“Life seems but a quick succession of busy nothings.”

This oft misattributed to Jane Austen quote from the movie adaptation of her book “Mansfield Park” seems to describe the last year of my life more than anything that I could write. All of the sudden I blinked and 2010 was over and I had been in Panama for almost two years! Even so, I’ve been chided several times by my dear friends Amy and Gennifer for not updating my blog more often. So now, more than a year after my last update, I am going to update.

As is not a secret, I’m pretty long winded. I’m sure anybody who has ever read my blog is now thinking, “Sweet mother! She’s going to write about an entire year. I’ll never be able to finish reading this boring blog.” Not to worry my friendly readers, I’ve decided to sum up what happened in each of the twelve months of 2010 in two sentences or less per month. That’s a mere 24 sentences. And before you go thinking I can’t do it, just watch me.

January 2010
I spent all of January working from home in Kansas and recovering from the meniscus repair surgery that was supposed to have a three day recovery period and turned out to be an eight week recovery. It was nice to spend some more time with my family.

February 2010
I was released to walk without using crutches February 2nd, returned to Panama from the US on February 4th, and got on a plane and headed to Schaan (Lichtenstein – Corporate HQ) on February 6th for a week of training. It may have hurt to walk, but I got to go to Carnival in Austria.

March 2010
I had a dear friend from Schaan and a dear friend from Argentina in Panama to help me do testing for the launch of the website in Argentina. We all traveled together some and definitely enjoyed our time.

April 2010
Just a normal month of working in Panama and preparing for the launch of the Argentine website. I also stared the process to get my visa to be able to travel to Brazil…a venture I hope to never have to grapple with again.

May 2010
The troll at the Brazilian consulate refused my visa and I had to send the Director of Finance, a Brazilian, to try to sweet talk her into letting me have a visa. I received the visa less than 24 hours before I left for my first trip to the office in Sao Paulo, Brazil (You even have to have purchased a ticket before they will even start the visa process.).

June 2010
Kara arrived in Panama, after many, many problems in the trip exactly a half day after I returned from Brazil. We went to one of the most beautiful places on Earth, San Blas, and had an adventure we’ll never forget with a crazy Argentine/Brazilian boat captain. Kara also had the luxury of helping me clean up my apartment after it flooded with feces (as seems to be my luck every time I live in an apartment.) I also spent a week in Argentina helping them prepare for the launch. (I know. I know. This month had four sentences, but a lot happened!)

I've included three pictures from our adventure:


Kara and I at the Panama Canal restaurant (with a ship passing through the locks)


I took this picture the first day we were in San Blas


Me testing the water proof camera we purchased and generally acting like usual

July 2010
Just a regular month working in the office and preparing to launch the Argentine website.

August 2010
At the end of the month I headed to Argentina for two weeks (I was there the first week of September too.) to launch the site. I had a blast working with my Argentina co-workers and catching up with old friends. I also changed apartments due to the little plumbing issue mentioned in June…because it happened again.

September 2010
The day before I turned 32 years old, I was on a flight to Brazil and it began to plunge out of the sky, even giving me enough time to think as we’re falling, “I just might not survive this one.” Thankfully there were good pilots in charge and we did land safely, with few injuries, a short time later in Sao Paulo.

October 2010
Nothing new this month besides a new head of the company for Latin America. He knows what he’s doing and you better be ready to do your job, but I like that.

November 2010
Kara and I decided way back in July that we would surprise mom and dad by my coming home for Thanksgiving. My dear friend Gennifer picked me up at the airport and took me to Kansas where Kara took me on to Fort Scott. Thankfully we didn’t give mom a heart attack and we had a great Thanksgiving celebration together.

December 2010
Just one week and half after I returned from Thanksgiving break I was headed back to the US for Christmas. We did have our end of the year office party at a beach resort one weekend…that was a new and very lovely event. I arrived home for Christmas safe and sound and nice and tan.

And that, my friends, is the short story of what happened to me in 2010.

Okay, so, those who were thinking there was no way in God’s green Earth that I was going to be able to describe each month in just two sentences were right. But I was so close…but it’s still really long I realize now!

I hereby make a promise to do better this year at updating…but only if you guys read it.

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.

---

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.

---

Panamania

[Let me first apologize for the length of this post. If you do take the time to read it in its entirety, you'll find a few good laughs at my expense and be glad that you aren't living this! I also apologize that it's so late. It was very painful to have to write about everything and relive the adventure! (wink, wink)]

Do you ever have one of those days? Just, one of those days.You know what I'm talking about. One of those kinds of days that starts with you catching your foot in the sheet while you're trying to get out of bed in the morning so that you go flailing into the wall head first and then ends with you knocking your knee, shin, three of your toes, and hip so hard on the bedpost on your way to bed that night that you're just positive you're going to be lying in fetal position crying and rocking for the next three days. The days where, between the black eye from the wall that attacked you that morning and the searing pain that forced you into fetal position that night, you forgot your breakfast and had used all your cash and your checking account is empty, so you sat in your chair all morning with your stomach burning. Where, when you tried to turn on your computer when you got to your desk, it gave you a fatal error message but nobody at the IT Help Desk arrives for another hour. Where, while you were waiting on the Help Desk to get to the office to fix your computer, you were writing yourself notes and dropped your pen on the floor under your desk, bent over to pick it up, and bashed your head on your desk. Where the Help Desk finally arrives at the office, takes a look at your computer and tells you that it's fried and you've lost 10 years worth of presentations, documents, personal information, etc. Where at lunch you drop the whole Rubbermaid container of marinara sauce on your shirt and pants and don't have time to go home and change before the meeting at which you have to present your current projects to the Vice Present of your department, who understands nothing of what you do and will ask you a million painful questions, all while staring at the colossal crimson stain the size of Jupiter on the front of your shirt and pants. Where when you're finally driving home and are driving exactly the speed limit some dude tries to run you off the road while he's merging so you have to speed up so he doesn't plow into you and you get pulled over by the Hi-Po. That's the kind of day I'm talking about.

But, Kristin, why the long and painful description...because it was long and painful to read? You only went on your house hunting trip/visa trip to Panama with your cool dad. That's just like a vacation. You toured the city and went to the beach and went shopping and had a brilliant time. Nothing was nearly as painful as you described above. None of that has actually ever happened to you...well, except for the falling into the wall thing and the giant marinara stain.

Well, My Friends, you are wrong. Very wrong. Honestly, though, I should preface this re-telling of the house hunting trip by saying that it all could have been way, way worse. Way, way, way, way, way, much, much, much, much worse. The Lord really had my back, even if nothing went smoothly at all, it still went and it still was taken care of...well, all except for the bank account. But, we'll talk about that later.

I'm going to structure the rest of the story in a time-line format. The time line starts several days before I actually left, believe it or not. I'll then post some pictures of dad's and my adventure. (Dad came with me for moral support...and also to stand behind me and look mean while I negotiated with taxi drivers, the realtor, the building administrator, the manager at the bank, the guy at the restaurant, the other building administrator, the dead cat on the side of the road...well, basically everybody)

Panama House Hunting and Visa Trip: May 17-23

Thursday, May 14, 2009
- I go to collect all my visa papers from the administrative assistant who has been handing the process for everyone and has been communicating with the lawyers in Panama. She discovers that she forgot to send my police report (That only had my one arrest for "solicitation" listed. Just kidding.) to Oklahoma City to have an Apostille from the State (That's basically a governmental verification of the paper.). I have to have this paper for the visa. Panama, of course, wants to make sure I'm not some criminal.

- She calls the Secretary of State for Oklahoma. They do the apostilles in one day and mail it back that same day. The Admin. Asst. says there will be no problem. We'll FedEx overnight it, it'll get there on Friday and Oklahoma will send it back on Friday and the paper will be delivered to my house Saturday morning. No problem.

- I offer to drive to OKC to deliver the paper in person and pick it up in person. She says there's no need. All is well.

Friday, May 15, 2009
- Check on the paper in OKC. The apostille has been done and they're FedExing it back as we speak. I have all the other papers together and assume all is well with the police report and apostille.

Saturday, May 16, 2009
- 1:00 AM: Track FedEx package containing the papers. Package is in MEMPHIS TENNESSEE and scheduled for delivery on Monday, May 18th (our flight is on Sunday)

- Call FedEx at 1:05 AM and they will not put me through to warehouse in Memphis so that I can intercept the package and maybe get it on a flight for Tulsa at some point that night. They put in an incident report and tell me to wait for a call from the local Tulsa FedEx facility. I plead, gravel, and beg. They are of no help.

- 6:16 AM: Receive call from local Tulsa FedEx. They inform me there is no way the package can get here today. No planes coming in. Won't transfer me to the Memphis warehouse and say that if I drive to Memphis, I will not be allowed to collect the package as it's not at its final destination (never mind that it has my name and address on it.)

- Call Maria, the Admin. Asst., and let her know what's going on. She says she'll collect the package Monday at the FedEx location (where the package has a hold on it) and will re-FedEx it to Panama City. The soonest it can arrive is Wednesday. I need it for the appointment with Immigration on Tuesday.

- Stagger around the house, as I've only had about 3 hours of sleep, beginning to do laundry and try to get packed and organize things around the house (as the movers are coming the following week). Have a million things to do and a million errands to run.

- Electricy goes out at the house. It's a nice day outside. No rain. Normal wind. No storm. No nothing. The electricity just "pop" went out.

- Decide I better just run the errands I have and maybe the electricity will be back (I called it in immediately to AEP). Go to unhook the garage door so I can manually open it and whack my head on the metal bar.

- Run the errands. Am gone for 4 hours. Thankfully, I was able to find everything I needed and managed not to yell, kick, scream, bite, punch, put a spell on, grab, or hang any human I came into contact with during the errands. I consider that a very successful trip.

- Arrive home, electricity is back on. Looking forward to having the NCIS marathon on the TV while I'm ironing and doing laundry and cleaning and packing. Cable is out. Cox guy can't fix it over the phone. Need a technician to come to the house. None are available until Monday. I am gone Monday.

- Call and make an appointment for the taxi to pick us up at the house at 4:50 AM as our flight leaves at 6:20. Remember this time. It is important.

- Finally get laundry done and things organized, and am ready to start packing. It's 10:30 PM.

- Dad arrives. It's nice to see a friendly face. I've just started packing. Packing lasts until past midnight.

- Set the alarm clock for 4:10 AM. Check it SIX times to make sure it's set correctly.

Sunday, May 17, 2009
- Dad comes flying into my room frantically. It's 4:51. The phone woke him up. It was the taxi driver asking if we were on our way out.

- I call the dispatcher. He was just rude completely...the three times he called me back (I'm not sure why he kept calling me back.). I run out to talk to the driver in my pajamas. He's very kind. I ask him to wait 15 min for us and to just let the meter run. He told me I was nice, so he would wait (with the meter running of course).

- With the fear that we're going to miss the flight completely (the only flight to PTY for the day) fueling me, I dress, pack my carry on, pack all my medicine, and pack my toiletries in 15 minutes. Dad did well. He even got shaved without cutting himself. He looked better than me. I didn't have any make-up on. It was scary.

- After a very, very expensive cab ride to the airport, we pull up and see a huge line at the ticket counter. At this point I almost have a stroke. Thankfully, in the huge rush to pack everything, I did remember to take my blood pressure pills!

- The little guy at the self service machine was kind and helped us hurry through the check in. We run to security. Thankfully that line is short. Get to the gate where they are already boarding the plane. Whew, we made it.

- Arrive in Houston. Go grab a quick breakfast pastry, run to the gate...they're already boarding, we make the flight to PTY (Panama City)

- Finally breathing a little easier, but wondering what else could possibly happen (Boy did I not have any idea.), we arrive in Panama and collect our luggage. The luggage was there and in one piece. Sigh of relief.

- Had made arrangements to meet the realtor at the airport who was going to take us to our temporary apartment (arranged by my company) and then take us to look at some apartments. No need to waste any time as our time there was short.

- Come out of customs to see Roberto, the realtor, happily greet us. Whew. We have a ride. A representative from the company who owned the temporary apartments was supposed to be there with keys and an address. Nobody was there. We looked for them for half an hour. I didn't even know the name of the building where the apartment was located because the temp apartment people were taking care of all of that.

- Thankfully, Roberto called incessantly to the number I had for the company and, rather firmly, told the fellow he'd take us to the apartment but that he better be there with the keys. I was very thankful for Roberto. After an hour of trying to locate the guy, we finally got the keys and dropped off the luggage. (My fellow co-workers who were there did not even have as much luck and me with the apartment dude. One had to stay at another co-workers house and one had to stay at a hotel until they could finally find the temp apartment guy. It's a great company that temp apartment company.)

- We take a look at 5 apartments that day. All were nice. One was even a penthouse and had an upstairs! I just didn't see anything I really, really liked. Plus, they were all far from Hilti. (And traffic in Panama is insane. That's for another blog. I'll save that one for when I start driving.).

- After looking at the apartments, Roberto drops us off at the mall so I can get a cell phone and dad and I can eat. We have only eaten breakfast the whole day.

-Buy 60 bucks worth of groceries at the grocery store because the apartment is far from everything and we have no car.

- We take a taxi back to the apartment and crash. Day 1 is over.

Monday, May 18, 2009
- Have meeting with Citibank at 10:00 AM. Go to Citibank in taxi. Arrive 9:30. Ask for the guy, Eric, with whom I am to have the meeting.

- Wait

- Wait

- Wait some more

- Wait

- 2 hours later, this Eric finally shows up. He had left the office. I had confirmed the appointment with him only the day before. Awesome.

- Sign a million papers for my bank account. They tell me it takes a couple of days to open an account (How is that possible? I mean, really.). Sign some more papers. I ask specifically if I need to give them the money to deposit in the account. They tell me, "No, no. Not at all. You've done all you need to do."

- Go across the street to the mall to eat lunch. Have an appointment at the lawyers office in the afternoon to fill out all the necessary papers for the visa.

- Get a taxi to go to the lawyers office. The guy has no idea where it is. He keeps asking me. I keep telling him I have no idea. I've not been there before. Dad's face was white he was so scared! I mean, the dude was nuts. Finally, after we had driven around in circles, he stopped and asked somebody. We eventually made it to the lawyers office. I wasn't scared, just in shock of the crazy cabbie and his toothless grin.

- Lawyer was really nice. We joked about my not having the papers. He said he'd do his best to still get me the visa. He looked like he knew what he was doing.

- Finally got home. Wanted to make a frozen pizza that we had purchased at the grocery store. It's 6:30. Oven in apartment won't work. Call the temp apartment guy. Says he'll come fix it, but not until 9:30.

- The guy never shows. I go to bed hungry.

Tuesday, May 19, 2009
- Meeting with immigration in the morning. Two co-workers and I go to try to find a cab in the morning rush hour. Nobody wants to take us to where the immigration building is. Four or five cabs pass before we find one, which already has one passenger, who says he'll take us.

- It's 800 degrees, and the guy doesn't have the air conditioning on. It was a long ride.

- Finally made it to immigration, about 20 min late (traffic)

- The lawyers assistant is there with us, has our papers ready, we register with the country of Panama to let them know we are starting the visa process. We're only there for a couple of hours. All went smoothly.

- Try for another thirty min to hail a cab outside the immigration office to go back by the apartments, get dad, and then all of us go to lunch. My co-workers wanted to eat at Tony Roma's. Ha ha ha ha. I can't get away from the US!

- Roberto is supposed to come get us and take us to look at apartments at 1:30, after we eat. He comes at 3:30. Thankfully we were at the mall and had time to look around and a place to sit. We even had DQ (yes, there' s DQ in Panama, Kara. Now you can come visit me.)

- Roberto takes me to another apartment. It's closer to Hilti. It a nice older apartment. It had nice moldings and a nice little office area. But, it still just didn't feel like home.

- One building I had seen on the internet and asked about was very close to office. I had asked Roberto to try to get an appointment for us to see an apartment there. At the last minute he was able to get the appointment (they weren't even giving out the keys yet it was so new). Things were looking bleak as we only had one other apartment to see. I was pretty sure I was just going to have to chose one of the other ones, which were good apartments, they just weren't quite as convenient as I had hoped.

- San Francisco 67. We go into the social area (pool, sauna, gym, grilling area) to meet the building administrator, and it's really awesome. Has a great view (you can see Hilti, actually.). He takes us upstairs, opens the door, and I see this beautiful, brand new apartment with a balcony with a great view, two bedrooms, three bathrooms, full size washer and dryer. This was it.

- He had another one on a higher floor. It was awesome too. The only difference was that it was a tiny bit smaller and the kitchen was open. The view wasn't quite as good, but it was good. It took me about 15 minutes to decide that I wanted the one with the open kitchen...but in that time somebody had already rented it. So, I yelled, "This one! I want this one (we were standing in the other apartment at the time.)!" I love the place.

- Roberto dropped us off and went to work on the contract so I could sign the papers for the apartment on Wed.

- Called the bank to check on my account. Still not open.

- Had dinner with co-workers at their temp apartment eating the frozen pizzas we had purchased earlier when we went grocery shopping. Had a good time.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009
- Went to the other mall in Panama City to check it out. They had cool stuff. Dad bought a Panamanian baseball jersey (that's what they love, baseball. We looked EVERYWHERE for a soccer jersey and there wasn't one) and also some shoes that he had been needing. The security guy in the sports store was funny. He insisted on speaking English to me so he could practice. He helped dad pick out the shoes and took good care of us. He was funny.

- Roberto still hadn't finished the contract. Let me know we'd meet up tomorrow.

- I call the lawyers to check and see if the famous papers have made it to them (stupid FedEx). Thank the Lord they had JUST gotten there a few minutes before the lawyer had to take all my documents to immigration to begin the visa process. Bullet dodged.

- Headed to meet co-workers who had made a reservation for us at the restaurant on one set of locks at the canal. Edwin, a taxi driver Pamela had met earlier in the week, took us on a mini-tour of Panama City on the way out to the restaurant. We pay him a flat rate, he gives us a tour and waits for us while we eat dinner (as there are no taxis out there. It's a ways out of the city). We also stopped at the bank...again...because my co-workers didn't have their accounts open yet either. They too were waiting on the bank. No luck, and no answers.

- The canal was fantastic. We had a ton of fun watching the boats pass through the locks. We saw 5 or 6. I also ate my weight in Panamaian food, which is a lot of food.

- Edwin takes us on a brief night tour of PTY. It was nice.

Thursday, May 21, 2009
- Meeting with Roberto at 10:00 to sign contract with Oscar, the building administrator, at my new building.

- We arrive, Roberto shows the contract...and then the fun starts. Roberto explains to Oscar that to get his money, he has to wait about a week so my firm can give me their part of my rent and then I'll give the rest.

- Oscar freaks and says he can't do it, that he needs the money immediately. He and Roberto fight for awhile. I explain that the my company is a good company. He knows my company. He's still fighting.

- Finally Roberto and Oscar come to an agreement that if I paid the deposit by monday (two days away and also Memorial Day here in the US), that it would be okay to wait for the other part.

- Easier said than done. My company had misinformed me about the moving deposit. They said they'd pay it now, when my account is open. Then, they changed their minds and I don't get the money until I step into Panama permanently. However, they didn't tell me this until I was already in Panama. So, I had NO money with me for the deposit...and it's a lot. I had my checkbook, but Oscar wouldn't accept a check from me because it would take 5 days to clear it since it was a US check.

- Finally Roberto and I come to the conclusion that I'll transfer the money to his company's account from my account in the US and then he'll write Oscar the check. Okay, fine. I have the money. It will be a $50 fee. Whew. I honestly did think there for awhile that I was gonna lose that apartment. I was sweating.

- Dad and I ate at the McDonald's that is 1/2 block from my house because we were in a hurry as we had an appointment at the lawyers office and then we had to go to immigration to have our "carnet" (ID cards/Visa identification) made.

- My name was spelled wrong on my registration papers, but that was the ONLY problem with that process and it was correctly updated and we all got our Panamanian visas! Yay!

- Go by the bank. Account still isn't set up. They don't know when it will be set up. Without that account, I don't receive my rent help from the company.

- Special celebration dinner at Bennigan's (everybody had gotten an apartment and also their visa!). That was not my idea. All the Panamanians said that Bennigan's was really good. Seriously people. Can we please stop eating at American restaurant chains?

Friday, May 22, 2009
- Finally, FINALLY, dad and I think we'll have a minute in the morning to take a quick tour of the city and the museum at the locks where we had dinner the other night. We also wanted to visit the Panamanian Culture museum that morning. There would be plenty of time to see that all and then make the appointment in the afternoon at the lawyers office to collect the passport and other documents.

- Needing to now transfer the money to Roberto the Realtor's account, I call Arvest (and yes, I will name them because I was NOT happy with the service). They are not real thrilled about wiring money for me when I'm not there in person. They finally agree to give it a try, but they have to call me back to verify that it's me. I give them the phone number and let them know it's a Panamanian number.

- Arvest then proceeds to tell me that they can't transfer MY OWN MONEY to another account because they can't make an international phone call. BECAUSE THEY CAN'T MAKE AN INTERNATIONAL CALL. Oh, my bad. I forgot we were living in 1875 with only the telegraph to communicate across borders.

- I then ask to speak to the manager (all of this while on a cell phone in Panama, making an international phone call...which is very cheap.). I wait for almost 10 minutes for the manager to pick up. She never did.

- Thus, I have to call and wake up mom (as this was early). She has to go to her tiny bank in Nowheresville, Kansas USA (where, thank the Lord she had that much money) who has no doubts and makes the wire transfer with no problems. Yes, that's right folks, Nowheresville, Kansas can make international money transfers but Arvest Bank, one of the largest banks in the Southwest (and owned by a Walton...of Wal-Mart fame) can't make an international phone call.

- So,now, finally we think we are going to be able to have a little bit of fun on the tour...in our last hours in Panama.

- We called Edwin, our trusty cab driver/tour guide. For a slight fee he was going to drive us around for like 4-5 hours and give us a tour of everything.

- Edwin arrived right on time and we headed to the canal. We got to see another ship go through and as we were headed into the museum, my phone rang. It was the bank letting me know that a couple of my signatures didn't "match" the signature on my passport so I would have to come back immediately and re-sign all the papers. Really people? FIVE DAYS LATER you tell me this? And, how is it possible to make your signature match exactly to your other signatures?

- We had to cut our tour short, which was the only fun we had had all week (besides dinner the other night at the canal) and go back to the bank to sign a bunch more papers.

- Frankly I don't remember what else we did that afternoon... We were at the bank for awhile, though, while I signed and re-signed paper after paper trying to make the signature look just like the one on my passport yet make it look different than the original signatures that "weren't right"...but looked just like my passport to me (and to the guys at the bank!)

- Friday evening we went to dinner with Pamela at an authentic Mexican restaurant. It was great. We had a lot of fun laughing. I had a chicken that had a chocolate sauce, but it wasn't sweet. It was really great. Gotta love the Mexicans for their use of chocolate! Well, heck, gotta love the Mexicans for finding and inventing chocolate!


Saturday, May 23, 2009
- Finally time to head home. Situation after six days as follows: One visa obtained; one apartment obtained and half paid for with my mother's money (how embarrassing); no bank account in any shape or form so I must leave a good amount of cash money with a co-worker...who then has to go to the bank and deposit it for me, poor guy; new relationships with co-workers formed; and generally a good impression of Panama, contrary to the banking situation.

- Our flight wasn't until 1:00, so we slept in.

- We go downstairs to meet the guy from the temporary apartments who was to take us to the airport (the guy who didn't show up the first day to meet us with the keys).

- Even though we had thought we had confirmed with him what time he was to pick us up, Dad had the great suggestion of giving him a call to make sure he remembered. He didn't. But, thankfully he wasn't far away and we were not late for our flight.

- The flight to the US was fine. They even let me out of the country with my visa (which I had to get special permission for...I guess since the visa I have now is a temp visa while they're working on the permanent visa, you're not supposed to leave the country.)

- We arrive in Houston and are just worn out. We board the plane. There's an announcement that the landing gear is not working, so we have to deplane.

- Thankfully we were only delayed about an hour. It could have been much worse.

- We arrive home safely at about 10:00 PM and Danny and Shari (my fantastic neighbors) arrive to pick us up.

- THE END...but wait, it's not!

Situation as it stands today
- Still no bank account. Just today I was on the phone with the bank trying to iron out some details. And, this isn't funny anymore. I arrive in less than a month and without a bank account, I can't get paid. Without pay, I can't do ANYTHING. The situation is almost resolved, I think. Of course, as soon as I think that, something else goes wrong.

- I also found out today that I can't get the yellow fever shot that I need. Apparently there is a shortage here in the midwest. That's awesome. At least it's not required to enter the country. Update June 09: Found the yellow fever vaccination at Visiting Nurses Association. Just got the shot yesterday. It still hurts. But, at least I got it!



And finally, some pictures of Panama City and the apartment.


My building. It's brand new, so it's not quite finished. You can still see some of the bricks.


The pool at the apartment. There's a hot tub, a gym, and a sauna.


This is the main living/dining room. I'm standing just inside the front door of the apartment. That's dad there on the right.


A view of the same room, just from the other end.


The view of Panama City from my balcony. If I was up just a tiny bit higher, I'd be able to see the mountains a little better. But hey, I'm not complaining!


This is a picture of my bedroom from the bedroom door. My camera angle wasn't very good. But, you get the idea.


This is the view from the kitchen window. That's the ocean you see on the horizon. You can see the ships lining up for the canal from there. The entrance to the canal is blocked by the buildings, but it is over the far right, off the picture.


The view from the kitchen window of Calle 50, one of the main avenues in Panama City. You'll also see what is just a block from my building there: McDonald's. There's also a Dunkin Donuts across the street!


This is a view of Panama City from the temporary apartments where Dad and I stayed for the week.


The buses in Panama City are called Diablos Rojos (Red Devils). This is a rather mildly painted diablo rojo. They are very colorful. Generally they have people hanging out the windows as well. I don't think I'll try one of the diablo rojos for a few months.


This is the old Spanish monastery circa 1500 in the Casco Viejo (original part of the city)


The Casco Viejo is on a small peninsula and across the water is the new Panama City skyline. This is, of course, a very, very hot and sweaty me in front of the skyline while we were visiting the Casco Viejo.


This is you know who texting from the awesome orange couch in the temporary apartments. I was not thrilled that Dad was taking pictures of me. And, the look on my face, actually, sums up the whole trip!


This is my co-worker Pamela. She's from Mexico and will be working with me in Panama City. We are at the restaurant at the canal.


A view of the Miraflores Locks of the Panama Canal.


Another view of the locks.


The gates on the locks...you can see the water levels marked on the walls of the canal and how the gates swing shut. I'm still not sure how they hold back THAT much water. It was impressive.


Me at the canal museum with the map of the canal behind me.


Dad and me at the canal. Awww...

And such was my house hunting/visa adventure. I would like it dually noted that this timeline of events does not accurately describe my feelings towards Panama or my moving there. I will, in the next post, post my Panama observations, things I noticed and have discovered, and explain how excited I really am to move there! I mean, come on, you've seen the view from my balcony. What more can I ask for?

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