Changuinola

Damn! The computer won't boot. First the power button stopped working, now the quickstart web button doesn't work. OK, time to make a trip to Chaguinola.

Timon, my gardener showed up, I gave him instructions on the days activities. He carried down a large propane tank that I am swapping for meals at a local on-the-water restaurant, the Pickled Parrot. Sitting here, it does me no good. I'll be damned if I'll pay double for my propane for the right to carry a huge tank up a hundred stairs.

Twenty minute boat ride to Bocas, couple of minute walk to water taxi, twenty five minute boat ride to Almirante, couple minute taxi to bus stop, thirty or forty minute bus ride to Changuinola. I pulled out my computer and showed it to Cesar. WTF? Now it powers up. Look at it anyway, OK?

I walked across the street to buy a wallet which was stolen on my last trip. (TODO). It didn't take long with the limited selection. Haircut? Yeah, that's in order. I inquired and a guy showed me the way, walking down the streets, around corners. He wouldn't take a tip. This isn't Bocas, where the money would have been demanded. That's not fair, a lot of locals would help me out, but a lot of them that are not friends and acquaintences are ne'er do wells.

My ex room-mate had been seeking contact lens solution but the only store in town that carried them was out. I went to an internet cafe to see if I could contact her via facebook. The machine had no antivirus installed and anybody could install software on the box. I hate using internet cafes. I logged into Facebook and then got a very clear access denied error. Http-403. Couldn't be clearer. I couldn't post, I couldn't log out. Great.

Next I tried to buy a cell phone but they wouldn't let me buy one without my passport. I don't know what the point of showing the passports is. I needed a copy of my passport, which was presented several times at a pharmacy in town when I bought phones. A copy was duly made each time, to be lost or misfiled. I have asked for a copy of my passport, thinking it wouldn't hurt while trying to get my replacement, but none of the copies could be found. What is the point anyway? Are they trying to keep track of who owns the phone? The only thing they record is the information from the SIM, which I take out of my latest sacrifice to Neptune and put in the new phone. The SIM has always survived, I shouldn't have said that as I haven't tried my SIM since my latest short term acquisition met its watery demise. The SIM ties my phone number to the phone and has all of my contacts in it. There is no way to back up contacts to the server and there are far too many to manually back up.

A quick check, nope, the computer is not ready. Off to Romero's a national supermarket chain to provision. They have a far greater selection at far better prices than Bocas, forty to fifty percent less. I filled up a shopping cart with some veggies and all manner of non perishables. I couldn't hail a taxi. At least a hundred pounds of food in plastic bags ready to burst. I walked a block to the bank and asked the guard if he could watch some of my groceries while I made a couple of trips. He didn't think I was going to blow up the bank with foodstuffs. A local offered to carry a couple of the bags. The cans were breaking through the plastic bags. A few blocks later I was back at the electronics repair facility. The local refused a tip. I felt like I was back in Medellin absent all the beautiful Colombians.

Back at the electronics store the owner and a customer stared at a TV screen, watching the news. Two days earlier, four months after an American woman disappeared a search had been conducted on a small island. I'll post about that fiasco later. The owner commented that Bocas was crazy and asked if I knew anything about it. The customer pointed to a guy in rubber boots carrying a machete on the screen and pointed out that the same individual stood before them.

I put my computer in my bag forgot to ask how much it cost to look at the computer and the owner never asked. It's been about five months since I asked him to get me a replacement keyboard. This is an authorized factory service center for Sony. The proof is, it's painted on the wall outside. Hmmm. In the mean time I got one sent from the states, mangled it and waited for another. Do I have time to order another? Heading out the door the customer pointed out that I had left my power supply on the counter. Thanks.

I was many blocks from the bus station, the bags were not going to last. I couldn't hail a taxi. A guy rode down the street on a bike with large baskets on the front and the back overflowing with large plastic crates. I offered him a dollar to go with me to the bus stop. I removed the plastic crates, loaded up my groceries and replaced the crates, upside down, over the top of my groceries. A couple of blocks later a guy carrying a TV set looked at me and got all excited. In quick Spanish he started talking about visa cards and other things. I had no idea what he was talking about. Finally he said scuba card and I figured out that he had or knew the whereabouts of my wallet. I watched the bike disappear with my groceries. Hell, I've replaced the bank cards, don't need the scuba card and the replacement driver's license is ostensibly on the way. I uttered a quick, “much gracias” and left him standing there bewildered.

The man with the bike was waiting for me at the bus stop, looking a little confused. I put my bags on the bus and boarded. The bus was filled with Indians and Mestizo's. Changuinola is not a tourist town, nor does it have an ex-pat community. In the back snuggling with an Indian was a Nordic goddess. Never have I seen an Indian with a tourist. The Indians generally live in hovels without electricity and obtain their parasite laden water from rivers. It takes a strong constitution to survive this way.

The bus stopped at some random location in town, quite a ways from the bus stop. WTF? I got out, got my groceries and hailed a cab to the water taxi. Despite my refusal one of the many maledictos TODO that frequent the dock of Bocas Marine Tours picked up a bag of groceries to place it on the boat. The fatigued plastic gave way and many cans made their way to the bottom of the fetid, murky water. Thanks for the help. He didn't ask for a tip.

Back to town. Another taxi ride to one of my haunts. Groceries on boat. Not a tourist to be found, just the expats who pass each and every day at the bars. I'm outta here. Back home I found my internet was dead. Great. No way to call the provider as I had no phone, so I read some Mark Twain.