1991 called…

First thing’s first.  Fanny packs are HUGE here.  And not for tourists.  For runners!  I’m not talking about the small pouches that hold a house key and maybe a dollar or two.  I’m talking about what you and your mom wore at Disney World at 1991.  Eric and I took a walk along the Cinta Costera (by the water) towards the Fish Market and Casco Viejo (the old city) one night earlier this week.  Eric had run down that way one morning – actually around 11 am when it was SUPER hot…not smart – and I wanted to see what was there.  Turns out there is a whole park with a clock made out of shrubs, a playground, paths everywhere, grassy areas, gazebo/tent things…it’s really pretty and modern looking.  Kinda Alice in Wonderland-y.  You can’t really tell much from these pictures, but here you go anyway…plus a few of the view looking back towards the rest of Avenida Balboa.

So back to the important stuff.  As we began walking home, I commented that I had seen more than a few fanny packs.  So we started keeping track.  I made rules – the tiny runner ones for just keys and whatever didn’t count, if you weren’t positive you saw it, it didn’t count – we were strict.  In the space of about 20 minutes, we saw a total of 17 fanny packs.  ALL on runners!  What do they keep in there?  Not water.  Not big enough or oddly shaped enough for a bottle.  How does that not bother them when they run?  I don’t even like it when my shorts don’t fit right.  I’m going to have to investigate further.  If anyone knows anything about this, please let me know.  I’ll let you know if I hear anything.

After that bit of fun news, I have to report the frustration of the week.  The next door neighbors got a puppy.  And I think they’re trying to crate train it.  The stupid thing has yipped ALL night long for the past five nights.  And everyone here keeps their windows open all the time because of the heat, so guess who hasn’t slept well in five nights?  It’s awful.  We’re getting used to the traffic noise, the car alarms, the sirens…but oh my gosh, the puppy.  They keep it in their kitchen, and those windows are right next to our bedroom windows.  Super fun.  I’ve composed neighborly letters in Spanish in my head all week long, but I can’t, for the life of me, figure out what good a letter would do.  Surely they’re aware that their dog is annoying.  Surely they’re aware that we can hear it.  What are they going to do?  I think we’ll just have to find earplugs and tough it out until we move out of here.

Meanwhile, I’m also composing my review of this apartment for AirBnb.com.  It helps me to deal with any imperfections I find.  Don’t get me wrong, it’s a fine place.  There are a lot of great things about it.  Eric thinks it’s great.  I admit that I’m spoiled in a lot of areas and that I’m having a hard time adjusting to certain things.  My internal review composition is a good coping mechanism for now.

Oh, and speaking of noises, there’s this odd one that we can’t figure out.  Nearly every day, we hear what sounds almost like a Muslim call to prayer. It only happens once a day though, and I imagine that if it were a call to prayer, it would happen five times a day.  Anyway, when it happens, we run to the window to try to see where it’s coming from.  I’ve only seen the source once, and it appears to be a guy in the back of a pickup truck with a big speaker.  He speaks quickly though and his voice is muddled, so I can’t even tell if he’s speaking Spanish or another language.  And…that’s the whole story.  I’ll let you know if that develops further.

Our Spanish teacher delayed the beginning of our lessons until Monday, so nothing to report there.  I finished reading the Magicians trilogy by Lev Grossman that I had started before we left.  It’s good.  Worth a read, I think, if you like Narnia and Harry Potter, but a grown-up version.  Not as epic, and no one will remember the name Grossman, but it’s entertaining.  Anyway, all that to say that I decided I should be reading a book in Spanish.  So I chose El León, La Bruja y El Ropero – The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe.  I don’t think I ever finished the series when I was younger, and they’re easy enough reading that I can do pretty well in Spanish.  So far it’s challenging enough that I’m learning, but easy enough that I don’t hate picking it up.  I just feel like I’m reading any other book, only with a few more tricky words.

And one confession before I go…Eric asked me to play a nerdy Playstation game with him today.  One of those where there’s a whole story and half of it is almost like a movie, then you fight a few guys, then chose what the character says.  Anyway, for some reason, he wanted me to try to play, and it was raining, so I agreed.  I picked this magical Maleficent-type character and he showed me how you can customize how she looks.  I mean EVERY detail.  I spent 30 minutes changing her face and picking how far apart I wanted her eyes to be and whether she should have a double chin (seriously, you can’t make this stuff up), gave her horns, then named her Pearl.  What does this have to do with Panama?  Nothing.  I just thought y’all would get a kick out of it.  Happy husband, happy life?  Isn’t that how it goes?

Dumped Trump, conquered the bank, and back to church

I joined an online Expat group called InterNations before we left, and they have a pretty healthy chapter here in Panama.  We had planned to go to an event at Trump Tower on Friday night – over 130 people had RSVPed! – but Eric wasn’t feeling well, so we bailed.  We’ll make it over there at some point, and there will be other InterNations events.  I wondered, when we were thinking about going, what language do you use when you start conversations?  The website is all in English, but people post in Spanish sometimes, and everyone posts the languages they speak on their profile.  I guess you start in English and just see how it goes?  Or maybe you start in Spanish b/c you’re in Panama?  I’m not sure.  Sounds awkward.  I don’t do awkward well, although I’m doing a lot of it here.

I guess I managed to not write about my trip to the bank on Friday.  As an aside, I’m constantly afraid that I’m going to write about something twice, so please forgive me if I do.  I do actually sometimes go back and read what I write to make sure I don’t do that, but you never know.  Okay, aside over.  So I was super nervous about this trip to the bank.  Everyone had been saying that all these banks hate dealing with Americans b/c the US has made it such a pain for Panamanian banks to work with us b/c of whatever paperwork they have to do and blah, blah, blah.  But we really need to get a bank account.  So there’s some pressure on me.  And Eric’s frustrated, and rightly so, that I’ve put off going for a little while.  Oh, and PS, I have to manage all of this in Spanish.  And everyone has told me that Panamanians don’t care at all about customer service, so they’re usually not super nice about stuff like this.  Great.  I’m super excited about that cause I NEVER take it personally when people are mean or even lukewarm to me.

Well, as it turns out, the worst part was finding the stupid bank!  It was in the Albrook Mall, which is just a few stops down on Metro.  Unfortunately, once you get off Metro, you have to navigate the biggest mall in the whole world.  Pretty sure that’s accurate.  After about 25 minutes of wandering and getting more and more nervous and sweaty-palmed, I called Eric, told him I was at the Delfín (dolphin) and that I couldn’t find the hipopotamo (really?  you can figure that one out).  Did I explain earlier that the whole navigational system in this mall is based on sectors that are named based on the giant animal statute in the middle of that sector?  So the poor bank, this professional institution, has to say on its website that it is in the mall near the hippopotamus entrance.  Ridiculous.  So Eric guides me past the dolphin, the pinguino, the carousel in the food court, the rinosaurante or whatever, and finally, I see the hipopotamo…and the bank.

And this is where you find out that the story is pretty anticlimactic b/c the guy at the bank was completely nice.  Of course they allow Americans to open bank accounts!  My Spanish was pretty killer, if not completely grammatically correct, and we managed to talk through all of the requirements for us to get a bank account.  I was out of there in 10 minutes.

Iglesia – Parte 2

We went back to the same tiny presbyterian church yesterday.  Eric was frustrated with me for being a little late.  We showed up at the apartment at 3:06 or so instead of 3:00 when it was supposed to start.  The Lees, our new missionary friends, were already waiting in the lobby.  The first Panamanians, however, including one of the lay pastors, didn’t show up until 3:47.  The last of them to show up – the pastor who preached last week – got there at 4:12.  Eric was keeping careful watch over this…I suppose in preparation for next week.  The good news, I suppose, was that we had more than 6 of us there this week.  I think there was a total of 12, including the 18 month old who ran around, screamed, wiggled, laughed, cried, and whined through the whole thing.  Here are a few photos.

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Michael Lee preached this week.  It was good to hear that even after all of his time in Costa Rica and Mexico, his Spanish wasn’t perfect.  Or maybe that was disheartening…I’m not sure.  Either way, I could certainly understand his sermon a lot better than last week’s because it was a lot slower.

After the sermon, I had a good little chat with a few of the women that I hadn’t met before.  One was a lawyer, and she explained a bit about how law school and practicing law worked in Panama.  The other women asked why Eric and I moved here and were glad to hear that our main reason for being here was for me to learn Spanish.  They were very encouraging, and I found their accents easier to understand than some.  Maybe they were just speaking slowly for me.  Either way, Eric noticed that things were going well and encouraged me when we left.

We’re supposed to have Bible study at another apartment nearby on Wednesday night.  The Panamanian pastor, Pablo, specifically said it would be from 7 to 8 pm.  I have no idea how to interpret that time.  It’s at an American’s apartment though, so I guess I’ll be there at 7 and we’ll see how it goes.  I’ll make sure to eat dinner beforehand though!

Dinner last night was at a Chinese place.  It’s always a little funny to eat one kind of non-US restaurant in a different country that’s not the US.  Is ethnic an okay word to use for food?  Or is that bad?  I specifically phrased that sentence so I didn’t use the word “ethnic” for food b/c I wasn’t sure.  That’s why it was such an awkward sentence.  Anyway, we ordered Chinese food in Spanish and actually did pretty well for ourselves.  Always good to discover a good Chinese restaurant in a new place.  Now if only we can find the cheap place near home that delivers…

Oh, so apparently I didn’t do a good job of following up about the bugs, and one friend said she was desperate to hear the end of that story.  We thought that the last I told you was the end of the story, but Diana, thanks a lot, I think you jinxed us.  We keep finding wings all over the bedroom floor, but no wormy bug things.  This worries me.  Today one wormy bug flew in through the window, so we took the half-busted vacuum cleaner to the window sill and tried to suck some of them out of the track where the window slides back and forth.  Eric almost let the whole vacuum slip out the window and down nine stories when a lizard popped up on the side of the wall and scared the crap out of him.

In short, the bug saga continues.  I’m ready to move to our new place.  Not that we have one yet, but the one I’m imagining doesn’t have flying worms.  Shocker.

Now, you didn’t ask for this, and it has nothing to do with Panama, but my niece Laine turns 5 on February 1 and had a ninja bday party this weekend.  It was apparently the most amazing thing ever, and I’m going to forever regret missing it.  It took place at a karate school of some kind called White Tiger, or something equally awesome.  There was a ninja demonstration, a lesson of some sort, some kicking and punching, a zipline, and Laine got to cut her cake with a sword.  For a girl who is completely obsessed with the TMNTs (Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles for those of you who aren’t children of the 80’s), it must’ve been heaven.  Indulge me by pretending to care about the following photos.

Hospital tour, a missing bank, apartment hunting, and drinking with missionaries

Hospital Tour and Missing Bank

On Wednesday, 1/14, or 14/1 as these crazy folks like to say, we had a tour of the fanciest hospital in town, Hospital Punta Pacifica.  It’s affiliated with Johns Hopkins and is up in the part of town that I described in the last post with all the fancy condos.  It was interesting.  Half of the hospital was what you would think of as a normal hospital, and the other half was a one stop shop for all of your other doctors’ offices.  Pretty good idea, actually.  You can find a primary care doctor, an optometrist, a neurologist, and a psychiatrist all on the same hall.  Not bad.

Right in the center though, was a row of kiosks with representatives from various medical insurance companies hawking their plans.  Very strange.

So the tour was interesting to me in that our guide took us ALL over the hospital.  Want to see the intensive care unit?  Let’s just walk right in.  Emergency room?  Hey, this guy looks like he’s in pain!  The room where they resuscitate people (do we have a word for this in English?  I couldn’t come up with one.  It’s like a room full of crash cart stuff.)?  Sure…come on in.  No warning not to touch stuff…no problem.  Eek.

Eric walked out thinking it was exactly like an American hospital, only not crowded.  There were empty beds, no one was in a rush, there didn’t seem to be a lot of people waiting in the ER.  Some of the accommodations were nice.  You could have your own suite if you wanted to pay $400/night with an extra room with couches for your family members.  I think I just still have this idea stuck in my head that American medicine is best and nothing else can measure up.  Very Ameri-centric thinking, I guess you’d say?  Something akin to racism, but maybe more like nationalism…only not in the real meaning of the word.  Anyway, I’m not to the point of saying that I’d be perfectly comfortable sending a friend’s baby with a congenital heart defect to Punta Pacífica rather than to my sister, but maybe I’m more biased than most.

After the hospital tour, we set out on what should have been a 16 minute walk (in 95 degree heat) to, not the mall right next to the hospital, but the other mall right next to the other hospital.  There was supposed to be a bank in that mall, and I was going to try my hand at getting us a bank account.  Or I was at least going to see if they were willing to deal with Americans.  I’ve been really nervous about this because it seems a little important.  Apparently we need to have access to money down here in order to get by.  Long story short, the walk did not take 16 minutes, my delicate self had to stop for an emergency limón sorbet in the middle of the trek so I wouldn’t fall out, there was no bank, and we decided to call it and walk home.  Why we walked home, I can’t remember.  Here’s a picture from the walk:

On our long HOT walk back from our hospital tour and search for the non-existant bank.

On our long HOT walk back from our hospital tour and search for the non-existent bank.

I don’t know why we were smiling because we hadn’t accomplished anything and it was miserable.  When we got home, we crushed a few glasses of water, then closed ourselves in Eric’s office/the guest room, turned on the a/c in there, and I fell asleep for a few hours out of pure exhaustion from the heat.

Apartment Hunting

Yesterday we checked out an apartment in a fancy building about 5 blocks down towards the old city.  I was excited about this one because it’s a newer building, it’s in the part of town where we want to be, and Eric was actually going to get to come with me to see it.  So you can imagine how excited he was when we walked into the lobby and saw this:

Silly purple lobby of the fancy building we looked at yesterday (15/1)

Silly purple lobby of the fancy building we looked at yesterday (15/1)

I thought it was awesome.  Completely over the top and ridiculous, but really?  How often do you get to live in a place like this?  And it’s just the lobby.  It’s not like this is your living room.  I love it.

The building was fancy – 65 floors, 3 or 4 years old, 3 “social areas,” a gym, an indoor lap pool, a sauna – b/c who doesn’t want to go sit in a hot room after spending a day outside in Panama? – a turkish bath, 2 pools, one of which is just for adults and is on the top floor:

The pool on the 65th floor of this incredible apartment building.  Too bad the layout of the apartment just didn't make sense b/c the building was amazing!  Even had an indoor lap pool...you know, where the water moves and you stay in one place!

The pool on the 65th floor of this incredible apartment building. Too bad the layout of the apartment just didn’t make sense b/c the building was amazing! Even had an indoor lap pool…you know, where the water moves and you stay in one place!

Here’s the view from the top of the building.  I can never quite get the panoramic photos to turn out right using my phone, but you get the idea.

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So everything was great…except for the apartment.  Lovely, but there were no windows in either bedroom.  The guest bedroom was tiny and you’d have to use the a/c all the time.  And that’s just not an option when full time a/c would cost $800/month.  The master had a door to the balcony, but not a window that you could just leave open all the time.  In a weird way, we’re getting spoiled in our little old apartment here because there are wonderful cross-breezes.  We’re not going to get that in a giant building.  Anyway, we passed on that apartment.

Bichos and Dinner with New Friends

Last night, right before we left for dinner, I was sitting on our bed looking for jobs online.  We have been trying to figure out how this whole thing works.  You have your windows open in the evenings for the breeze because you don’t want to have to pay for a/c yet, but you don’t want to turn on the lights because that would attract bugs.  For the first several nights, we sat mostly in the dark and only turned on lights for brief moments when we had to.  From our window, it looks like most of the other apartments are dark early too.  Is this just what people do?  It seems silly.

Anyway, I had the light from my computer last night, so I was fine.  I saw a bug fly at my computer, and figured that was to be expected.  Then a few moments later, I saw another.  Then one crawled on my hand.  Then one seemed to crawl under my screen and down between the screen and the keyboard.  I started to wonder how many of these things there were.  I turned on the light and these things were EVERYWHERE.  All over my computer, possibly crawling inside it, all over our bed, on the pillows, on the sheets, on the bedspread, on the floor.  Eric called them ants at first, but they would fly in, land, immediately lose their wings, then start crawling along like tiny inch worms.  Disgusting.  Still have no idea what they were.  We managed to shake out the sheets and kill the ones on the floor and grab a bunch in Kleenexes off the pillows and bedspread.  I shook the pillows out the window a few times…a bit obsessively because, you know, there were tiny flying worms in my bed.

And then we were just supposed to go to dinner.  So we did.  Because…Panama.  I did, however, take a minute to email the owner of the apartment to say, hey, this happened and it was gross…is it normal?  What are they?  How do you kill them?  Will this happen again?  I don’t know what I expect her to do about it, but I like to tell her when something is disgusting here, and I think that counts.

So anyway, after the flying worm invasion, we met up with the missionary couple from South Carolina, Michael and Tricia, that we met at church on Sunday.  You know, the ONLY other people who were there besides the pastor and his wife?  They invited us to dinner, so we met them in El Cangrejo on a happenin’ street called Via Argentina.  That is the place to be on a Friday or Saturday night.  Or a Thursday, apparently.  It’s pretty much all bars and restaurants, and a ton of people were out last night.  We picked a place that had all kinds of food, and we found out that it’s open 24 hours a day.  Excellent.

We had heard that Panamanians aren’t fantastic at customer service, and this was our first good example of that.  Our waitress was completely annoyed with the idea of having to, well, do her job.  She rolled her eyes when my menu was slightly in the way of her putting my drink down, she refused to try to understand my spanish, even when I was just saying “Sí” to agree with what she was saying, and she never smiled.  The best part was that when she handed Eric the bill at the end of the meal, SHE had already written in the tip for herself!  It’s not like it was a standard printed 10% or whatever.  She had decided that we were going to give her a certain amount.  Is that a thing?  Can you even do that?!  Well, she did.

We had a great time with Michael and Tricia Lee though.  We heard the story of how they got into missionary work, about their kids and two one year-old grandkids, as well as their one year in Costa Rica for language school and 3 years in Mexico.  And it turns out, my Aunt Angela in Georgia is friends with a lady who is “VERY good friends” with the Lees.  Small world.

After dinner we walked down the street to La Rana Dorada, the Golden Frog, and tried out their craft beers.  We talked for another hour or so, then headed towards metro, just in time to find out that it closes at 10.  We could’ve walked home, but it would’ve taken a while and it was the witching hour for the huecos de muerte, so we cabbed it home.

Today I really need to make it to a bank, if they’ll stop hiding from me, and then I’m going to see another apartment.  I found one online, then right after I made an appointment to see it, the realtor that I’ve been working with sent me pictures of the exact same apartment.  Oops.  I felt like I was cheating on her.  I tried the whole just tell the truth thing, and she insisted that I cancel with the other lady and let her make an appointment.  That’s what I did, but now I’m regretting it.  It’s just that the original realtor has done so much for me already…I guess that’s how they get you.  Oh well.  Guess I burned my first Panamanian bridge.  This is the first apartment in the building that I’ve really been wanting to see, so I’m excited.

Oh, and in case anyone is wondering about our doggies, they’re doing just fine.  In fact, I think they are enjoying “camp” more than they like being with us.

Addie at camp.  Looks like a rough life.  What is that?  3 blankets?

Addie at camp. Looks like a rough life. What is that? 3 blankets?

Rylee, our 6 year old niece, used her new sewing machine to make a pillow for CB.  She even tried it out for him before she gave it to him.  He looks thrilled with it.  So sweet.  I think our puppies are doing okay.

Rylee, our 6 year old niece, used her new sewing machine to make a pillow for CB. She even tried it out for him before she gave it to him. He looks thrilled with it. So sweet. I think our puppies are doing okay.

I’ll leave you with a couple of pics of our apartment.  One of our living room and one of Eric’s office/our guest room.  Only a couple more weeks before we’ll have our first guest!

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