Homeless by Choice: August 2011

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Off to Panama

Packed some clothes, took all my valuables, dropped some off at the office of a friend, walked my dog down to Casa Verde.

Several guests were sitting in the restaurant and gave me a strange look when I got a chorus of "Hey You. Hey You! Hey You, ahaaay!" from the staff. What have I got that they don't have? A dog. The dog's name is Hayu Ayaah. Flaco, who bears the title Logistics Manager for his role in gathering and delivering things all over town in the infamous camioneta roja de la muerte. Actually this little claptrap with the plastic windscreen never makes it's way down the street much faster than 10 km/hr, which is best for all concerned. It keeps the few remaining parts intact. Flaco is a hell of a guy and agreed to watch my dog while I went to Panama. He refused three times to take money from me for doing so, I was paying him as much as he earns in a labor a day to watch the dog. I explained that I don't like to impose on people and he would be doing me a favor if he took the money, then I'd feel free to ask him again. Then I advised him that the little guy is a chick magnet and to exercise his new powers wisely.

Last I heard the dog was not in his yard, but sitting on the front seat oggling the eye candy as Flaco tends to his tasks. Hayu is not fussy, any bitch will do.

I injudiciously grabbed a Snickers on the way in having failed to eat yet. One of the female staff questioned me about my wrapper. "Tu quiere un snickers?" "Claro." Well, I can't just buy her one. So I bought five and handed them out. I became King of Panama. Strange to see a woman sneak hers into the kitchen to eat in private so she didn't have to share with her five year old daughter. Out I went again.

Off to the airport. I couldn't buy a ticket earlier as the credit card machine was down. I received dubious looks from the ticket agent at the time. This time I asked her if the machine was working yet and she acknowledged that it didn't accept anybody's card. I handed her $120 dollars and she gave me $4 and a plastic slab that functions as a reusable boarding pass. Receipts and tickets? What a waste of time. Speaking of a waste of time, I had to show up at 5 for a 6:30 flight at a one gate airport. Walter showed up around 6:15. We boarded last and consequently sat near the rear of the plane. The exit is in the rear, so we exited first. Dashing to the taxi stand before people could recover their luggage, something that takes a matter of minutes and Albrook International Airport we were called over to have our luggage inspected.

Random zippers were opened, hands shoved down into compartments. I could have had a few guns and some grenades at the bottom. My replacement keyboard for my notebook was removed and crumpled on the way back in. F**k me in the a** with a sharp stick. That thing took me two months to get.

We went out to the taxi stand. "Now the adventure begins!" "Como?" I thought this was going to be a quiet night. No, Walter was talking about trying to get a long distance taxi, when all they want to do is shuttle tourists a short distance for an exorbitant price. The first guy we talked to agreed to drive us the 20 km for $12. Don't ask me. Yes, kilometers. Weigh things in pounds, sell things buy the gallon, measure short distances in feet and long distances in kilometers.

We arrived at my lodgings, I tailgated through the security gate and made my way paste the thundering boxers. I entered the palapa behind the pool and got a big hug from Ivonne, the owner. I asked where Hotto was and was informed that he was in his room. I knocked on his door and was greeted by a long string of expletives and a hearty handshake. He invited me in to see his piles of crocodile hinds and gifted me with a large swatch of prime blue tanned hide. Great, I can make a belt and become the Bocas pimp. I rolled it up and feigned appreciation. Walter, a faithful reader of this blog was not surprised by what he encountered. The shit was shot, then was I, off to retire in my same room.

Monday, August 29, 2011

Bocas Chatter - Boat Repair

Erwin, the only boat engine mechanic left in town is closing shop. He says he can't make any money because it is impossible to get parts. Great! Now what?

Sunday, August 28, 2011

Home Inspection - Fail

Inspection Results

House

Guest bedroom lights inoperative
Hot water heater doesn't work, probably just needs a new battery
Outdoor grill doesn't work
Water pressure is extremely low, pressure tank needs topping off
Four locks don't have keys.

Boat

Engine trim doesn't work, seems to be pivot shaft
Covers on outboard lower unit missing screws.
Lower unit has significant corrosion.
Unable to locate sacrificial zinc.
At least the engine oil level was correct and the oil pristine.
Zirk fitting missing on tilt mechanism
Tachometer powers on but doesn't register RPM
Great deal of water in the bilge that the bilge pump doesn't remove.
Stereo doesn't work
Boat lights don't work
GPS is missing
Two radio microphone jack is hosed.
The hull needs to be scrubbed and repainted, the bottom is covered with barnacles.
The stern cleats need to be replaced, they are missing.
Latch handles are missing on two hatches.
One of the compartments has no drain hole and is filled with water.
The bow compartment has a layer of water and scum and needs to be washed out.
Mandated safety equipment including a fire extinguisher and a signalling device are absent.
There is no anchor.
Non approved gas tank.
Fuel supply line missing tank connector.
Throttle control is sticky.
Heavy growth of algae and barnacles on hull.

We took the boat for a spin, the hydraulic steering worked well but the engine labored while pushing the boat slowly. The boat was riding deep and hardly slippery on the hull. Tomorrow I shall hopefully have it professionally, (to banana's country specifications) surveyed.

Property Boundaries

Unable to gain access to property markers as they are deep in jungle growth.
Property marker 6/7 is not affixed.

Legal Documents

Documents Required

Purchase Contract
House Plans
Certificate of Occupancy
Articles of Incorporation
Stock Shares
Survey signed off by corregedor and neighboring properties

Original Share Certificate N°1 & 2 of the Corporations duly endorsed and
Notarized.
Original Deeds containing Articles of Incorporation of the Corporations and any
amendments thereto.
Original payment receipts of all annual Corporate Franchise Taxes of the
Corporations.
Good Standing Certificate of the Corporations issued by the Ministry of Economy
and Finance, stating that there are no outstanding taxes by the Corporation.
Original of the Public Deeds in which Corporations acquired rights of possession of properties.
Certification or Affidavit issued by the SHAREHOLDERS of the Corporations,
stating that the Corporation has no debts, obligations or commitments with third
parties or with the government of Panama, its entities or dependencies, duly
notarized.
Passport copies from the SHAREHOLDERS of THE CORPORATION
Updated certificate from the local Police authorities regarding the Right of
Possession property in the name of both Corporations.
Original Contract in which sellers buy the shares of the corporations holding these properties.
Original Surveys issued in the name of the corporations.
Original documentation and Resolution by
which The Reforma Agraria Offices in Bocas del Toro transfers officially he right of
possession property
Original of the Public Deed rights of possession property to seller
Original documentation and Resolution by which The
Reforma Agraria Offices in Bocas del Toro registered the transfer right of possession
property to corporation to be acquired to buyer.
Power of attorney issued to attorney to represent the
promissory sellers in this transaction.
Sworn declarations Notarize from 3 witnesses from the community as evidence
of possession for each corporation (total of 6 declarations)
Building permits issued from the Municipality of Bocas del Toro, Occupancy
Permit, approved house plans, approved electric, sanitary and plumbing plans
Other documents that are relevant and in possession of the Seller.

Survey documents have not been signed off by neighbors.
All documents are not available for review.

Composting System

Internet Connection

Guard

Closing Activities

Merge two corporations into one
Sign off on contracts (do they have to be in Spanish?
Pay Seller

Post Closing Activities

Homeowner's insurance
Internet service bill changeover
Get Sky TV contract

Another lock repair.

Casa Verde

Dinner

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Getting there

Hayu is putting on some much needed weight and now barks at the door, rather than scratching on it to let me know he needs in.

I have a long way to go on his need incessant need for attention no amount of gentle correction will deter him from putting his paws on the table on which I am working to get attention. I'm afraid he is going to knock my computer to the floor someday.

He is a very tidy boy, he has never had an accident in the apartment. He crawls under the other houses to do his business, so cleaning up is a bit of a hassle.

The tenant of my house to be is supposed to vacate today at five. Tomorrow is inspection day. Monday the composting system is scheduled to be fixed. I am still waiting on some paperwork, surveys, sign offs.

After moving I will have to take the boat in to get the bottom painted. That should take about a week during which time I will be stranded if I can't get some water taxis to come by.

I wonder what will be left in the house after the current tenant finishes his plundering.

Have to turn the internet billing over to my name and get sky TV installed and the bars on the outbuilding put in.

Killing Time

Irene seems serene.

Put dog food bowl on tray with water to keep out ants. Pour vegetable oil on water to stop mosquitoes from breeding.

Final (?) house inspection tomorrow.

Closing Monday?

Thursday, August 25, 2011

It was a joke

My son needs extensive dental work. I sent an email to a dentist in David. This is part of her response

no he recibido las radiografias abajo de sus mensaje en pequeñas letras es confuso dice algo que no entiendo como si tu mensaje trae un virus.debes enviar las radiografias pra ayudarte en lo que me pides.
a tu orden por lo q me cuentas es joven asi que tienen bien pronostico el implante ponerlo en una cita si las condiciones de hueso es buena poner un provicional y en 3 a 6 meses la corona yo prefiero verlo en persona y darte las opciones ,y asi es muy dificil al fin de cuenta

Translated

down your message is confusing in small letters says something I do not understand as if your message

What's not to get? My email signature is

This email and the files transmitted with it are the property of James J. Schmidt and is intended soley for use of individual or entity to whom this email is addressed. If you are not one of the named recipient(s) or otherwise have reason to believe that you have received this message in error, please notify the sender at xxxxxx@gmail.com, delete this message from your computer, destroy your computer immediately, forget all that you have seen, and turn yourself over to the proper authorities. Any other use, retention, observation, dissemination, consideration, recollection, forwarding, ridicule, printing, viewing, copy or memorization of this email without the express written consent of Major League Baseball is strictly prohibited. The contents of this email are not to be taken literally. Void where prohibited by law or common sense. Not valid in Rhode Island, Guam and the Xinghua province in China. Condiments available upon request. Cash value = 1/20th of one cent. All rights reserved.

Wednesday, August 24, 2011

A dog's life.

Hola, mi nombre es Hayu Ayaah, que pasó los primeros ocho meses de mi vida hasta encadenado en un astillero en Almirante. Ahora no sé lo que depara el futuro. Anoche dormí en una casa fría. Nunca he estado en una casa antes. Fue un poco de miedo la primera vez, pero me estoy acostumbrando a ella.

Me gusta Bocas, con un montón de mujeres guapas en bikini que a algunos a verme, pero si alguna perra pasa por, pierdo la atención rápidamente. Me encanta las perras. Ahora veo un montón de perros, no estoy seguro de que soy grande en los perros.

Esta mañana fuimos a un paseo en un barco a otra isla, caminando por la selva y por una playa. Entonces circulaba en un barco un poco más y volvió al restaurante que estábamos en la última noche, pero no había gente o los perros allí.

Random Madness in the Banana Republic

After several false starts we decided today was to be the to go to retrieve my chairs from Customs. One bud was in Almirante, the other headed to catch a nine o'clock boat to Almirante. I scurried out the door and managed to find a cab. Arriving in Almirante we called, Walter, who had previously arrived and checked the car out of the car lot. In short order we assembled and were off. A quick stop in Changinoula for breakfast and we resumed our trip to the frontier.

I walked into the customs office to see my chairs in boxes exactly where I had left them. This 300 square foot office held five desks, two filing cabinets an empty high priced enclosed computer rack and my two chairs in boxes. I presented my receipt which had been electronically sent to me from Matias in Fortuna. I was advised that everything over $100 had to clear customs.

"I have two chairs at $100 apiece, can't I bring in one and he bring in the other?" "No, they are on the same receipt." I muttered, "what happened to the good old days when a twenty could fix anything?" The office manager laughed out loud. I was advised that I would have to take my receipt back to Costa Rica to get it stamped. A customs guy eagerly volunteered to escort me. As we walked back across the bridge he advised me that he was looking forward to August 31, some Black Pride day parade in Limon, Costa Rica. He went in great detail about how great the parades were and the fact that he was going to build a float. A few minutes later we found ourselves in Costa Rica and he presented my receipt and requested an export stamp. During the bantering he told me "don't give me any money here" after I asked him if he wanted me to get him some water when I went out to find some way to hydrate. After twenty minutes of discussion the receipt was stamped and we headed back. I handed him three dollars for his efforts and we were back on the Panama side. He also told me the duty free shop had anything I could want at substantial discount and that I could take as much of anything I wanted into Panama. Very strange, Duty Free, this shop was in Panama. He also told me that Panamanians couldn't shop there.

I presented the stamped document, the office manager looked at it for several minutes and asked for my passport, both were handed to a clerk who started to enter information into a computer. Time passed. More time passed. An eternity passed. I was advised that the system was slow. I walked outside and took some pictures of prohibited items including machine guns, sub machine guns, grenades, rocket launchers and bazookas. These Panamanians just don't know how to have a good time.

Duty Free

I suggested we kill some time shopping at the duty free. It had anything you could want, if you wanted giant truck tires, liquor, beer, the sole model of car radio they carried, an electric skillet or a pressure cooker. A pressure cooker! That was on my list of things to buy today. A paper sticker on top indicated the price as $40. I rotated the box up to see the front. A clerk came and put the box back in the original position. I rotated it up again and gave him a half kidding half WTF look. He left it. I took the box over to the cashier and paid the $40. Walter suggested that I take the pot out of the box, discard the plastic wrapper. The clerk advised I should throw away the receipt in case I got stopped by the cops. WTF?

Back inside it became obvious that the clerk was stumped. Back outside to ogle the eye candy migrating to and from Costa Rica. A tall blonde wore a skirt that could only have been applied with an airbrush. A hundred people where in the queue, attended to by a single bored government clerk who spoke no English, though most of the travellers spoke little or no Spanish.

After being approached by the overly helpful customs official for the fourth time my friend Walter told me, "Jim, I have a picture of him, leading the Bocas Independence Parade, in knee high leather boots, tight shorts and twirling a baton." Ayaaah!

I went back inside to observe the clerk. She was on the phone. In front of here were five telephone numbers, four of them very similar and crossed out. She was obviously calling for assistance. For ninety minutes she has been trying to fill out a computer form for two chairs, ostensibly valued at $90 each. I watched her go through the motions twice, error messages popping in dialog boxes that were closed, random agitated cursor movements that accomplished nothing, mouse movements that caused the cursor to trace the words she was reading. Finally I could take it no longer. Observing a little more closely it was obvious that she was running a java applet, almost certainly oracle forms version 9 or greater. I asked her to try again, slowly. Finally I spotted that in one field she was typing 'cr' presumably for 'Costa Rica' and that this was not an acceptable value for the field. As the field was a pulldown list, I cleared her entry and clicked on the pulldown, displaying a list of descriptions and corresponding codes that made up the allowable values. I finally told her to select option 8 and she managed to complete the process. I was heralded as a genius. Christ, is this the only time anybody has actually declared an item in this office? Five people, five days a week for this?

Five copies of a bill for $47.40 on a declared value of a little less than $200. Seven percent of this was sales tax, the rest duty. I was handed a copy and told to pay at the bank and return. "At the bank? Is there a bank in this town? (In Spanish)" No, the bank is bank in Changiunola. Walter looked like he had just taken a big bite of a bile sandwich when I told him. I scurried out the door. Half way down the hill I was hailed having left my passport in my haste.

Bank

Off to Changiunola we found the HSBC. The guard wanted to inspect my backpack. I opened one of five zippers to reveal a pressure cooker. This elicited no surprise from the guard. Apparently large cooking appliances that could readily be employed as a very large pipe bomb type device are commonly carried into banks. He didn't ask to look in any of the other compartments and as there were obviously several pounds of metal didn't bother with the metal detecting wand. He did make me remove my hat before entering, which I put back on as soon as I passed through the doors.

There were two lines, one with about fifty old people and another with seventeen young to middle aged people. The elderly and pensionados are by law afforded expedited service. I calculated the average service time as about five minutes and figured I'd be in line for an hour and a half. Finally I got to the front, presented my document and payment and received a stamped document indicating the tax had been paid.

Guabito

I presented my form to the office manager. She had several more forms to give me. I told her I had no desire or need for all of these documents, I was merely going to throw them out. She advised me they would come in handy if the chairs were stolen. No, if the chairs are stolen, I'll never see them again. A picture of the chairs might come in handy. Twenty minutes later five copies of another six pages were printed out, signed, stamped and distributed.

Jesus, Son of God. I took my chairs and we put them in the van.

Back to Changiunola

Hardware store, rope 5/8 braided nylon $1.50 a foot, welders, locks.

Left buying nothing.

Fence Material

Happening by a lot with a living fence, I availed myself of several branches, liberated with the aid of a machete that hadn't ever had a close encounter with a competent hand bearing a file. Much hacking later I had a huge bunch of branches. When these branches are stuck in the ground, they will take root and sprout. As time passes the fences become stronger.
Off to Chinese, enormous quantities of food.

Boat Shopping

We passed a yard in which boats are restored. Stephen, who has as his mission the goal of owning every boat in Bocas not actually under power at the time wanted to add to his flotilla of inoperable boats. The prices requested exceeded anything Stephen felt he could acquire the boats for and sell at a profit. I received a quote for prepping and painting the boat I am to acquire with the new house. While Stephen roamed around like a kid in a candy store, I played with a puppy, chained up and sorely lacking attention. I inquired and was told he was not for sale. I then inquired if the owner of the bitch had any other puppies. The guy told told Walter with a laugh that I could have the dog for $100, knowing full well that no one would pay that much for a dog. WRONG! With a look of shock on his face he happily took the $100 and found a knife to cut loose the chain, bound by a heavy rope that secured the dog to its spot. The collar end of the chain was fitted with a chain coupler, bolted into place. Poor thing. I walked around with the dog as it evaluated its new found liberty with exuberance. Finally we reentered the car, now laden with sundry including seven five gallon buckets, a mass of tree limbs, two rocking chairs in large boxes,a backpack with a pressure cooker in it and a dog.

Bocas trip

A the water taxi our booty elicited some strange looks. The boat was loaded and we headed back home to be greeted by Flaco, a local loco, loaded up the caro rojo diablo, a rattling little claptrap continually on the verge of returning its constituent parts to mother earth, dropped by my apartment and unburdened a variety of objects while the dog stayed out front and urinated on my freshly bought dried pinto beans.

Casa Verde Dog

Time for a little socializing, my dog, as of yet unnamed sniffed around all the bitches, but bore little patients for the dogs. Cute little thing is a chick magnet.

I am not going to bother rereading this once. If it is a bit incoherent, at least I related something. I have much to do today.

Monday, August 22, 2011

Bocas Happenings

Bocas Paradise

Nathan, the former head cook and Vincent, the bar manager both of Casa Verde have started a venture at Bocas Paradise.

The menu is going to change to lower priced fare, sandwiches will be offered for lunch and on weekends football games will be played on big screen TV's. With a water front venue and plenty of room will this draw the locals from Casa Verde?

You're kidding, right?

My real estate agent called me at 1:00 to tell me he would not be making my 9:30 meeting and said he would be in the office at 4:00.

I advised him that I was virtually certain that items were disappearing from the house and that I wanted to take inventory. He wanted to check with the house sitter. I don't care if he is ready or not.

Then we talked about the boat. "Maybe Geoffery can bring it in this week and you can have it inspected then." No maybes, I'll take the boat when I go over to conduct an inventory per the purchase agreement. That kind of threw him for a loop. Now I have to see if I can get someone to survey the boat for me.

Speaking of survey the purchase contract describes the property as being bounded by three other properties, without any coordinates. No, I want latitude and longitude demarkations. "Well it says how big it is." Bonehead, the neighbors aren't party to the size, the only thing they need to agree to is where their property ends. It turns out Mark went out there with the corregador and the caretaker on one of the lots agreed verbally where he understands the lot he tends ends.

Really, I want a signed agreement with the neighbors that their land does not lie within the boundaries of the survey. "Yeah, you should have it surveyed again." "I am not trying to get a definition of a bunch of points on land, I want the signed acknowledgement of my neighbors that they have no claims on this land.

"The land on the right is empty, there is nobody on it." I don't care, get a survey, found out who the owner is, do your job.

For fourteen thousand dollars a guy should be willing to do a modicum of work to facilitate a transaction. This is bananas country.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

House Activity

Boat

Now that I am aware of the complete and utter irresponsibility of Geoffrey, the occupant and ostensible house sitter of the property I am trying to purchase I felt it my responsibility to have the boat that comes with the house inspected.

Me

I guess it's time to take the boat in for a survey and have the engine looked at. I'd like to do it tomorrow.

Please advise. Call me if you don't hear back from me within half an hour.

Real Estate Agent

Been away from email and will be so until tomorrow morning. As for the boat inspected who would you like to do it? Maybe do it when Geoffrey comes to town one day? Just do remember that the sale is not contingent on the boat. It's a freebie thrown in.

Now I see the boat isn't written into the purchase contract.

Real Estate Agent

Boat is owned in the name of the sellers not the corporation. I am of to Drago so I will be back online tomorrow or stop by the office after 9 30 tomorrow.

Considering the boat as a freebie thrown in is about as justifiable as saying the house is a freebie thrown in with the property.

This was part of my offer to buy contract. I see that it has been omitted from all subsequent documentation.

This is unacceptable.

Security

I got together with a friend, we contacted Pepe, the welder and set about to measure the windows of the outbuilding for security bars. I boat was secured at the agreed rate of $20 round trip for the three of us. Not bad a similar duration trip to Red Frog would be about $5 a person.

Arriving at the house, the house sitter Geoffrey was on the dock. A large panga was alongside the dock and one of the most notorious crooks in Bocas was having a friendly conversation with the scheisskopf that is aggravating me.

"What is going on?" "I'm here to measure the windows." "I'm in the middle of a lot of stuff." "You are doing nothing, I'm trying to get ready to move in here while you are not working on getting out. I've cleared this with the owner." "I don't wan't you going through the house." "I am going to the outbuilding, I don't need to go through the house." "You have to go through the house to get to the outbuilding." "I am walking around on the deck, Geoffrey."

"There is stuff everywhere, we are in the middle of packing. The dog is sick, my wife is sick." I ignored him and got out of the boat. Pepe was reluctant to follow but by the time I made it to the the far end of the dock, he got out of the boat and I coaxed him up the stairs.

The dog was running around on the deck yapping, certainly not looking ill. The wife was sitting at the kitchen counter, I didn't try to evaluate her.

The window and door measurements were quickly taken and written down and we returned to Casa Verde. I dragged Stephen over to talk to Pepe. Stephen has needed welding done for months. His last quote was $2,000 to tack weld 20 I beams. Pepe doesn't have a generator, but I'll have a 20 amp 220 volt generator with closing. Geoffery's estimate to weld was $90, no onsite inspection necessary.

A reader replies

you are buying a corporation...

the lot and the house are a freebie thrown in a corporation....

corporation sales purchases contract also list and describe the inventory of physical assets, accounting records, debts, liabilities, etc. in a corporation.

The owner will have to draft a sales contract to transfer the boat to you so you will be able to register the boat under your name or the corporation name. You only need the hull make, model, year and place of fabrication, and the engine information to draft a boat sales contract.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

On Being a Dick

The charter captain.

There is always one guy I use as an example for everybody else. He's the guy I chew out so that others know what not to do.

Enter a hostel at which you are not staying, fill up with five gallons of filtered water from the tap, chew out the staff and tell customers to get their laundry done elsewhere, then leave.

Talking to an employee

Who are you? You don't know who I am, do you, young man? I have quite a good relationship with this place.

The dickhead doesn't even know who works here. Please, just sod off.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Fish, Burundanga, Smithsonian

The local fish market finally had fresh fish today. I bought all the snapper and stocked up on kingfish. The locals had never heard of the trick of freezing fish in water. You can freeze fish indefinitely in water, the ice prevents freezer burns. I bought a lot of fish; I'm not running out again.

Burundanga

The word this week is burundanga, which is Panamanian slang for "sweet". It can be applied to candy but is now frequently employed to refer to a particularly attractive woman.

I bought a couple of Eskimo pies for a couple of the local woman, one of the them said "Gracias pora el Burundanga." Ice cream is helado. "What is Burundanga?" Before Nikelda could say junk food, one of my running mates spied a pair of lovelies coming our way. "That is Burndanga!" I was the only one not laughing.

Burundanga is a kind of voodoo powder obtained from a Colombian local
plant of the nightshade family, a shrub called barrachera, or "drunken
binge". Used for hundreds of years by Natie Americans in religious ceremonies,
the powder when ingested causes victims to lose their will and memory, sometimes
for days. (This drug is also known as Nightshade or "CIA drug").

When refined the powder yields scopolamine, a well-know drug with
legitimate uses as a sedative and to combat motion sickness. (Mengele of
Nazi fame also had and experimented with scopolamine as a truth serum).
But in Colombia, the drug's most avid fans are street criminals. Crooks
mix the powder with sedatives and feed the Burundanga cocktail to unsuspecting
victims whom they then proceed to rob - or worse.

Doctors here estimate that Colombian hustlers slip the odorless,
colorless and soluble Burundanga (pronounced boor-oon-DAN-ga) in food or
drink to about 500 unwitting victims in the city each month. About half of
the city's total emergency room admissions for poison are Burundanga
victims.

Off to the Smithsonian Tropical Research Institute

Hot and not a lot to see this time other than a lot of iguanas and a caiman.

While we were there our guide expressed the fact that we might be able to bother one of the researchers. Spanish is a limited language. Bother, annoy, pester and many other words translate to molestar. I entered the research room, a graduate student was preparing anemone for DNA testing. "The guide seems to think it's ok if we molest you." The German student had a sufficient command of Spanish and English to understand the attempt at humor.

It seems two different species will interbreed, produce fertile off spring both the genomes propagate in an interesting manner and one form will revert to a state in several generations such that all of the foreign DNA is no longer present. "You do PCR and sequencing work here?" He looked at me quizzically, "No we send it off to Panama for that."

We checked out the poison arrow frogs, green, orange, yellow, red, blue, purple, spotted. I covered this a long time ago. Nobody knows why these frogs of the same species exhibit different colors in close isolated proximaty on the various islands of this archipelago.

Back to town, more mingling, we had our fish fried and baked, teased the burundanga and generally had a low key evening.

Thursday, August 18, 2011

On the water

Stephen called, he was ready to take the behemoth out again. Why not? I gathered my gear and headed down to his house. The boat was truly banana republic worthy. The massive outboard had strained the transom so a plank had been mounted, some holes drilled, random twistings of ropes in Stephen's inimitable knot tying style. In the two years I've known Stephen he has never abused a rope in the same way twice. Up, around the pilot house, back down the other side, a come along holding the stern on. Yup, this is an adventure in the making. Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea.

We headed out, half way to Almirante and he realized that he had left his boat box with cell phone and camera on the dock so we headed back with the stern still affixed.

A little hanging around and a guy named Julian was soliciting people for a trip to Portobello for $60. From there, across the country the first quarter of the trip is on a chicken bus, then an express bus. If all goes well one would be in Panama City in three or four hours. Later he told me he had an overnight trip to Bastimentos. Hell, $20 tour, food and a night's sleep on the water, why not?

I walked him to the other end of town, he was exhausted by the time we got there, not much more than a kilometer. I guess years on a sailboat is not the path to cardiovascular fitness. There was no fresh fish available but I secured four pounds of some unidentified white fish. Julian showed me his dinghy. My bathtub at the last house I owned was literally over twice the size of this craft. Ayaaah, a bag full of electronics on a rubber balloon with an outboard. A two mill trash bag served to provide a small measure of protection from very minor mishaps. Two hundred meters later we boarded his 50' sailing boat. Aboard was a guy in his mid twenties from Denver, a fiftyish economist from Central London, a British waif who hangs at the hostel and our British captain. All aboard were advanced divers or better.

We set sail to Bastimentos. Julian was intent to travel to Wizard beach, I suggested that Red Frog is much nicer. Despite all his charts and electronics he had no idea where it was. From about two miles away I pointed out the marina getting a little closer I indicated the cut in the Mangroves to get to the dock. Then I described the walk over the island. By this time it was after five. "We can't do this today, the last water taxis depart around six and you have a meter and half of draft, can't take this boat and that dinghy is, well, not up to the task."

So we sat and watched the sunset, shot the shit, cooked dinner (thank god we had the fish or dinner would have been nothing but a small salad and a couple of boiled eggs). Nick, the Coloradan retired to read a book about Mumbai, recalling his visit there last year. We spend a lot of time talking about craziness in our respective travels to Asia and then Julian put on "The Proposal" which had the most obvious plot line ever thrust upon the public.

When it was time to retire, Julian indicated that the pilot house was his turf and requested that I move into a berth in the galley. The beds were six feet long and narrower than the width of my shoulders. I grabbed a few cushions and assumed a spot on the foredeck. A clear starry night, a slight breeze, all was good until it started to drizzle.

I moved into the cabin, but slept fitfully. In the morning, Melissa needed to head out. I gave Julian directions and he took his dinghy over to the docks at Red Frog and retained a water taxi, one of Chuck's from JanPan. Twelve minutes later I was back in town. "Where is Walter?" "He is at Red Frog." Of course.

So now I sit here and watch the "sober captain" slap around his notebook, which is giving him trouble for some reason. "Can you fix it for me?" Sure, let me go home and jam an ice pick in my eye.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Once Again Across the Country

Well I guess I'll try to contact a welder in town and turn my future concrete block laundry room into a walk-in vault then head out to Panama City, take care of a bunch of stuff, meet some friends then slowly make my way back to Bocas.

I've got some friends on the Pacific I haven't seen in a while and of course, I have to see Santa Fe. Maybe I can make it to Rio Luis, but that's a bit arduous of an initial trek during my recovery. David, a little shopping and dating. Back to the mountains and back home to close on my house.

I'll head out in about a week.

Saddling the Vulture

Something that is difficult in Panama is described as being "like trying to put a saddle on a vulture."

Damn that vulture. The waste of flesh that is the "house sitter" for the house I am trying to acquire has told the current home owner that he needs another couple of weeks. I could pack the worthless bastard in about an hour. Hell, he moved in from his tiny sailboat. They appear to have nothing more than some clothes that would readily fit in a 30 liter backpack. So now I have to figure out where I am going to stay now that I have given my landlord notice.

The boat builder I was referred to in Panama City does not consider replying to emails on sales inquiries part of the sales cycle and doesn't understand what I am saying on the phone.

Another boat builder replied to a sixty line email outlining my requirements with "I have a mold for a 22 foot panga." That was it, the message in its entirety. Thank you for not exhausting me with superfluous information such as features, function, weight, cost, delivery time or engine rating.

The administrator of a local crime watch site, who pulled two of my crime reports because the thief named in one of them wrote and said, "No, it's my computer, it was a gift." Gift my ass. I reported a different theft of a camera, a kindle and a flashlight. "The person identified alleges that she was out of the country at the time of the theft." The person identified is bat shit crazy and told the sheriff that I was in jail for assaulting somebody with a machete in the central park while trying to gain access to my apartment. She told my landlord the same thing. Everybody knew I was in Panama City, in the hospital.

My landlord says that only he, she and I had keys. I don't know when the camera and related thefts occurred, I reported a time window, between July 4 and July 14th. The thief of my computer was posting messages on a local yahoo group during that time period stating that she was in Bocas. The moderator of that site also moderates http://bocas.crowdmap.com.

The only crime that was left posted on the site was one in which somebody broke into my apartment and stole two computers, which were subsequently returned. This entry was marked as "Verified", the moderator assumed some level of authority. Despite repeated requests to just delete the entry as the moderator refused to do so and ignored all of my emails. Funny, one of the criminals makes a request and gets immediate compliance and the victim can't even get a response. When I posted an inquiry on the local yahoo group asking what was meant by "verified" I received the following response.

"Verified" is a subjective term. It means that the information is reliable,
because it comes from someone with personal knowledge or has been confirmed in
some manner. In some cases, a post will be left as "unverified" until I can
contact the original poster to get clarification on certain details. I am the
administrator and I have to make that call. In your case, when your original
post was made, I marked it as "verified" because you were the (alleged) victim
and you were reporting as of your own knowledge. I will not make that mistake
again.

On the local group board somebody posted Just to reinforce this message, we had a flier up about a boat for sale and were approached by a local who said he could sell it for us. He seemed like a nice guy and could keep the boat in his yard where it would be more visible. So we put the boat there with our phone number to call if someone was interested. We would pay him a commission if it sold. Soon he said the boat was sold, it was gone and the money was in his account and "not available yet." After much help by the police we located the boat and got our money back. He had sold it for quite a bit more than he said and I doubt we ever would have gotten anything without the police assistance. So just be very careful. And the moderator threw out, Was the guy who "brokered" the boat deal a guy who goes by the moniker "Robinson" by any chance? implicating someone with absolutely no evidence. So much for her sense of fair play.

Now the crazy woman who stole my MacBook is threatening to post on the web the details of my arrest. "There was no arrest, you have no documents. Why do you keep sending me crazy emails?".

Do I sound just a little frustrated?

Monday, August 15, 2011

Busy Week

Busy? Well everything is relative. I've been directed 10 different directions for powerboats and a couple dozen sailboats. I need one of each.

Need? Well, at least I need a power boat, to get home.

I have to follow up with my dentist in Panama City to get a sleep apnea appliance, go to the U.S. embassy, pick up some supplies and a couple of kayaks, deal with the house closing and apply for residency.

Saturday, August 13, 2011

Putzing Around

Frittered away the morning readily after a late awakening and headed out in search of ways to kill time. The weather was wonderful, in the low eighties, slightly overcast with a a slight breeze. The mile walk to town was punctuated by brief chats with the usual suspects. I stopped by Stephens to inspect my latest package. This turned out to be the camera mount for my spotting scope. One more piece and the scope and I'll have a little fun, but in the mean time, Stephen can I store it here? Sure.

Over to Casa Verde, a little time on the dock catching up on news, wrapping up some email and surfing. Roxie showed up sporting a T shirt promoting a competitive hostel. "Roxie, you need to go home and change that shirt, or just take it off. I'm in favor of your just taking it off." It's different down here. I said that in front of three woman and they all laughed especially Roxie.

Julio dropped by and he gave me commentary on various sailboats I was inspecting on the web. "No, that's the wrong kind of keel for here, too many reefs, that is a bad hull design, that's overpriced." Carolina graced us with her presence. Black lycra pants never looked so good. The look on her face indicated that I was about to be saddled with another thankless task. "I locked myself out of room number seven." "You don't have any keys for room number seven." "That's why I'm locked out." "Who locked the door?" "Well, I was testing if it worked, so I turned the button on the inside and closed the door." "So the lock works, you locked yourself out knowing you don't have the key." She gave a sheepish grin. "Interesting story, Carolina. How do you test hand grenades?"

"Sure, I'll come by tomorrow morning." "We're busy tomorrow." "I'm going to Panama on Monday." "Can you do it now?" "I should drop all the rest of my pressing affairs and devote my attention to you?" I guess Frank Zappa wasn't a formative influence in her youth in Quito, Equcador. We had a brief stare down. "Carolina." "Jim." "Carolina." "Please?" "Ahh, WTF? Let's go grab a cab." "I rode my bike." "I'm not sitting on the handlebars." "You can use the Casa Verde bike." We went out front, Carolina asked the receptionist, "Where is the Casa Verde bike?" "Nikelda is out on it." "Here, you can use this one."

The bike was black, the handlebars askew, the drive set was comprised of three sprockets but was absent a derailleur. The rear derailleur was missing, the tires were half inflated. It was a sad state of affairs, what a bike would look like if it took to using meth. "It has no brakes."

Laden with my body mass the tires were on the verge of being pointless. We rode for a few blocks and stopped at Nikelda's house where here brother topped off my tires, asking for the princely some of $1 upon completion of the 20 seconds of labor about four times the going rate.

We rode the side streets. "Carolina, pay close attention to my boots." "Why?" "Well, when I fly through the windshield of a taxi the only thing that will be sticking out will be my feet. I want you to recognize me." I got cut off a few times, swerved and tried to brake with my feet. Everybody seemed to have pushed erratic behavior to the limit just to test me.

Eight blocks from my house Carolina's left pedal fell off the bike. I returned to find her trying to rethread it into the hole. "It's a left hand thread, you have to turn it the other, oh, just give me the peddle." I threaded it in as best as I could but it was obvious that the lack of lubrication would ensure that this would not stay in place long. Two blocks from my house the peddle fell off again. I instructed her to walk it the rest of the way, dropped of my bikes and secured such tools as I had that would facilitate execution of the task at hand. After exiting I walked next door to look for my neighbor and knocked on his door. Grant repairs bicycles as a means of subsistence augmented by other activities. I found a 9/16" open end wrench in a five gallon bucket and snugged the pedal to the crank.

We took off again and she stopped in front of the graveyard. "Do you want to take a shortcut through the graveyard?" Thanks for the notice. A couple of hundred feet later I came to a stop, turned around and followed her. "Carolina, if you stop suddenly with me behind you we are going to find just how far up your ass this bike is going to go." Past the above ground graves we exhausted the planned section onto a trail that wound its way through a haphazard collection of resting places exiting directly in front of the gates of the hostel.

"Ricki doesn't know I locked the door, don't tell him." "Sure, no problem, I'll just take you upstairs to a private room and he won't raise an eyebrow." Sure enough that's how things turned out. I picked the lock clockwise but couldn't get it to turn counter clockwise, the door was not reverse hung so the pins for the hinges were on the inside. I asked her for a piece of flexible metal. She returned with a massive stiff block laying trowel. Good thing she's a hell of a bookkeeper. I dispatched her again and she returned with a putty knife. I inspected it, turned around and said, please get that screwdriver, to divert her, popped the latch, by the time she turned around, about a second later the door was ajar.

I snapped off the rod that is activated by the internal knob to preclude locking this lock and obviating a return trip for this particular door. Oops, I should have put it in the unlocked position. I walked over to the pagoda. "Ricki, do you have a pair of needle nosed pliers?" He offered some wire strippers. "Ricki, these were wire strippers yesterday, they are wire strippers today. Do yourself a favor, find everything that looks like a tool, put it in a big box put a padlock on it for which you have no key and store it away." He gave me a good natured laugh and offered me a ratchet. Damn, I'm glad I raised my kids to be self sufficient.

One of the two machine screws that hold the lockset in the door was not in evidence. "What are you looking for?" "A two inch #8-32 round head brass plated machine screw." I was offered a nail, a 1 1/2 blued sheet rock screw, a pan head half inch #10 sheet metal screw, everything but a rock.

I managed to get the lockset in the unlocked position with an improvised tool and reinstalled it in the door. Next, lubricate the pedal.

Do you have any grease? A can of WD-40 was promptly located and copious quantities were sprayed into the pedal, dissolving the heavy axle grease flushing the useful lubricant and signing a death warrant for this pedal. "WD-40 este malo. Malo! Malo! Necessito grisa, no aciete!"

Back to the other end of town to resume my activities. A cute young woman asked if the seat next to me was available. Well, of course. She ordered a chicken dinner to go. "You are going to leave this beautiful waterfront locale and eat this elsewhere?" "Yes." "Where would you go that is better than this?" "Where I am staying." "Where is that?" I don't remember the name, I know where it is though." "Sorry, I'm not trying to stalk you." She flushed when her game was up. "I don't tell people where I stay." Turns out she lives "here" if you call Isla Popa here. "Isla Popa? You don't get to town much do you?" Turns out she lives in a hut without electricity. "How long have you been with the peace corp?" This was not a brilliant deduction. She warmed up we chatted until her meal was ready, she took it to go, I packed my stuff and headed towards the exit, running into Nikelda.

I started recounting the story of Carolina. Nikelda was in peels of laughter, she knows these people, she knows the bike. I didn't have to say much, she could visualize everything. The day I was masterkeying the locks she was pulling the locksets and calculating the tumblers and reassembling the locks. The mechanical ineptitude of our mutual friends was a source of great amusement though little surprise.

I stopped by the pharmacy to buy a piece of crap pellet rifle as the one I had ordered from Amazon would not be forwarded by Mail Boxes Etc. from the Miami drop box. Three weeks later they still had no pellets for the gun. No, I don't want the gun without ammo.

Further down the street I ran into Chris and told him I was headed out to Panama to attend to several matters including buying a boat. "Why are you buying a boat?" "Because I don't have one." "Why do you need a boat?" "I am buying a house on another island, I scuba dive, I fish, I snorkel. To get a boatload of women one should have a boat." Chris told me that Maria's father was a boat maker. I continued down the street to Tropical Markets and spied Maria entering the area behind the bar and locking up. The place was empty. I walked through the kitchen. "Hey Maria!" "Hi, Jim." "Rumor has it your father is a boat builder." "Third generation, my grandfather was a pioneer in building fiberglass boats." I got her email address, phone number, her fathers website and headed off to the chino to buy some chicken and potatoes for dinner, cooking as I detail yet another day of unscheduled activities.

Interesting

A friend of mine reports that he was paid $1.20 in interest for one month on a balance of 1,445.74 on a savings account at Banco Nacional Panama in September, 2011.

That works out to .83 percent per month.

A(t) = (1 + r/n) ^ nt

t = Total time in years
n = Number of compounding periods per year (note that the total number of compounding periods )
r = Nominal annual interest rate expressed as a decimal. e.g.: 6% = 0.06

A(t) = ( 1 + (.0083)) ^ 12

After one year each dollar is worth 1.1042 dollars for an effective compounded yield of 10.42% about 100 times what Chase Bank is offering.

Friday, August 12, 2011

Everybody Needs a Fix

Caught on on my email, read the news, made a pot or three of coffee and the phone rang.

"Jim, I accidentally picked up your telescope and GPS, can you come down to the office and get them? I am getting ready to head out to David."

Great, more stuff to lug on my back until I close on the house.

My realtor called and promised that the house sitter from hell would be out of my future abode in nine days and that every thing else would be tended to within eleven. I wouldn't bet on a dropped spoon hitting the floor around here.

On my way out the door I ran into my landlord, who is also a builder and made inquiries about building some cabinas over the water on the shore of my soon to be abode. We talked about whether floating houses had a future in Bocas and I expressed my concerns and reservations.

Stopping by the hardware store I picked up a 28" high carbon steel El Salvadoran machete and a leather sheath for a guy stateside. The machete was priced $5.50, a bit steep, as it was worth about $4, but everything is overpriced on this island. The sheath was priced at $9.95. I paid $12.50 for the pair. Everything is negotiable.

Down to the real estate office. "Hi, Carolina, buenes Josephina, c'mon give up a smile. Yo Walter, como esta Flaco, hola Tino." Walter handed me a box that appeared as though it had been used to get traction under the rear wheels of a dual axle delivery truck. Shit! I opened it up. Ah, good, the tripod, not the spotting scope.

"Hey Carolina, my landlord has three used locksets he'll sell you." She wants me to masterkey the hostel she is managing, but I can only do so much. If the key doesn't fit in the hole, a compatible lock has to be found. The poor dear has spent so much money fixing up the place she is running cash is getting very low.

The Garmin 76CSx box was next. No external abuse was evident. I opened the box and was pleased to find a very solid plastic GPS with a large transflexive display. I always carry a spare set of 2900 mah NiMH AA batteries in my fanny pack, so I popped them into the unit, powered it on and was amazed that it acquired 11 satellites in less than 10 seconds. The software has the same functionality as the 65 but far fewer limitations, 10000 point track log, 1000 waypoints, 50 routes. It claims 18 hours on a set of batteries and 30 hours in battery saver mode.

Off to Casa Verde to play with my toy, hang out with my crew and check out the next wave of tourists coming into town. A Spanish boat captain from Madrid expressed interest in my GPS, I showed him how to use it and he was quite impressed. He captains charters on a 42' catamaran around Bocas, but does not own the boat. I asked his opinion on a couple of 30-35' boats I was evaluating and he mentioned that his boat was for sale. He also mentioned that he needed to fill the water tank but that he was no longer able to top off at the fire department as someone had reported this activity and it was deemed not a service offered by the city.

I looked at his tiny Boston Whaler, with eight inches of water in it, my backpack filled with electronics that I dared not leave at home, gave a look of consternation and he suggested we take a water taxi. Three hundred meters later we secured a forty five second ride to the sailboat. People moor their boats off shore and take dinghys in. The annual fee for doing so is $193 a year, versus about $9/ft per month in a marina.

My first impression was that the hull needed new gelcoat and the deck needed to be refinished. Entering the cabin, the heavy smell of diesel did not impart a great allure. The cabin was a filthy, with the excuse offered that being out of water there was no way to clean. I looked at the controls, the electrical panel gave off bad vibes. Julio removed the ladder from the bracket that allowed one to ascend from the cabin to the deck, exposing the three cylinder 60 hp diesel engine, took out some jumper cables and made the connections to heat the glow coils. He admitted that a whole lot of things needed to be fixed on the boat.

After starting the engine, we pulled anchor and set sail. I was informed that the boat readily sailed at seven knots under power. At full speed I pointed out that we were travelling 3.5 MPH per my GPS, about 3 knots. I called Nikelda and asked the cost of 75 gallons of water. This was not a service Casa Verde offered. But, it has been raining a lot so the water catchment takes must be filled to capacity. The docking process was nothing like that two which I am accustomed. I pulled my 36' twin engine into a slip with two feet to spare on either side first time every time. This was a drop anchor, back throw line to shore, WTF effort.

I had to go down the street to borrow an extra hose to pull the job off but the tank was filled. Julio took the boat back and said he would return to go to dinner if I cared to do so. Sure, why not? Nice enough guy.

Nikelda approached me and told me that a room was locked, all the keys were gone and the air conditioner maintenance men needed access to the room to effect a repair. Could I get them in? I had no tools with me. I surveyed the door. "I need a sixteen ounce claw hammer, a 10 penny galvanized nail, a 5/16" flat bladed screwdriver with a square shaft, some WD-40, three feet of yellow yarn, a coat hanger, a hacksaw and a large sheet of plastic." "Como?" "A hammer, a nail and a screwdriver." I drove the hinge pins out on the reverse swing door, lower one first, of course, removed the door and headed out to dinner with Julio and Stephen, down to Ultimate Refugio. "Let me know if these boneheads can't rehang the door."

As I was finishing off my peanut satay pork tenderloin, mashed potatoes and mixed vegetables I got a phone call from Carolina. She was at her hostel, outside of town in a neighborhood known as "Saigon", locked out of her room. Could I let her in? "Let me finish my dinner, grab some tools and I'll be over." I rapidly finished my meal, got another call "are you on your way?" Yes, I am on my f...ing way. I grabbed a taxi, stopped by my apartment and secured some implements specifically designed for the manipulation of lock tumblers returned to the taxi and rode out of town.

Carolina was standing in front waiting for me. I looked at the lock. "Which way do you turn this to unlock it? Are you sure? Are you positive?" After 5 minutes of trying to get the cylinder to turn I inspected the hinges. These were very high quality european style, with cap screws on both ends and bearings. I asked if she had a set of pliers or vice grips and was offered an adjustable crescent wrench. No this won't do. I couldn't jimmy the latch with the stubby screwdriver, too big to fit in the gap. Finally I tried turning the cylinder clockwise, 10 seconds later I had the door unlocked.

After receiving many thanks I headed out the gate stopped by a store to buy some nuts, headed down the street, found my way back at the hostel, turned around, stopped at another store, bought a water, headed out, walked down the street, found myself back at the hostel. Dammit.

I called Nikelda. "Did you get the door hung?" "Yes but they didn't lock it." Jesus, how dumb can you be. I walked from Saigon to my apartment, dropped off a bunch of stuff and with my daypack full of electronics headed back to Casa Verde. Nikelda escorted me up the stairs. By the time we got to the room the door was shut and locked. The two Swedish women answered the door, Nikelda apologized for the door having been unlocked, they admitted no difficulty. Nathan the cook came up to see the activity. "Are you going to break into that room?" "Not this minute, but I'm thinking about it." Nikelda, said, "what?". "Nathan do you know who is in that room?" "Why do you think I came up here?" A half soda water, half cranberry juice for my effort I walked back home.

Thursday, August 11, 2011

Composting Inspection

As I was walking down to Lilly's to meet with David, composting toilet guy I ran into Mark, my real estate agent. We ambled down the main street and arrived in front of Lilly's cafe with a minute to spare. At precisely nine Morgan, the boat operator showed up. Four minutes later Mark called David who appeared from his office above Lilly's.

David secured some legally required life jackets and we headed out to the house, arriving in ten minutes. We climbed about 90 of the steps, 10 short of the deck, exited through a gate and walked around the side of the elevated house.

Twenty feet from the composting tank David uttered, "Here we go again!" The handle on the side of the tank for agitating the contents was not in the operating position. Vile brown fluid flowed down the front of the unit and across the concrete platform. A plastic bag filled with wet sawdust gave silent testimony to the source of the problem. "I've told him, every time I've come out here to fix this that he has to use wood chips, not sawdust." A voice came from the deck above use, Jeff the tenant from hell, "I've done everything you told me to do, I have been using wood chips." We looked at each other in utter disbelief.

David said that the pvc needs to be rerun and the system cleaned out. We left while Jeff muttered about the miserable system. David said "I have four such units under my hotel, we have eight double occupancy rooms and we have had no problems in ten years." Oh well, no point shouting down a well.

I asked David when he could fix it. "No point in fixing it until Jeff is out of there." Mark asked me when I was prepared to close. "When everything is fixed and all documents are in order. Nobody is waiting on me. In answer to the unasked question, no I won't close, assume occupancy and then have the system fixed, get Jeff the hell out of there."

Now Mark had the unenviable task of asking the house owner to evict his house sitter. To the rational house owner this is a no brainer, the guy is more trouble than he is worth.

I paid David his $50 fee and told Morgan I'd see him around. "Speaking of Morgan, did you hear they found Henry Morgan's ship?"

http://www.walesonline.co.uk/news/wales-news/2011/08/11/rum-remains-of-captain-morgan-s-ship-finally-found-91466-29215933/

http://abcnews.go.com/International/captain-morgans-long-lost-pirate-ship-unearthed/story?id=14261866

Clean Water Compost
A Division of Clean Water Construction
Eco - friendly water and waste systems
Desing and sales with Sun - Mar composting systems

David B. Miner
Bocas Cell: 6688-6446
U.S. Phone 719 266-2359
cwccompost @ comcast.net
http://www.cwc-compost.com

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Solar Power System Inspection

After ten days of trying to get somebody to inspect by electrical system I was notified that the system would be inspected "sometime Tuesday." This morning I received a phone call around ten o'clock from the person who installed the system. He informed me that he was in Almirante, en route to the house. That is about a twenty five minute trip. I called Mark, my realtor and told him I would be right over.

A boat operator solicited us and offered to take us over for $20 per half hour. This was quickly negotiated down to $12.50. Ten minutes later we were at the property. Victor was running the gas powered generator and testing the charging amperage which checked out at between 78 and 80 amps. He reported that there were four batteries and that they were in a 20% discharged state. Shortly thereafter he reported that a pair of solar panels was missing from the root.

Mark called Jeff, the house sitter who claimed that he had checked the panels the night before, an extremely unlikely claim. I paid Victor the $150 fee and we headed back to Bocas Town and paid the boat operator $30 for the 67 minutes.

Returning to town I checked my email to find that two of the postings on theft from my house had been deleted from the site. One of them specifically mentioned Becca Wrenn Thompson and her theft of my MacBook pro, which I purchased in May at Albrook mall for $1,455.20, and registered in my name, serial number SC02FN6TYDH2G. The other recounted an incident in which a Kindle, a Canon camera and a flashlight were stolen from my apartment.

I received another email from Becca in which she claimed to be in possession of documents that don't exist. I have urged her to post these police records she claims to have in her possession and that she constantly threatens me with. My favorite is her account of my being arrested in the park in Bocas for assault with a machete. On the day in question I was was in Panama City, 310 km away.

Monday, August 8, 2011

Making Progress on the House

The composting system for the toilets is schedule for 9:00 on Thursday.

The solar electrical system inspection is "sometime tomorrow."

I have received the contract from my attorney.

This might friggin' actually happen.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Fortuna to Bocas

At 6:20 a mini bus pulled up in the street in front of my Aparthotel. The driver non chalantly took my boxes. Rather than load them on top they were passed through the windows. The bus has 21 seats split configuration, two on the left, one on the right for each row. I brought the total of passengers to four.

Rudy gave me more unwanted and unneeded advice on how to survive in this world and in particular my immediate destinations, both places in which I have lived and he has but heard about.

The air conditioning in the bus is more than effective, it is downright cold in here.
Craggy peaks and steep mountains in the hazy blue mist vast expanses of green some forested, some pasture, steep slopes rising as fast as they ran plunged down into valleys on either side of the crest on which the rode was situated. The road ever twisting but not in the manner of switchbacks wound its way through villages and rural areas, living fences of limbs sprouting in a row renewing themselves not as appendages but as saplings and trees in their own right. Vines and enormous leaved ferns the occassional banana tree, palms of every sort, ornamental bushes, yellow, orange, red, and purple with blossoms of every hue. Fat, health, lazy brama cattle.

7:30 stopped at a soda. "Pora desayuno o solomente bano?" "Bano." Two women, apparently sisters, with smooth wrinkle free complexions, large hawkish noses and grey hair disembarked. One clad from foot to head in sandals, long pangs a white cotton improvised skirt and a brown top with fabric hanging down in folds from the arms looked like a garment rack for the disheveled. The other, with orange plastic spectacles and circular lenses was the embodiment of Poindexter. The third woman had was short and stout, with a brush cut. Her calves were the size of my thighs.

Orange spectacles walked into the restaurant and then departed down a trail and was presently around a bend, out of sight. I exited the bus sat at the counter an ordered a coffee. "Un cafe negor, grandel por favor." The coffee was quickly served, hot and rich. "Desayno?" "Solomente carne guisada." "Arroz, frijoles?" What part of 'solomente' was not clear? "No, gracias." The woman reappeared and entered the bus. "Necessito, carne pora llevar, insufficiente tiempo pora aqui." The woman graciously transferred my stew to a styrofoam bowl. "Salsa Caliente?" I was handed a plastic squeeze bottle and gave a blast. I looked at the woman and with a smile and a kidding, "Malo, malo, este salsa tamatilla, yo quiero picante, mucho picante, este pora nino." She laughed and I rant off to the bus, my grub in hand and a barely touched coffee on the counter. "Quento?" "Un mill." I guess Costa Rica's not bad if you get out of the tourist traps. But I think I've had my last trip to Fortuna unless I'm showing someone around. Too much world.

Blogging on my netbook is wonderful. A full sized laptop could not be opened in the confines of my seating and touch typing on an ipad is cumbersome and requires transcription. The cost to you is a long blog entry.

Simple gestures. Asking the bus driver if he wants a coffee, offering gum to fellow passengers. It toesn't take much to get people out of their shells.

Everything is labelled "Puerto Viejo and we are hours from our tiny destination.
A muffler shop on the edge of a city . Long stretch of unkempt green scrub just psss the unpaved shoulder of the road with everything from grasses to plants with eight and ten foot leaves on one side of the road, close cropped pasture on the other.Narrow rocky rivers in wide gulches, testimony to the ravages of tropical rainfall.

A huge heather a massive meadow. Papaya trees. Palm trees bursting with orange coconuts.

8:21 San Jose kilometers.

9:45 stopped at a roadside soda, more carne guisada, some undercooked lentils Picked up three more passengers and transferred to a very stiff suspension van with much less leg room. I left my hat in the bus, but the driver brought it over to me. Thank god they transferred my chairs. I need adult supervision.

11:15 Stopped at sloth sanctuary, dropped off one person who was voluntering. Almost there. Bathroom break for the women. Natalie from Las Angeles, two women, sisters one lives in Mexico City the other left when 17 and travelled all over the world, went to college in Israel.

12:00 Bought a ticket to Sixoula for 1,440 Colones, leaves at 12:30 first bus leaves at 6:30 then 8:30 and every hour thereafter until 5:30. Across the street from the bus ticket station is a "Cocal Cola" a red building with a big red awning emblazoned "Coca Cola". Next door is the bus stop to Sixaola. I had to place my boxes containing chairs underneath myself and well could have removed luggage that was stowed there to be scurried away by an accomplice. Travel time is an hour and a half. I have no idea how I am going to get these boxes over the bridge.

1:52 Sixoula
A Indian boy greeted me and offered to assist me with my boxes. We walked over to immigration, I ran into a woman who works at Tropical Markets and we agreed to share a collectivo. We walked the 250 yards across the bridge, each with our boxes atop our respective heads. I bought a ticket from Sixoula to San Jose, required by immigration to prove that one is planning on departing, that I might never use (a $12 ripoff, they charge the same to go to Puerto viejo when the actual fare is less than $3) and obtained my entrance stamp. We walked down the steps and I passed the boxes to the collectivo operator atop the van. A man from customs came down and said I had to clear the boxes through customs. I had no reciept so they were held for me to claim until such time as I could come up with a reciept. I asked for a receipt stating that they were holding these chairs and the supervisor labored over it nearly interminably. I finally returned to the van which by now had been vacated. I grabbed my backpack and was told my friends were in another van one in which I now sit and swelter. Apparently we are going to wait here until they sell the last seat and no progress has been made in half an hour. This is bananas country.

Just as I finished this sufficient people boarded to fill the van to capacity. I have no idea what we are waiting on at this point. Ahh securing luggage to the top. It is 3:05 and we are finally moving again.

The driver turns on the music. "Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress." Things are looking up. "Have You Ever Seen the Rain?",
That song they play at hockey games, "Rock and Roll Girls", "Hi di ho" "Beds are Burning",
"Money Money", "The One I Love", "Pretty Woman"

3:57 at almirante bus station.

He tried to take us to Taxi 25, "Fuck those people.: I walked back to BMT and got right on a boat, past the rest of the passengers in the van milling about at the newly relocated Janpan (not to be confused with Janpan tours operating out of Bocas Town, they are pretty straight up people). Back to Bocas Town, old friends and a really cute girl doing glow in the dark hula tricks.

Back to Bocas

Two large cardboard cartons with unassembled rocking chairs ready to be rejected by the cooperativa driver. Maybe I can convince him to strap them to the root. It's a Costa Rican rain dance. My most annoying host, trying to be friendly walks into my room every five minutes. Go away, Rudy. Go abuse yourself or something.

Four hours to Puerto Viejo then bus to border, or van straight through or catch a boat, this is not well planned.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

On being Rudy

Rudy came downstairs and told me he was going into town. Would I like him to pick up my shuttle tickets while he is there? Sure, why not. I forked over 30,000 colones. He asked me how much Ruth was charging for my room. "$15 day." "I told her the rate is $25/day and $20/day for friends." "Rudy, you don't tell Ruth shit. She puts up with you, she owns this place, don't try to pull a fast one on me."

He left and a few minutes later handed me a reciept for $50 USD. "Where is my 5,000 colones." "That should be a tip." "You were going anyway, I'm passing by the place in half an hour, don't be a jackass." He forked over the money.

A bit later I headed out to the encomiendo, they told me that I had no package in my name and that I needed to get a tracker number. I asked them to call Down to Earth Coffee, but they told me it was closed. Try coming back at four, it might be on the next bus.

I ran into Rudy again and he insisted that I see his lady who cuts the hairs. I sat down and explained that my hair had not been cut in two months. Out came the clippers. In three seconds the left side of my head had a buzz cut. Nothing to do now but buzz it all around the sides and back. But I didn't want one of those Tico bullet head cuts with long moussed hair on top and near shaved on the sides. In the end it could have been worse. I gave her 2,000 colones and headed out.

I walked to the far end of town and took a stroll in the jungle in the only undeveloped lot in town. On the way back I stopped at Down to Earth, which was open. A friendly gringo woman greeted me. I explained my plight, she called Matias who became a bit annoyed, "Those people are completely worthless. My phone is about to die, but I am almost at the finca. I'll call you back." The woman asked if I could wait five minutes and I said with an impish smirk "I am a very busy man with many important engagements." "Sit down, have a coffee and some ice cream, Mr. Busy." So I had both and we chatted. Matias called back, the packages were at the encomienda, he gave the tracking number. The youth who served up the snacks was dispatched with me. "Thanks, I'm sure he'll shake the goods out of them!" The lad was slight and mild mannered. They both gave me a grin. The kid asked if I had a car. "Bud, it's two blocks from here."

We walked over and he turned over the tracking number. Seems the only packages that had not been picked up were marked as two chairs for a "James" I had been asking for two chairs for a "Jim". Whew, friggin' bananas country.

I carried the cartons out front, hailed a cab and took them back to the aparthotel for a fare of ochocientos cincuenta I gave the guy a mill and sent him on his way.

Getting ready to go home.

Today I will be stopping by the encomiendo to pick up my rocking chairs. For those not familiar with the ways of Central America goods are frequently shipped from one encomiendo to another in the luggage areas of long haul buses. Every major city will have at least one. Goods can be shipped very inexpensively across a country for a few dollars.

The goods to be transported are delivered at an encomiendo, which is always adjacent to a bus stop. The fee is paid, an addressee specified and the goods are placed on the next available bus. Hours later they arrive at the destination at well known times and by presentation of identification the packages can be picked up.

Rudy, my host, is pushing me to get my hair cut by some woman in town that he thinks I would find highly desirable for more than hair cutting. He just offered to go to the transport office and buy me a ticket on a shuttle in a shared van to Puerto Viejo tomorrow, the fare is but $50. I can't wait to get home. Perhaps I shall have a brief layover in Puerto Viejo but I have learned that a couple of my friends and acquaintances in town have moved on, to parts unknown.

The electricity has gone out throughout town. I made a small purchase at a local supermarket and in the confusion left my small package after paying for it. A woman followed me for a kilometer to inform me that I had left my package. She had been unable to overtake my brisk walk. After informing me she turn and returned from whence she came.

When I first came to Costa Rica it seemed a wonderful and exotic place. Having travelled all over Central America it seems more an over priced destination seriously deficient in infrastructure. Give me Panama any day.

Friday, August 5, 2011

A walk through the jungle should be done slowly

A walk through the jungle should be done slowly, this is not and endurance contest or a race. If you want to see animals you stop and look around. A tree can be looked at for twenty minutes, look, I see over fifty different kinds of orchid on that tree. That is lichen, that is monkey's ladder. This is a walking palm, let me tell about it, the trees actually walk. This palm is the source of palm hearts, that is a fan palm. Look an armadillo hole. This is a tarantula hole. Behold, a sloth. Hear that? That is a toucan. See the anole? Hello? Where are you racing off to? A group of howler monkeys. Leaf cutter ants. A basilisk lizard. A green eyelash viper.

This is not a zoo, this is the wild. Take your time, look around, breathe deeply, take in the scents.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Rockin' in Fortuna

I started off with the intent to get a haircut and drop by and see some acquaintances I met in August 2009 when I lived in Fortuna for a month. I never found the place that "cuts the hairs". The travel kiosk was "manned" by someone else. When I asked the woman for the whereabouts of the proprietor from my former visit she went next door and gave me a list of five people who have operated the kiosk in the last two years and described each of them to me then told me where I could find Roy.

I returned to my apartment, chastised a few people in Panama for bananas country behavior, not following through on commitments and sent an email to Matias Zeledon, the coffee proprietor. It was but two sentences long. "Are you still in Fortuna? I bought a rocking chair from you two years ago, I dropped by your shop, but it is now a chocoleteria. Cheers, Jim Schmidt"

A couple of minutes later I got a response, yes he had moved and he remembered me well. Yeah, right. I walked down to his shop, "Hey, how is the computer business going? Are you still living in Puerto Viejo?" I spent two hours with the guy two years ago. I forget that much about anybody but a really good looking woman in about an hour.

I bought a couple of rocking chairs, which will be delivered on Saturday and shot the shit with a guy who was supporting himself making travel videos. Not that it matters, but my first impression was that he was gay. Then he talked about himself for a while and I was sure. Then he showed me a picture of his wife and kids. WTF? I'm usually not bad at this stuff. I went back to my apartment to follow up on more email and looked up his site. This could be kind of a fun project for Panama, but trust me, I won't be appearing shirtless with pierced nipples.

Trying to get elicit some response I sent off more emails. Rudy kept knocking on my door. He wanted me to participate in his English lessons with his students. "Sometimes in English they substitute the 'R for 'T' 'What do you want to eat? becomes Whar to you want to ear?" No, Rudy, that's not true, nobody does that. "I have an excellent ear." Rudy, amarillo is pronounced "yellow" not "jello". These poor students.

Quiet Day, Great Dinner

I spent the day mostly in bed a much needed day of recuperation and rest. Rudy spent the day being Rudy a task few would dare to attempt. He continually knocked on my door to introduce me to the various subjects, err, students that are being taught his tortured English. I took special pity on the twenty two year old girl he tried to hook me up with.

These people are so parsimonious they turn off the room lights when they blink. Rudy observed that I had lights on in the bedroom and the living room and asked me how many rooms I could be in at a time, swear to god.

Dinner at Don Rufino's was very good and the company was excellent having managed to catch up with the couple that prompted this visit. Today I ahall hang out a little with them at the wonderful resort at which they are staying. Matias Zeledon of Down to Earth Coffee invited me to drop by. Maybe I can get him to brew me some of his awesome coffee; the last time I saw him he only sold beans although I did convince him to have a local restaurant brew me up a small batch. Hopefully he still sells those wonderful rocking chairs, if so I shall have to acquire a couple.

Today? Who knows? Lounging, sauntering in magnificent gardens, chatting poolside, perhaps the hanging bridges.

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Fortuna, Costa Rica

”It is time to get up. The time is five o'clock.” I reached over and grabbed my cell phone and reset the alarm for 5:30. Another restless night's sleep, punctuated by half hour intervals of pacing and gnoshing since I retired four hours previously. Half an hour later my cell phone provoked me again. I made a pot of coffee and packed some clothes in my day pack along with my notebook and netbook computer. A little after six I headed out the door and walked to Walter's real estate office. I gave him my notebook computer and my external drives for safekeeping and took my digital SLR camera. We walked over to Bocas Marine tours and bought tickets for the water taxi to Almirante. The six thirty boat was full. I ordered eggs and a couple of cups of coffee and nourished myself while waiting for the seven o'clock departure. A few minutes before seven we boarded the boat, taking the rear most of the six bench seats. The closer to the bow, the more ass pounding one gets and I had no great desire to have my ass pounded this morning. Four girls from Texas took the seat ahead of us and we discussed the weather in Texas. One was attending A&M, poor thing and had left weather even more inhospitable than the 113 degrees Dallas was experiencing.

Twenty five minutes later we were in Almirante with the usual hustle, “Where are you going my friend?” “I thought I'd pop by Lago Arenal and that lovely German bakery on the east shore, take in the hanging bridges, stop by the Observatory Lodge at the base of the Volcano then go for a jungle walk the next day. How about you?” “My friend are you going to Puerto Viejo?” No point in talking to this moron. I invited the Texas girls to ride along with us to Chaginoula but the opted for public transport as our SUV wasn't really large enough for all of us in comfort. Walter and I walked a couple of hundred feet to the parking lot where Chester's SUV is kept safe and secure for $40 a month, got the car and headed out to Changuinola. Cool morning, low hanging clouds enveloped the base of the hills. With the windows down it verged on chilly. Thirty five minutes later we passed through town and stopped at a road side cafe with which Walter was familiar. The owner/operators were from Boquette and served coffee from the province of Chiriqui, home of the most expensive coffee in the world that hasn't passed through the gastrointestenal tract of a wild feline. (Look up “civet cat coffee”, yeah, no shit.) We had some veal sausages and tortillas. In Panama a tortilla is a three inch by 3/8” deep fried ground corn pastry. We also ordered Omadilla a deep fried white flour pastry. The tab came to $8, I slipped a tenner under the plate and we headed out.

A short while later I was dropped off at the bridge which connects Changuinola, Panama to Sixaola, Costa Rica. I stopped by the pre-immigration office, paid my $3 exit tax, then when to immigration and got my exit stamp. The walk across the bridge was a mundane experience. Twenty one months prior it seemed a strange and unusual thing to walk across an ill kept wooden bridge between two countries. Now it seemed more natural than trying to buy cauliflower.

Arriving at the Costa Rican side, I stopped by immigration. I was handed a form, filled it out and submitted it with my passport and was asked for my airline ticket out of the country. I was forging one the other day, modifying a heavily marked up Travelocity html email confirmation that nearly put open office into a death spin. I told the woman that I lived in Bocas and that I was going to buy a boat ticket from Puerto Viejo to Bocas del Toro once I got to Puerto Viejo. She was having none of it. So I walked down the road to the pharmacy (first building on the left) and bought a bus ticket. I had a choice, I could buy a ticket from San Jose to Changuinola or not. No other options were available. For $12.80 I bought one, returned to immigration, presented the ticket and passport, the latter was quickly stamped and returned to me.

My plan was to take a shuttle from Puerto Viejo to Fortuna. The price of a taxi from Sixaola to Puerto Viejo was ostensibly 20,000 colones, about $10. The taxi driver offered to take me to Puerto Viejo for $35. I told him I would look for a collectivo, he denied that they existed. I returned to the pharmacy and attempted to buy a bus ticket to Fortuna, but was informed that the only tickets they sold were from San Jose to Sixaola. “Yo necessito comprar billete pora bus hasta Fortuna. Donde tengo?” She directed me across the street. The chino across the street didn't sell bus tickets but pointed me next door. I entered the hardware store, but they were baffled too and suggested the bus around the corner. If you ever find your self in the same situation it's the first road on the right after you cross the bridge.

I approached the ticket counter. My choice of destinations was Limon or San Jose, Puerto Viejo was not an option. San Jose $12, clock back an hour bus leaves at 10.

Impelled by an imperious necessity, a compelling nervous expression of my bowels, for a near immediate riddance of something found suddenly offensive, the tacos I consumed last night, prepared at home by yours truly with plenty of hot sauce, I sought appropriate accommodations for the requisite task. Spying a bano publico (public bathroom) I walked over to the soda (typical food outdoor cafe) and made inquiries. The cost was 95 colones, I proffered a quarter and the woman provided me with enough toilet paper to cover the walls of the room. There was no sign, but I put the used paper in the bin next to the toilet. The sink outside had a one liter water bottle with a strong concentration of lysol for washing one's hands. No towels,of course.

As I walked out I was greeted by Skip, the floating house builder, on his way to San Jose to close on a sale. “Skip, I never got your articles of incorporation, your corporation is not listed on the Panamanian online registry, I never got a copy of your approved concession. Did you finish making the modifications to my house that we discussed?” “Here, Jim, want a drink?” I looked at the canned rum and coke and declined. Shortly thereafter a bus pulled in a people started to board. I checked the time then the destination on the front of the Mepe bus. We boarded, I got current on today's blog entry, opened the window for fresh air and we departed at ten exactly.

11:45 Pulled into station my freakin' neck. What the hell happened? I had fallen asleep and head had flopped over to the right, straining my neck muscles. A dutch girl took a seat next me. I put my daypack on my lap. “Que este nombre aqui?” “Cuhuita.” Shit, still on the Caribbean. Back to nodding off and I have to exhausted to sleep on a bus.

12;45 We pulled into a terminal, a sweater lies on the vacant seat behind me. I grabbed and ran over to the steel gates and holding the sweater between the bars yelled, “Chica Nederlander, su ropa!” n She turned around, came over to me and said, “Thanks, can you put it back on the seat, oh, I'll take it!” We were at a cafeteria, this was just a stop. I entered and looked at the food and deemed none of it worthy of consumption and bought some junk, an tajaditas de platanc on chicarron del rancho, an ice cream, and a 1750 ml water. Tres mill tre ciente. Three thousand three hundred colones? I have here 7 dollars and got 200 colones back. Was this a screw job or has the dollar weakened that much? Nice homework, peckerhead.

The fried plantains were thin and extra crispy, the pork rinds very scarce. This was truly a bag of evil stuff.

3:30 Finally cold and wet pulled into the terminal in San Jose. A taxi driver informed me that the bus to Fortuna left from another terminal. This much I already knew. The fact that there were no more today was news to me. He offered to drive me for 75,000 colones. Hell, that gets me there in three hours, what else am I going to do, rent a hotel room in San Jose? Inside the terminal was an internet cafe. Some computer from the archives of hell booted for ten minutes, then took another five minutes to bring up an instance of Chrome. I fired off an email to my friends that I am to meet in Fortuna, bought some more poison and headed out front. The taxi driver gladly accepted the chocolate covered ice cream bar I gave him. “Su llama”. “I am George.” “Jorge mi nombre Jaime, but you can all me Jim.” Off to his little Hundai, through the rain and mist. Onward through the fog!

I tried to find some comfort in the back seat in a semi-recumbent position but found little. Finally I asked the driver to stop, got into the front seat and put it in full recline and achieved some rest. When we arrived in Fortuna, he had no idea where the Aparthotel at which I was staying was located. I quickly gathered my bearings and gave him directions. As we pulled into the drive I was warmly greeted by Ruth and Rudy. I returned to the taxi to pay my fare and on returning saw no evidence of my possession. Upon inquiry as to their whereabouts, Ruth, pointed. I ascended the circular stairs to find shelves with neatly folded clothes, none of them mine. With a quizzical look on my face she indicated that she had been pointing to room seven, my former quarters. I guess I should have known that the "through the walls" was implicit in her gesture.

Rudy invited me to go fishing on Saturday. I hadn't intended to stay that long. I caught a cab to Las Lagos, where Richard and Maggie are staying. A six kilometer fare came to 4,800 colones, almost $10 and about five times what I would pay for a similar trip in Panama.

We pulled into the entrance and I entered the lobby inquiring for directions to the bar, our agreed upon meeting location. I was informed that it was dark and not very straight forward and a man was summoned to guide me there. I had stayed at this lovely resort sixteen years earlier with my two boys, then five and seven. We looked at the bar, the poolside bar, the bar in the restaurant, called their room, made another pass of same and finally got a shuttle to their room where I talked with Maggie's son Alex, whom I hadn't seen in 15 years, now a fine strapping young man and met Cole, a joint effort, now about six. Oh well, there is always tomorrow.

I gave up and took a taxi back stopping at Garrapata for dinner. In my old blog I had a pretty funny story about that but in never made it from Wordpress to blogspot. Oh well. The owner recognized me and we engaged in friendly banter. Tilipia was served ten different ways, none of the descriptions being helpful. "Tilipia Ballerina". Garrapata informed me that this was a humorous menu. Some clue as to the sauces would have been more appreciated. I ordered Tilipia Marisco which was served with a cream and white wine sauce with shrimp a faux scallops, faux crab and faux calimari then walked back to my lodgings.

Monday, August 1, 2011

Doesn't anybody do what they say they are going to do?

No word from the attorney on the house.

On another deal the promised paper work didn't come.

The inspectors never wrote back to tell me when they could perform the inspections.

Screw it. I'm heading out to Fortuna, Costa Rica tomorrow.

Hopefully by the time I get back, somebody will have gotten his shit together.