrooms that the construction workers had left. So, of course, I was assuming that the apartment would be ready to move into. Boy was I wrong.

Oh, and I did forget to mention that Oscar had told me that he would meet me at 7:30 AM at the building so I could drop off all of my luggage that I had before I went to work, since I wouldn't have time to go back to the temporary apartment to get the stuff later. So, I arranged for a cab at 7:15 and headed over. Nobody. Only the security guard was there. And, they're really tight with the security in the building. That's a good thing. But, it's not a good thing when I need to get into the building! Thankfully the guy was very nice and he let me leave my stuff in the lobby while I went to work. He kept an eye on it for me. It was still there safely when I returned. Needless to say, I made very good friends with that particular security guard. Every time he sees me now he yells, "Hi Kristine!" (That's how you say my name in Spanish). It's good to be friends with the security guard.

Well, back to the uncleanliness of the apartment. So, Oscar opens the door and the place is horrible. On top of that, there was a guy waiting for Oscar like me. He comes in with a door. Like, a bedroom door. They hadn't put the spare bedroom door on. So, he's there making an even bigger mess. He had to shave a bunch off the door, so there are wood shavings and drywall dust and busted tile (he had to remove some of the tile molding to put the door on.) EVERYWHERE. Then, as I go to turn on the lights in the bedroom, they don't work. So, then I try to wash my hands with hot water. There isn't any. I'm just thinking to myself, "You have got to be kidding me." But, here's the best news of all: the air conditioning isn't fixed yet. There was no air. I was to do all the moving in the sweltering humidity.

Just then, the intercom rings. Guess who's container has arrived?

Yes, in the middle of the heinous mess, my container arrives with all one million boxes to be carried in by movers tromping through all the dust and wood shavings. I was pretty mad. But, then again, what was I gonna do about it? I was actually just happy my things had arrived, which brings me to the tearful moment.

I head downstairs and as I exit the elevator and start to the front doors, I see it. The big, ugly, maroon colored container. The last time I saw that container, box after box of my few, beloved things was being loaded onto it and then boarded in by a sheet of plywood and a few 2x4s in Tulsa, OK. And now, here it sat, right in front of me thousands of miles away in Panama City, Panama.

As they opened the doors and they began pulling the nails out of the 2x4s, I have to say, I teared up a little bit. Very rarely do I like to show much emotion, as those of you who know me know very well. But, there it was. I had never been so happy in all my life to see an ugly 'ol maroon twenty foot container.

As the boys (There were about eight of them and then the foreman from Canal Movers) removed the boards and I saw the precious boxes in there...barely smashed... I have to admit, a small tear fell. I had no idea how happy I would be to see the stuff and to see that it was barely damaged at all. I figured with all the banging around from the truck, train, and boat, things would be completely smashed. Not even the empty boxes that were "filler" were smashed. What joy to have my own stuff to make me feel at home!

Pedro, the foreman, then made all his boys introduce themselves to me and shake my hand. It was very nice and professional. In fact, they were much nicer than the two guys who packed up my stuff in Tulsa. And, there were so many of them, they worked so fast I could hardly keep up! I had to mark each box off my inventory list that the guys in Tulsa had created for me. They were running in with box after box after box as I would find the box on the list and what it was and direct them to the correct room. I really felt like a big 'ol bossy jerk. But hey, that's their job, right? They even had it down to a science. I'm not even sure how they got some of that stuff in the elevator. But it all fit...even the desk that wouldn't fit into any of the doors in my house! In fact, the desk fit just right through the door. I was kind of chuckling when I saw them bring in it in (Please reference blog "Ziva's a Traitor" for explanation about the desk.). Pam (My Mexican co-worker and good friend. She says she's my Mexican twin, actually. We decided that was truly the case after the farting contest we had the other night at the temporary apartment. It's been a long time since I met anybody who could keep up with me. But, man alive...she even BEAT me! She's going down next time, though.) called me in the middle of it all and I was yelling take this here and take that there. She just starting hysterically laughing at me and said I sounded like a bossy 'ol hag!

The movers also unwrapped and unpacked stuff at a rapid pace. Everything was covered in bubble wrap, plastic backed brown paper, tape, and a million other packing type materials. It was a pain to get all that stuff out. But, with eight people doing it, it goes really fast. They got all their part done by about 2:30 or 3:00, and that includes taking a lunch at noon. I was impressed.

That left me with about 25 boxes to unpack myself...things like clothes, shoes, bedding, and small trinkets that they don't have any idea where it all should go. I've been working on that for the last three days. I'm making progress. But, man alive, moving from a house to an apartment isn't so easy. There was a lot more storage space in the house. I'm having a hard time finding places for all my stuff! Who knew. Thank goodness I threw away so much when I was packing up in Tulsa. If not, I wouldn't have space for anything at all!

So, the movers all left after Pedro and I verified that nothing was missing or damaged (Can you believe it, in ALL of that, the only thing that was damaged was my desk chair and they did that when they were opening it with the box cutter. It's just cut a little bit on the top. Nothing too serious.), and there I was in a filthy apartment with tons of boxes, no lights anywhere but in the living room, no hot water, and absolutely no air conditioning. (Please remember, this is the tropics.)

I called the building administrator, Oscar, again. He said they'd come fix it. I wasn't so sure, so I packed up my stuff while it was still light outside and I could see, so that I could go back to the temporary apartment and sleep if I needed to.

About the time I was getting ready to leave, there was a knock at the door. It was the air conditioner guys. They put some fuses in the air conditioners and then they worked. I'm pretty sure I head the halleluia chorus play. But, that was the only thing that got taken care of. So, I had to spend another night on the couch at the temp apartments. I had been sleeping on the couch almost since the day I got there because my Mexican Twin snores all the time. I'm such a light sleeper, there was NO sleeping with that. I was quite disappointed that I couldn't sleep in my new apartment. But, I was happy that everything had arrived...even if it was carried in by a bunch of guys traipsing through wood shavings and plaster dust.

The following day, I headed to the apartment early. After grabbing breakfast from the breakfast sandwich lady on the corner by the office, I headed up to the mess that was my apartment. I tried Oscar again. No answer.

The cable/internet guys were slated to come at 10:30. I have to say that I had lost any hope whatsoever and I figured they wouldn't show. But, believe it or not, they showed up a half hour early. They got everything set up for me after quite a lot of furniture moving. They had the jacks messed up in the wall. The cable jack was actually the phone jack and vice versa. So, I had to move the couch and chairs and desk to the other side. It was awesome.

After about 2 hours, they had everything installed. I wasn't so happy to have internet that I teared up, but I was really happy! It's amazing how disconnected you feel without internet. Interesting how times have changed so much.

I even have a DVR. It looks just like the one I had in Tulsa. I even get a CBS and an ABC station out of Atlanta (Who knows why it's Atlanta...but I don't care. I get the channels!) so I can watch Lost and How I Met Your Mother...and okay, I'll admit to watching it, even though it pains me because it takes away from my cool points. I can also watch Big Brother. I'm so happy!

I spent the rest of the day trying to get a few more boxes hooked up and get everything hooked up to the internet (the wireless router and the Vonage phone). I also spent the whole day hoping that somebody would eventually come to help me fix the gas and the lights in the bedrooms. I had just about resigned to the fact that I was going to have to stay at the temp apartments again when there was a knock at the door.

I open the door and it's the air conditioning guys from yesterday. They tell me they are there to fix the gas and the lights. I just about cried of sheer happiness. They fixed the gas really quickly. It was just a main switch somewhere. Then the guys tell me they can't fix the lights because security wouldn't let them come up with their tools...it was after five and after five there can't be any construction work going on. So, they headed for the door. It wasn't their fault security wouldn't let them come upstairs with their tools.

So, as they caught the elevator, I frantically called Oscar. There was NO way I was letting those guys leave. They didn't even show up until almost 7:00. Thank goodness he answered his phone. I explained really quickly what had happened and he hung up and called security really fast. We caught them downstairs. They were able to come back up.

The lights weren't quite as easy to fix as the gas had been. They spent about two hours trying to figure out what the problem was. The important thing is that they did figure it out. I didn't have to go back and spend the night at the temp apartments after all. I was so happy!

That night I made a run, well, actually I made a "walk" to the grocery store for cleaning supplies and some quick food items. Boy was that a mess! I have GOT to get a car. I'll explain that situation a little later. Thankfully the carry out boy helped me get a cab and get the cab all loaded up with all my stuff. So, now I even had some stuff. I gotta go again. But, it's just such a mess trying to do that with a taxi.

Anyway, I've made some good progress. As I mentioned earlier, I only have six boxes left. Yay! Pam and I decided that I needed to get out of the house tonight, so we went to a movie. And, let me tell you, that was awesome. For only nine bucks (usually it's only 4 bucks to go to the movie), you can see the movie in the VIP room. What is that, you ask? Well, it's awesomeness! You have your own leather recliner. Yes, that's right, a recliner. Then, there are waiters. You order what you want and they bring it to you to your recliner, which has a little table that folds out over your lap. I'll try to get a picture of it to post. It's the best thing that EVER happened to a movie theater!

As I've already written a novel here above, I'll just leave a list here of some other funny, interesting, or just plain stupid happenings from this last week.

• I've been wondering what exactly is wrong with me since I got here to Panama. Sometimes I am having serious trouble understanding the Panamanians. I mean, my Spanish is pretty good, or at least that's what people tell me. I understand everybody else. Why I can't understand the Panamanians? I was beginning to think I was stupid...that is, until Anita (from Peru) and Pamela (from Mexico) and I sat down for dinner the other day. Anita started talking about how she can't understand the Panamanians for the life of her! I yelled, "THAN YOU!!!!11!!!11!" I started asking around even. Most of the native speakers from other countries than Panama do have a hard time understanding. So, now I don't feel so bad! It makes me laugh.


• I need a car, okay, since there's no public transportation here and catching a cab isn't always very easy. Well, I have about half of the money to put down for the type of car I want. But, I need financed for the rest. I called the bank the other day. Get this: banks don't make car loans in Panama. What the heck? Seriously? Wow... So, I went over to the Kia dealership today because the Sportage is one of the cars that I was interested in. I thought for sure they finance. Very few do financing, actually, for foreigners here in Panama. But, this dealership sure does. They'll finance me at 21% interest. TWENTY ONE PER CENT. Are you kidding me? I just kind sat there and looked at the lady. So, anyway, I'm looking into other options. They are few and far between. I've got to talk to my bank there in the US...because paying the fifty dollar fee for international transfers of money will still be cheaper than paying 21% interest. Jiminey Christmas... I'll keep you posted.


• We're making progress at the office with the furniture situation. All the furniture looks to be almost put together. The bad news is, it's pretty much the same as the communal office I have mentioned before, only with three times the people. It's basically just a table with six spots...only there are four of those tables. There are only two spots at each of the tables where your computer is not visible to every single person in the office when they walk by. So, after a good fight with the boys (I'm the only girl on my team.), I've been allowed to sit at one of those spots at our table. Sometimes, the machismo down here is okay. It can work to my advantage if I put on the "charm". Latin guys sometimes can be manipulated much easier than American guys. He he he he he (That's my evil laugh.). Either way, it's still a communal office. We're all in the same boat. There's no privacy for picking your nose or scratching (wherever you like). It's not the best, but it'll have to do.


• Laying in your bed at night staring at the Panama City skyline is not the same as the view from 76th E. Place in Tulsa, OK. I have to say, I could just stand, sit, or lie there staring out the window for hours at a time. The view is sweet.


• Vonage is the most awesome invention on the face of the planet. Being able to call anybody I want in the US and have them be able to call me just like I was living in the states is unbelievable. Just seven years ago when I was in Spain, I couldn't afford to call mom and dad or Kara, let alone any friends. And, they were paying 300 bucks or more a month to talk to me. Now, with my high speed internet and only 24.95 a month, I can call anybody I want in the states and they can call me. You gotta love technology. It's like I'm just three hours away again like I was. (PS: If you want the number, just let me know. I can email it to you.)


• They have pancakes here! Nobody ever has pancakes. They always think a pancake is a crepe. But, they have honest to goodness real, American pancakes here...and the stuff to make them at the store!


• They also sell Kraft macaroni and cheese. Woohoooo!


• Groceries are not cheaper here. I was so hoping they would be. But, when a box of dryer sheets costs you 6.95, you know it's gonna be an expensive trip to the store.


• No matter how many times you see the canal, it's still amazing. I'll be back a million times I'm sure.


• When you put three Panamanians, a Mexican, Peruvian, and an American together for dinner, you never know what might happen. And, I have the pictures to prove it.


• I never knew I could love the secondary audio function on my TV so much. But, seriously, Chuck Norris' dubbed over voice is just NOT the same. He loses some of his intimidation!


• Adjusting to a new culture is a million times easier when you have your own furniture, your beloved Superman pillow, vonage, the internet, and cable TV. I lived the hard way once (in Spain). Sure, you're completely immersed, but it's also rough. I like this way better. I can still be immersed, I just have my own stuff to fall back on!


• And let me say again: leather recliners at the movies? AWESOMENESS in physical form!


• Breakfast sandwich lady caddy corner from the office every morning. For a 1.25 I can have one of the best breakfasts ever. Sweet!


• Taxi to the office: 3.00 dollars (Yes, it's that cheap here...but it's not easy to get a taxi.) Breakfast sandwich: 1.25. Coffee at the office: free. Busting out the "I'm just a little girl and I really want to sit at that desk" card to get the desk you want at work: priceless


• Having people from the other tall buildings be able to see straight in the window into your shower... not so great. Showering in the dark is a little harder than it looks. You'd think after this many years of shaving my legs, I'd have the tough spots memorized. Not so. Good thing I packed some band-aids.


• When one whole wall of your bedroom is windows, it would be great if you would hurry up and buy curtains so the whole of Panama City can't watch you sleep. Not to mention the fact that the sun rises so early at absolute full power. I wake up and think it must be 11:00 AM and it's 6:00.


• And, finally, I had forgotten to post this picture. My best buddy Gennifer saved the best gift for last. On my last night in the states, we're standing there in my room in Kansas packing and all of the sudden Gennifer says, "Oh, wait here. I have to give you your final gift. I'm thinking, "Okay, cool. I just hope it's not big. I don't have much room left." I'm standing there rolling up a t-shirt and see these doll hands come around the corner. She got me doll hands on sticks! Waahaahaa... If you don't know why that's so funny, please reference the Lawrence Welk SNL skit in my blog post "This Little Piggy Went to Market. In the photo, I'm reenacting one of the funnier moments in the skit.

Peace out dudes.

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Independence Earthquakes

Earthquakes are scary. It's not like I've never thought about that before. I have. I really have. I've seen the pictures of the damage. I remember what San Francisco looked like after the earthquake during the World Series.

But, I don't think you're understanding exactly what I'm saying. Earthquakes are poop in your pants, visions of dying, running away screaming, crying for your mama scary. This girl from Kansas isn't used the earth moving beneath her feet. She's used to the sky opening up and swirling and destroying everything in its path like a bull dozer the size of the Statue of Liberty (Who's crown, by they way, has opened to the public for the first time since the attacks. Yay!). But the Earth beneath her feet was always firm.

But, that is what I awoke to at 1:49 AM on July 4th, 2009. I just happened to be sleeping on the couch in the living room of the temporary apartment in which I'm staying. All four of us in one small, two room apartment became too much when my roomy began snoring louder than a jet taking off...three feet from me, so I had moved out there. All of the sudden I jolted awake from this harsh and loud shaking. I just couldn't figure out why I was shaking.

I wasn't cold. I was sick, so I thought it was possibly a dream since I had really been out of it the last couple of days. But, then I kind of sat up on the couch and braced myself. I looked at everything else and it was shaking too. The pictures on the wall, the candles on the table. The windows were making a lot of noise. And, did I mention that I am on the 21st floor of a high-rise apartment? So, honestly, I just laid there trying to figure out what was going on.

In all the research that I did on Panama, all I ever found were good things. It's beautiful. The people are nice. There are lots of beaches. It's cheap. It's safe. Never did I read anything about it being in a seismic area. Ever. So I honestly was having a hard time putting together in my head that it was an earthquake I had just felt. Of course, being the American I am, I honestly just assumed it was a bomb and that some terrorist cell in Panama had figured out there was and American in the building and decided to just go ahead and take it out in its entirety. My mind would just not register that it was an earthquake.

After about two minutes or so my other two roommates (one roommate had stayed at another co-workers house that night) emerged from their rooms. I was still perched on the couch waiting for the building to collapse. Pam came out first. I just sat there and looked at her. Finally I choked out, "What was that??" She didn't answer. Then Silvia showed up. She was yelling something about an earthquake and how she was gonna die and was kind of walking around in circles like she was crazy.

That kind of brought us out of our trance and we were all laughing and coming to the consensus that it had been, indeed, an earthquake. I went and changed my underpants and came back and we all talked a little more. Silvia turned on her computer and immediately found a site that registered seismic activity all over the world and it had already been documented as a magnitude 6.0 on the Moment Magnitude Scale. And, let me tell you, that's a large sucker. It was centered some 40 km from Panama city (See the USGS page about the quake.

Needless to say, my Independence Day began with a big 'ol shake and a bang. Thankfully there were no casualties anywhere. There was very little damage. Pam and I walked over toward the office yesterday and we saw a collapsed building in the street. We're not sure if it was from the earthquake or if they were doing construction and that knocked it down. Either way, it was a pretty crappy, uninhabited building, so nobody was hurt.

Now that I've told the exciting earthquake tale, the other findings of the week are not so exciting. In fact, I barely remember what all I was going to write. Actually, I don't remember at all. (I think that has more to do with the screaming Mexican next to me than my brain. Mexico's playing in the CONCACAF Gold Cup and she's going crazy. She hasn't stopped yelling since the game started actually. I love having roommates.)

I'm still waiting on my things to clear customs. Hopefully everything will be cleared sometime this week. I'm hoping by Wednesday, in which case I would hope that the moving company would bring my things to the apartment on Thursday. But, you never know. This is Panama. And, as nice as the people are, everything moves at its own pace, and it's not a fast pace. As we've found out, if it's Monday and they tell you it'll be done by Wednesday, you better ask which Wednesday.

So the adventure continues with my roomies. I'll just be glad to be able to move into a place of my own. The next obstacle, besides my things clearing customs, will be finding a car. Financing may be an adventure. It may be harder than first thought for me to get financing as a foreigner. We'll see.

Until next time. Peace out dudes.

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Crossing the Amazon in Flip Flops

I've never been anywhere where a street existed that was impossible to cross. I've seen a lot too. But, literally, the street was impossible to cross. There was not a single break in the traffic. Not for one second. I guess that's what happens when there are only 5 stop lights in a city with 2.2 million people. Little did I know that crossing the street from my apartment to the office was going to be like trying to wade across the Amazon, piranhas and all. I did have that experience for the first time today, however.


All I wanted to do was meet the building administrator guy so I could get the keys to my apartment. Of course, it doesn't help that I have to go two blocks too far, either way, to find a cross walk. I'm not sure why I bothered, though. Nobody stops for people in the crosswalks. You're just as safe making a run for it without one than with one. I did finally make it across to meet Oscar, the building administrator, however. I saw my life flash before my eyes, though.

Today was my first day in the office here in Panama and, as always, that comes with several realizations. Some, of course are very good. Some are bad. But, that's life, right?

I really enjoyed arriving to the office this morning and seeing that there STILL is no furniture. I mean, they've known that the office was going to be in Panama for, like, a year and a half yet amazingly there's no furniture! Remember when you were reading the previous blog where I commented on the "communal" office and its inconveniences? Well, take those, multiply them by two million and that's what it's like right now. There are 30 of us crammed around three tables with cables and phones and computers and bags and feet and legs all strung everywhere. It's very enjoyable.

I did really like the temperature of the office when I arrived. They've got the air cranked. I love it. And, frankly, it's necessary. After the five minute walk to my apartment this afternoon, I was drenched from head to foot...and that was only five minutes! I'm so happy the Panamanians believe in air conditioning, unlike many of their South American counterparts.

There's really good, free coffee too. That's very inviting. Whatever they didn't spend on furniture, they must have spent on the coffee maker because it's pretty swanky!

There are several fast food restaurants close for lunch. The mall is also close and it has some great stuff to eat. Don't laugh at me now, either, while you're thinking about the "great stuff to eat" at the malls in the US. You can actually get a good meal that they fix fresh (ie: grilled chicken breast). That'll work. It's not within walking distance, but it's a very short drive.

I think the best feature of all is the ice cream stand that's on the corner. It has great ice cream! It's perfect for an afternoon break. So, maybe I'll gain 700 lbs., but who cares? I'll be happy!

And thus went my first day at the office. All in all, it wasn't a whole lot different than I expected, which is a good thing. Now begins the adventure of turning on the electricity, getting my furniture out of customs (It has arrived. It just has to clear customs.), and getting the cable/internet turned on.

Peace out.

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Houston, We Don't Have a Problem

I don't know who said, "What goes around comes around." But, it makes sense. And, on the flight to Panama City yesterday, I got my dues. Nevertheless, other than that little incident, which I will describe later, arriving in Panama was very uneventful. I am very thankful that all went as planned.

Of course, saying good bye to your dear friend and family is always very difficult, but that's always how your day is going to begin when you're moving away for an extended period of time. Once I got those tears out of the way, there weren't any hiccups on the trip. I'm not even sore today from carrying my very heavy bags. I was two pounds over with one bag and six pounds under on the other. Delta didn't give me any trouble about it, though. I was thankful.

At the gate in Atlanta, waiting for the plane to Panama City, I met a nice fellow who was very chatty. He was Panamanian, from the Chiriquí region in Northern Panama but was living in Louisiana at the moment. He was asking me all about what I was doing. I let him know I was moving to Panama. He laughed. Then he told me not to do it! That's always comforting.

After talking to him for awhile, though, I began to realize that the reason he had said not to live there was because he had had a very difficult time finding a job. He later acknowledged that if you had a good job that you could live very well in Panama.

Once we finally got on the plane and got under way, I was ready. I was sitting by a very quiet Panamanian couple. I was glad for that since the other fellow had tired me out with his many questions. I did notice when I sat down, however, that there was a very active young boy sitting in the seat in front of me. He was probably 8 or 9, judging by his size. But, he acted a bit younger...in my opinion. Anyway...

As we were underway, I was engrossed in my book, "Sundays at Tiffany's" (a fantastic read, by the way, for you girls. It's not a guy book.) when all of the sudden I smell this rather rank odor. Well, I knew it wasn't me...for once. Although, I did actually have to think about it for a minute to make sure that it wasn't (sorry mom).

So, there I am squirming around in my seat like you do when you're in a very confined space and there's a bad odor. It's like you think that by moving a quarter of an inch you're going to be able to move away from the smell. Because, yeah, that'll help.

Needless to say, it didn't. And, this young gentleman continuously farted through the entire trip. Besides having to pay eight dollars for a sandwich on the plane, that was definitely the worst part of the entire trip. But, as I said earlier, I'm sure I had it coming. So, I've been paid back.

There really hasn't been anything else eventful since I got here. Today (Sunday) I went over to Bennigan's to hang out with some friends from work and also catch the US vs. Brazil soccer match. It ended up being a very good game. I figured the US would get shellacked just like they did last week. But, there for awhile, it even looked like we might win! It was a good time.

So, that's what my weekend has consisted of. The plans for this week are to get the electricity turned on in my actual apartment and start car shopping. I gotta hurry up and get a car. You need it if you want to go anywhere.

The moving company comes to take my passport tomorrow and they head over to customs to start trying to clear all my furniture etc. They tell me it usually takes about a week to do that. Here's hoping...because right now I am sharing a two bedroom apartment with three other ladies. As nice as they are and as much as I like them, I believe that if we have to spend more than a week together, we may no longer be friends, acquaintances, or co-workers. We will only be enemies.

I'll follow up here in awhile. I'm sure I'll have plenty of interesting tales to tell once I start trying to get electricity etc. turned on. There may be a lull in the updates after this week as I don't know how long it will take me to get the internet hooked up at the apartment.

Peace out.

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