Penn at Juanie's Day Twelve, Wednesday June 3rd 2016
The morning dawned just like any other morning. Another lousy day in paradise.
Heidi has been here long enough to fall into a morning routine. She gets up early, makes coffee and reads. Then she gathers up the dogs and walks down to the lagoon where she takes a swim. She makes it back to the house for another cup of coffee, stretches out and reads until we get up.
I don’t know what has happened to me. I used to be an early riser, a morning person. The further I get from working, the later I get up every morning. It may have something to do with the fact that I’m up later at night than I used to be. When I was working, I went to bed at ten pm, no matter what. Now I stay up to eleven or twelve every night, wild child that I am.
Anyway, when we get up, the day begins.
Today, Heidi and I made a trip down to Juanie’s to use the Internet. Juanie’s is a beach restaurant about five miles down the road on Drago Beach. It’s the only place near us where we can get a Wi-Fi connection.
This is your prototypical beach shack restaurant/bar. I keep expecting to find Jimmy Buffet plucking out a tune in the back. The restaurant is what you would call open air. Wooden posts hold up a corrugated iron roof. The tables and chairs are in the sand. On one occasion, my chair’s legs sunk so deeply into the sand while I was sitting there that my chair collapsed and I found myself lying in the sand.
The kitchen is behind a waist-high concrete wall. There is a real floor in that section of the building. Large wooden shutters hinge up to let the air in, at night they close them down. A bathroom is also in the building.
Juanie, a native Panamanian Indian woman, is a gracious hostess. Her husband, Willie, is a tall, thin black man who does water taxi and fishing trips from their beach. He speaks pretty good English, but Juanie doesn’t speak a word.
The morning dawned just like any other morning. Another lousy day in paradise.
Heidi has been here long enough to fall into a morning routine. She gets up early, makes coffee and reads. Then she gathers up the dogs and walks down to the lagoon where she takes a swim. She makes it back to the house for another cup of coffee, stretches out and reads until we get up.
I don’t know what has happened to me. I used to be an early riser, a morning person. The further I get from working, the later I get up every morning. It may have something to do with the fact that I’m up later at night than I used to be. When I was working, I went to bed at ten pm, no matter what. Now I stay up to eleven or twelve every night, wild child that I am.
Anyway, when we get up, the day begins.
Today, Heidi and I made a trip down to Juanie’s to use the Internet. Juanie’s is a beach restaurant about five miles down the road on Drago Beach. It’s the only place near us where we can get a Wi-Fi connection.
This is your prototypical beach shack restaurant/bar. I keep expecting to find Jimmy Buffet plucking out a tune in the back. The restaurant is what you would call open air. Wooden posts hold up a corrugated iron roof. The tables and chairs are in the sand. On one occasion, my chair’s legs sunk so deeply into the sand while I was sitting there that my chair collapsed and I found myself lying in the sand.
The kitchen is behind a waist-high concrete wall. There is a real floor in that section of the building. Large wooden shutters hinge up to let the air in, at night they close them down. A bathroom is also in the building.
Juanie, a native Panamanian Indian woman, is a gracious hostess. Her husband, Willie, is a tall, thin black man who does water taxi and fishing trips from their beach. He speaks pretty good English, but Juanie doesn’t speak a word.
The road to Juanie's
I should take a moment to speak about the racial groups in Panama. Of course, there are the natives. They were here before Columbus. They are short, brown people. Almost to a person, we’ve found them to be friendly. Cesar, our gardener, is an Indian. Spanish is his second language, he, like all of the natives here, speaks his native language first. He also manages to speak a little English. I have no problem communicating with him.
Then there are the Afro-Caribbeans. They are the descendants of slaves who were brought here from Cuba, Jamaica and Puerto Rico.
Of course, there are the Europeans and North Americans. The Spanish colonized the area early in the Sixteenth Century. These are the progenies of those Spaniards, but there are also French (they made the first attempt to build a Panama Canal in the late part of the Nineteenth Century) as well as other assorted Caucasians. The North Americans are mainly from the U.S. and Canada and are late comers, but there is a large North American presence in the country.
Then there are the mestizos. These are the offspring of various mixes of the aforementioned groups.
So far, we have seen no signs of racial tension or prejudice. There are natives and blacks in important positions in the government and owning businesses. Everyone just seems to get along. I wish we could import this into the U.S.
Now back to Juanie’s café. When last we saw our heroes, Heidi and Penn went to the café to use the Internet.
We sat down and whipped out our electronic gear. The server came over, we ordered Margaritas, and went to work.
To my chagrin, the Wi-Fi was painfully slow. It took several minutes to load a web page. I turned on my email and the entire time we were there, it was busy downloading email messages.
Heidi managed to get a hold of her husband for a long conversation.
After my first Margarita, I changed to Arnold Palmers, I was driving home. Miss Heidi could drink me under the table any day of the week. As you know I’m a cheap drunk. Two drinks and I can’t get the car keys in the ignition. After four Margaritas, Heidi was still stone cold sober.
When we got back to the house, Dawn was busy baking me a birthday cake. It was her first attempt at baking in her mother’s house and things didn’t go smoothly. Of course, she couldn’t find the ingredients she needed. The oven was a challenge for her. She is afraid of gas and couldn’t get it lighted. I lit it for here when we got home.
After the cake was in the oven, Dawn and Heidi declared war on bugs. They started with the loft, but soon the battlefield had moved downstairs to the main room.
Dawn was SEAL Team 6 of bug warfare. With her bottle of bug spray in hand, she mercilessly hunted down the little buggers. Heidi, being afraid of the bugs, stayed downstairs and shouted up encouragement.
When the loft was so full of gas that no bug could possibly survive, Dawn came down stairs and she and Heidi attacked the kitchen. They pulled out drawers, emptied them and scrubbed them down, then cleaned out the cabinets.
The roaches ran up a white flag and made a strategic retreat, however, Heidi and Dawn had already decided that no quarter would be given. They slaughtered them ruthlessly.
When the massacre was over, Dawn put a layer of boric acid down in the cabinets to keep the roaches out. She is a veteran of the bug wars in Mexico. Living on the boat in Mexico is a constant battle against the cucarachas.
I believe that Heidi slept better after that. I was tired from just watching.
Then there are the Afro-Caribbeans. They are the descendants of slaves who were brought here from Cuba, Jamaica and Puerto Rico.
Of course, there are the Europeans and North Americans. The Spanish colonized the area early in the Sixteenth Century. These are the progenies of those Spaniards, but there are also French (they made the first attempt to build a Panama Canal in the late part of the Nineteenth Century) as well as other assorted Caucasians. The North Americans are mainly from the U.S. and Canada and are late comers, but there is a large North American presence in the country.
Then there are the mestizos. These are the offspring of various mixes of the aforementioned groups.
So far, we have seen no signs of racial tension or prejudice. There are natives and blacks in important positions in the government and owning businesses. Everyone just seems to get along. I wish we could import this into the U.S.
Now back to Juanie’s café. When last we saw our heroes, Heidi and Penn went to the café to use the Internet.
We sat down and whipped out our electronic gear. The server came over, we ordered Margaritas, and went to work.
To my chagrin, the Wi-Fi was painfully slow. It took several minutes to load a web page. I turned on my email and the entire time we were there, it was busy downloading email messages.
Heidi managed to get a hold of her husband for a long conversation.
After my first Margarita, I changed to Arnold Palmers, I was driving home. Miss Heidi could drink me under the table any day of the week. As you know I’m a cheap drunk. Two drinks and I can’t get the car keys in the ignition. After four Margaritas, Heidi was still stone cold sober.
When we got back to the house, Dawn was busy baking me a birthday cake. It was her first attempt at baking in her mother’s house and things didn’t go smoothly. Of course, she couldn’t find the ingredients she needed. The oven was a challenge for her. She is afraid of gas and couldn’t get it lighted. I lit it for here when we got home.
After the cake was in the oven, Dawn and Heidi declared war on bugs. They started with the loft, but soon the battlefield had moved downstairs to the main room.
Dawn was SEAL Team 6 of bug warfare. With her bottle of bug spray in hand, she mercilessly hunted down the little buggers. Heidi, being afraid of the bugs, stayed downstairs and shouted up encouragement.
When the loft was so full of gas that no bug could possibly survive, Dawn came down stairs and she and Heidi attacked the kitchen. They pulled out drawers, emptied them and scrubbed them down, then cleaned out the cabinets.
The roaches ran up a white flag and made a strategic retreat, however, Heidi and Dawn had already decided that no quarter would be given. They slaughtered them ruthlessly.
When the massacre was over, Dawn put a layer of boric acid down in the cabinets to keep the roaches out. She is a veteran of the bug wars in Mexico. Living on the boat in Mexico is a constant battle against the cucarachas.
I believe that Heidi slept better after that. I was tired from just watching.
Miss Heidi in town
Day Thirteen to Seventeen, Thursday June 4th to June 8th 2016
Our days settled into routine for the next five days. Heidi got up early, went for her walk and swim. We got up, had coffee, Dawn took the dogs for another walk, we went swimming. Dawn puttered around cleaning here and there, organizing things so that she could work with them. Heidi and I read hundreds of pages.
Occasionally, we went into town. This was mostly for shopping purposes, but one evening we were there late and decided to have dinner before we returned.
I’ve been hearing about this restaurant called El Refugio (The Refuge) from several people. They all say it is the best place in town, so we decided to go there.
We got there during their posted hours, but they were closed. Oh well, we’ll go there on another night. (We’ve been in Panama a month and a half now, and have tried several times to go to El Refugio, but every time they were closed. How do they make a living?)
We cruised around town looking for a second choice. Heidi and Dawn wanted to eat at the restaurant at Hotel Bajia. I wasn’t enthused, but went along since they wanted to. The restaurant served Indian and Thai food, neither my favorites.
We sat down, ordered drinks, then dinner. About the time the food came, it started raining. I’m talking serious rain here, folks. We were sitting on the covered deck over the water, but had to move back because the wind was blowing rain onto our table.
I have only seen rain like this once in my life. We got caught in a tropical storm when we were in Costa Rica. Well, Costa Rica is only a couple of miles up the road and this was definitely a tropical storm.
Penn and Heidi at the Pub
The water poured down in buckets, no make that tank cars. We had to move again, leave the deck and go into the restaurant. Dawn wanted to run up to the store for something, so she left Heidi and I eating our meals.
Then the roof started leaking. A gutter on the roof of the adjoining building broke under the force of the torrent and poured the water into our restaurant. The floor flooded. The roof over the bar leaked and the bartenders rushed about moving anything that wasn’t nailed down.
Heidi discovered that the hotel lobby next door was dry, so we moved over there and waited for the rain to stop. Not in this lifetime.
The rain continued to pour down. By this time, it was dark. The streets began to flood. Water rose higher and higher, threatening our little dry spot.
It had been an hour and Dawn hadn’t returned yet. I was getting nervous and decided to go looking for her. I stepped onto the curb and was instantly soaked. I waded across the street in roaring water that was up to my calves. I made it across the current without falling. On the opposite curb, I was still standing in water, but it was only ankle deep. I worked my way up the block towards the store where Dawn went.
Shortly before I got to the store I found Dawn. She was encouraging a group of women and children who had gotten caught in the deluge, soaked to the skin.
“We need to move the truck,” she yelled.
I looked at the truck and immediately saw what she was talking about. The water was up to the axles. In a few minutes, the floorboards would be under water.
She left her little flock and climbed into the truck with me. We drove off through the river and found high ground on which to park. It was about a five block walk back to the hotel to reunite with Heidi.
When we got back to the hotel, everyone was watching a group of boys playing in the water. One of them had a surf board and another was towing him with his bicycle. The first boy was surfing the streets of Bocas Town.
We considered getting a hotel room and not risking the road back out to our house, but Dawn was adamant that we go. We left the dogs locked in the house and the thunder and lightning must be driving them crazy.
We voted and Dawn won by a 1 to 2 vote. We headed back to the house.
We had surprisingly little problem on the road, no trees down, no washouts. The house was more or less dry and the dogs were happy to see us.
We later learned that the street we were on used to be a dry river bed that channeled the water off the high ground to the sea. In their infinite wisdom, the city fathers decided to fill in the river bed and pave it over for a main street. Now, when it rains, the rain still takes its historic route to the sea, only now it is flowing down the busiest street in town.
Then the roof started leaking. A gutter on the roof of the adjoining building broke under the force of the torrent and poured the water into our restaurant. The floor flooded. The roof over the bar leaked and the bartenders rushed about moving anything that wasn’t nailed down.
Heidi discovered that the hotel lobby next door was dry, so we moved over there and waited for the rain to stop. Not in this lifetime.
The rain continued to pour down. By this time, it was dark. The streets began to flood. Water rose higher and higher, threatening our little dry spot.
It had been an hour and Dawn hadn’t returned yet. I was getting nervous and decided to go looking for her. I stepped onto the curb and was instantly soaked. I waded across the street in roaring water that was up to my calves. I made it across the current without falling. On the opposite curb, I was still standing in water, but it was only ankle deep. I worked my way up the block towards the store where Dawn went.
Shortly before I got to the store I found Dawn. She was encouraging a group of women and children who had gotten caught in the deluge, soaked to the skin.
“We need to move the truck,” she yelled.
I looked at the truck and immediately saw what she was talking about. The water was up to the axles. In a few minutes, the floorboards would be under water.
She left her little flock and climbed into the truck with me. We drove off through the river and found high ground on which to park. It was about a five block walk back to the hotel to reunite with Heidi.
When we got back to the hotel, everyone was watching a group of boys playing in the water. One of them had a surf board and another was towing him with his bicycle. The first boy was surfing the streets of Bocas Town.
We considered getting a hotel room and not risking the road back out to our house, but Dawn was adamant that we go. We left the dogs locked in the house and the thunder and lightning must be driving them crazy.
We voted and Dawn won by a 1 to 2 vote. We headed back to the house.
We had surprisingly little problem on the road, no trees down, no washouts. The house was more or less dry and the dogs were happy to see us.
We later learned that the street we were on used to be a dry river bed that channeled the water off the high ground to the sea. In their infinite wisdom, the city fathers decided to fill in the river bed and pave it over for a main street. Now, when it rains, the rain still takes its historic route to the sea, only now it is flowing down the busiest street in town.
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