Adventurous Frog, more Madness, Scorpions and Pups

Adventurous Frogs Die Young

My brother Jim used to say “Don’t live in the danger zone unless you’re ready to pay the price.” Such was the case for my Froggie friend, who had taken to spending the nights in my toilet bowl. (No, I don’t keep the lid down, unless I’m with a lady friend.) Every morning, Froggie would either hold on tight or swim ferociously against the tide to avoid the outgoing whirlpool. Sadly, this morning Frog could do neither and went down the tubes with what I imagine was a look of shock and disbelief on his/her face. And saying “Oh Shit” or whatever similar expression that frogs use.

I do not mourn for Froggie. Nor should you. For he lived a good life of adventure, deep inside the danger zone, died young and left a beautiful corpse. Somewhere.

Two of my special friends doing the whip scorpion shuffle.
"Whip Scorpions and Goat Ropers need love too !!"

The only thing better than Mango Madness..... is Morning Mango Madness. Mangoes ripe off the tree and damp with dew, cool before the sun is up all the way.
These are the long Japanese mangoes. Not as much flesh as their Caribbean cousins, but just as sweet. Also, they still look pretty green when ripe. I have to squeeze test them.

A nice big bowl of chilled chucks of mango. I could dive in face first and never come up.

Pups

My weekly visitation with the puppies. They are getting bigger and stronger. They still won't leave about a 15 foot radius from their birth-spot. Momma has dropped all aggressive behavior towards me. I even lifted one of the pups and she didn't move or growl.
Still hard to get good photos since the little buggers move and wiggle-waggle so much.

I am headed out to the other side of Panama, near the Costa Rica border on vacation, so no posts for a week or so.

Hope on the Bus

Coming home on the bus from Panama City this afternoon, the bus was pretty empty. While there was no entertaining, enlightening or education conversation to be had, there was a little life drama unfolding in the seat in front of me. So, I played voyeur.  A young girl – probably 4 or 5 – and her Dad, likely in his late 20’s were seated side by side. She was adorable – big round brown eyes and long lashes and jet black pig-tails shooting out either side. Dad was dressed like a middle class worker. Something struck me as odd from the start. Young kids always sit in parent’s lap to avoid paying an extra fare and so more folks can fit on the bus. Even more odd was a child travelling with a father. I’ve seen scores of mothers with children – sometimes one nursing and two in tow. But never a father with child. Even when a couple travels with children, they always sit with Mom. Yet there they were – Father & Daughter.

Things got tense as we were leaving the big terminal. The little girl, in that way that all children are excited about seeing new things, was pointing out this bus and that funny looking man and Oh, Popi, look at the giant flag and squealing and tugging on Dad’s arm and…. Well, you get the picture. Dad is trying to be calm and cool and looking at his cell phone and trying his best to ignore her. Eventually he reaches his break-point and snaps Be quiet and sit still !! And daughter instantly obeys, as she’s been taught to do. Very quiet. Very still. For a while.

But as sure as the sun rises, the urge to move and talk in a child that age just took over. I watched in rapt amusement as she spoke and gestured very quietly to her mirror image in the window. What a conversation those two had !! The hand gestures and the rolling eyes and the over-the-top facial expressions. Hollywood got nothing on this little girl. It was all I could do to keep from bursting out laughing. Slowly, she moved closer to her Popi and, in a very soft tone, started to ask him a question. UP came the hand to cut her off. She saw me watching her and gave me a look like “What am I supposed to do here?”.

My initial reaction to Dad’s behavior was “What a jerk”. And maybe that is true given the culture today in the US. But, Panama is not the US. This young man is merely a reflection of his culture that gives full responsibility for children to the mother. Dad is merely the wage earner and occasional gift giver. Indeed, I’ve heard from many women in the States, who grew up in the 50’s and 60’s, when distance from Dad was part of the main-stream culture. So, rather than blame, I came to feel sorry for the poor guy – out for a bus trip with a bright and adorable daughter and no clue how to connect or show her affection. Really sad.

Then just as we left Torti and were getting close to my stop, she got sleepy tired, as kids tend to do. She leaned over and put her head in Popi’s lap. He covered her with a towel, put his hand on her head and looked down and smiled at her. Yes, he loves that little girl. My wish for him is that he can come to show her that love and be her friend. As I left the bus, I looked back and him, pointed at the girl, smiled and nodded my head. He smile and nodded back. Maybe my wish comes true. Maybe.

Human Compost, Washers and Hats

Manual fill feature - no extra charge

Here’s another little item we don’t think about much in the US – The Washing Machine.

You just toss in the clothes, add some detergent and walk away. Maybe you have one of those fancy machines that weighs the clothes and calculates needed water and detergent, plus adds softener to the final rinse. Well, lucky you. Very few folks out here in the 3^rd world even have a washing machine – most still do the wash by hand. I’ve done it totally by hand and can tell you it is a major chore.

Those few who do have a “washing machine” here count themselves fortunate indeed. I use the quotes, because the washers here are nothing like their big beefy cousins in Estados Unidos. The washers here are meek little 90 lb weaklings and require almost as much work as hand washing. They are not made by Whirlpool or GE, but by Sanyo and LG and other electronics makers – that should give a hint.

First, there is no automatic fill – you take a hose and fill the “wash” compartment to your liking and add soap. Then you set the timer and watch as the machine gently nudges the clothes back and forth. Look at the agitator in the photo and you’ll see that these machines gently push and not much else. Most folks let the “washer” work for at least an hour. Even then, only the light dirt will come out. Heavy dirt or stains must be “pre-washed” by hand.

Next, you manually open the drain on the wash section and place the pieces – a few at a time – into the spin section. Most folks actually hand wring the clothes as they put them in to save time. The spin starts out VERY slow and gradually increases in speed. When top speed is reached, a red light comes on. The user then determines how much spinning they want and lifts the lid.washer spin video

Now the clothes are put back in the wash section, water added and timer set. Again, I’d give it at least 30 minutes. This time, you inspect the water coming out of the drain to see if you can get away with a single rinse (odds are against it) or dirty enough to warrant yet ANOTHER rinse cycle. Figure about 2 hours for the complete process and you really must be present for almost the whole time.

Feeling a little more gratitude for your nice washing machine now ??  Next time you go to use it, give it a little stroke and let it know how much you love it. Maybe even a hug.

Human Compost

It has been just about a year since we built the first composting toilets in Ipeti, Panama. Over half of the users have reported that one of the compost compartments is full and has had at least 3 months to “mellow”. That means it is time to open up the back doors and retrieve the special compost, cleaning the compartment so it is ready to go when the other side gets full.

Opening the back portals was supposed to be relatively easy. I told the albaniles (masons) to just apply a LIGHT coat of mortar around the doors to give a seal. We even had a demonstration. However, being the good masons that they are, many decided that the doors needed to be “properly” sealed. So, they filled ALL the gaps and sides with nice hard concrete and not the soft mortar.

So, I had to buy some big chisels to assist in the grand openings. A little more work than we had planned and we have made sure that the masons got the message this time.

But, the results are outstanding : Beautiful, rich, light compost with a hint of “earthy” fragrance. Yes, Virginia, this is human waste – shit, ca-ca, poopy doo – decomposed and blended with sawdust to make a lovely soil amendment, rich in nutrients and thoroughly organic. Compost video

More compost video

No baseball caps on the bus this morning. The boys are sporting the traditional “campo” Panama hat. This is the true Panama hat. That thing that “Panama Jack” wears is a Planter’s Hat – what the rich plantation owners wear. The true Panama hat is for the workers and campesinos.

Also, not that this bus is clearly owner operated, as it has been tricked out with tassels and a flat screen TV. Not the sign “damas” above the “hot seat” – only “hot” ladies are allowed to sit up with the driver. And they rarely pay a fare.

This was my "office" this morning for a meeting with my buddy and most excellent co-worker Cecilio. I brought the cookies and Leo had the coffee ready.I LOVE my "job".

Mango Madness and Planting Rice

MANGO MADNESS has begun - it's mango season in Torti, Panama !!

A nice plate of mangoes for today

Hey Kids, What time is it ??

If you answered “Howdy Doody Time”, then your head is totally stuck in the 50’s.

If , however, you correctly answered “Mango Madness Time”, then you clearly are in tune with what’s happening in Torti , Panama right now and you

And more for tomorrow

have your towel completely together.

Let the madness begin and never end !!

Planting Rice

This is a photo of a rice field getting ready for planting. Perhaps boring from your perspective. But, put yourself in the position of the rice farmer for a moment and it is anything BUT boring. This is the ultimate gamble – the cosmic game of “Chicken” with Mother Nature. Trying to guess exactly when to plant is a mighty important challenge. Plant too early and a rain could germinate the seeds, followed by a few bone dry days and those sprouts are all dead. You just lost your entire crop. Wait too long after several days of constant rain – you tractor will get sucked so deep into the mud that it will sit out there until the dry season. And your crop never got planted. You may try and find an army of Venezuelans or Colombians (Panama’s immigrant work force) to hand seed. Maybe.

With your whole season riding on when to sow that rice seed, the photo is not boring at all. It’s all about perspective.

Now that we’re on the subject of rice……  Pretty dull stuff that rice. Not much use for it in the US. Food for poor people. Like collards and okra. Easy to make, though. The pre-cooked kind is ready in 10 minutes. Good Old Uncle Ben even has a 2 minute microwave version, with spices and everything.

But, let’s ponder for just a moment all the history that went into this very popular, albeit somewhat boring grain. Imagine the first people to find a wild rice plant or two out in the wild. Maybe they chew on a seed or two – tough and dry and hard on the teeth. What ever gave them the idea to take it home and heat it or cook it in water (what did they use for a pot?) or grind it and make an edible paste? I guess if you’re hungry and have plenty of time, you try a few things. I give those guys and gals lots of credit for figuring out all this food stuff and cultivating it and making it ever more productive and edible. The vast cornucopia and plethora of food that we enjoy comes from the hard work and perseverance of a whole lot of folks that came before us.  

Chlorine Drips, Dogs, Wood, Rain and Palm Thatched roofs

Fun with my buddy Leo in Curti today. We made and calibrated a drip device that will deliver a steady stream of chlorine to the water tank (about 1 drop per second). My medical friends will recognize the device as an IV drip controller – or maybe it has a cooler med name? Not available in Torti, so I had to go to the hospital in Chepo (2 hr bus) to get it. Now, he needs to make about 6 gallons of chlorine, using the new CPU so we can test it. He bought 5 lbs of salt yesterday, but still needs to buy the 12v car battery that powers the unit.

It is hard getting things done around here. Easy errands that might take you a few minutes driving to the shopping center in the US, can be an all-day adventure here – waiting for buses, waiting in LONG line at the ONLY ATM in town, finding the hardware store that has what you need and getting it back on the bus and home.

Mama and Papa dog were out together for a walk and romp in the cattle field this morning. Good to see Mama out running and jumping. Not sure what it is that they get out there. Puppies still don’t leave their birth area, so no visits to the cottage yet.

More beautiful wood coming in from the jungle before the rains start. I hope it is all legal, but probably not. Poaching wood from the Kuna reservation (comarca) is not considered a big deal since “those animals have so much more wood than they need” (quote from my red-neck neighbor).  

Three days in a row of rain = start of the rainy season. A little early this year. The rivers can sure use some water. Ipeti River is just about dry. Boats have to be carried over the rock bars to get out to the lake for the big tilapia. Not wild about the muddy roads and having to carry an umbrella around.

More photos from the precious little village of Embera Puru – where all the women are short and wear colorful skirts. And the men are just short. This place has some serious tourist potential, though I doubt they want it. Folks seem a bit shy and happy just the way things are.

Radar Tower in the Jungle

Postcard view of the Radar Tower

Hotel entrance

Not to complain, but I’ve gone a whole 11 weeks now without a vacation. So, I figured it was time for a break. The adventure nose led me to a very unique hotel in the middle of the Gamboa Rainforest. The facility was originally a high powered USAF radar tower that covered a LOT more area than just the Canal. When the Canal was turned over to the Panama government in 2000, this was one of the properties they acquired. Though, since it was a military installation, all the equipment was taken out. In fact, the transition to Panamanian control forced the US to admit that many of its facilities in Panama were not “Canal related” but purely military. But, as I often do, I digress.

Two monkeys just ran out the right hand branch of big tree

The hotel is a little pricier than my normal selections - $175 per night (and up), though that includes 3 meals and “guided” tours. Even more, there is usually a four day/three night minimum. But after talking with manager Ken, he agreed to let me stay just one night IF they had space at the last minute. I got the call early Monday that there was an opening than night and caught the bus into the City. He even discounted me $20 as a “humanitarian aid worker”. To be honest, even with the discount, it seemed a bit overpriced. The building needs some maintenance, there is no AC and just a slow overhead fan and luke-warm water. The no AC is actually nice so you can be overwhelmed by the insect/ frog and monkey night sounds of the jungle. It is slightly cool that I looked out my window INTO the jungle canopy at about 30 ft AGL. And there were loads of birds flitting about up there. And the rooms are VERY nicely decorated and comfortable.

The paths were more like roads, but no vehicles
A little tame for me

There are only two guided tours a day, neither of which worked for my schedule. But the well maintained paths/roads gave gorgeous jungle views on all sides. There were birds and monkeys all over, but I’ll be damned if I could get a decent photo of even just one. (one of these days I want to learn Paul Yorke’s secrets). By the time I spotted a bird or monkey, then got my camera up and aimed, the target was gone or just departing. So, only photos of a bunch of leaves – no flora or fauna – sorry. It was really nice to just LOOK and listen and forget about the camera.

The view from the top deck was SPECTACULAR
I tried playing with my editing tools to turn it into
"painting" mode

The food was OK. Breakfast was the standard rolls and very nice fresh fruit. Juice was from a can and the coffee came WITH sugar already in it. Since Panamanians ALL take sugar in their coffee, I guess they figure this saves everyone some time. Unless, like me, you don’t like sugared coffee. Lunch was a buffet of meats and sandwiches and salads – pretty good. Dinner was the spectacular meal – snook (robalo en Espanol) – to me, the sweetest, nicest fish on the planet. Friends used to catch it in the Florida mangroves and shallows. But, I hadn’t had any in over 30 years. What a treat !!

All in all, a good short break from waterline and composting toilet chores, Though, I did manage to drop off a water test Solicitud at MINSA for Curti and stopped by a hospital pharmacy to pick up some IV drip controllers for their new chlorine drip device.

Easter Feast at the Neighbors’

Mylin supervises the butchering of the Easter hog

The fires got started  before noon yesterday. They used the quick start gasoline on big logs method – not bad after the petro smell wears off. Six fires in all – 3 for pig and 2 for chicken and one for big boiling and frying pots. By about 6, my mouth was drooling all over the floor, just as the guests arrived. So, I took my 2 salads and headed into the fray. The drinking was hard and fast. The same VERY attractive young lady was again pushing shots of the “punch” on everyone, including me. The punch is nothing more than moonshine cane sugar alcohol, which had been sitting all day with lots of fruit in it and then squeezed and filtered in a cloth and served in tiny shot glasses at room temperature. This time I cleverly avoided the noxious concoction by nursing a beer all night that I brought from the cottage.

Mama Mylin shows the boys how it's done. She is one tough cookie.

Many of the same relatives and friends from last year. The old guy who called my story “stupid” had fortunately forgotten me. And I pretty well avoided the lady who constantly corrected my grammar last year. My little buddy Iza was home for Easter – he’s been going to school in Chepo – pretty sad and sullen, acted like he didn’t know me. The big celebrity guest was Tomas’ youngest step-brother Frederico. The kid is drop-dead gorgeous, speaks English with a perfect Antonio Banderas accent and dressed like he just came off the set of “Miami Vice”. In actuality, he attends U of Miami Miller Med School ( 2^nd year), which is a HUGE deal around here, as most rural folks don’t even make it to domestic colleges, never mind a US Med school. He had some great stories about US Immigration. On various occasions, he’s been strip searched, cavity searched (I didn’t ask for details), had his luggage cut open, had his computer and cell phone downloaded and been interviewed for up to 4 hours (think about that) with questions about who he lives with, who his friends are, what TV shows and internet sites he watches. And, on other US entries, they let him walk right on through. He can make no sense of it. He thinks Trump is a horrible President, but is genuinely afraid to talk about Trump for fear it might get him deported, despite his very valid visa.

The feast was simply amazing. Fire roasted pork, chicken, beef (carne picante) and fried fish, with big pots of potato, yucca, rice and plantain. My two salads (cole slaw and cucumber/tomato) were the ONLY vegetables and not exactly flying out of the bowls. Panamanians are MEAT eaters. The pork ribs were just roasted over the fire with salt and pepper. They made me believe that the whole BBQ sauce thing is a massive cover-up and waste of good meat. And it’s just hard to beat a fire-roasted chicken, killed that day. The fish was just the way Panamanians like it – way over-cooked until it is nice and stiff. Fish jerky, I call it.

They did they “performance” thing again. Some very good (and boring) singing and the old guy told the SAME story about how the brave Panamanians (his grandfather was one of them)  met the Colombians in the “Great War of Independence” and made them flee – “they ran like little girls”. Of course, he failed to mention that there were 5,000 US Army troops with artillery standing right behind the Panamanians and a US Navy battleship sitting off-shore. And that this was pretty much the only battle of the “War”, which the US had started in order to get permission from the newly created Panama government to build the Canal. But, he told it with so much passion that I just let go of historical correctness. For my part, I decided no story this time – I got them divided into 3 groups and we sang “Frere Jacques” as a round, in English, Spanish and French. Oddly, many knew only the English and French versions. Folks were pretty drunk so the languages all sounded the same anyway.

Having eaten WAY too much, I waddled back to the cottage, took a nice hot/cold shower and crashed in an instant. I got up this morning and realized that most of the cars are still here. No idea where everyone slept, but the strong smell of coffee and bacon is in the air. Just at daybreak folks headed out – I’m guessing to church, since they are all back now and looks like the party is back on. I guess I’ll wander down and see what’s what.

Feliz Pasqua a Todos !! (Happy Easter to All Y’all)

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>