Slang's Anti-Singularity - Slangblog

Life Update

7/12/2019

It's been a while, hasn't it? I figured the singles of readers I have might want to see something. I figured a life update might count as something. On the positive side, this fall is a trip to Eastern Europe. No extra tickets, either.

So, I've been divorced now for about 2-1/2 years. In that span, I've had numerous (25?) first dates, a few second dates, and in four instances, more than that. Let's see what happened!

Alice (not her real name) and I dated for about 6 weeks. We probably saw each other 3-5 times a week during that span. It was pretty good, but I didn't see it really going anywhere because of differences in well, a lot. Still, we had a good time when we were together. It ended when she realized my lack of belief in deities and the efficacy of prayer included her flavors too. Apparently, disbelief is okay only when it doesn't include yours.

Beatrice (not her real name) and I dated for about 4 weeks, seeing each other 2-3 times a week. She ended it when she determined I was too wishy-washy. To be fair, I was hot and cold at the time, unwilling to go all in. I asked if we could be friends, because I enjoyed her company. She said no.

Constance (not her real name) and I dated for two weeks seeing each other 4 times before she went on vacation. It was going really well, I thought, and we maintained communication while she was in Europe for the first part of her trip. Then, it fell off. When she returned, she deferred seeing me several times, and when we finally did, she said I wasn't her type. LOL. My guess? She met someone better.

Delilah (not her real name) and I saw each other three times over three weeks this past February. She always was reserved and holding back. After the third date in the third week, she told me she still had feelings for her ex and was going back to see if things could be resolved with him.

It's interesting to see that each instance resulted in overall fewer dates and a shorter time span, Also of interest is that I didn't have a single date between Constance and Delilah and haven't had one since Delilah, either. Huh.

It's been rather disappointing, but reality can be so. I'm more than half convinced I'm solo for the remainder of my life. That'd be too bad, because I think it would be pretty awesome to wake up next to someone, and be able to share the minutia of life. And, aside from the friend stuff, my libido is frustratingly still that of a 30 year old.

I don't know. Maybe I'm unable to do the relationship thing anymore, assuming I get a real opportunity. Possibly because I don't have the energy necessary to go though the dating rituals? Possibly because of someone living rent free in my head?

Still, I do the swiping thing. But it's like window shopping Cartier with a credit limit of $100 and no cash. Ain't nothin' going to happen.

Panama Once: Winding Down

10/7/2018

Everything ends, including this trip. I’m Ubeing it early tomorrow to the airport to catch my flight home. Today I’m just going to take it easy around downtown PTY, and see if I can find a paper clip. Why? So I can swap out my SIM when I board the plane in order to have cell service when I land in Houston. I need to remember to include one in my electronics GoBag.
Yesterday was buses, and subway and walking mostly. The bus driver put away the newspaper, eventually.
Once I made it to my hotel, I did find more craft beer, but at USA prices. I had the IPA & Stout. One or both had a hefty ABV, or maybe I just hadn’t eaten in eight hours?

I finally ate in a tiny Mexican place, which was pretty good. $5 for tacos. No photos, though - this isn’t Instagram. I spent the rest of the night on the Ciclovia Cinta Costera, people watching and admiring the skyline.

This morning, I tried a run. Meh. Ankle is okay-ish, but my back was not wanting any part of it. I went a whopping 3K. But the dawn was nice.

It’s time to wrap up Panama. It’s been mostly good, and I think it’s extremely viable as a long term destination. But I’ll have to see.

Now, where to next?

Panama Diez: Cerro Mariposa

10/6/2018

Today was the scheduled all-day trek to the top of Cerro Mariposa (Mt. Butterfly) on the southwest side of Santa Fe. The trek was only about 6 miles, so I was wondering how it would turn into an all day thing. But then again, I struggled to walk on the trail to Cascada Burmejo yesterday and never got there. Mostly because I chickened out (nobody knew where I was, nobody was on the trail), but it’s not easy walking.

It wasn’t. I don’t think there was a single step I took in nearly 7 hours that was stable and of a normal stride length. The terrain was constantly uncertain, with rocks, roots, lianas, branches, and mud. Mud, mud, mud. I totally appreciate the ubiquity of rubber boots here. There were times I thought the mud was going to suck even the almost knee-high boot off my foot. Often my entire foot would disappear past my ankle.
That being said, I had a wonderful time. Señor Edgar was a great guide (the same we had for the night hike) and I was the only client. One-on-one in the jungle. It was a lot like what I had for the cross Koh Chang trek I took last November in Thailand, but much better. Edgar knew his stuff, and we were able to communicate much better than I was able to in Thailand.

The jungle itself is nicer, too. Not everything here wants to kill me instantly, it’s more patient and insidious, and is willing to sucker me in to kill me. I can hang onto trees and plants for balance without them all having poisonous spines, for example. However the lianas are always there to trip me and let the many varieties of multi-legged creatures do the killing. All in all, I like this jungle better.
We saw various guans, toucans, warblers, hummers, and other birds in the canopy, and gobs of spiders, and insects. Where the mud was more congealed, we saw the spoor of puma and venados poquitos. I saw a mountain crab, and couple of salamanders and frogs. The hummingbird’s nest was cool, too.
Thus endeth my mountain adventures. It rained—a lot, there was mud—a lot, and there was very little sunshine, but the temperature was mild, and pleasant. I would have liked to have stayed somewhere with perhaps better proximity to restaurants (all three of them in the town), but overall, I would definitely return to both Santa Fe, and the Coffee Mountain Inn.
I’ve got it in my mind that it’s time to head back to PTY, and onward to the USA, though I have a couple of days left. I have less reluctance this time to go back - maybe because this trip has been more melancholic than Thailand, despite my better ability to communicate with the locals. I have ideas as to why, but I’ve got no desire to explore them; this is a blog, not a therapy session.

Panama Nueve: A Down Day

10/6/2018

For a down day, it was active. I set out after a spectacular breakfast to simply walk around the area for a while, and that was what I did. Somehow, I managed to find my way to the trailhead for a waterfall, and decided to see if I could find it without a guide.

After trying two separate forks in the trail, and spending an hour or so tramping in the jungle solo, and with nobody having the slightest idea where I was, I decided today was not a good day to die in the jungle, and backtracked my way out. Despite the relative proximity to town, I had seen nobody since about fifteen minutes prior to turning onto the trail. And I wasn’t carrying my GPS locator either. I safely navigated my way back to town, only almost losing a shoe in the mud twice. When I got back, I discovered I’d covered nearly eight miles. Down day.

I rested for the remainder of the day, reading, and drinking a beer or two, since tomorrow is supposed to be taken up by a long hike. I also tallied up my expenditures since arriving in Santa Fe: $9 in beer, and $17 for food. Not bad for four days.

Panama Ocho: Trekking Uno

10/6/2018

This post was magnificent, and filled with erudite and exemplary descriptions. But, alas, I accidentally deleted it. So, it’s going to be pedestrian and dull, instead.
At breakfast (exceptional, as always), I discovered I was scheduled to go on an all-day trek to see a couple of waterfalls. I knew I had planned for it, the night adventure and a second all-day thing, but didn’t know the days. So. Today it was. I’m good with that.
About 40 minutes after eating, I dressed out in long pants, tee, and rubber boots. I wasn’t sold on the rubber boots, or, for that matter, the long pants, but I listen to the advice of the guides who are taking me. Turns out, both were pretty good ideas.
After driving about fifteen minutes, we pulled off the road onto a wide spot. They are relatively rare, given the encroachment of the vegetation on the pavement. Chaeli, my guide, and I unloaded walking sticks and set off. It was just the two of us, and the trail beckoned.

Did I say trail? I misspoke. There was no trail, we waded, and slipped our way up the stream and rocks on the sides. Where we weren’t in actual running water, or on the rocks in the stream, we slipped and slid our way up and down steep muddy grades. Such fun! As for going in rubber boots — that was a solid si. They had great grip on the slippery rocks, but though designed for keeping your feet dry, when the level of the water you are wading through is up to mid-thigh, they are less efficacious. I did learn how to drain them reasonably well; the movement also doubled as a decent quad stretch.

The waterfalls were really nice, and running a bit higher, since the overnight rains had swollen the streams. The really fun part was going back, since we diverged up a no-trail hill, and Chaeli used a GPS to navigate us to a “trail” they’ve made down a different stream. Along the way, I saw a spider roll up its web, like it was reefing a sail on a boat. I wish I had my camera ready to capture it on video. I’ve never seen anything like it, nor have I heard of it happening. One moment the entire classic web was there, and then I saw it being pulled up to the top strand. Weird stuff.
It wasn’t an orb weaver though. The spider that did the magic was 1/8 the size of the ubiquitous orb weaver.

Panama Siete: Post Panic

10/6/2018

After the Panic of The Passport, I had a reasonably good - and relaxing day. I met and chatted with Mike and Lynn from Canada. They are the only other guests at the Inn at the moment. That and a beer on the patio, and a Sue Grafton novel, and I was once again chilled and in vacation mode. A walk up to the collectivo restaurant for an early dinner of pollo y arroz y frijoles con salsa de habanero - for $3.00 - and I was set for the night hike. Apparently, it would only be canceled if there was a torrential downpour, and it’s been unusually dry for the last few days. Things were definitely looking up.

Fast forward to 7:20 pm. We are meeting our guide Edgar at 7:50 when we will be issued flashlights for the hike. It’s raining. I didn’t think it was coming down too terribly, and wasn’t concerned. Lynn was doubtful, though. We still had 30 minutes. No problem. I was on vacation, and what happened, happened.

When Edgar arrived, the rain had stopped. Yay! In addition to the flashlights, we also were given rubber boots. Huh. It’s not like we’re going up a stream, but okay, I can go along with this. I got a pair of boots that were a little too small (43), having discarded ones that were a little too big (45). I think I need 44s. We piled into the taxi to get to the trailhead, picking up another dos personas along the way.

It was raining lightly when we arrived, and I thought I’d put on my raincoat. That was a good — no, great — call. As soon as I had put it on, it started to rain. HARD.

Though I’d brought both my camera and my phone to take photos, I didn’t take either one out of their sealed ziplocks. It rained non-stop for the entire two hour hike. HARD. It was like walking under a sometimes-pounding shower the entire time. Enough water ran down my legs to fill my boots past my ankles. I was glad I wore my swimsuit as my shorts (It looks just like a pair of shorts, and even has pockets. No grape-smuggling Speedos, for this decrepit old man.)

Despite the unceasing, diluvian downpour, we saw an abundance of small wildlife, mostly insects and arachnids and amphibians, but we did share a shelter for a time with a small bat. The mantises, crickets, walking sticks and spiders we saw all were described as “small” by Edgar, but were large by my standards. We also saw several species of tree and terrestrial frogs and a few different toads - one that weighed at least a pound.

I had a great time. I would have been fine with staying out a few more hours, except for my toes jamming against the boots as we walked downhill. Kids who are outgrowing your shoes? I feel ya.

It continued to rain for hours after I had made it back to the Inn. After hanging my loathes in the shower, it was nice to hear the raindrops pounding on the metal roof just a few feet above me, as I was lying in bed. Dry.

Panama Seis: Dude, Where’s Your Passport?

10/6/2018

Yeah. That. Those four simple words can send a frisson of anxiety through any international traveler.

But let me rewind a bit. I woke up before sunrise, as usual, and made myself some coffee. Excellent stuff in the room. Downed it and decided to go to the river and check it out. Pretty. And all to myself. I’d be lying if I didn’t think about the possibility of a jaguar watching me from the forest, though.

On the walk back up to the Inn to have breakfast, I mentally went through my checklist of stuff, and realized I didn’t specifically remember taking my passport out of my pocket and putting it with the rest of my stuff on the table in my room.
Huh.
I got back and turned the place upside down. Once. Twice. No passport. I know had it on the bus from Panama City to Santiago, and I remember having it on the bus to Santa Fe, but I don’t specifically remember having it when I checked in at the Inn. It might still have been in my pocket, though. From the Inn, I had only gone to a local restaurant and collectivo. It could be in either of those places, but my gut feeling was it had slipped out of my pocket while on the bus from Santiago. Visions of — briefly — losing my phone from a pocket-slip in Thailand went through my head. Come to think of it, I was wearing the same shorts then, too.

My hosts, Celestino and Chaeli leapt into action. With what little information I could provide (the bus from Santiago was white (they all are), the driver wore a cap with “Colombia” on it, and my approximate departure time), Celestino was on the phone non-stop. Meanwhile, Chaeli was working the other end, helping me determine what and where I would need to go if worse came to worst.

Finally, all calls had been made. Connections reached. Feelers extended. Celestino discovered the driver was a substitute, and through contact after contact, he was able to contact the driver’s wife. She was going to contact him and we’d find out. It was the last gasp, I thought. Meanwhile, I couldn’t sit still, and since there was absolutely nothing I could do except fret. I went for a walk about town.

Upon my return, I had accepted what was the likely outcome and sat down to email the photo I had of my passport to Chaeli, so she could print it (BIG HINT - keep a photo on your phone or tablet or on an accessible website, if not a physical one).

I was waiting for the not-very-broadband connection to link me to my Google Docs when Celestino yelled to me from across the yard: my passport had been found and was waiting for me at the Santa Fe bus terminal.

Relief? You have no idea. Want to know what’s even more amazing than the simple fact I got my passport back after it slipped out of my pocket on a bus? I also got the cash that I had in the ziplock with it. I would have been happy to say buh-bye to the money just to get the passport and visa, but I got it all.

Folks, I can’t recommend Panama, its people, and my wonderful hosts here at the Coffee Mountain Inn enough. Come to Panama, it’s absolutely wonderful.

Te amo, Panama!

Panama Cinco: Travel Day

10/6/2018

I had a travel battle plan. It was a good plan. It was a solid plan. It is a truism that most battle plans rarely survive the initial skirmish. Mine never made it through the gate. Literally.
I left my hotel (Ojos Rios) at 6:15 in order to catch the 7:00 bus to Santiago. I’d have plenty of time, and I would grab a donut for breakfast and a cafe in the station while I relaxed and waited for the bus.
Sadly, the subway station doesn’t open until 7:00 Domingos; the gate was locked.
Well, dang. There went my cunning plan. Of course, I’d have been better served had I read the placard advertising horario, pero...
I scuttled through as soon as the gate lifted, and made it to the platform with time available to catch the scheduled 7:02 arrival of the train. It was late. And relatively empty. In about 5 minutes, I’d arrived at the bus station, and searched out the counter for Santiago, to find out when the next bus was leaving.
I asked about Santiago, and lo! The 7:00 bus was still there. I clambered aboard, and within 5 minutes of parking my carcass, we were off.

.Fast forward four hours and we are parking in Santiago. I now have to find a ticket window, buy a ticket and find the bus to Santa Fe. I figured no problem, since I’d conquered the same in Panama City at the much larger Albrook Station. Ha.
There are no ticket windows. There are a lot of people. Can you say WTF? I did.
I finally found a conductor window, and asked “Santa Fe?” He had a guy show me where the bus was (all the way at the end - where I hadn’t looked). I was directed on board, so I went.
Now the buses are interesting. You (and I) can buy a ticket ahead of time if the station has a ticket window. If it doesn’t, you simply climb aboard and the driver collects a fare when you get off. I have no idea how the fare is calculated, but everyone seems to be happy with it. The fare to Santa Fe from Santiago was $2.90. That’s it.
I’m here, I’ve had a beer. I’m good with the world, and maybe I’ll hunt down food at some point.

Panama Quatro

9/30/2018

The last couple of days have been spent puttering around the city, not doing much of anything. I’m looking forward to Santa Fe, and seeing what a much smaller place is like.

Panama City does have a pretty nice subway. It’s a single line right now, but a ride is only thirty-five cents: any distance. The end of the line is Albrook, where both Shopping Mallzilla and the bus station are.
Ill be hopping it to the bus station later this morning.

Panama Post Numero Tres

9/27/2018

Today I had planned to visit both Meriflores Locks on the Panama Canal, and hit the metropolitan park. However, when I started moving, always slowly, my back chimed in early—like immediately after going vertical — and deciding moving wasn’t exactly what it wanted to do, protested. I acquiesced to pain, and decided to forego the more strenuous visit to the metropolitan park, but still go to the Canal. I skipped wearing the ankle brace too. Worked out pretty well. Both the ankle and back don’t feel terrible, but I only walked about 3.5 miles for the day.

I got to the locks early (via a $5.50 Uber ride), within 15 minutes of the opening of the visitor’s center, and was rewarded with unobstructed views of a dry bulk ship transiting the locks.

After watching it and another ship transit south (Pacific) to north (Caribbean), I then spent a couple of hours visiting the onsite museum. I had a good time, but I’m a nerd.

Afterward, I took an Uber to Casio Viejo again, to see parts I hadn’t seen on my initial visit yesterday. Talked for a while with Nikolas, an attorney who works in both Catalan, Spain and in Panama. He was having lentil soup, I had an egg sammich and un cafe Americano for lunch. The coffee was as much as the food.

I may or may not have stepped into a pharmacy while walking around, and may or may not have bought some Viagra, because why or why not? I discovered it’s relatively cheap ($4/ea) and no script required. I figured I may or may not have a use for it someday. I may or may not have tried what I may or may not have bought, to see what it my or may not do.

Visited my local craft cerveceria again for dinner and tried four beers I didn’t try yesterday. They need to figure out their pricing, though. It’s $2 for 12 oz, and $3 for 16. I’ll never buy a 16; I’ll continue to buy the 12 oz, and save money.

Oh, and there was a cute momma dog.

After all the beers, I was more than a little buzzed walking back, and writing this post. So I can easily disavow anything here.