Monday, November 30, 2009

Roberto

Conflict in the street..

Roberto rode by on his bike. He was still displeased with the fact that I told two Canadians on Thanksgiving to keep their hands on their wallets while talking with Roberto.

Yeah, right in front of Roberto. I'm a pretty straight up guy.

Roberto: Fuck you Jim.

Roberto thou art..

"A knave, a rascal, an eater of broken meats; a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy, worsted-stocking knave; a lily-livered, action-taking knave; a whoreson, glass-gazing, super-serviceable, finical rouge; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd, in way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the son and heir of a mongrel bitch: one whom I will beat into clamorous whining if thou deniest the least syllable of thy addition."

I'm sure he is not a student of Shakespeare but he understood that I had nothing but contempt for him.

Then I went to lunch. On the way back he waved the finger at me while holding a beer and riding his bike. I took three quick steps to his side of the street and he smashed into the back of a gasoline truck while trying to avoid me.

Camera Repair

Yo: Por favor avise mr. Gómez, que el dinero fue transferido a través de Western Union ocho uno seis cero cuatro cero uno ...

Ella: Sr. Jim de la cámara estará lista en wed nez dee.

Wednesday? Awesome. Back in the photography game.

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Visitor

The big guy from Minnesota had a visitor last night. At 3:15 somebody came through the kitchen window tangled his foot in the curtains, fell to the floor and fled back out the window.

I told him this was just something to write home about and it beats being in Minnesota in "almost December". He agreed.

Saturday, November 28, 2009

What are these vegetables?

Dumb Ass: What are those vegetables?
Me: Chilis
Dumb Ass: What?
Me: Peppers
Dumb Ass: I love peppers. (Pops a few in mouth and bites)
Me: Those are habanero peppers. Panama is known to grow the hottest in the world.
Dumb Ass: (&%#@#$( (&U#@^^ !@#!@#

Sorry, stupid piece of shit

An associate of a friend of mine picked up a whore and took her to his place.

Sixty years old, white haired, fat, deaf as a stump.

Hmmm. She slipped him a mickie and 12 hours later he woke up with....

Nothing

Cell phone, wallet, $4,000 cash (extra credit dumbass points for that) and the rest of his eight ball... gone.

What the hell? How stupid can you be?

Thursday, November 26, 2009

The Religious

response to Facebook friend request

Between Niece's Facebook Friend and You
me November 26 at 12:28pm
Do I know you?
Niece's Facebook Friend November 26 at 1:11pm
opps sorry focused on the last name. mixed up on the first.
me November 26 at 1:14pm
no problem, I've friended you. Defriend if you want, I will take no offense. I'm Kat's crazy uncle.
Niece's Facebook Friend November 26 at 1:16pm
i was mixed up, thought at first you were kats dad chuck.
me November 26 at 1:25pm
It is a far better thing that you know me not.
When I read:

May those that love us love us, And for those that don't love us,
May god turn their hearts,
And if he can't turn their hearts May he turn their ankles.
So we will know them by their limping
.

it sent shivers down my spine. I am a very tolerant person. People can have crazy beliefs, but if you pray for my death or mutilation, then you are sociopathic and I don't hang with sociopaths.
Niece's Facebook Friend November 26 at 1:31pm
Fair enough, its just part of being Irish.
Niece's Facebook Friend November 26 at 1:32pm
Not so much mutilation as a spranged ankle though.
Niece's Facebook Friend November 26 at 1:33pm
Sprained

The Trash Box

One thing the Panamanians have down is they put their trash in metal boxes or grill fronted concrete enclosures. In Costa Rica the trash is put in wooden boxes with no top or an open front and animals come in and scatter the trash or take whole bags and tear them apart somewhere within a hundred meters.

The box in front of my apartment had deteriorated to the point that it need to be replaced.

Supplies
  • 1 4' x 8' sheet of expanded steel
  • 40' or so of 1/2 tubular 8 gauge steel tubing.

Tools:
  • Hacksaw
  • Arc Welder DW402-B3 120V AC
  • Cutoff Grinder Dewalt DW402-B3 absent blade guard.
The goal
  • Create 1 2' x 4' replacement panel framed with two intermediate rails on 1' centers.

My estimate?
  • One person
  • Measure and cut steel tubing 20 minutes.
  • Cut expanded steel 10 minutes.
  • welding, 10 - 20 minutes.

Five guys have been working on this since 10:00.

One works, four watch.

I was listening to the guy cutting expanded steel. Expanded steel looks like It is made buy punching slits in sheet steel and then pulling on the ends. After half an hour I had to go outside and see what the hell they were doing. Mr. Panama had the expanded steel 1/2" off the ground on top of the cut steel tubing and was cutting the steel at the end points of the diamonds. As soon as I walked out of my apartment, the sound told me what was wrong.

A grinder emits a free spinning sound and a loaded sounded from the motor and a sound from the abrasives acting on the material being ground. A loaded sound and the fact that concrete dust was filling the air was my subtle clue that the bonehead with the tool was unqualified for the job.


Upon visual inspection... Yup sure enough the guy was cutting a 1/2 groove in the concrete while cutting the steel. I had them raise the whole frame onto cinder blocks and he finished the remaining 3/4's of the work in two minutes and saved a cutoff wheel in the process. Those wheels are $5 - $6 in the US, so probably $10-15 down here, a days wages.

Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Jurassic Park

A walk in the jungle seemed like an appropriate activity on a warm partly overcast day. I couldn't get any charters to Salt Creek so I thought I'd walk from Bastimentos Town to Red Frog. Janpan indicated they would take me and then dispatched a girl to go find the "Captain". Ten minutes later the supervisor at Janpan was communicating with the girl who was two blocks away via hand signals in the street. I gave her a shrug and walked away.

There are a lot of water taxis here. A street hustler saw me walking toward the boat taxi area and asked me where I wanted to go. They get 10% for securing business so he just earned himself 30 cents, except for the fact that they had no other passengers to Bastimentos, so I would have to pay $5. Fine, I'll pay $5. We were third in queue to get out of the docks, there were two other boats in our "lane" that had to leave first. Then we went 30 feet and the captain yelled out something in Spanish and two other passengers appeared, and elderly black woman and a middle aged eastern european looking man with two back packs. WTF? I thought there were no other passengers.

We arrived at the "Central Park" a dock in about the middle of town. I gave the pilot $3, he insisted on $5 and feigned any lack of comprehension that he under stood "dos hombres, uno damas, no solo". Fuckstick, I gave him $5.

The short climb up the stairs found me in front of a galvanized metal front grocery store. I had no doubt it was run by a Chinese family. The only "road" in town is a two meter wide concrete sidewalk that parallels the shore. I turned right and headed toward Red Frog Beach. The inhabitants were all antillean blacks, not an Indian or mestizo in sight. This was clearly a lower class to lower middle class residential neighborhood. Colorful flowers were in abundance but I had the distinct impression that the were planted long ago and left to fend for themselves.

A little hotel had a dirt filled cayuga (dugout canoe) out front supported by two blocks near the ends. The middle was broken and rested on the ground. The flowers planted in the dirt disregarded the neglect and flourished.

Palm trees dotted the shores on the far side of the houses. The path veered and climbed off to the left, away from the bay and then up and to the right to a cemetery. Concrete above ground vaults half covered with tile formed the only burying style that I observed. I walked to the far end of the cemetery and observed a trail. Two seven or eight year old boys scurried about with no obvious destination. They informed me that I was indeed on the trail to Red Frog Beach and that they would show me the way for "ten dollah".

Across the way was a fence that looked like an flaural cycle fence, woven from sticks like a course basket. The trail was muddy and trash of all sort was everywhere as though somewhen had brought up large bags of trash and dumped them. The trail was very narrow, less than a foot wide and at a minimum muddy. I stomped on the ground as I walked to scare away any of the ground dwelling vipers that frequent this part of the world and watched my hands to ensure I didn't disturb their arboreal kin. Digging my heels in while descending slopes made this part of the walk akin to really bad skiing. This went on for a while and 25 minutes into my hike there was a manicured hill that had obviously been well grazed and the trail become level and very walkable and couple of meters wide.

I encountered the cayuga cemetery. A steel sided house on stilts had five or size cayugas that looked more akin to flower bedding material than maritime equipment. Fiddler crabs and hermit crabs scuttered about but there were no insects of any sort. At the 45 minute mark more swamps and bridges made of chain sawed sections of log on other logs stretched far into the distance and around a corner. I spent 20 minutes walking on the break wall as there was no shore.

An Indian came down the path. I asked him how much farther it was to Red Frog. Lots of gesturing and incomprehensible animated Spanish later I came to the realization that he was telling me it was on the other side of the island. This was not a revelation as I had been there and travelled like cattle in the their transport trucks over the island.

He indicate that he had an amigo who could transport me in his panga. Then he ran up the hill and was never seen again. I proceeded down the trail and one hour and twenty minutes into the trek encountered a house on stilts in the water with the land surrounded by barbed wire and a no trespassing sign. No way forward and a miserable trek back. A mestizo came out of the boat house "Necessito panga Bocas Town por vavor" I yelled out to him. He came out an I ascertained that he had determined that i needed a boat ride back to the main island. He indicated I should wait and 10 minutes later signalled me to come in. I don't know what they were doing in the mean time, but there was a lot of commotion in the boat house. I took the ride back to the real estate company in Bocas.

I had mud up to my knees and my shirt was wet with sweat.

Not Building off the Grid

Stephen now reports that the Canuks feel that the 10 laborers (who work for $10/day) worked too hard for the last two days and that there will be an additional charge of $1,200.

That raises the question...

Two hundred dollars in labor gets a surcharge of $1,200 for extra effort?

So Stephen is cancelling the contract, which is null and void as it is written in English and no Panamanian court will touch it.

So, three days into a 35 day project it is stopped. This is BANANA COUNTRY.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

Building off the Grid

I came back from breakfast to see Stephen in front of his house with a wood delivery, about 10 sheets of 3/4" plywood ripped into 12" strips. These were to be used as concrete forms for his house off the grid. I helped him carry them through his house and load them onto his panga. He was going to take the boat over to his property where the process of creating piers for his house began this week. Although I intended to go with him, he informed me that he was returning with 10 workers and their tools in the same boat so I declined.

Stephen also had about 3 yards of gravel and 3 yards of sand in front of his house. He paid $50 for the 3 yards of sand and $150 for the three yards of grave. How is sand so cheap? Sad to say, I think it was poached off this island, Isla Colon. He found four turtle eggs in the sand. So much for conservation.

Pablo, a local laborer shovelled gravel into plastic woven bags and loaded about 1,700 pounds of gravel onto Steven's other panga, at the real estate office. Pablo came into the office as I was visiting Walter. We negotiated a day of tarpon fishing for $25 plus the gas. I said "when do you want to go?" Walter asked Pablo to show us his wallet, which proved to be empty. I guessed that tomorrow would be fine. Walter said, "but..... we are in BANANA COUNTRY." We agreed that I would go with Pablo to Stephen's at 1:00.

We headed out for lunch driving his little van the 300 yards to the restaurant. Walter loves touring in that thing. The shortest trip is via van with a side trip down every road in town at 5 miles and hour, waving to everybody and calling the girls over.




We stopped at some random location. "What the hell are we doing here?" "Pay attention, it is a little trick." Then we walked between two houses and entered the restaurant through the back door and the kitchen. Walter said "Now we are family, not customers." Sure, Walter, the obnoxious brothers.

We waited by the boat at the ferry landing. An old man came by and dropped his trousers to his knees and attempted to urinate while holding his machete. He dropped the machete about 3 times and picked it up. Then he started to shit on the beach and on his pants as he hadn't squatted far enough all the while struggling with his machete. Twenty minutes later the ordeal was over and he waddled away.

At 2:00 it started to rain and we gave up and I came back and wrote this.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Telefoto

I called Telefoto in Panama, Jose dropped off the camera today.

Maguelo told me that he will email me on Wednesday with a a diagnosis.

We shall see. Most of the conversation was done via translate.google.com so...

...and It is Banana Country.

Banana Country is not meant to be disparaging, it is a term I learned from a local, describing the fact that in Banana Country things work differently than in... oh hell, first world countries.

Juan Salazar-Bogdanovich

Juan Salazar, aka Juan Salazar-Bogdanovich aka "Wharf Rat" turned out to be a thieving little street hustler.

The money he borrowed from me "overnight" has not been returned a week later.

Mike reports that Juan is staying at Casa Verde for free and steals other peoples food from the refrigerator at the hostel.

He is known around Bocas Town as the "Wharf Rat".

As far as nature tours go, he coudn't spot a bird that wasn't in a cage and if you point it out he doesn't know what kind it is.

Lock up your shit and buy your Panamanian tours elsewhere.

Update

As 11/24 he repaid his loan, two weeks late, and I returned the possessions of his that I confiscated as collateral.

Jose

I called Jose, he hadn't replied to a half a dozen emails over the course of 3 days.

He told me that he had picked up the camera and delivered to Telefoto in Panama City.

Reply to your email, Mr. Banana Man

I called Jose. He told me he picked up the camera and delivered it to Telefoto in Panama City.

Ummm, Jose, Could you just have replied to one of my half dozen emails?

Telefoto doesn't respond to emails either.

I need a gun permit. Where's Juan? He needs a machete up his ass.

It's different in banana country

Examples:

Septic Tanks

A ditch digger, working a pick axe takes off his shoes while standing on sharp volcanic rock. The feet will heal, the shoes have to be repaired.

Camera Repair

The people who run the pharmacy that nominally open at 8:30 show up at 8:45 then putz around inside for 15 minutes while people are waiting at the front door.

MailBoxes etc. doesn't carry boxes, or packing materials or tape, But they want $45 USD to send a letter to the US.

A taxi ride to the airport is $.50. They deliver the package for $4.00 in 1 1/2 hours to Panama City, 240 miles from here.

Cost to estimate repair cost is $36.50, in the U.S. it is $200. Stated time to make such an estimate? Here 3-5 days in the U.S. 4 to 6 weeks.

Recipient never picks up the camera.

I shipped it to hell.

Boat Move

Three guys move a 2,000 pound boat up a hill by rolling it on 50 mm iron pipes. (Where's my camera?)

Units of Measure

The currency is USD. Meat is sold by the pound. Plumbing diameters are in millimeters.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Around Panama

Thursday, November 5, 2009

Lawyers Guns and Money

Chester the investor came into town last night. He owns the company for which Walter works. Having made a considerable amount of money in Destin Florida, speculating in Real Estate and running a large restaurant he invested heavily in Bocas del Toro. He bought 130 acres of prime real estate on Isla de Bostimentos, disparagingly referred to as "Jurassic Park" by the residents of Bocas Town. The island has no infrastructure; there are no roads, no electricity, and no fresh water. It does however have pristine jungle teeming with wildlife and spectacular white sandy beaches on crystal clear water.

A young lawyer from Panama City and three of his friends came into town last night and rented a home that Chester has outside of Bocas Town over the water. They rounded up a full complement of women from the Peace Corp at a local bar and invited them to go with us on a boat tour the next day. We drove the shore of Isla de Cristobol.

Start with dickhead and the boat story.

The lots I saw on Cristobol were small and water front, ending in mud and mangrove. The land was flat and every lot I saw but one had at least an inch of water over 80% or more of the lot. You could bring in fill dirt, but your neighbors land was still a swamp. John (last name withheld), a retired pilot out of Destin, FL was an investor in this land. There were two houses, John's a very nice $400K structure built from ??? wood, with granite counter tops in the kitchen and built in dressers in each of the bedrooms. Cristobel is supposed swarming with ??? fleas.

We drove to Salt Creek Where Chester has a ???? in the water in front of a two acre lot. At the back of the lot is a cabina inhabited by the caretaker and his wife, the chef. Chester rents the place out for $150 a night. For this you get delivered to the house via boat from Bocas Town. The food has been purchased in advanced and delivered in a cooler and ??? comes out and cooks for you. What is there to do? Not a lot, other than enjoy the scenery from the back deck. If you bring a cell phone that works out there you could catch a water taxi to one of the surrounding islands. The beach is clean sand. The water is warm and clear, a warm breeze keeps everything near perfect.

We headed back to town showered and headed back to the house the lawyers were renting. Chester cooked a dinner of curried rice, lobster and jack fish and just hung out until midnight.

Saturday, November 7, 2009
I made a bunch of phone calls and emails regarding the sale and rental to my house. I thought I'd head out to Salt Creek for some nature photography, something I have not done much of in Bocas. One guy wanted to charge me $60 to go out there as it was just me. I would rather go with a tour, not only because it is cheaper but you get to meet new people. One guy in town told me he had a tour going in 15 minutes and he would take me out there and back for $10. The he sai8 he had a tour to red frog beach, coral cay and hospital point that I could go on for $5 more. The crew for this ride had no women. Two guys, late 30's or early 40's and 2 guys from California. They reeked of money, from their shoes to their shades. One had an Aston Martin hat I asked him if he owned one, he said he had a 2008 ????. We went to a marina to look at the sailboats; these guys were big on sail boats and new most of the makes and models just by looking at them. The guy that had the Aston Martin had a 57' sailboat in Houston.

I told him I was planning on going to Boquete he replied that I must visit Volcan, the new Boquete, but much prettier. This was his third trip to Panama. He told his friends that last time he was here he almost picked up a coffee plantation in Boquete for $1.7 Million that was netting $600k a year but some Swiss investors got it first.
Sunday, November 8, 2009

I am now on a mini bus with 21 passengers on the way to David. I took a water taxi from Bocas Town to Almirentes . We are heading to David, the capital of Chiriqui, heading south over the mountains from the Atlantic Coast to the Pacific Coast. From there we catch a cab back north into the mountains and into Boquete, which was named by ???? as the best place to retire in the world.
There is very little development along the road side. Some clearing for grazing land, but mostly jungle. The roads are in excellent condition, much better than the average Michigan Road. There are guard rails on the outside of turns where there are drop-offs. The occasional house on the side of the house is a wood sided on stilts with a thatched roof.

We got to Chester's "shack" a two bedroom house in a Panamanian neighborhood. On one trip to Boquete Chester met the owner an American drug dealer, in jail. I have the feeling that the owner was incarcerated and that Chester was not. The next time Chester came into town, the man was in jail again and needed bail money. Chester bought the house from the man's wife for $20,000 in a couple of days. Chester has a man living in the house, really fixing it up, replacing the stairs, the wood trim, the windows, the floors, refinishing the walls. The man is doing a wonderful job. Chester cooked up some pork chops and chicken marinated in sour orange, sour lime, chili powder, and mayonnaise. He then enhanced the remaining marinade further and made salad dressing. As a side dish we had boiled potatoes with onions. The meet was grilled outside on the Webber using real charcoal, not briquettes.

Juan showed up. He is a Panamanian who moved to the states at age 10 and then joined the U.S. Navy. He has lived in Austin and Harlingen Texas as well as around California, in the vicinity of his naval base. Chester spoke glowing of Juan’s marketing and interpersonal skills. As I had indicated that I had no interest in sleeping on the tile floor Chester had arranged with Juan to book me at the hostel. Juan works on commission of `10%. The room was going to cost $ 15. I was thinking this was going to be a bit sleazy but I was going to head right to bed and he assured me the place was clean and safe. Mike drove Juan and me over to the hostel. Juan's keys did not work. I asked him "You just want to be on the other side of this door?" Within 30 seconds I had the door off the hinges, the lock unlocked and was putting the door back on. I did a little damage to my pocket knife. I told Juan I was from Detroit and any self respecting Detroiter could get into a house in less than 60 seconds. In the process of prying the door out, I broke the tip off my knife, but with some work on my Diamond stone I should be able to get some semblance of a tip. Had I used my chain mail piercing CRKT I would have barely chipped the edge of the blade. Juan called the husband of the owner who grudgingly got out of bed took my $15 and gave me the key to the room. The room was spacious, the sheets were clean, the mattress was very comfortable and within minutes I was asleep.



Tuesday, November 10, 2009


I awakened and went down the hall to the bathroom. Following my morning constitution I was disappointed to discover there was no toilet paper. My shower was a different than usual. I had not received a towel or any soap, but I had my shampoo and I carry a big microfiber towel in my backpack. Although it is large in area it is small in volume, it is a large backpacker's microfiber towel from REI.
Juan and I headed out for breakfast and then came back to the hostel. I indicated that I wanted to see outside the city. A part time hostel employee, part time taxi driver, Coco, indicated that he would show me around for $10. We left at 9:30 and first went to the gas station where he needed the first $10 so he could buy gasoline. Juan convinced the attendant to sell him 6 beers, which was illegal as in Boquete, the large gringo presence has insisted on alcohol rules not in place anywhere else in the country; no sales between 11 pm and 10 am. We then drove around the north of town further up the mountains. Coffee plantations were predominant but there were tomatoes, carrots, onions, and organic tomato farms. Coco knew a great deal about all of these activities. He grew up on a farm and started picking coffee when he was eight. As Coco only spoke Spanish, Juan functioned as a translator. It appears that you get 1 ?????? (bucket) of coffee per bush, 1000 bushes per hectare and a bucket sells for $2.50. His family has an 8 hectare farm and he produced 35 * 80 pounds of beans. Interesting way of expressing it. I'm guessing that that was 80 35 pound bags.


The beans are ready to pick when they are red which starts in early November. The coffee bean is the seed of a fleshy fruit. I picked one and at the fleshy portion and it wasn't bad.
Juan gives coffee plantation tours and explained the beans are first floatation sorted, the heavier beans being the more desirable. Then they are treated with some chemical that removes the flesh and the beans are then size sorted, the larger beans being more desirable. Coco indicated that some of the bushes we were looking were probably between 60 and 100 years old as could be determined by the thickness of the trunks and the appearance of the bark.

We had coco drop us off at the end of the Quetzal Trail at 11:15 Juan explained that there was a hill called "Lament Hill" by the climbers due to the length and pitch of that section of the trail. We hiked along. There was barbed wire on either side of the trail. Sometimes crops were being grown, at other times there were cows or sheep grazing on the native foliage or cleared pastures.

After about an hour of hiking we turned around and headed back into town. He had received a call that there were three pretty girls he was to meet at the bus station to take care of. We got back to town around 2:00 catching a bus for the last half the ride. Women boarded with two bouquets of flowers. I removed my camera strap and placed the camera over the seat and then put the camera in my lap behind my backpack. Bad call. We soon arrived at our destination. I put my backpack on the floor beside the door and stood up crouching to get out the door. My camera fell and landed lens first from a height of about four feet onto the asphalt. I'm sure the passengers heard some English expletives that they had not heard before as did people on the far side of town. I tried to take some pictures, it wouldn't auto focus and displayed "Err" When I tried to take a picture. I tried the other lens and it didn't complain.

We went to the bus station and soon a yellow bus stopped by the town center. I was off looking for a charger for my cell phone. Every other store in town cells the phones and the recharges (coded additional prepaid minutes) but nobody had accessories. All I needed was a mini-USB charger or cable. It was looking hopeless. Finally I found a store that had a charger but it only worked if you held the cord just so.

I went back to town square and found a grinning Juan with three Norwegian cuties. We walked back to the hostel. All three girls occupied one room for $38. I was thinking of extending an offer for the extra space in my bed, but figured I'd wait until later.

Later still Juan got another call, there were three artists coming in. He went off to the bus terminal to get them and them came back to borrow some money from me that he would repay in the morning from proceeds from his tour. It turns out they decided to go "couch surfing", sleeping on Ellen's couch in exchange for some labor or art or some such.

Chester, Walter, Mike and I went to a locals bar. The people at the bar were all laborers. I bought a round for the 6 guys at the bar. The waitress served them all without any indication as to why they were receiving an unsolicited beer. She skipped the guy sitting next to me. I pointed him out and she gave him a beer. He expressed his gratitude then told me that when we park at the house that we were doing so on his driveway. I called Chester over and introduced him to his next door neighbor.


Dinner at a very nice hamburger place and we all leched at our cute waitress while flirting with her. This was the longest hamburger dinner in history. Chester talked about his 13 year court battle with Fuddruckers, a San Antonio top end hamburger chain and Fudpuckers, his restaurants in Fort Walton and Destin Florida. If you are interested just Google "Fudpuckers Fuddruckers Lawsuit". We finished at the Boquete Inn, a boutique luxury hotel. At this time I discovered that my camera body was also toast as it produced no image.

While I had been out hiking the other three hired a retired park ranger and local Indian to show Chester 14 hectare he had bought sight unseen.

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


I hitched a ride with Chester, Walter, Michael and Mundo from Boquete to David. This is both the road to Volcan and an opportunity to get my camera fixed. Maki, who runs the hostel I've been staying at for the last 3 days told me I could get my camera fixed at the store next to the Romero Supermercado in David. I was dropped off in front of AudioFoto, which had at best 2 cameras in the store. They told me the nearest place I could get my camera fixed was in San Jose, 250 miles east of here. I inquired as to the location of Romero, despite every pronunciation I could spin on that one word I was greeted only by puzzled expressions until I wrote it down.

It was across the town square. I rapidly located the Romero and entered the electronics store next door. I explained my problem as well as I could and the man looked at the camera in a very puzzled fashion and told me I could have it fixed by Sabo (Saturday). I was not feeling very assured about this but he then walked me 2 doors down to the place that actually did the repairs. I paid $15.75 which I presume is there diagnostics check out price and was told I could pick up the camera on Saturday. I am going to try to email my questions, such as getting an estimate for repair. No point in paying half the price of the body and then having no warranty.

I then walked around town trying to find a snapshot camera. One store had a good variety of cameras. I inquired as to any waterproof models. The girl had no idea what I was talking about so I wrote down "agua" with a circle and a slash. She called over a woman who immediately said that I wanted a Lumix DS1, that they didn't have any in stock but could get me one in half an hour. It took the clerk half an hour to pull up a description of the camera and a review. For $429 I was disappointed in the image quality of the sample images. This camera could be used at 2 meters for 60 seconds and sustain a 10 1.5 meter drops onto plywood. They didn't say anything about dropping it onto asphalt.

I figured I would go with a cheaper camera with better image quality. I had a delightful Lumix FS7 that broke when used out in the rain by a son. A 12 power optical zoom image stabilized 12 megapixels Lumix was $379, which I dickered down to $300 but that still didn't feel right as I was sure a similar camera at Costco is $179.

In the end I ended up buying nothing, went to a cafeteria and had spaghetti, squid stew and Greek salad for $3.50. I then caught a taxi to the bus terminal. Within 2 minutes I was on a mini bus headed for Volcan surrounded by hot little Panamanian women. I really have to learn Spanish.

I'm still on the bus with an hour to go. It's drizzling. I think I'll take a nap.

Friday, November 6, 2009

Lawyers, Guns and Money

Chester the investor came into town last night. He owns the company for which Walter works. Having made a considerable amount of money in Destin Florida, speculating in Real Estate and running a large restaurant he invested heavily in Bocas del Toro. He bought 130 acres of prime real estate on Isla de Bostimentos, disparagingly referred to as "Jurassic Park" by the residents of Bocas Town. The island has no infrastructure; there are no roads, no electricity, and no fresh water. It does however have pristine jungle teeming with wildlife and spectacular white sandy beaches on crystal clear water.

A young lawyer from Panama City and three of his friends came into town last night and rented a home that Chester has outside of Bocas Town over the water. They rounded up a full complement of women from the Peace Corp at a local bar and invited them to go with us on a boat tour the next day. We drove the shore of Isla de Cristobol.

Start with dickhead and the boat story.

The lots I saw on Cristobol were small and water front, ending in mud and mangrove. The land was flat and every lot I saw but one had at least an inch of water over 80% or more of the lot. You could bring in fill dirt, but your neighbors land was still a swamp. John (last name withheld), a retired pilot out of Destin, FL was an investor in this land. There were two houses, John's a very nice $400K structure built from ??? wood, with granite counter tops in the kitchen and built in dressers in each of the bedrooms. Cristobel is supposed swarming with ??? fleas.

We drove to Salt Creek Where Chester has a ???? in the water in front of a two acre lot. At the back of the lot is a cabina inhabited by the caretaker and his wife, the chef. Chester rents the place out for $150 a night. For this you get delivered to the house via boat from Bocas Town. The food has been purchased in advanced and delivered in a cooler and ??? comes out and cooks for you. What is there to do? Not a lot, other than enjoy the scenery from the back deck. If you bring a cell phone that works out there you could catch a water taxi to one of the surrounding islands. The beach is clean sand. The water is warm and clear, a warm breeze keeps everything near perfect.

We headed back to town showered and headed back to the house the lawyers were renting. Chester cooked a dinner of curried rice, lobster and jack fish and just hung out until midnight.



Thursday, November 5, 2009

Sombra Robinson

I went to the bank and withdrew money from the ATM. I chose "other amount" and entered $600.

The machine dispensed $500 and gave me a receipt indicating that my account was debited for $600. I was advised that I should go to the bank as soon as it opened to initiate a dispute. Without howler monkeys screaming at me at the break of dawn I sleep a bit later. I figured I would go to the pharmacy and buy an alarm clock. Walter suggested that I just buy a cell phone as it would probably cost the same.

In line behind me was a young Antillean man who engaged me in conversation. He informed me that he had a boat and could take me out if I so desired. The cost? "The cost of gas and a little money for my time." He entered his phone number into my phone and we went by the power plant to check out his boat. It seemed sea worthy, a seven meter center console glass panga.

The next day he called me and asked if I wanted to go out. I indicated that a trip to Salt Creek seemed to be in order and 1/2 an hour later he was on the dock behind my apartment. We headed over to the Marina. He pumped in 25 gallons of gas and 2 pints of oil for his outboard two stroke engine.

Sombra then told me that I needed to pay the attendant.
"Sombra, I agreed to pay for the gas we used, not to fuel your boat for the week."

"But we had an agreement."

"I only want the boat for one day, a trip to Salt Creek and back is about 6 gallons."

"You can have the boat tomorrow."

"I don't want the boat tomorrow."

"How am I going to pay for this gas?"

"I hope you are good at sucking dick... good luck."

Then I walked to the Cosmic Crab and caught a water taxi back.

Monday, November 2, 2009

Bocas Boat Trip

Click on the title to see the pictures, or scroll to bottom to see the slide show.

I was supposed to go to visit Chuck Stephen's property on the South eastern end of Isla Bastimentos.



I showed up at Janpan, his boat touring company at 10:00 as agreed. He said that he had to go tend to a stranded boat and asked if I wanted to go with him. We walked back to my apartment building and took the door next to my unit which leads to the dock outside my kitchen window. He has a 30' glass 115 Horsepower four stroke Suzuki 3 blade shuttle boat docked there.

We stopped by Janpan, picked up some gas and Manuel, my driver (I can't call them captain, sorry) from yesterday and we headed out. Eight people on a small boat transferred onto the boat I was on. Chuck took the helm of the other boat and the driver of that boat became the driver of the boat I was on. I just joined the tour.

Heather and Erika hail from Vancouver.
Martin and Dan live close to Washington D.C. either Virginia or Maryland.
Kristi and Graham also live close to Washington D.C either Virginia or Maryland whichever state Martin and Dan don't live in.

??? and ??? came from New Zealand via the U.K.

The first stop was Dolphin Bay nestled between and island and clumps of mangrove. The jellyfish were plentiful. Dolphins frequently surfaced a non playful, "Hey I'm just coming up for air."



Dolphin Bay
It was actually kind of boring as I have seen hundreds of dolphins, but my fellow boat passengers found it exciting. I tried to get them into the old pre fireworks warm up "Ohhhhhhh, Ahhhh." Erika noticed that one of the boat drivers would take off at high speed, throwing up a wake and then stop and the dolphins would jump. I convinced our driver to drive three times in a circle around the clump of boats and throw a wake. The boats in the middle rocked but nobody seemed to care as now a few dolphins breached.

Next we stopped off at a restaurant and the driver explained to Martin, the only Spanish speaking passenger what was happening. The interpretation was we were going to order food but take it with us. But that wasn't right, we were going to order food and not eat it and not take it with us. Yup they needed hours of advance notice to feed 9 people.

??? Island

We then proceeded to "Parque Nacional Marino Isla Bastimentos". Very interesting as this was on a different island. It was very small, I walked the whole perimeter in half an hour and didn't see anything much more than crystal clear blue water, pristine white sand beaches, lots of sandpipers, a few gulls and skink or gecko. When I returned to what I believed to be the starting point there was no evidence of my fellow passengers. I walked past the spot and back to where I thought we were dropped off and Janpan II was now offshore. I approached the unattended cooler on the shore, extracted my water and took a good long swig.

Picture


We then returned to the restaurant and ordered our meals, by our names and were promptly served. The fried plantain needed a little spicing up more than the tabasco like picante they had at the table so I returned to the ordering counter and struggled with "Necesito salsa muy caliente". I was handed a plastic bottle that smelled like habanero salsa. Now things were cooking. I slathered my plantain and said "now that is more like it." Marti picked up the bottle and I said "careful, that's hot." He put some on his plantain and his eyes lit up and he broke out in a mild sweat. His friend Dan, at the end of the table asked for someone to pass the salad dressing. The only thing that could pass for salad dressing on the table was vinegar and oil and it was directly in front of him. I picked up the habanero salsa and said "Do you mean this?" Martin winked at me and gave me a big grin. So, I passed it down. He doused his lettuce with it and took a bite and said "SHIT!" It wasn't that hot, he took it in stride.

Next we went snorkelling in some pretty strong current. The boat had a lot of noobs, I was the only certified diver on the boat. The snorkels were pretty gross, there were green and black life forms on the mouth pieces of some of them. After you dive down here you should really Clorox those things. The two girls from Vancouver were going to be trouble, Heather wore a life vest that didn't come close to fitting her and Kristi went out without a mask or a snorkel or a vest. Not much you can see without a mask.

I think I was the only person capable of swimming against the current to the boat. Why the boat wasn't drifting with us I don't understand, it wasn't anchored. I stuck with the Kristi as she was drifting far from the boat and had no life jacket. The others seemed like strong swimmers or had life jackets on. I told her, "just relax, you're in salt water you won't sink." Then I made her float face down with my mask on. By this time we had drifted past all the coral. I signalled for the boat to come get us, we all got aboard and agreed it was pretty cool.

Hospital Point



We took a vote on whether we should try to snorkel again at Hospital Point
and reached a consensus that would should go despite the fact that it was described as "profundo" (deep). We pulled within 15 meters of shore at Hospital point and it was awesome. You could snorkel in 2 feet of water as the water was so calm. Coral went from above the water to about 3 meters and then there was a "wall" divers parlance for an underwater cliff.

Everybody had a spectacular time at Hospital Point. This was not as dramatic as seeing sharks, morays, octupuses, barracuda, and big grouper but it was relaxing and very pretty.

About 4:30 we headed back to port, said our goodbyes and went our respective ways.

Mouse over the slide show to see the controls.

Cosmic Crab

November 1.

I went to breakfast today at the Cosmic Crab. Everybody raves about the dinner. The breakfast was quite disappointing. The tabouleh is Moroccan style, all bulgar wheat with a hint of parsley. They also had some noodle salads and some deviled eggs. The omelette was completely uninspired. They had about 8 types of pastries I didn't try.

It was quite a let down as everyone raves about their dinners.

I checked out the Gringo houses and the depressing Indian dwellings with trash all over the place.

Boat Tour

I was supposed to go to visit Chuck Stephen's property on the South eastern end of Isla Bastimentos [SHOW MAP]. I showed up at Janpan, his boat touring company at 10:00 as agreed. He said that he had to go tend to a stranded boat and asked if I wanted to go with him. We walked back to my apartment building and took the door next to my unit which leads to the dock outside my kitchen window. He has a 30' glass 150 four stroke shuttle boat docked there.

We stopped by Janpan, picked up some gas and Manuel, my driver (I can't call them captain, sorry) from yesterday and we headed out. Eight people on a small boat transferred onto the boat I was on. Chuck took the helm of the other boat and the driver of that boat became the driver of the boat I was on. I just joined the tour.

The first stop was Dolphin Bay nestled between and island and clumps of mangrove. The jellyfish were plentiful. Dolphins frequently surfaced a non playful, "Hey I'm just coming up for air." It was actually kind of boring as I have seen hundreds of dolphins, but my fellow boat passengers found it very exciting. I tried to get them into the old pre fireworks warm up "Ohhhhhhh, Ahhhh." One of the boat drivers would take off at high speed, throwing up a wake and then stop and the dolphins would jump. I convinced our driver to drive three times in a circle around the clump of boats and throw a wake. The boats in the middle rocked but nobody seemed to care as now the dolphins began to fully breach.

Next we stopped off at a restaurant and the driver explained to Martin, the only Spanish speaking passenger what was happening. The interpretation was we were going to order food but take it with us. But that wasn't right, we were going to order food and not eat it and not take it with us. Yup they needed hours of advance notice to feed 9 people.

We then proceeded to "Parque Nacional Marino Isla Bastimentos". Very interesting as this was on a different island. It was very small, I walked the whole perimeter in half an hour and didn't see anything much more than crystal clear blue water, pristine white sand beaches, lots of sandpipers, a few gulls and skink or gecko. When I returned to what I believed to be the starting point there was no evidence of my fellow passengers. I walked past the spot and back to where I thought we were dropped off and Janpan II was now offshore. I approached the unattended cooler on the shore, extracted my water and took a good long swig.

We then returned to the restaurant and ordered our meals, by our names and were promptly served. The fried plantain needed a little spicing up more than the tabasco like picante they had at the table so I returned to the ordering counter and struggled with "Necesito salsa muy caliente". I was handed a plastic bottle that smelled like habenaro salsa. Now things were cooking. I slathered my plantain and said "now that is more like it." Martin, the guy who was translating picked up the bottle and I said "careful, that's hot." He put some on his plantain and his eyes lit up and he broke out in a mild sweat. His friend Dan, at the end of the table asked for someone to pass the salad dressing. The only thing that could pass for salad dressing on the table was vinegar and oil and it was directly in front of him. I picked up the habenaro salsa and said "Do you mean this?" Martin winked at me and gave me a big grin. So, I passed it down. He doused his lettuce with it and took a bite and said "SHIT!" It wasn't that hot, he took it in stride.

Next we went snorkelling in some pretty strong current. The boat had a lot of nubes. The snorkels were pretty gross, there were green and black life forms on the mouth pieces of some of them. After you dive down here you should really clorox those things. The two girls from Vancouver were going to be trouble, one wore a life vest that didn't come close to fitting her and the other went out without a mask or a snorkel. Not much you can see without a mask.

I think I was the only person capable of swimming against the current to the boat. Why the boat wasn't drifting with us I don't understand, it wasn't anchored. I stuck with the Canadian girl who had no life jacket, the others seemed like strong swimmers or had life jackets on. I told her, "just relax, you're in salt water you won't sink." Then I made her float face down with the mask on. By this time we had drifted past all the coral. I signalled for the boat to come get us, we all got aboard and agreed it was pretty cool.

We took a vote on whether we should try to snorkel again at Hospital Point and reached a concensus that would should go despite the fact that it was described as "profundo" (deep). We pulled within 15 meters of shore at Hospital point and it was awesome. You could snorkel in 2 feet of water as the water was so calm. Coral went from above the water to about 3 meters and then there was a "wall" divers parlance for an underwater cliff.

Everybody had a spectacular time at Hospital Point. This was not as dramatic as seeing sharks, morays, octupuses, barracuda, and big grouper but it was relaxing and very pretty.

About 4:30 we headed back to port, said our goodbyes and went our respective ways.

Garden of Eden

Click on Title to see photos or scroll down to see slide show.

November 1.

This afternoon I went down to Jampan [PICS] run by Chuck Stephens and his wife Wanda. I told him I had to get off this island and related what happened last night. He knew all about it; he lives right above me. Small world. He suggested I go to the"Garden of Eden". He had a boat leaving in 10 minutes. Since I'd lost my Tilley (and yes I will moan about that until I get a replacement) I had to run off to get some sunblock. We dropped 3 people off at a nearby resort and 2 people at Red Frog Beach, We picked up a couple at that spot and took off for parts unknown. Despite having been told 3 times before we left that he was to take me to the Garden of Eden the driver had no idea where it was. We stopped off at a "Dive Hostel" a house on stilts without even a catwalk to the land. The driver asked the man who came to the dock where the Garden of Eden was. The man went to his computer looked it up on the internet, made a phone call and pointed out the directions. We took off and the driver tried to go right past the place. There was only one building around and it had a big sign that said "Garden of Eden" so I was pretty sure we found the right spot.

Three people were departing, escorted by a women. I said "Helena, I presume." To which she replied "You must be Jim. Chuck called. Those people have a flight in 1/2 an hour." Ouch. It's possible, but not likely. We walked up the hill to a combined eating area / bar / game room where I met her husband Robert. The place was immaculate. There are only three rental rooms and there are 2 house keepers, Migala and a girl who just started today Kalmia ?????.

I just sat at the bar and talked with Robert and Helena for hours, the boat wasn't coming back until 7:00. I mentioned that I liked snakes and Robert said "Migala, can you show Jim the boa constrictor?" We walked down a well kept path and in the plantain tree next to the staff housing quarters was a small boa, probably born in the spring.

We chatted about everything from building construction (Robert is a semi-retired builder), tools, moving, Bocas, guns, shooting. The most interesting was the fact that these very personable people never leave the two acre island. It's beautiful but not enough room for my restless legs. I need to get at least 3 or 4 miles of walking or 12 miles of bike riding in a day or I'll go crazy. They have people that go to David, buy the food and liquor and drinks they need for themselves and guests and deliver it all the way to the house. Robert said that he doesn't get lonely, the guests usually want to talk.

Then Woody, their pet toucan came for a visit, they showed me their red frogs which they have in a terrarium. I fed their "pet snapper". I took the table scraps down to the front dock with the two girls, stamped my feet and they all showed up. Then I emptied the bucket of vegetable scraps they had accumulated and the fish ate it up, potatoes, onions and all. Pre-stuffed snapper.

The boat came in and we said our good byes. This would be an absolutely wonderful place to stay. Just catch the water taxis to take you to Red Frog Beach or one of the many other interesting places in the vicinity when you want to stretch your legs.

I'd love to go back for a lazy afternoon chat. Let's see if I get invited.

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