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.
Just for hanging in there with me, I leave you with these closing thoughts: Kittens Inspired By Kittens
Peace out!
LOVE the car!!! It's so cute! Now I want to see a picture of your hair! haha
ReplyDeleteI'm her mom!
ReplyDeleteNoooo, she isn't!