Tag Archives: Adventures in Spanish

A what? A Yaris? I’ve never even heard of that!

Yep!  We did it!  We bought a car!  In Panama.  Who’d’ve thunk?  On Tuesday I was saying that I didn’t know if we really even needed one.  By Tuesday night we were doing research on the Central American version of Craigslist (www.encuentra24.com).  By Wednesday at noon, we strolled downstairs to test drive this cute little Toyota Yaris.  Yes, Eric was brave enough to go out on the main street in front of our apartment in someone else’s car on his first attempt at driving in Panama traffic!  When we got back, we talked the guy down about $700 from what really was a pretty fair price to start with (fingers crossed that the engine doesn’t fall out of the car as I type this) compared to other Yarises from the same year and with similar mileage, shook hands, and agreed to make it happen!  Mind you, all of this was done in Spanish.

We went to our bank almost immediately to see if we could go ahead and get the car insurance policy set up and ready to go whenever we got the paperwork done.  Turns out, on this visit to the bank we were greeted by the woman who helped us to open our account with kisses and hugs, then we were ushered to the front of the line!  She gave us the debit card we’d been waiting on, then took us directly to the woman who handles car insurance.  After about 20-30 minutes with this other lovely woman, we were all set!  All we had to do was email her copies of scanned documents when the deal was done.  AMAZING!  How was that so easy!?

I’ll try to pare (pair?  pear?) down the details of the actual car/money transfer a bit, but when we left the seller, Alberto, that first day after seeing the car, we understood that the plan was to wire money directly into his account after all the paperwork was done and the car was officially mine.  I say mine rather than ours b/c Panama insurance companies give female drivers a 50% lower deductible than male drivers.  Easy decision as to whose name it was going into.  I wonder if all the crazy male taxi drivers screw up the stats or if women are just more cautious or what.  Either way, nice perk.

Turns out, Alberto thought the plan was for us to get a “cheque de gerencia,” a cashiers check, from a particular bank.  Of course, this made more sense b/c we could directly exchange the check for the paperwork, but we had already discussed doing it the other way.   Anyway, after a bunch of miscommunications and a lot of weirdness from someone who seemed in person to be a normal guy, we figured out the process.  For example, we had originally decided to meet on Thursday at noon to do the paperwork at the Municipio (municipal building, i guess, is the translation), but once he said he wanted the check instead of the transfer, we told him that we didn’t know how long it would take our Panamanian bank to actually acknowledge the transfer.  “But I thought wire transfers happened instantaneously?!”  I know.  But remember…Panama.

Anyway, after Bank of America called Eric and he confirmed that yes, he did in fact want a bunch of money sent to a random country for the first time ever, they sent it and our Panamanian bank received it immediately.  Amazing.  We got the check pretty quickly and were able to meet Alberto at 2:30 pm.  When I texted him to tell him we could be there at 2:30, he told me he had been there all day.  I apologized, asked if I had led him to believe that we would still be there at noon, but he said no, it wasn’t a problem, he lived very nearby and it just made sense.  I’m not sure how, but that’s what he said.  Um…okay.

That same afternoon, however, the owner of our apartment, Isabel, who I may have described to you as the Panamanian version of a 60-something lady from Buckhead in Atlanta or maybe Savannah or Charleston, but who Marianela, our Spanish teacher, simply refers to as “un Judeo,” – a Jew – was having some guys bring over a new dining room table for us.  Turns out this thing is a monstrosity.  It took four big guys to carry the glass tabletop, so Eric had to stay here to let them in rather than them just leaving it in the hall for us to bring in.  He later said that he had a pretty good conversation with one of the guys – in Spanish!  I’m so proud of his progress, even though he doesn’t see it.

The table.

The table.

The guys with the table.

The guys with the table.

That meant that I was on my own to go ensure that all the proper paperwork was done on a rather large purchase in a confusing government building in a foreign country where I know some of the language but where they speak VERY quickly and where the government workers love to mumble.  Jerks.

We had to go to two offices.  One gave you a piece of paper saying that you were transferring the car from one person to the other and the other printed a piece of paper saying that the car is now in the new owner’s name.  Kinda silly, but hey, that’s government everywhere.  We only made it to one office before the other closed.  No worries though, Alberto and his son (one of the few really good-looking folks I’ve seen since we got here, honestly) assured me that the important part had been done, that I officially owned the car, and that we’d come back the next day to finish up.  He handed me the keys, I handed him the check, and I got into my new (used) car!!!

It had been Eric’s plan to meet me once the table guys had left, but I finished up first, so that meant that I was going to have to drive home.  I was actually pretty excited.  I didn’t have to go too far.  I could actually see my building from the Municipio and vice versa, but I didn’t know exactly which streets were one way, how to get into our garage, or which parking spot was ours.  But I made it!  Completely without incident (incidence?).  Here’s my shot of my first drive.  Mom, stop it…I was at a red light and I didn’t even look when I hit the shutter button on my phone.  🙂

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I got it home safely and promptly took photos of it.  I wanted to wait to post this until we took it out in the sun so I could take better pictures, but I can’t wait.  It’s a big step for us down here.

You probably can’t tell, but the lugnuts are blue, just like the car!
The fancy remote that promptly stopped working today. Eric’s been trying to fix it for the past hour.
Fancy remotes again. The only pic I sent to my parents when the deal was done.
The spedometer is only in km and is in the middle of the dash. Very strange.
From the front.
See my smiling face in the chrome? I’m a goober.
I let Eric sit in the driver’s seat for a minute.
I can’t believe we own a car with a Panama license plate.
Alberto insisted it was “celestre” or sky blue when I called it “azul” or just blue. I think he’s mistaken. It’s blue. I like it though.
Side view. I still just love spoilers, even on corolla type cars. It ain’t fancy, but it’s awful cute.
Maybe this covers the antennae? Not sure. Looks like a shark fin to me, and I like it!

So, as for the rest of the weirdness with Alberto, we decided to meet up at 8:15 the next morning to be ready for the office to open at 8:30.  In the meantime, I discovered that the transfer document said that my name was “Paris Julie Solms” because US passports list our last names on the top line and our first and middle on the next line.  Luckily that turned out not to be a big deal.  Anyway, at 6 am, I got a text (Whatsapp) from Alberto saying that he was already at the Municipio because the first office that we had to go back to to check about the order of my name opened at 7.  WHAT?  Exactly.  It made no sense.  I ignored it and tried to go back to sleep.  About an hour later he texted again (still over an hour before we were supposed to meet up) saying “Que bueno!” or “How great!” for no apparent reason.  I hadn’t responded to the first text.  It was completely out of nowhere.  Really weird.

Anyway, I got there around 8 or 8:15 and we finished the paperwork and all is well.  A few other interesting tidbits.  If you have WhatsApp, you might know that when you text someone, you can see their profile photo.  So when I first received a message from the person who I only knew as the owner of this Yaris that I was interested in, I thought it was a really beautiful young woman.  Needless to say, it was surprising to see this guy show up.  He then told me that he was a helicopter pilot and showed me a picture of the giant helicopter that he flew.  He also had all his gear in the backseat of the car.  He used to be in what was formerly the Army and the Air Force and has since combined into one military branch.  He now, if I understood him correctly, works for the Presidential administration in some way, again, as a helicopter pilot.  I wanted to ask more, but felt stupid that I wasn’t understanding him.  It was also 8:30 am, I didn’t feel well, and I just wanted to get the paperwork done.

So now I’m googling him to see what I can find out.  I do have his full name, after all, and the equivalent of his social security number – although those numbers are much less of a secret here.  He texted his to me so I could get the cashier’s check, for example.

Now for a few UNC matters:

In remembrance of the (I believe 7th?) anniversary of Eve Carson’s death, I wanted to post this.  I love this quote.  It very much embodies my feelings about Carolina.

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On Carolina/Dook game day, I believe that Eve would be with me in saying GO HEELS!!!  And, having not known her, I won’t bring her into this one, but GO TO HELL DOOK!

Thanks to Becca for sending me this photo, taken today at my beautiful Alma Mater:

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Here’s hoping my parents let me FaceTime with their TV tonight!

Miscellaneous Photos

I forgot to post my in-laws’ awesome snowman from last week.  Eric’s mom sent this photo to us as if our truck had sent it to us.  It was good to hear from Trudy the Tacoma, and we are very impressed with Ed and Susan’s handiwork!

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This is just a strange sight to which we are slowly growing accustomed.  Remember these?

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This one may be gross or an overshare for some folks, but it makes me giggle.  Eric took this when I was all edema-ed up a few weeks ago.  He plunged his thumb into the top of my water-filled ankle, and a moment later, he had left a dent…which remained for about a minute or two.  Really really weird.  You can practically see his fingerprint.

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Okay, moving on.  We went for a walk along the Cinta Costera (the walkway next to the water) on Sunday night, along with most of Panamá.  It is the absolute best people watching ever.  We hadn’t even crossed the street from our apartment building when we came across this.  When was the last time you saw someone wearing full-out overalls?!  An episode of The Fresh Prince, right?  Exciting!

Eric's sneaky pic wasn't super clear, but you get the idea.

Eric’s sneaky pic wasn’t super clear, but you get the idea.

Later on, Eric decided to try one of the shish kabobs.  Not sure what they call them here, besides chorizo o carne de res con salsa casera (sausage or beef with homemade bbq sauce).

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He was really quiet as we walked back towards the apartment.  Finally, he said “wow, I really got some exercise!”  I looked at him kinda funny because he had gone for a LONG run in the heat that morning, but our walk had been short and easy.  He explained, “That was definitely not filet.  I’ve been chewing for a while.”

OH!  And that brings me to the best joke that I’ve heard since I’ve been here.  Not really…just the best one that I’ve made up and told myself b/c no one was around to hear and appreciate it.  And it’s gonna fall flat here for sure.  So I went to this fancy mall (not the big one I’ve described before.  Another one, near the hospital where all my doctors’ offices are.) and I was looking around for a smaller purse.  Nothing fancy, just something that would hold a wallet, phone, and copy of my passport.

I walked into a store called “Desigual,” meaning unequal.  I asked the sales guy if they had handbags, looked at them, chatted with him for a minute, then decided to leave.  As I left, I said “Que tenga un buen día” – “May you have a good day.”  His response?  “Igual” – “Equal” or basically, “you too.”  But,clever one that I am, I responded under my breath, “don’t you mean ‘desigual'”?  #badspanishpuns #badstoryteller #isecretlylovehashtags

Yep, I’m leaving it at that.  GROAN!  That’s all you get for this post.  Sorry.  I’ll do better next time.

Big trip to the big mall

*Written on Thursday, February 19.*
Yesterday was probably the most productive day I’ve had yet this year.  Carnival was over, so everything slowly opened back up around noon.  It was high time for Eric and I to schedule wifi installation, open a bank account, and buy some necessities for the new apartment like more dishes, towels, and kitchen supplies.  Although I still had/have not completely recovered, we had to make the trip to Albrook Mall, the biggest mall in Panama City, and in my mind, the world.  It’s huge.  See?
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Our new place is still just a few blocks from metro, so we hopped on and rode the few stops to the mall.  Luckily, the cable place was right in the middle of the food court – you know, right by the carousel – so it was easy to find and shockingly empty.  Within about 20 minutes of talking to a very nice woman and giving her a copy of our apartment lease (strange, right?), we had an appointment scheduled for the cable company to come out within 48 hours to install the Internets.  I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high for the actual installation to happen on time and go smoothly, but I was really grateful that the first step wasn’t painful.  Amazing.
We next went to the bank.  Now, as you know from older posts, this is not the first attempt at getting a bank account.  We researched this heavily before we left the US, and everyone told us it was nearly impossible to open an account as an Estadounidense (American…but as I might have mentioned before, some people down here don’t love us using that term b/c this whole hemisphere is full of “Americans”!  North Americans, Central Americans, South Americans…why does the USA get to claim it?  We don’t have another word for it in English though, do we?).  Eric boldly tried a few different banks while I was sick and worked really hard to overcome the language barrier.  Unfortunately, each bank has a slightly different set of requirements for opening an account, and he was never able to make it happen.  I can’t tell you how proud I was of him for trying without me, but as he said, it needed to be done and I was too sick to make it happen.  You do what you have to do.
So this time we were trying a bank that has several more convenient locations – both of ATMs and branches – than did the banks we’d been told to try.  We walked in and it was a complete madhouse.  Maybe 40 customers in a tiny location.  The line system was not immediately discernible, other than for the main counter.  After asking the security guard where to go, we stood in line by an empty desk for several minutes waiting for someone to appear to help us.  Eventually Eric’s passport info was taken and we were told to have a seat…when one became available.  By this time, I was feeling a little weak and my still-water logged cankles needed relief, so Eric was gracious in staking out and giving me a seat.
We were asked to fill out an application while we waited, and in doing so we gave them home (US and Panamá) and work addresses, personal and bank references, passport info, marital status, eye color (well, maybe not that), and every phone number we’ve ever had.  We had also finally come prepared with the appropriate reference letters – one from Bank of America saying that Eric has been a customer for over 3 years, listing the date he opened his account and balances from several dates, and the other from Red Hat (Eric’s work) saying that he was receiving steady income.
After another 45 min or so of waiting and boxing out when a new old lady would come in and try to skip ahead of us in “line,” we were finally called to a desk to speak to a bank employee.  She had to call Bank of America to verify that the letter we had was legit.  She asked for Eric’s passport, driver’s license, and debit card from BoA.  She asked for his former employer.  She asked for two references in the US, but for some reason only wanted the phone number of one and the address of the other.  She asked for two references in Panamá.  She asked for his beneficiary.  She asked how we decided to move to Panama and when we first visited the country.  Social security number, pants size, favorite color, and on and on.  In short, if you are reading this, Banistmo bank of Panamá probably knows you and your family, and may have custody of your first born.  Sorry about that.  We really needed to open this account.
The good news is that after two hours of figuring out the waiting system, waiting, filling out paperwork, and generally trying to convince this woman that we had more than $500 to our names, we had a bank account!  No waiting for weeks as we had been told we would have to do.  We made a deposit – with a US check, no less – and our account was ready to go!  I can’t tell you how exciting it was.
I was exhausted when we left the bank, but since we’d been sitting for most of that time, I still had some energy left to shop for new apartment necessities.  We managed to find a set of dishes, silverware, spatula (which is surprisingly hard to find down here!  We can’t figure that one out.  How do they flip pancakes?  What do they do about scrambled eggs?!), hot pads, glasses, hand towels, and measuring cups all in one store.  It was at that point we decided that a cab ride was in order.  Once the lady put nearly all of the heavy things mentioned above in one bag and handed it to Eric, we decided metro was no longer a feasible option.
The cab ride home was worth the cost.  We haggled a bit with the very old man driver (I wanted to use the word octogenarian b/c it’s a great word, but would’ve call myself pretentious for using it) who couldn’t talk – an interesting ordeal in and of itself – then hopped in.  This guy was perhaps the best cab driver I’ve had since I’ve been here.  He was hilarious.  Again, he had no voice, for one reason or another, but he was very animated and clearly enjoyed what he did.  About halfway home, we came to a point where the left turn is blocked, and you are supposed to go down the road a ways, do a U-turn, then make the right hand turn.  He was not having any of this.  He stopped short of the blocked off part of the road and floored it around the barrier.  It was a great move, and he knew it!  He made this hand signal that was part snap and part shaking off his hand like it was wet***…hard to describe, but just precious…and cracked up.  He was so proud of himself!  He then made a bunch of hand motions indicating that he would have had to go all the way around, but he totally pulled off cheating the system.  So cute.
We were just a few blocks from home when the cab slowed.  I looked around, positive that he couldn’t be slowing to let another car out in front of him b/c that just plain doesn’t happen here, but couldn’t figure out what he was doing.  Suddenly, he did the snapping motion again, laughed, and sped up.  After he let us out, Eric explained to me that he had been checking out a lady on the sidewalk!  Too funny.
All in all, a very successful trip.  Hardly any Panama-isms had befallen us and slowed us down; we had actually accomplished that which we had set out to do!  Incredible.
***Eric just came into the room and explained to me that a better way to describe the hand motion was part snap and part what you do to pack a can of dip or chew.  Wow.  So proud of that boy.  Then again, I’m guessing that at least half of you completely understand the motion now.