An Eco-Resort from Scratch

Just notes, but I'll never have a chance to actually write up.

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It took me two years before I bought a house in Bocas.  I've fallen in love with Loma Partida.  A friend of mine told me there was a lot available at a very good price.  Hell, it's worth 10 times the asking price, but the seller is desperate and needs the money in a week. "Walter, as soon as you come back from David, can you go with me to check out this lot?"  First day back we headed out.  Last night I met a "De La Luna" volunteer on a run into town.

"Hey, Sam, want to crash at my place with Maggie and catch a ride to Michelle's tomorrow?  I'm delivering a dock construction water pump anyway.  So they went back to the hostel, grabbed their bags and I dragged them home. :  Sam, 24 and Maggie 23 hit it off with my son Mark and his friend Danielle.

At 4:30 I woke up.  Not unusually early for me.   Ahh shit, guests asleep in the living room.  I sat on the deck with my Kindle Fire.

7:30 Headed out with pump, Sam, Maggie, Mark, Danielle and Walter.

Dropped off Sam, Maggie and Pump.  Went to pick up seller.  Off to the land.

The kids could not imagine walking through 150 feet of muck to see the land.  They stayed on the boat nestled in the mangroves and fed the chitra (sand flies).

Walked through 150 feet of mangroves, up to the knees in muck.  A dock is in order here.  Up a hill, what a view, over the top of the mangroves, we trod left several hundred meters hacking our way through the jungle.  More ocean views. Spectacular mountain views.   Up the hill, down into a valley up another hill.  Deep jungle.  Are we higher than the first hill, down to the end. The land was staked with wood.  A fence here.  I swapped my sandals for the seller's size 8 rubber boots.  My size 12 feet managed to get in, but it was not comfy.

Drop off kids at Michelle's while we chase down more people and make my own documentation on land ownership. Danielle and Mark met the monkey. Danielle thinks he is sweet and wishes she could take it home. She has no idea.

Neighbors, men in canoes.  Houses.  Chasing down illiterate Indians in their shacks and dugouts to have them sign a document they would never understand.

Into town.   Write up purchase agreement.  Walter read it to the seller, he can't read. I gave seller $100 just because.  Off to notary.   Of course the guy is not there.  Asked seller to stay overnight, we'll notarize in the morning.

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6:00 This morning. What the fuck? Why are my water tanks empty? Where is the water going? Yesterday I needed to replace the hot water heater. Hot water is a luxury, at ambient temperature one can shower in it. Water is not. I have to pick up a new refrigerator today. Nothing like seas with a refrigerator on the deck of the boat. Water's usually calm in the morning, but I can't pick up a refrigerator by myself. No dolly's, pick up the refrigerator and place on boat. Then up 100 steps to the house and carry the one that is waiting on a part back down to the dock.

Forget getting volunteers, I'll get a boatload of Indians out from Loma Partida on a 42' dugout canoe. They can clear all the land in a day at my house. No time for dicking around.

Boat Tour - Dolphins and Beaches

You want to see some dolphins? That can be arranged. I woke the kids up at 7:30 whipped up a quick breakfast and we headed to Isla Carenero to fuel up at the gas dock. Six miles later we were in a bay in Isla Cristobol with about 30 tour boats. Dolphins, pairs of dolphins, threesomes, pods. Mother and calf. Dolphins everywhere. The kids had their little pocket cameras; ff you want to catch pictures of dolphins breaching you need a camera that takes at least three shots a second. By the time you see one start, react and the camera reacts, the dolphin is back in the water.

Ok, a few hours of that is enough. Next stop, Playa Estrella (Starfish Beach) on the north end of Isla Colon. Every time I've gone there before I was heading out from Bocas town. Just follow the shore until you get there. Now from 10 miles away I had to guess where it was. The point is so close to the mainland that from any angle except from the mainland it looks contiguous. I was spot on, never corrected my course other than to avoid shallow water. The kids went swimming for the first time since they got here. I ran into a bunch of friends, some who had come by car, some by collectivo (shared van ride) and some by boat.

Next stop? Boca del Drago. Not much there, but it's a stopping point and only a five minute ride. We got out, looked around and went back to the boat.

Bird Island? I headed south on the eastern side of Isla Colon in the open Caribbean. The seas were relatively calm but the four foot swells disconcerted Danielle so I headed back. The previous owner of my boat flipped it once on the way to my intended destination. The engine was replaced before I bought it.

Back to town, burgers at Casa Verde.

The kids wanted to find accommodations for New Year's Eve in town. This is a hopeless cause. We walked every street inquiring at every hotel, hostel and pension. Nobody had a room nor knew of anybody who did. We had already experienced four or five hours of intense tropical sun now we were walking the streets of Bocas. The sun is no more intense but with buildings blocking the breeze and asphalt streets its a whole heck of a lot hotter. We were all beginning to melt down. Finally I asked somebody to call Ola's and check. Yes, they had one room left. Mark set off at a fast jog while Danielle and I trudged. He found that the room rate was $85 and didn't want to pay that much. A local came out and started to talk to them about finding a room for them. I turned around and looked at him, “Oh it's you, you're like a father to me, Senior Jim.” I have no idea who this guy is. He suggested some hotel off the top of his head had a room. Ok, call it. No, we have to go there. This is the scam, they show you to a hotel and get a commission. Last frigging time. This time we went on the boat and as expected, they had no room he was just hopeful.

We provisioned and headed home. By the way, rehydrating with Cuba Libre is not a great idea.   

Cocoa Plantation

I was donating a USB cellular modem to the Peace Corp for use in a Cocoa Plantation in the hills over Almirante.  I had been asked to drop it off in Bocas, but I decided to take the kids to the plantation.  A boat ride to Bocas, a water taxi to Almirante.  We went grocery shopping as groceries are much cheaper in Almirante but ended up buying nothing more than a box of Oreos and a quart of milk.  A twenty minute taxi ride later we were at Rio Oeste Arriba a cocoa plantation of over 100,000 trees owned by sixty families.  We were met by Sam who directed us to Adam Armstrong, a Peace Corp volunteer who has organized tours of the facilities, with all proceeds going to the natives.


We walked by a preparation area, a woman was hand grating bars of prepped cocoa into powder.  They have no electricity, they don't even have rain catchment systems, they drink water out of the river.    Women in one area were measuring out tiny hundreds of tiny bags of sugar while across the room women were pouring in these hundreds of bags of sugar into the ground cocoa mixture to which condensed milk had been added.   "Hey, Adam, why don't they just measure this by the cupful?"  "I've been telling them that since I got here, this is they way they learned it eighty years ago.  Strange.  Very strange.

We tried out the cellular modem on a relic of a computer without success.  This is in a slight valley over a big hill.  Do they even get a signal?  Adam didn't seem concerned, they'd find a spot where they could get a signal.  Mark pulled out his Oreos and milk.  Adam, who probably gets a huge percentage of his calories from chocolate eagerly accepted some Oreos.  Mark cut the top off of the milk and we dunked directly into the carton as there were no glasses available.


We trekked up muddy slopes into the jungle, all sort of hardwoods shaded the cocoa trees, some plants fixed nitrogen, all husks were composted and returned.  No fertilizer, no pesticides.  Many trees had some sort of disease that resulted in a huge percentage loss of pods.   Trees with split trunks one trunk diseased and one trunk fruitful.  "Why don't they fell the diseased trunks?"  "They should, they don't."

The pods were of every color, red, green, purple, yellow.  These were not phases of development and different colored pods appeared on the same tree.  Adam reported that the different colors have slightly different flavors, but that they don't separate them.  He pulled a pod from a tree, banged on the trunk and listened, pulled it open and offered us some.  Inside the pods are seeds covered in a white viscous material.  If you pull out a seed and suck the material it is sweet and pleasant.  Danielle reluctantly tried one and made a strange face.   Seems she was just surprised by the taste.  The seed is spat out.

Back down through the muck to the kitchen the chocolate was done.   Hmmm. Delicious.  We called our cab, walked down to the road with Adam.  An Indian joined us, he pointed out a sable tree and said that was the tree they used to make cayucos, dugout canoes.  I told Adam that I wanted a couple, he talked to the man and we walked by a cayuco.  The man said it was big enough for two.  I replied that it didn't look big enough for me.  He pointed to another tree and said I needed one that size, about twice the size of this one.   Well, we shall see, I've ordered one before and nothing materialized.




http://www.thebocasbreeze.com/current-issue/december-diciembre-2011-v.shtml
http://panamajournal.blogspot.com/p/grant.html

Christmas Day

The kids slept late after a grueling trip down here.   By the time they had gotten up the daylight was half over.  After a spectacular morning the weather turned from bright and sunny to cloudy.  We popped over to see Clyde and Verne.   Verne has gone to the states.  Clyde was in the shower.  We walked the grounds and Clyde came out clad in nothing but a towel, the most amount of clothing I had ever seen him in.

Mark had an urgent need to use a toilet.  Too much hot sauce, me thinks.   He was directed to the toilet.  There is no front door, the window is low and Mark is a big boy.   As we stood looking at the Caribbean Danielle got a grin on his face when Mark dropped his trousers.  The bottom of his ass cheeks, was higher than the bottom of the window sill.   Things are different out here.

We started to head to Red Frog beach but it started to rain again so we headed home and installed some hammock hooks.   You need some oversized pilot holes when screwing into Nispero, one of the hardest woods on earth.

More work on the refrigerator, I took every component of the fuel system apart and tested them individually and then end to end.   This thing should be working.   Tomorrow I'll try a tank of Panagas which everyone tells me is far superior to Tropigas.  I much prefer the Panagas regulators.   Hell, I've got a Panagas tank and regulator, so I just need to exchange it for a full tank.   If that doesn't work, I'm out of ideas.  A guy had a refrigerator just like mine for sale.  New they are $1,200 he was selling an eight month old one for $400, I almost bought it now I really wish I had.  I don't remember his name.  

I sorted through all of my tools and filled my tool bag.  I had lots of duplicates and some pretty exotic tools that I wouldn't want to carry around all the time as there is probably nothing here that would require them so all I could do is bear the weight, get them rusty and lose them.

Off to the Cosmic Crab for dinner.  Ham, turkey, mashed potatoes, salad, crab bisque, salmon patties with caviar, stuffing, etc.   We sat on the dock and ate way too much then walked down to return the torch we borrowed, back on the boat to town to return the drill we borrowed.   Back home to an early night.   We can't be sleeping all day.

Christmas Eve

I picked up my son Mark and Danielle at Casa Verde, we had wonderful burritos at Gringos then headed off to the hardware store.  I picked up some fittings to work on my propane, but there were no torches, flux or solder.   A guy I had never met before told me to swing by his house on Carenero and he would set me up.   A bit later we headed off with hundreds of pounds of luggage (most of it in tools from part of my collection Mark brought with him, that's another story he will blog separately, quite the adventure) picked up the plumbing equipment and headed to the house after filling a five gallon tank of gas for the generator.   I can't keep up with electrical demands when there is no sun.

Bliss, sweet bliss, my son and sockets and wrenches and screwdrivers, top end wire strippers and crimpers, special wrenches for stripped nuts, a black vanadium metric and english socket set, files, nut drivers, a lot of stuff.  Not enough, but this will get me started.

I fixed the stove, ok, it's a cludge I just moved a tank an regulator into the kitchen, cut off a section of hose and verified that my run was too long or the pipes are clogged between the bodega and the kitchen.

An Indian, who had stopped by yesterday to help me with my boat returned at five o'clock as I requested. Although he hadn't asked for any money, it seemed the appropriate thing to do.  He called out my name from the dock and for the twelfth time or so I descended the steps.  He sat in a little cayuca, laden with a substantial generator and what were obviously Christmas gifts.   I offered to take him home.  His little boat had but a few inches of freeboard, the height of the gunwhales above the water line.  He accepted, we transferred everything onto my boat and tried to pull the cayuco, on the side of the boat and behind the boat but it wouldn't track and took on water.   We hoisted crosswise across the bow of my boat and headed to his house.   A guy saw us and came down, there was no dock so the stuff had to be carried through the water.   Then girl after girl came down, very pleasant, extremely well fed Ngobe offspring, calling out to me in English.   To them this would be like hooking up with royalty.   The Indian told me that he was a carpenter and that he could build me a boat house in three weeks.   This could be good.  Although I could do it myself legally I need a local builder.  Besides, you always need to have a helper and he already has all the wood working tools.

We headed out and had a wonderful dinner at El Ultimo Refugio, I had pork tenderloin with mango sauce, veggies and rice.  The kids had chorizo stuffed chicken, veggies and the best mashed potatoes on the island.  Find our way home in complete darkness was an adventure.  Glad I left the porch light on.

Christmas Eve - Part 1

I woke up, got out of bed actually as I didn't sleep all night.  Ok, what was going in with that bilge pump?  I couldn't make coffee as the propane is blocked.   Out on the deck.  Trash knocked over, cushions missing, one cushion torn up.  The puppy was just finishing chewing the power cord off the fan.   Mud everywhere.  

Ok, let's see that volt ohm meter.  I took apart the seals and rusty water poured out.  Total loss.  Well, I have another one coming.  I hope my son is keeping my tools in plastic bags.   Speaking of which, I got a message at 8:30, they were just about to board the Caribe Shuttle after I'd sent a long detailed message on how to get to Bocas from Puerto Viejo by bus, clearing customs and immigration in two countries, walking a long wooden bridge over crocodile infested waters, catching a van, catching a water taxi and then catching a Taxi.  

Down to the boat.   A lead had gotten disconnected to the float switch for the bilge pump.  This should be easy.   Nope the wire strippers had rusted to the point of being worthless.   10 minutes later I had spliced two frigging wires.  I hooked it up, threw the switch.  Nothing.  I checked the fuse, it was ok.  No volt ohm meter.   Finally as I stood there the pump kicked on and smoke started billowing out.  I grabbed the pliers and cut the hot wire.   The other connection, the one I had not fixed had been seriously strained and had a bad connection.  Ok, fix that two and then secure the wires.  I should not have hired a professional to do the job.

Picked up more cushions on the way back up.  I give up.  I'll just put them in storage.   Thought I'd make a run to return a gas can.  I had borrowed Stephen's as mine had been floating in water and I didn't want to risk my engine over $25 worth of gas.  As I had predicted, I had pulled the boat up so far that I couldn't get it out at low tide.   I waited an hour and headed out.

A guy a know gave me a lead on six acres of ocean front property in the jungle overlooking the mountains for $3,000.  That's what I paid in legal fees to buy this house and they are both right of possession.   This time I won't be using an attorney, I've got copies of all the documents, I can draft up duplicates.   Jesus attornies are overpaid.

So I wait, my son Mark and his friend Danielle should be pulling up to Bocas in an hour and a half.   This girl is going to have the time of her life and stories to tell for years.

Nearly Sank the Boat

Last night it was raining in torrents.  I posted on Facebook at 3.  "Rain, torrents of rain, thunder that rolls for 10 seconds, so loud it shakes the bed, creates ripples in the water on the glass next to my computer. No way to sleep, no way my bilge pump can keep up with this. My four inch gutters can't keep up. It's going to be a long night."   Then I went down to bail the boat.  I pulled it as far forward as I could and put the engine down hoping that in the event of calamity it would hit in the muck and keep her afloat.


I bailed it again at 5 o'clock and finally fell asleep around six, still raining, raining hard.



Around 8 I went to make a run to town and found the boat filled with water the stern below the water line.   This could not be fixed with any amount of bailing.  I hailed a passing Indian but we couldn't move the boat.   If I started to raise the engine, the stern would sink.  Fortunately at this time the water was only up to the very bottom of the cowling.


I called a friend, Stephen and asked him to bring a come along and some able bodied men.  Less than an hour later he rode up with three strong young guys.   As the four of them pulled the boat forward I slowly raised the engine.   We were finally able to get her far enough forward that the stern was barely above the water line.   While one guy bailed with a five gallon bucket Stephen hooked up an 1,100 gallon per hour bilge pump to a battery he brought.  Forty five minutes later the boat was floating.   Ok, up to the house, fetch the keys.   If it doesn't start right away salt water has taken its toll.

She fired right up and I headed to town running her hot to dry her out.   My son Mark and his dear friend Danielle will be here tomorrow.  It would be a whole different trip without a boat.

Damn

The stove is out.  The refrigerator is out.  I walked down the steps to to the dock.  My waterproof toolbox on the boat wasn't.  The tools? I'll need some steel wool and lithium grease to restore them.  The volt ohm meter, double wrapped in ziplock bags was soaking, dead. Five cushions from the deck furniture scattered on the hill on the outside of the fence.  It's muddy and slippery, hard to negotiate.  Thanks dogs.

I replaced the regulator on the propane system that I borrowed from my grill.  The dogs had chewed through the hose.  Why?  Why do you do this to me? Not a fix, now to backflush with compressed air.  Do I have to buy a compressor?   Ahh, what a pain in the ass.

Beyond the Pail

I've covered this already, the cayuca, suspended from the ceiling to catch the runoff from the roof that would otherwise pour into the kitchen, kind of a gutter for a thatched roof had one problem not addressed in its design. A pail had been set underneath the Cayuca but it overflowed too.  Eventually it will fill with water unless there is a drain hole. Unfortunately, the only logical place for a drain hole is at the low point of the little canoe which would put it square in the middle of the walkway. We already have to duck under it. I grabbed a hose and siphoned it dry but that is not a good long term solution.

There is no toilet paper left in the house, nor paper towels. Down to the napkins. The house is a wreck, dead bugs everywhere, dog hair, monkey shit while the monkey beats a metal bowl on the floor, I guess the rest of the main house crew will be up soon.

Stove installation complete at 10:30.

Canoe problem how to protect for tonight, I've got a spare bilge pump and a float switch, installation should take but half an hour.

Five kinds of hummus, home made bread. Tomatoes, peppers, carrots and cucumbers. Give me this and a salad I could it every day for lunch.

Eight aboard a boat. Damn that reef sucked. I swam back from the second reef “You can't swim that far.” Sure I can and I will. The boat beat me back.

3:39 Back from snorkeling. Why can't we eat eggs? Well, every time a chicken lays an egg the monkey breaks it. So we went to the store and bought four dozen. The monkey broke into the cabinet and smashed them on the floor. Fuck you. Good bye. I have something else to dick with now.

The monkey takes a conch shell off the shelf and fails to break it so he pushes it across the floor scratching it, then went off to rape the cat, well not rape necessarily, the cat is in heat and is presenting itself to the world, not even looking back.

Keep your computer closed, two have been destroyed by the monkey pissing on the keyboard. Don't leave the dongle in the computer. The monkey will run away with it.

Out of toilet paper, paper towels and napkins. Ok, I'll take you to the store. The boat ride, Amanda, the shore. “How hard can this be?” Driving a boat in calm water is not a difficult task but with the aid of some seco she was doing her best to turn us into the shore at top speed.

5:50 The monkey knocked over a can of paint thinner, it dripped through the floor and soaked the bedding and mattress in the room below the kitchen, on Alicia's bed. “Cover it with laundry powder and flush it with water until it is soaked. Take the mattress cover and sheets and soak them in a trash bucket with detergent overnight. Wash the kitchen floor with detergent before it strips the varnish.” Yeah, these kids will be ok by themselves. Shock the monkey.

“Jim, I'm so glad you are here, without you we wouldn't have food or toilet paper.” “Without food you wouldn't need toilet paper.”

Green Leafy Vegetables

As I write this, at 6:45 on Saturday morning, Sierra walks up 187 steps to the house to use the toilet. Apparently she thought using the outhouse that dumps directly into the ocean was not her style. The propane refrigerator stinks, I'll give it a cleaning in a bit. Great, the flame box is off and a plastic bag is sitting inches from the flame. The Cayuca, strapped to the ceiling to catch the run off from the roof in a valley over the kitchen is overflowing. I'll bail it and we'll have to drill a hole and put in a drain pipe. Didn't anybody think of a drain pipe on something designed to catch water? Bail it out and use the water to flush the toilet. The cayuca has developed a large crack due to the weight if this isn't fixed soon it will just break under the load and crash to the floor. Am I going to find a drill and bits? This bailing is gonna take forever. Can I find a hose and siphon it out?

Three minutes later the siphon is draining the cayuca. Now to attend to the refrigerator. No, it's not urgent, I'll wait until a volunteer is up and show him how to do it. Coffee. Must have coffee. This thing needs a drain, right in the middle of the boat, in the low spot, in the center of the walkway. We already have to duck to get underneath the thing.

Michelle had to leave the country for 72 hours. It's a visa thing.

“And who is going to watch over the kids?”

“They can take care of themselves.”

“And if they need to get to a hospital?”

“They have Ken's number.”

“Great, maybe both phone services will be up, Ken's phone will be working and turned on and he'll answer it. Then he can make his way from Isla Popa. I'll stay until you get back.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“Yes, I do.”

So I took Michelle to town, I had to go pay the balance of the generator to Clay anyway. Rain wanted to stay at Red Frog for a while and Amanda just wanted a change of pace. “Well girl, you're going to do some shopping. If we don't get some leafy green vegetables we are either going to die of malnutrition or mutiny.” The crowd roared. “SALAD!” Ohh, my god!” “ Sure let's get some meat and some garbonzo beans too, maybe we can have a fit meal.”

Michelle please call Clay and tell him I'm coming to finish paying for your generator.

“Jim here's 40 dollars can you pick up a mattress from Charly and bring it back for me?”

“Sure, call Charly, give her my number.”

“I don't have Charly's number, it's on Facebook.”

WTF? I should send Charly a Facebook message and hang around until she replies to it?

Off to see Eleene, Clay's wife, maybe she can find Clay. The door at her office is locked. I have no idea how to get hold of her. This was the only reason I was going to town. Failure after five attempts. Never paid, well damn, I tried.

No internet at Camp Crazy. I'll pick up a dongle. I've been told that both Claro and Movistar work. I tried Michelle's Movistar. Working is a stretch. The service is frequently out and when it is not it is so slow as to be next to worthless. I bought a Claro dongle from the Claro shop in front of Christina's Supermarket. “Don't I have to buy $15 worth of credit to get a month's usage?” “Yes.” Shit, you should have told me. “Well, I'd like to buy the credit.” “We don't sell the credits, go to Super Isla Colon.” WTF? Over to the supermarket. Can I buy a $15 credit? No, they don't sell them. Umm, do you sell Claro Carga? $5. Ok, give me three.

I return to Claro with my credits in hand. I had the foresight to ask if I could enter the credits over my computer. No, I have to use a Claro phone? Can you enter it for me? Sure. She entered it. Just call this number, type in these digits, then send this message to this address. Why in the name of all that is unholy after entering my charge up information do I have to send you a message to the effect of yes, I paid for it, yes I want it. I mean, truly, I do.

We purchased veggies, eight pounds of garbonzo beans and whatever Amanda felt appropriate at the supermarket. “It's what fucking time?” Damn, I have to go to my house and get a bunch of shit before that long ride to De La Luny. To the boat girl. We tore off to my house, I grabbed what was needed and full bored it back. Great ride, calm seas, direct shot, bearing 180, 17.2 knots. Forty two minutes, no mistakes this time.

“Karl, your dad is so cool.”

Off to the cow pastures to inspect the patties. The dung was disappointing but the view on the way over the top of the main building was spectacular.

Dan caught 10 fish off the dock in my absence. Good man.

Dinner awesome, greens, oh my god an orgy of salad, fish, rice, stir fry. Underpowered stove. Gotta fix that, tomorrow. One of the girls went into the kitchen to get the cookies she had baked and put in a Tupperware container. “Oh, my God!” We all rushed in. Topo had opened the container and taken one bite out each and every cookie and then threw them on the floor when he was done.

What is this? He broke into the Johnny Cakes and bit one bit into each of them, carrying them around and throwing them onto the floor of the living room. A monkey “Fuck you, again, assholes.”

Return of the Spawn of Satan

Some source of protein is required. Get a bunch of chickens and you'll have poultry and eggs. The chickens here now are free range and roost in the lemon tree. When they lay eggs, the monkey searches them out and breaks them before anybody can find them. You need a lot of chickens. No coop? What is that? Put the tin laying on the dock on top of it and add some roosts and brood boxes and fill with chicks and you'll have chicken in six weeks. Put the chickens in there at night and you can have eggs starting the next day. I guess the chicken coop will have to be kept closed at all times and the eggs laid at night can be salvaged. If the coop is left open it will only serve as a central point for egg stealing, egg smashing mayhem.

I tried to fix the ballcock on a toilet but grew frustrated when the water service kept coming and going. The cisterns are going to be relocated up the hill then gravity feed will provide water. This makeshift boat pump is completely inadequate and runs near constantly, with the slightest flow of water. An air tank is in order.

Food and water. Need food and water, then work on the other stuff.

Making Coconut oil.

The first phase of making coconut oil involves husking coconut. The technique employed here is to bang the coconut on a pointed stick. The stick was soft, rounded, not working well. Why don't you use a coconut splitter? Never heard of it? I drew a picture, a simple device that looks like flat jawed pliers with three foot handles, crafted out of rebar.

Ok, I'll go get some nispero and make a new stick. Nispero is ironwood, so dense it doesn't float and so hard a nail cannot be driven into it. I walked down to the dock, crafted one and walked back up stairs.

Amanda in a black dress and Rain in a tank top and gym shorts. cracking open coconuts by smashing on a stake. Once cracked, the core is drilled to remove the coconut water after which it is cracked with a machete a task Amanda was undertaking, “I love doing this.” Please stop swinging that machete in my direction. Must have said it twenty times. Each time she complied followed by more attention to the task than any regard for others by.

Once the core is split the meat is extracted and grated, then pressed to extract the oil. I discovered a far faster way.

Building a stone wall

Karl, Sam and Dan walking down a steep hill to the beach to get some aggregate and cement, carrying up to a flat spot to mix in a wheel barrow and then carrying down the steep hill in five gallon buckets. Quite a change from the seventeen year old cursing the task of raking the lawn.

Topo, The monkey is back. Who knows what he has been up to? Over to the other side to commune with other Capuchins? No black eyes, so he hasn't been fighting with the much larger howler monkeys. Maybe just eating bugs and raping small mammals, but that seems a little tame for the hellion.

Michelle: “I'm so glad Topo is back.”

Me: “I'm so glad that rash on my ass is back.”

The Ngobe workers are on the dock tearing down what remains of the original house.

I'm too sick and weak to be of much help.

Monkey jerked off and emitted some thick green fluid, licked it off and went on his way.

12:03, Why is there no power? The generator pull cord was broken. Why didn't anybody tell me? I searched the bodega for tools. What a sorry collection and what an amazingly disorganized lot it is. Still it took but about 10 minutes to fix, but having to resort to polypropylene means it will have to be properly fixed after I secure some braided nylon cord.

It's been raining like hell, there is but little water left. What the fuck? The concrete mixing takes but a few gallons a batch. I'll have to look into that.

Visitors

While we were gathered for lunch Michelle saw a boat approaching her boat house. “TOM!” “TOM!”

It wasn't Tom, an anticipated volunteer but three people dressed to the hilt in “I think I'm Jungle Jim” garb. Michelle yelled, “Did you talk with the owner before coming here?” “Yes, we did.” “Well, I'm the owner and you didn't talk with me, come up here and let's discuss.” The threesome started up the hill. There was a quick change of heart. “I don't want people just entering my sanctuary.” They were greeted by Michelle and me, both casually carrying 30 inch machetes. “Who are you and why are you here?” The guy flashed some plastic from a distance of 50 feet and said that he was with some research institute here to take photographs and some samples of frogs. C'mon, that compact camera is not what a research institute would use. Frog poachers. These little frogs, so abundant here, exist only on this little island and go for $400 apiece on the black market. “You need to leave now.” They headed down but veered off near a large patch of dead leaves, the preferred habitat of the frogs. “Go directly to the dock, do not walk off the the path.” These guys had no shame, they continued but after repeated orders made their way back on the path and returned to their boats. Damn Michelle was pissed and went off to her office to do God knows what.

Topo jumped over the deck, swung through the hammock bit Dan on the leg and returned to his perch on the railing. Dan went batshit, “I hate that little bastard.” The monkey started screeching and causing a huge ruckus. Dan responded by holding his hands over his head with a charge. Topo hopped back on the railing and perched on the thatched eves. Another job well done. “What can I dick with next?”

We had lunch, I think it was a small bowl of otoy, yet again. Damn I'm hungry. In the boat with a couple of girls. Let's go see if we can find a market that sells some vegetables, if I continue eating nothing but starchy roots I think I'll die. One little wooden shack on the water after another. No we don't have fish or vegetables. I dropped everybody off and went on a quest finally buying out the last of the chicken that will be available around here for at least a week.

We had chicken for dinner and for the first time since any of the people have been here, we were finally sated.

Hanging at De La Luna

A fine whistling from the water. Humberto was on his way to work. The girls guessed that he was in his mid forties. He's seventy three. He spent the entire morning make a frame filled with bamboo to serve as a door for a cabin to be occupied by a volunteer that was to arrive. With a chop saw the job would have taken at most half an hour. Hand sawn miters, no miter box, lot's of cuts. Hand saw the bamboo. Cut, measure the next piece and cut again.

As it was a rainy day the other workers would not be coming. On these days they occupy themselves gouging bowls and plates out of wood. The volunteers then smooth them out with a power sander/grinding tool. Alicia and Amanda finished off dozens of plates and bowls. These dishes are to be used here instead of ceramic dishes that get chipped or break.

Working in the rain Karl, Sam and Rain dug yucca, a starchy root for dinner.

Karl and Sam then sat down and scraped labels off of liquor bottles, taking them from a pile of a thousand which will be used for a purpose I don't think I'm currently allowed to disclose, let's just say it's a construction project.

Lizzie, Dan's girl friend made bean chili in the kitchen while Dan and I improvised a Hawaiian sling, a type of spear gun, out of surgical tubing, bamboo, a hose clamp, some cable ties and a hanger. It looks cooler than it sounds and works well.

Lunch black bean, lime, garlic chili, rice, plantains.

Time to move a bed from a facility over the water to a lodging known as MarguayRita, named after a Marguay wildcat that Michelle formerly owned. The cat still prowls the island with its kitten. Great, the bed was built in the room, no way it could be moved out of the room without taking it apart. It had been constructed with a large number of large nails, requiring large pry bars to get the thing apart.

Sierra, a 24 year old female volunteer joined us.

Lizzie made dinner of Yucca with lots of onion and garlic, home baked bread oil with garlic and

oil. Nothing but white carbs in site. This is not something a guy with blood sugar problems needs to be feasting on. Actually this isn't a good diet for anyone, it's seriously deficient in so many elements of nutrition it's beyond description.

We all told of ourselves and our history. At one point in my story I said, “At this time I was 25.” The look on their faces was precious. I had covered working at a hardware store, managing the store, home handyman, construction work, locksmith, repo man, architectural hardware consultant, head of deposit operations for a major Detroit Bank, software developer in Florida, programmer in Texas and had just reached the point where I was head of data processing for the international banking department for the seventeenth largest bank in the country. I told them a lot of stuff I'd never blog.

I went on to talk about my marriage to a girl I met in London, my kids, Karl (in attendance) and Mark, divorce, kids moving in with me, I skipped a couple of jobs, started my own consulting firm, kids moved out, sold all my shit and hit the road.

Someone said “Who wants to follow that story? Jesus, 'I'm nineteen, I went to high school and then went on this trip just doesn't work after that tale.” We were bonding.

Feeling Rather Under the Weather

At 4:30 I awoke sweating and terribly dehydrated. I walked out of my cabin and in the absolute darkness attempted to walk the wet rail-less elevated walkways, failing miserably. Twice I fell off and rolled down the hill. I walked back up and crawled on the walkway with my right hand clasped over the edge to the house. Arriving at the house I fumbled with the monkey proof latch and made my way into the kitchen. It was profoundly dark. I felt my way over to the refrigerator and felt for the monkey proof hasp, reaching inside I couldn't find anything but food. I couldn't find the sink. I went outside and looked for the dogs water bowl, felt in and it was empty.

Finally the dogs entered the house and made enough noise to wake Michelle who came down turned on the light and gave me a couple of liters of water. Ok, I'm not trying to make my way back to the cabin, I'll just hang out in the hammock. I lay there, chilled from the cool air that rolls down off the mountain across the small expanse of sea between here and the mainland.

Finally, dawn broke and people started appearing. Time to feed my dog, who was tied up on the boat dock to prevent him from attacking the monkey again. Down to the dock, feeling ill. Back up 187 steps I was sweating profusely and stumbling. Michelle saw me and cried out for someone to come help me down the stairs into the house and placed me back in the hammock. I was shaking and so weak I couldn't lift my arms. She plied me with juices and spoon feed me peanut butter then wiped me down with cool wet rags. Another volunteer took over the job. More juice, more juice.

Michelle came out with a blood pressure tester and her diabetic equipment. She took my blood pressure with a very concerned look on her face and then took my blood sugar readings and ran out of the room. Time passed, I don't know how much. “Jim, we have to get you to a hospital can you walk?” “Not yet.” My blood sugar was so low it wouldn't even register on the device. More juice. About an hour later I was instructed to go to Casa Verde to meet the floating doctors who would take me to a hospital with no expectation that I would be returning soon. Karl would drive the boat and come back but he couldn't find the place so I was provided with Humberto, an employee of De La Luna and Dan, a volunteer. Heavily laden we started off to town.

First stop, gas up. This took forever as the gas was siphoned into five gallon buckets and then siphoned into the boat. Dan bought me five candy bars. I ate three right away. We proceeded slowly in some very rough seas through shitty weather. Droning on we made it back to town a couple of hours later. No way to dock at Casa Verde, the seas were too rough, so we docked at the hardware store and walked to Casa Verde. I found nothing but regulars. Where was this doctor?

Dan and Karl and I took a taxi to the hospital. After a quick admission I was checked and my glucose levels were at 182 not bad after having had five candy bars in an hour. I could walk now.

Nobody could get a hold of Michelle, she had turned her phone off.

Off to Casa Verde to look for the doctors again, I walked the length of town. It turns out that the whole town knew of my plight, as Michelle had considerately posted it on Facebook. that people had been gathered for the big event, some out of morbid curiosity and some with honey and sugar drinks. But the doctors had gone.

I walked the streets of Bocas, barefoot in muddy and bloody clothes in the rain.

I bought yet another cell phone, my last one destroyed in a quick rain. Now to make some phone calls.

Back to hospital to look for Dan, put I couldn't find the right door, back to town to find Karl to get Dan. Karl left and Dan showed up.

Karl got an email from Michelle. Could I pick up a generator she was buying? Dan and I went off to the Barracuda to look for Ellene, who's husband Clay owned the generator. Clay is the guy who built my house and this was the generator he had used. Ellene called Clay and we went off to inspect the generator. It was fine. So I picked it for for Michelle and Clay and Dan carried it to the boat.

A tall skinny guy with horrible teeth rode by on a bike. “Hey, Jim!” “Flaco, can you watch my dogs for a while?” Well, he doesn't speak English and I, well, you know, can't speak Spanish but the concept was conveyed. I gave him $40 to be apportioned between dog food and services rendered. Thirty dollars worth of dog food will last them a month. Flaco makes about $10 a day. This is a good deal for each of us.

Back to get boat, laden with two big adults on the bow and a heavy generator in on the foredeck. The boat plowed through the chop, bow low. We stopped at my house to get more clothes and other necessities and then headed back to De La Luna in Loma Partida. We headed due south slowly through rough water. I learned several short cuts from Humberto, the man knows every clump of mangrove in this archipelago. It was a wet rough ride, but I was feeling mostly human.

When we finally got to De La Luna the girls were bathing in the ocean. Interesting, I shower when I get out to get off the salt water. Repeated shouts from the house where I found that the Bocas Emergency Network had been prepared to start an all boats search for me when we finally got to Bocas. The doctor thought based on the condition described when we left that I would probably go into shock before we ever made it. It takes a lot to kill a bull.

Dinner of otoy again. More juice. An evening of various card games with four cute young women, a couple of young guys and Karl. So much laughter for hours with nobody drinking or getting high. This is so much better than Bocas Town.

We went to bed around nine. I got some sleep, not enough.

Off to De La Luna

Karl needed a change of pace and I was supposed to pick a generator at four o'clock and take it to De La Luna in Loma Partida, a beautiful island on the south end of the Bocas del Toro archipelago. Michelle Welty Moore, the owner and a good friend asked I would pick up a volunteer, Rain, and transport her from Bocas, thereby saving her $60 to $120 for a water taxi fare. Yeah, it's a bit of a haul out there.

I pulled up to Casa Verde at the appointed hour and tried to contact the owner of the generator but he wasn't answering his phone.We took off on on what I thought at the time must be one of the most indirect routes ever. We were met at the dock by Sam, Dan and Lizzie, some of the volunteers currently working at the place.

Due to the fact that my dog Hayu had nearly killed Michelle's monkey on my previous trip I was asked to keep him on the dock. We headed up to the house with my other dog, Jessica who was born at the place. Very soon Jessica was beset upon by Topo, the monkey and Michelle picked up the protesting monkey, being bitten in the process and proceeded to put it in a cage normally used for rehabilitation of animals although Topo is the most serious candidate for rehabilitation of any pet I've ever had the misfortune of encountering. While Hayu sulked on the dock, Topo raged in his cage.

Dinner followed by a rowdy evening of conversation mostly about our respective travel adventures.

The monkey is still in its cage.  

More Mayhem and Madness

Boot Rack

Our boot solution failed as Topo, the monkey, jumped on each pole with great exertion until he knocked them down. Thanks buddy. Nail board to walk nail poles to board.

Nope can't nail the board to the walk, it's nispero, one must drill a pilot hole to drive a nail. We have the correct drill bits, but they are locked up and the keyholder has left town. Turning a ten minute project into a two hour project.

Cayuca

It rained heavily last night. The bilge pump in the Cayuca was a success. Just finished a temporary wire in. Had to run the recharger to an outlet in the kitchen, no outlets upstairs. Let's hope someone doesn't unplug it to put in a blender.

The fruit tree from hell.

I don't know what kind of tree it is, but it drops ping pong ball sized pieces of fruit over an area exceeding a one hundred foot radius. The fruits are so numerous they touch, the ground is blanketed with these rotting fruits. The loudest sound at night is the sound of these fruits dropping from a height of 150 feet. Can you say “firewood?”

Fish and Chicken

The kids were fishing on the dock, being fairly productive, at least Dan was. They saw some kind of fish they didn't know but it fled before they could don scuba gear and get out my speargun. I joined them and went for a brief swim. Amanda came down and said, “Jim, there is a badly injured hen.” “Where is it?” “Sierra is holding it up at the house.”

I walked up the long flight of stairs to see Sierra holding a large hen, its head drooping and a large wound in the middle of the upper back. Diva, my Jessica's sister had been chasing chickens all morning. No doubt what happened here. I was asked, “Do we have any gauze?” “No, but I have a machete, it's a chicken. Let's put it out of its misery and eat it.” “Do you know how to do that?” “What, cut the head off a chicken? I'll figure it out.”

I took the hen and hung it by its feet to bleed out. The monkey hopped down and started licking the blood, the cat stood by presenting, Diva came over to inspect her work and the crew stood around and took pictures. I fetched the cauldron, well, I'm sure you've figured out the rest.

Nope, I inspected the wound, it was maggot infested. I decided to brine the chicken, It is now chicken of the sea. I guess six small fish will have to suffice for the eight of us with some coleslaw and rice. No vegetable oil.

During dinner Topo ran out with some chiote, a green vegetable. Apparently someone had failed to lock the refrigerator.

Puerto Viejo to Bocas

Puerto Viejo to Bocas via Bus

Tickets may be purchased at the MEPE bus terminal on the waterfront on then end of town nearest the bridge to Playa Negro for the Colone equivalent of $3 which on 14 November 2011 was 1,470.

The bus stops in Bribri after 20 minutes and continues to Sixaola, arriving about an hour and 15 minutes after leaving Puerto Viejo.

With one's back to the bus terminal follow the road to the right to the end, make a quick jog to the left and ascend the stairs. Maybe thirty yards to the left is a blue building on the right where a declaration is to be obtained, completed and returned with one's passport which should be promptly stamped without fee.

Exiting the building, make a right and cross the bridge. If your flight out is via San Jose you must present a bus ticket back to San Jose. If one does not have one there is a little blue box visible on the right, with one's back to the bridge at which one can be obtained for $14 for a ride from Changuinola, Panama back to San Jose from one of the surliest women to man a booth. I know of many who have bought these tickets, which are good for a year, but no one who has actually taken a bus from Changuinola. It's probably best just to have a forged flight confirmation out of Panama City in hand.

Proceed to immigration, the first window past customs. No forms are necessary other than your flight confirmation or bus ticket to show that you actually intend to leave Panama. Eventually you will get your passport stamped by a clerk who may just decide to stop working in the middle of anybody's processing.

Next stop is next door where an entry stamp is obtained without ceremony for $3.

By this time you will probably have been besieged by people running the cooperativa's and have been offered a shared ride in a van for $10 to Almirante.

Arriving in Almirante you will pass my preferred water taxi operator, turn around and walk back the 30 meters to the purple Bocas Marine Tours building, pay your $5 and promptly on the next half hour you will find your boat departing for Bocas for a twenty to twenty five minute ride.

Welcome to paradise!

Puerto Viejo

Margot headed off for the beach on her bike. Karl and I rented bikes and rode down to Cocles, dropping in on my former landlady at the store she runs. I hadn't seen her boy who has just turned two. “Jim, you've lost a lot of weight.” Yeah, exercise will do that although I'm still many pounds up from where I was last December at the end of my year of tromping in the Andes. Slowly working off the pounds I accumulated in London. Time to spend at least an hour a morning swimming. Back to town move from the Hotel to Margot's hostel and off again on the bikes, a walk through the rain forest and along the shore, back up the road, my former thrice a day route when I lived in Cocles. Back to the hostel, damn sleep deprived, nap. Off to dinner. We hit Veronica's but in my brilliance I suggested Chile Rojo. I split a lettuceless fatoush and vegetarian dinner with Karl. Bland, soft falafels, runny hummous, a tablespoon of tabouleh that was more bulgar wheat than parsley, almost devoid of mint. Margot's vegetable curry apparently could have been worse which is not something we could report about our meal. Rain. Rain. Rain. Rain. Well it is November, is it ever going to stop? We headed back to the hostel via the grocery store so that Karl and I could make some sandwiches. At least Chile Rojo had the decency to provide only tiny portions of their horrible food.

Puerto Viejo is a lovely little town actually far nicer than Bocas Town and with much better grocery stores.   I have to say, however that Bocas is far better once one leaves town.  

Cards. Oops, another problem with sleeping arrangements. I dashed out to Hotel Puerto Viejo and secured a room just as they were closing the window. No I hadn't, the room was occupied. Let's try another room. I got my key and unlocked the padlock that secured the bolt to the door. Between the bolt and the door it looked like a chicken coop. Right past the door the steps led up. It essentially was a chicken coop, except that in a chicken coop the bugs would have been eaten.

I stopped at a Tex-Mex restaurant for a beer on my way to my room.  Eight cops came in and searched everybody in the place but me.  I've never seen that before.

Fortuna to Puerto Viejo

To hell with it. Let's forego all of these activities and just go back to the sea. Off to Puerto Viejo. We drove back to San Jose to return the car five days early. Both my passengers slept while I wearily drove for three and a half hours. The lot was closed. Great. The phone had been talked out of minutes so we couldn't call. Bought some minutes. Called them up and told them I didn't want to wait until two for them to show up so that I could turn in the car and then catch the four o'clock bus. Can't I just leave it here? Hell, they told me I could leave it on the border at Sixaola for a $150 pickup fee, why couldn't I just leave it at the office? He called the guard. No luck. Finally I was told to just leave the key under the mat. We caught a taxi to Bus Terminal El Caribe. A taxi driver told us “That was the twelve o'clock bus, the next one doesn't leave until two.” What of it? We wanted to catch it but this was hardly a disaster. “Let's go catch it.” We piled into his cab and he raced off into traffic, weaving in and out of traffic and caught up to it after three or four miles. The cab driver positioned himself and waved three fingers out the window. The bus pulled over. The driver wanted 4,000 Colones for his effort. Excessive for the distance but it beat waiting in the terminal for another two hours. Unfortunately it meant we were getting on a bus without Karl having had a chance to eat. We boarded the bus and then forked over 4,725 Colones apiece for the four hour ride in comfortable seats.

Margot had reservations at a lovely hostel that was otherwise full. Karl and I found a hotel with a great location, an ugly yard, dogs that bark every five minutes and rock hard mattresses. Whatever. Off to Sonya's for dinner. “Buenes Noches, Sonya.” “Hola, Mi amor! It has been one, two years?” “Two.” Fish tacos for dinner on the sea shore.

Hanging Bridges

Up and out, breakfast, off to the hanging bridges. Didn't see shit.  Our 2009 trip to The Hanging Bridges I have never spent so much time in the jungle and seen so little wild life. “Oh, that happens a lot when I'm around.” Hmmm.

At some point near a tunnel Karl said, remember if we go under the tunnel, back around the top and down the path we get that awesome view and those plants that fold up when we touch them and that view of the Volcano?  Now I do.  I couldn't have found it again if my life depended on it.   Yup, Karl, you were absolutely correct.

Back to town. “No more activities today, ok?” Sure, I can do nothing. Can't do it well, but I can do it. Dinner, then hammer time. Here Karl, you miss your girlfriend give her a call for a few minutes. Margot handed over her phone. Karl returned 43 minutes later when he had exhausted the prepaid account with no clue how long he had been talking. We walked back.

Off to Fortuna

Dentist

Last day in San Jose. This was fast and thank God. Margot stayed back at the hotel and Karl and I headed off to the dentist. Karl's inspection was done in a minute. Maurice took him off to photograph some graffiti while I had 35 years of cigarette and coffee stains blasted off my chompers with 25% hydrogen peroxide and ultraviolet light. I'll spare you the details of the procedure and my white burned gums.

Off to Fortuna

Volcano time. We rented a car and headed out to see Volcan Arenal via Volcan Poas. Just north of San Jose lies Volcan Poas. It's a lovely drive from Alejualah; the drive alone is worth the trip. As we climbed the volcano things were looking pretty sketchy. The afternoon clouds were coming in. I pulled up to the ticket gate and asked the lovely Tica “Do you speak English?” Her response was very clear and very carefully enunciated but it soon became apparent that this was her most practiced phrase. She then told us it was partly cloudy at the top. Partly? Partly? That hardly seemed likely. Nobody in the car wanted to say, “Yeah, let's give it a shot anyway.” or “No, you have got to be fucking kidding me.” We bought tickets and took the walk. Arriving at the summit, where one would peer down into the volcano, see the bubbling sulfur on the far side of the lagoon the visibility was maybe 10 feet. No clue we were near a volcano. NEXT!

Back to the car, I drove for three hours to Fortuna. We arrived at the ApartHotel at which I had formerly lived. Karl got out and greeted Rudy with “Fuck you, my friend.” With Rudy, that is entirely appropriate. I think it's one of the phrases he teaches his English language students as a typical American phrase. My room, #7, was occupied. He wanted to place us in another room a single room with no couches, no refrigerator or kitchen and no TV, basically a really large closet with a bed. We went out for dinner, it's not hard to please a vegan who is more than happy to eat rice and beans for every meal.

When we returned a sofa bed had been carried down into the room. “Karl can have the couch, you can have the bed and I'll sleep on the floor.” This won't do. “You are so high maintenance.” Off to find suitable accomodations, returning. “Let me get Rudy to move this guy's car.” “It's less than half a mile, my backpack isn't very heavy, the guy might be asleep, are you always this high maintenance?” What a trooper.

Dental Work

Dentist

One spring day, many years ago, I took my boys out of school so that I could fly them to an exotic location, there having been so many that I don't recall the destination. That was the only day of school my son Karl has ever missed. Karl has not been sick a single day in his twenty three years.

In April he to a detour while riding home on his bike from a bar late at night. After face planting into a parked automobile he found himself absent an upper incisor and with two chipped bicuspids. Shortly thereafter the other upper incisor was pulled to complete that West Virginia Mobile Home look.

Today we start to rectify the situation. A dentist in San Jose Costa Rica was highly recommended by a woman in Bocas who had the full complement of her dentition replaced. Karl awoke after a restless night, we had a bountiful breakfast and were driven to the dentist's office by a driver, Maurice, a service that is included in the fees as is pickup and drop off from the airport. Accustomed to overblown dental offices in Southlake, Texas designed to impress the little attached building did little to appease Karl's growing apprehension. We met the doctor for the first time and Karl was handed a stack of medical disclaimers. I watched him read them with his forehead on his hand possibility of stroke, paralysis, bleeding, coronary failure, death among other warnings followed the description of every procedure include local anaesthetic. “Karl, all your friends have had local anaesthetics, it's no big deal.” Karl has never had a cavity so this is new to him. After that, it's just a couple of holes drilled in the head and some screws. Buck up, Bucko.

Karl entered the dental chair and was quickly examined and was offered two options. In the traditional approach a couple of holes are drilled, the screws inserted and the gums stitched shut. The jaw is given four to six months to heal and fuse to the screws. The doctor also offered a second option in which the teeth are immediately affixed to the screws. Nothing harder than baby food can be eaten for six months and any errant tap on the teeth by a beer bottle (more likely) or a coffee cup could cause the formation of fibrous tissue rather than bones. Overhearing this, I walked in and had a brief talk with Karl. “Don't worry about me flying you down here again. Don't be crazy. You can't go six months eating oatmeal. This is just an excuse to get you down here again.” OK, doc, just the screws today.

Laughing gas, local anaesthesia, more nitrous oxide. While Karl, buzzing under the gas was taking pictures of himself with his cell phone the doctor set about drilling and screwing. An hour later all was done and Karl walked out with a bloody mouth full of gauze. We were given two prescriptions for pain and one for antibiotics. Maurice drove us to the pharmacy where the prescriptions were filled for $23. Ummm, about these syringes. Fortunately the pharmacist took Karl aside and gave him a shot in the ass. I've never injected a human and didn't feel the need to practice on my older son. Maurice took Karl back to the house where he quickly found sleep.

Glasses

Margot needed some eyewear. I had related home much less expensive eyeglasses were in Panama and that exams were free. We throught we'd give CR a shot. Maurice dropped us off in front of an optical store/pharmacy/restaurant. Few frames were displayed but Margot approached the counter and was met by a very heavily made up trans-sexual or transvestite with an extremely large cleft chin as the most prominent feature on a very large head. The cleft must have been an inch and a half long and at least 3/8” deep. It was akin to having a small ass at the base of her face above which was enough makeup to make a small pancake and a couple of whisk brooms attached to her eyelids. I stood back to watch the show.

The optician kept insisting on frames gaudily adorned on the temples of the outrageously colored frames. Each pair was presented to Margo. Rather than just rejecting them outright she courteously feigned the possibility that they might be appropriate for her. After taking them off the optician would don them and flutter his long eyelashes and say “Beautiful!”, the lashes near reaching the lenses. Every pair, same thing. Eventually a suitable pair was found for $130 for frames and lenses.

An old man, the optometrist gave Margot an exam. No time was wasted on glaucoma, color blindness, or any fancy machines that would give an automatic determination of initial estimate of prescription. Just an old fashioned eye chart consisting of symbols of a wide letter E in each of four positions. That done, as Margot was paying for the glasses I spotted a Tica, all boobs, big butt, tight skirt, tight blouse and high heels standing in the doorway. I looked at the old man. He made no attempt to disguise the shit eating grin on his face as he caught my eye and tried to point out that which could not be missed.

Museum of Modern Art

That taken care of we walked to the Museum of Modern Art. Margot felt it my manly responsibility to navigate. Sorry, that's just laughable. If a sense of direction is required to get a man badge, mine would have been yanked from my sash a long time ago. Still, with a map in hand we found our way to a converted house with a locked front door. Hmmm. Ok, the guy came and let us in.

The first room had a large sheet of canvas with some bullet holes painted on it. After that, things go so bad that it was great. This museum was a parody of modern art. One room had as the masterpiece, a collection of cardboard boxes painted with blue clouds were strewn about on the floor. It made a statement to me. A folding wooden ruler with a spoon affixed was hanging by a fishing line from the ceiling. Damn, I was museum worthy in first grade except I would have had my ass slapped for screwing a spoon to a perfectly good carpentry tool. I was relieved to find that Margot found no merit to any of the pieces. I would have had to leave her there.

What next?

Don't want to see the pre-colombian gold museum? Ok, I'll be back some day. Books. The lady needs books. Strange. Bookstore after bookstore with books in English. Costa Rica is the Walt Disney World of Central America authentic only in being true to the Costa Rica, bring on the tourists machine. Ok, now what? Call Maurice, “take me home.” On the way I saw a Colombia sportswear store. My only pair of long pants, cargo nylon, convertible to shorts has disappeared, perhaps dragged off into the jungle by one of my puppies, perhaps in some strange void into which things disappear and then reappear in my little house. Who knows? But I need a pair of long pants for jungle walks.

Popping in the store I found the exact pair. Then another pair and a couple of long sleeved fishing guide shirts and a rain jacket. Margot pointed out that I amused the woman. Really? I was just buying shit. Who knows? Maybe people don't go in their store and buy $400 worth of shit in six minutes very often.

Back to the house/hotel. Karl rises from the dead. Dinner, games, chat, mystery dive watch gift received and off to bed.

Trip to San Jose

Margot, Brandy, Nick and I left my house at seven in the morning.  I dropped my boat off at Earl's to be repainted and Margot and I walked to the the airport for our flight to San Jose.  Ten minutes later we arrived, had our boarding passes in hand a minute after that.  I don't know why they want passengers to show up an hour and a half early at this one gate one runway airport.

I had to show that I had a flight out of Costa Rica before I could get my boarding pass.  Actually I'm coming back on a bus, but I've been told if you are flying in you have to show a flight out.   I had doctored and email confirmation to my son, substituting my name for his, printed it off and all was good.   We walked down to the immigration office inside the terminal and got our passports stamped and paid our $15 exit fees.

I only had carry on but Margot's backpack was far too big so it had to be checked.  "Has this bag been inspected?"  Margot said that it had not.  "You should have just said, 'yes'".   "But it hasn't been."   Ok, off to "security"  where we walked into a room placed it on a desk and a guy gave it the most cursory of inspections.   No tag, no paperwork, one now just had the right to say "Yes, it has been inspected."  The bag was turned over to check-in, which meant that it was placed on the floor near the door.

A wonderfully painted prop plane pulled up.  An hour later about a dozen passengers boarded and we had a wonderful low altitude flight over the mountains at but a few thousand feet.  The scenery was spectacular most of the trip, occasionally obscured by clouds.   Arriving in San Jose we turned in our forms, I showed my forged exit flight details and we cleared the terminal in about a minute.

My son was coming in a few hours to the other airport.   We took a bus to "Coca Cola" a region in town for which I can offer no explanation about the name.   We wandered through fruit stalls and generally killed some time.  Finally it was time to go to the other airport.   Taxi drivers constantly asked "Where are you going?"  It's really none of your business.   A couple of times we told them and were offered a ride for the equivalent of $22 to $28, "no waiting."  Great, what a plus for a couple killing time.   We walked about a mile to the bus terminal where there were five buses queued up to leave, as soon as one would fill the next would go.   We waited two minutes to board, got on the bus and paid 450 colones, just short of a buck and took big spacious seats that were far more comfortable than the back seat of a Corolla and enjoyed an easy ride to the airport.


Half an hour later my son Karl's flight arrived.  Unfortunately there were two exit doors, 50 yards apart and I had no idea through which he would exit.   I had not known that free transport to the bed, breakfast and dinner place was included with the dental bill.   Two drivers told me the price was $30 to get to our lodgings.  I had no idea where the place was.  As is everything else in Costa Rica, its location was relative to other well known locations.   Karl showed up and we headed off to our lodgings.  Margot explained that she was a vegan and what that meant to Maria, who owns and runs the place.


Around seven dinner was laid out, steak, three kinds of vegetables, soup, salad, fruit and breads and accommodation had been made for Margot's diet.  For $30 a night one gets a private room with a TV, access to a huge screen house computer, free phone calls anywhere in the world a large deck, a living room and a fully stocked kitchen as well as a huge breakfast and dinner.  We were joined by another fellow I could never understand a gravelly voiced man from Louisiana who was temporarily living in the place.

We did nothing more than play a little checkers, chat and go to bed early.  

Preparing for San Jose

I had planned to bus it to San Jose, Costa Rica to pick up my son, but that would have meant one less day with Margot, so I decided to fly.  Nature Air advertises flights from $111, no big deal, I thought they were a lot more.   "Hey beautiful, instead of going back to Puerto Viejo, will come to San Jose with me?"   "Are you sure I won't get in the way between you and your son?"  No, he is going to be in the dentist's office for eight hours a day and come home heavily medicated, not of his making this time. "Sure, that we can spend more time together."  

I made reservations on line and asked for her passport so I could enter some information.   A short while later a one way trip for two for a one hour flight was booked, costing more than the round trip flight for my son from Dallas to San Jose.  

A rainy morning, an afternoon in town, forging flight tickets, I'll explain later, promise.

Brandy, my room-mate and Nick her guest came along for the ride. "If we work around your schedule can we get a ride to town with you and back?"   Nick is a man of few words, a seasonal forest firefighter.   Nick is best explained by his answer to Margot's hypothetical question.  If you were stranded on an island, never able to get off for the rest of your life, what five people dead or alive would you choose to have with you?

"I don't know five people.   I'd take Jim, because he has a boat and Abraham Lincoln."

Enough said on that."

One empty propane tank to be swapped, a box of empty rum bottles, Jesus guys, and a bag of trash to be disposed of in town an enormous tupperware container filled with the food scraps from last nights vegan meal were carried down to the dock, the scraps giving to the fish.  

Back in town I checked with my boat guy, yes he could repaint my boat while I was gone.  This also leaves me with a way to keep her under covers so she doesn't sink in the rain.   Brandy asked, "How much time do you need?" A couple of hours.  She said she'd call me at three, it was two and she didn't have much that she needed to do.   Umm, my schedule, remember. Forge ticket, check.  Bank money, check.

Walking back I was hailed by Worth a local legend.   I could go on about Worth for hours a fun loving, boat repairing, fishing, snake catching, story telling guy who thinks all things should be consumed in massive excess.  He and his running mate, Mike were in the usuals spot, sitting on the small deck of an upscale hotel, drinking heavily and smoking on deck sitting next to a no smoking sign.  I made introductions and Margot and I each got a beer.  The stories started to flow out of Worth and Mike at speed which made Margot grin.  Damn, some more characters.   The sunken boat.  Another sunken boat.   A ten day cocaine binge in the the slums of Panama City where gringos don't tread.  A drinken binge that ended with Worth passed on with his hair stuck in some cement that had dried with vultures perched by looking at him.   Another with him laying on the floor of his kitchen in pools of black blood from his stomach lining.   Holding his herniated guts in with duct tape and getting sewn up by a dancing surgeon who banged his head on the surgery room light.   Scores more.   Couldn't stop laughing.

I was informed that my other room-mate Becky had moved out living in town with three young musicians that refer to this twenty nine year old as "the old woman", this I've heard from Becky, the rest is too far out to be believed.

Packing.  "I can't find my passport.  Last time I saw it was next to your computer when you were making reservations."  It went missing for at least an hour and Margot remained remarkably calm.  Finally I found it on my dresser, in my passport waterproof holder.   I believe I was showing the case to Margot and just casually flung it on my dresser after demonstrating how it is used, with her passport inside.  I doubt she'll ever let me touch her passport again.  Exploded shampoo bottle, everything needs to be washed at midnight and we have to get up at six.

  

Boat Registration

I boated over the adminstration building to pay my registration with the expired one in hand.   With no bill of sale for $96 the transferred the registration over to me and told me they had to inspect the boat. They were supposed to ask for a photo from every side, but dispensed with that. I drove the boat over, the guy gave it a glance and was done, gave me my new stickers and said I had to paint the name of the boat in big letters on the bow.  "Mi Amor"?  I think not.  Now I'll have to change the name before I paint it on the boat.  

No I had to get the registration laminated, by law, that was quick and easy, a quick walk down the street 15 minutes and $4 later I was done.   We ate, picked up some beer to give to Verne, went to his place, not a person in site, you see right through the house on the water.   I have the watch dog a pat on the head, walked up to the wall-less house and deposited our gift at the door.  Back around the other side of the island we encounted them.   Have to stop and chat.   "Hey Verne I left something for you at your house." "Thanks, did you leave her tied up?"  

More boating, went over to Bastimentos, walked over the island and swam at Red Frog Beach.  "This is the most awesome water I've seen!"   Yeah girl, I told you Panama is better than Costa Rica.   An early night, a home cooked meal and some cards.

Boating

I had to run into town to pick up a friend who's boat I was taking care of got pulled and was told my registration was out of date and I'd have to care of it the next day or the boat would be seized.  Great way to start the day. I docked the boat at Casa Verde which is next to Stephens house.  He put his new battery on board.  I looked at the bikini clad women on the dock.  "Hey anybody want to go for a boat ride?"   We got two takers a woman I would regret and one I wouldn't and headed out my house.   The plan was for Stephen to put the battery in and take the women back but he took one and I the other.  "Hey you want to see a cool place?"  "Sure"  We headed out Clyde and Vern's and were greeted with the usual charm and my companion was awestruck by everything, the guys, the house, the gardens, the views.  Then back to Bocas.

"Hey Jim, I just heard you took Margot to the most awesome place she's ever been."  We had a great dinner and was asked a lot of questions.   The only time I had a dinner date who was a chemistry teacher and wanted to talk about Quantum Entanglement.

Ok, off to Toro Loco to try to watch the LSU-Alabama match, but the weren't showing it.  We ran into John in town who came in and said  "Hey the game is showing at the Rip Tide."  "What game?"

A cowboy rides his horse.  A boater doesn't walk.  We got on the boat to make the 1 mile ride in the darkness.  I lost track of the number unlit boats that cut us off at short distances.  It's lawless out there.  We made it to the Riptide a restaurant/bar on a permanently moored old wooden boat.   Assembled was not a collection of the foremost members of this society.   "Is the ground moving?"  "We are on a boat."  Our team lost, can't remember which one was ours.

We then proceeded to every waterfront club in town.  A full day for all.


   

Not Worth Writing About

Jungle Clearing

Breakfast, blog, cleared about 300 feet of jungle knocking down substantial trees with my machete, the first few more difficult as there was little room to swing in a lattice comprised of branches intertwined with vines that yield rather than cleave from the blows. In such a mass it is impossible to obtain the correct angle on a swing and there is little room to do so. Felling the first tree it strained the vines and branches making them much easier to cut.

My roomies thanked me not for the wake up call but I'm not doing this in the heat of the day. Feel free to don some boots and give it a try, it's work.

Adding to the difficulty is the problem of standing on a wet steep slope while trying to watch underfoot for the very deadly fer-de-lance viper and making sure one doesn't grab a tree with a palm or eyelash viper, though I've never seen one at sea level, I know they are here. One must also avoid the bullet ants, the sting of single one which will put a person in agony for 24 hours.

By 8:30 I had cleared maybe 300 square feet of growth which was collapsed on the ground, downhill in a mass 10 feet high. Let it sit for a month, and then cut the new growth while hacking off the branches. Lying on the ground they will rot in a couple of months, I hope. Trying to clear them out would be a massive amount of work and counterproductive as the red clay soil needs all the nutrition it can get.

The technician from my Internet provider showed up in a 12 foot skiff and after dicking around finally switched me over to another carrier, now my internet connection is usable my bandwidth varies from one to one and half megabits per second, not near what I had back in Texas, but hey, there I didn't get to overlook the sea from my deck.

A run into town, dropping off the girls. 50 kilos weighs a lot more than it used to. I used to throw these bags around,now carrying one bag of fertilizer a  hundred yards and throwing on the boat is an effort. What part of stop smoking did I fail to understand? Checked my email. Damn, 10 PhD's can't figure out the implications of my proposal? Do I have to dumb this down? I'm just a jungle boy.

My right hand went numb.  Damn, too much impact with the machete I guess, self diagnosed temporary problem by caused by nerve trauma.  It cleared up in a couple of  hours and then came back.  Fuck getting old.