In my now two weeks here in Playa Coronado, I've met and made a few friends. Mostly of a non-human nature, but that's seemingly how I roll, anyway. Human interaction is hard, what with expectations, posturing, beliefs, egos and baggage all contributing to the overall difficulty. It's like having to roll a pair of twenties to save your Dungeons and Dragons Chaotic Good Barbarian while she is trapped in a stainless steel room with no doors, because the Dungeon Master got tired and pissy. Rare, very rare, to get the perfect, or even good roll. In a game, no biggie. Pack up the Skittles and Henry Weinhard's and see where things are thirty or forty years on.

Unfortunately, when things go south in real human interactions, as they do both in person or via bits over the Interwebz, the failure carries with it a bit more damage than a long-ago dice roll, and packed-away gaming gear. And for good or ill, I automatically assume I hold the lion's share of the inhibiting elements; failure is on me. It gets tiresome, and the cost to benefit ratio of the effort rises to unsurmountable heights.

However difficult human interaction may be, animal interaction is easy -- a hand out for a dog to sniff, or a cat to rub on, and wild critter encounters are the easiest of all -- spot the critter and try to snap a photo before the beast scampers/scuttles/wings away. It's in that third category I present the results of my interactions this weekend.

A couple of quick hits that don't warrant a full post on their own, but deserving of some bits and electrons anyway. The first one was triggered a bit by a woman I saw in the grocery store today (where I picked up my staples of veggies, coconut water and bread). She was getting more and more frustrated trying to explain IN LOUD AND SLOW ENGLISH to the employee what she wanted. At no time did she attempt even shitty Spanish. It was apparent to me that she had put absolutely no effort at all to learn even a modicum of the native language.

Now, I'm no polyglot, but I fucking try. I have a translator app on my phone that works regardless of signal, so, if worse comes to worst, I can tap out a message and the magic of technology can read it to someone. Did this gormless excuse for a traveler have anything other than SLOW AND LOUD English? Nope. I walked away.

That made me think of some humorously bad Spanish from English phrases, that could, barely, be conceivably uttered. I will plead the 5th if anyone asks if I have done so, without it expressly being for humor.

Good Spanish: hasta luego which means "Until later"
Bad English: hasta lechuga, or hasta la culo. The first means "until lettuce" and the second...I'll leave you to discover.

Good English: I believe in miracles
Bad Spanish: Creo en miercoles, or "I believe in Wednesday." 

Yeah, that ain't gonna fly.

I got charged by a dog yesterday morning while running. He (I assume a he) was in a bush on the side of the road and I was about 2 feet in. As I passed I saw him, and slowed a bit, and he charged out. I did a spin move that would make Barry Sanders or Walter Payton proud, and swatted at him with a backfist. He was going for my calf, but missed, because I'm so damn smooth. At least I think so. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

He ran off across the road and through a gate into a multi-million dollar property. If it was in the States, I'd have called him back to bite me so I could sue, but here? Nah. However, the adrenaline from the encounter gave me a boost for the rest of the run to set a PR on the route. So there's that.

I had a brief moment of...I won't say homesickness but maybe nostalgianess. For a time last night I was really wondering WTF I was doing here -- where I really can't communicate well, I really don't know anyone, and low grade feeling of loneliness is a heartbeat away. Then, I realized, I have a nice place to live, the weather is beautiful, I can talk to my kids pretty much at any time. Fortuitously, the man-cub called while shopping in Costco. (OK, that triggered some memories of rotisserie chicken and huge bags of tortilla chips, but I digress.) We chatted about the book Lifespan and it's author and foods associated with the book and podcast. I felt better. Of course, a NFLX Seinfeld session helped too.

I went to sleep still a bit stressed, but when I woke, and went for a run culminating in a sea swim, I realized it wouldn't be any better for me in the States than it is here, and here is cheaper, there is a beach 200 feet away and a bus ride to the largest shopping mall in Central America is $6. 

The only thing missing is companionship, and that's been missing for five years anyway. Maybe I'll head to Picasso, get a beer and see if either John will show up for a nice chat. It's likely I'll get to pet Dingo or Lucy, and a damn certainty I'll have a beer or two in the tropical warmth and read my book.

Viviendo la vida Panama. Viviendo la vida buena.

Yesterday, I was fortunate enough to be offered a ride to a town about 16 miles away as the crow flies, but about an hour away by car. It's only a short distance but a big difference in climate. El Valle is significantly higher in elevation (about 600 m) than here at the coast, and the rainfall is at probably triple if not more, and it shows in the vegetation and much cooler temperatures. The town is inside an ancient volcanic crater, incredibly fertile and green, with waterfalls and hiking trails on the surrounding cloud forest.

The town itself is a mix of hippies and money; along the main street is a funky hotel or two, the occasional fonda or coffee shop, but on the side roads (well paved, mind you) are haciendas and estates worth millions. I walked the weekly market and picked up some produce for my dinners for the next week: cebollas, carotas y pimientos para mis ensaladas. Tengo lechuga y champiñones. Total cost for enough veggies for three or four meals was about $5. The pineapple pictured was $1.50 and oh, is it good! The guys sawing on violins para propinas probably made their money by folks paying them to stop. They were awful.

We hit up La Casa de Lourdes for lunch. I decided on a cashew chicken with tamarind sauce and green rice dish. And dessert. Pretty damn delicious and decadent. I figured that was my meal for the day, so I went all out. I needed some solids after closing the bar the night before. I probably had more beer that night than I've had in years. I think I woke with still a buzz.

I may hop a bus and come back in the next week or two to do a bit more exploring.

Things have been going slowly here in Playa Coro. And that's pretty much according to plan. I am not seeking thrills and excitement these days. I'm eminently satisfied with a routine of a nice morning run with a cooling ocean dip to finish, a sesh on the computer, a walk on the beach, a beer in the local ex-pat hangout. The occasional shopping at the grocery store is a nice variation. Dull and boring, and hot and humid is all I really am after these days.

Last night though, I met a few ex-pats in the hangout and we had a good time, and played the regularly scheduled Thursday night Trivia. The questions were more straightforward than a lot of the StoopaTrivia from 2020, and were targeted specifically to Baby Boomers. Now, depending on who's division you use, I may or may not be classified as a boomer, but regardless of classification, I reject it out of youthful petulance.

We did presentably well with a score of 28 out of 40. Not bad for a team of three, with a question set designed for the older target audience. Not to mention the start time of 5:00 pm. I guess getting to bed before 8:30 is critical? Who knows. THe general questions were a piece of cake, but the popular culture ones from the 1950s and 1960s were a bit more challenging for me. For example, who remembers Jean Simmons (not Gene Simmons of KISS and tongue fame), and what movie from the dark ages (1960) had scenes of her edited out? I'm guessing the editing was required by censorship for OHMYGOSH boobs, because in 1960 women didn't have them. (The answer was "Spartacus" to the trivia question of which movie was sliced.)

Also, after five, or was it six?, beers, I couldn't remember either of the doorstops Herman Wouk took 16 years each to write ("Winds of War" and "War and Remembrance"). The other teams, with a more geriatric membership did better, but I'm convinced John, Lynne and I had the most fun. We got to play with puppies (Lucy and Dingo) and laugh our way around the world.

I'm looking forward to next Thursday when we've agreed to meet up again. I don't doubt we once again are likely to fail to win, but we'll will win anyway.

A few photos to close out yet another missive. I know it’s what y’all come for!

After a day to "recover" from flying business class (yeah, not a lot of physical recovery needed, just getting feet on the ground and a little better time adjusted), I moseyed on down the coast to Playa Coronado, where I'd booked an apartment? condo? for a month-long stay near the beach. I'm sticking with condo, because it's shorter and easier to type.

The condo is on the 8th floor with some spectab views, so I'll get some good stair work in. There isn't a balcony, though. This and the way the door is configured, I can't lock myself out. This is a Good Thing. My direct view is to the north, but there are walkways on both the east and west sides, so I can see that too. Pretty sweet. Internet access is faster here than in CC by a long shot: 247 Mbps down and 15 up. I haven't seen that except at Spencer's house in Seattle. I think it'll be a nice stop for a while, but what's with no padding on chairs everywhere? My ass needs padding! The couch is leather, which is...interesting in a hot climate. The bed is reasonably comfortable, but it's interesting that the mattress doesn't quite fit the frame - it's a couple inches too long. To accommodate, the end of it is on top of the frame, raising the foot of the bed by about 4 inches. If I go into shock, I know I need just to go to bed to elevate my feet.

The hot water advertised is a small electric heater attached to the shower head. That means in order to get anything more than tepid water, the flow needs to be set to "dribble." Otherwise, it's room temperature showers. Again, I can deal without problem, I don't spend a lot of time in showers washing my luxurious locks, anyway. I can be in and out in about 3 minutes.

I was in constant communication with the hosts, and relayed my questions about the TV, the hot water, the lack of hangers in the closet and a few kitchen utensils that would be useful to have (e.g., a cutting board, a larger knife and a skillet). She was happy to hear, and told me I wasn't the biggest pain in the ass guest, and even offered me eggs from her chickens. Apparently she's getting viente per day or so. That's a lot of eggs. Must be a lot of chickens.

But before I did my condo discoveries, I decided to do the shopping. That way, I'd have essentials in place before I got sidetracked by beer, beaches or anything else that looked shiny. There is a small store directly across the road from the condo, and larger supermarkets about 3 km away at the junction. Instead of taking a 6 km out and back walk in the afternoon heat, I went across the street, where I think I got accidentally ripped off. I think the woman at the register entered the bananas wrong. My total was $41 for three bananas (on a scale), a six pack of local cerveza, pasta, pan y mantiquilla, fritos, a dozen huevos, y queso. Essentials, y'all! The other items were all barcoded. I didn't really think about it until I saw the receipt on my phone (I paid with my watch) after I got to the condo. I didn't look at the screen, and simply paid it. I was also distracted by the owner ooohing and ahhing over my paying by watch. I guess it's new here. An extra $20 or so won't break me, but my own lack of vigilance annoys me. Oh well. I'll  deeply enjoy each $6 banana.

Yes. Panama, again. I have been here before, and I really liked it and the people. After being cold for most of a month in Taormina, I originally thought to go to Brazil, but the 'vid19 is bad there, and not as bad here. Also, Panama provides a great central location to hop to anywhere in the Western Hemisphere (Check it on a map, it's true!). It won't be a three hop tango to get to somewhere from here like it was to and from both Taormina, and Lanzarote.

Regarding the travel itself, I never thought I would splurge for Business Class, and now having done it, I’m going to have to calculate the pain point of when I’ll do it again. I can’t rave enough about how comfortable it is to be able to stretch out completely, get horizontal, have room for stuff around you, good food, free drinks, and restrooms readily available. And, to get to one of those, it’s pretty easy to step over the person next to you if you have a window seat, like I did. All the other seats are  on an aisle.

This leg of the three-hop trip was scheduled for 11 hours, during which I was never uncomfortable, well, other than pretty much being immobile for 11 hours. I did get up several times to walk around a bit, but being able to stretch my legs (and arms for that matter) while in my place was a godsend. Especially when my calf cramped. I guess that’s what I deserve for downing several alcohols and not enough water in the first couple of hours.

So what’s the pinch point going to be? Right now, I’m thinking 8 hours, and maybe as low as 6. I can survive a cross-the-USA trip in economy, but for an international flight, like to anywhere other than Mexico or Canada from the USA? Yeah, I’m thinking I’ll be spending the money. Or, I’ll make my way in shorter hops.

The two bad parts of this trip was wearing the mask for about 32 solid hours. My ears and nose are not happy with the constant pressure. That, and having to overnight in Venice airport, where the seats are not comfortable and the floor concrete. Ugh.

On the bright side (other than business class, baby!) was Schiphol airport. The place is huge, but feels like a self-contained, friendly town. Now an overnight layover there would be rather nice. I don’t expect the restaurants to stay open 24 hours, but who knows?

After the dream flight and once I arrived, it was amazingly fast. Of course, getting off the plane in the front makes it easy, but I had no wait at immigration, no bags to wait for, and no wait at customs either. I then got a Panamanian SIM card (+507 country code), and paid $50 for a month’s worth of unlimited data and voice. That’s twice the price for similar in Europe, but not too onerous. I may downgrade it after a month (if I’m still here), but that decision is, like a month away. I then hit the ATM (dispensing same-size USD currency) and booked the Uber. Sounds like a lot, but the total elapsed time from when I deplaned to sitting in the Uber was less than 30 minutes.
​
I then sat back and enjoyed the ride to the hotel I booked while in Sicily. I booked it for close proximity to the subway, price, and included breakfast options. Ticked the boxes on all, and I was only here for two days to regain my legs after travel. I stepped out of the Uber and lo! I had stayed here before, when I visited three years ago! I guess they, and I, haven’t changed parameters much. They hadn’t changed the WiFi password either, so all my devices automatically connected. That was cool for me, even if possibly a security problem for them.

It's the morning after a 10-hour, time zone adjusting sleep. My only task for the day is to decide if I want to travel by bus/walk to the condo I have booked for a month, or Uber. That's my agenda for the day. Oh, and enjoy things. Life's short, I plan to enjoy it as much as I can. 

Sometimes when I leave a place, I get a feeling that I should stay, not go at all, an almost overwhelming reluctance to move away from the comfort and, I guess, safety of the known for the unknown. It happened even when I was traveling to a familiar place, say a couple weeks’ vacation at a place I’d been before - and knowing I would return shortly. Lately, I haven’t been experiencing it quite to the depth I had before. Maybe it’s because I’m less attached to any one particular place, or I have set my mind to ever move forward. Either way, as I woke this morning and packed up and cleaned up, the feeling of staying was so fleeting as to barely register. Maybe it's the pull forward? Maybe it's knowing nothing is waiting for me at "home" wherever that is? Maybe it's the anticipation of a comfortable plane ride, since I went all out and booked business class for the long leg? Heck, I lived well within my budget for 2021, only spending 70% of my allotted funds. I can let myself live a little, right?

Anyhoo, yesterday I finally snapped the photo of a Kodak sign I’d been eyeballing for a few weeks. It piques my sense of time to have a  40? 50? year old sign for an essentially dead technology mounted on a building likely to be twenty times older. Here also is a photo of the last Sicilian sunrise I expect to see. It was a good one - finally a sunny day. Fun coincidence that the songs  Don’t Look Back by Boston and Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by Fleetwood Mac both played this morning - "Tomorrow" playing just as I began to type. Good advice, indeed. Onward.

In preparing for my imminent departure from Sicily, I decided to take a Covid test - even though as of today, it is not required for my trip. Odd, I think, and possibly to change on a moment's notice. To avoid any issues, I decided to spring the €50 for a PCR that I could take several days in advance instead of an antigen test that I would have to scramble for immediately before leaving. 

I arrived at the testing center at 8:30 on a Monday morning. Nobody else there. Pay the money and suffer the indignities and discomfort of swabs deep in my throat and sinus, and I'm outta there. Piece of cake. I walked past the antigen testing center later, and saw there was a queue of maybe 10 waiting in the rain. I don't know what the cost is for the antigen test, but I'm ok with getting financially semi-soaked for the test itself, rather than the physical soaking waiting in line. Regardless, it's over and done. I shuffle back to the apartment, and hang out watching the rain fall.

Fast forward 24 hours and I have my result:

Now, as a non-speaker of Italian, but the owner of a decent English vocabulary, I see "Assente" not only once, but TWICE, and read it as "assent," meaning agree or positive. Contrasting that with the one instance of "Negative" and my jaw dropped. No. Fucking. Way. I couldn't be positive. I couldn't. In the last three weeks, I'd barely come within 2 meters of anyone, ever and even then, pretty much only in passing.

I was shaken, stunned. I was in complete disbelief. I'd foregone the insurance on my ticket because, well, I don't know, but I didn't buy it. I'd also booked a hotel on the other end for a few nights as a landing until I figured out longer term arrangements. Was I out the money? It wasn't budget-busting, but I don't like throwing away money. I briefly toyed with the idea of ignoring the test because it wasn't required for my flight anyway. I quickly discarded that thought because I'm not a dick.

On the positive side, I wouldn't have to worry about staying here longer, because my lodgings are set for as long as I want them. And, other than being colder that I like (it's cold and cloudy and the heater is rather inadequate to get the temp much past 62), and the fucking, non-stop barking dogs nearby, they are really nice. I could hang for a bit longer until I'm clear. I don't get Schengened outta here until the end of the month, so I have some time in that regard.

I had almost resigned myself to asymptomatic positive results when I popped the whole line in an online translator just to be crystal clear of the translation. Huh. Assente means absent.

I'm not as smart as I thought I was. Good thing. My few minutes of panic-planning and thought were for naught. Onward I go. Tropics, here I come.

I was asked in a Telegram conversation recently what, if anything, I’ve missed since I’ve gone a-wander outside the U.S. of A. I had to think a bit on it, really. Shooting from the hip, I really don’t miss anything - I do miss (some) people and (some) interactions with them. Along those lines, I’ve discovered that some people I thought were significant in my life and vice-versa, really don't appear to be so, when interactions aren’t immediately convenient and spontaneous. Conditional friendship, as it were. Fair, and not unexpected.
 
Services and conveniences?

• Driving. I kind of miss driving and the convenience of hopping into a car to go to the grocery. It’s 2.25 miles round trip to the store for me here, and those $3 bottles of Merlot aren’t going to carry themselves home, and get heavy. They charge 50 cents for a bag, so bring your own. It’s also less fun when it’s raining.
• Internet. Connectivity everywhere I’ve stayed has rivaled or exceeded that I had in Carson City, even in a town of only ten thousand.
• Cell service. The USA trails badly. I get 30GB of data and unlimited calls for $22/month - no contract, just top it up each month. It’s not 5G, but I’m double vaccinated and boosted, so I have my own.

 
 Things? Not so much. But, if I think on it, there are few things I wouldn’t mind having general and consistent access to. Here they are, in no particular order.

• Drip coffee. Yeah. Plain old drip coffee. I like to work a large cup o’ dark and bitter in the mornings, and having a ten-cupper or larger of the Brew o’ Life available in the mornings is sublime. Spain? No machine in the Airbnb, just a Moka pot that I didn’t figure out. It was Nescafe Gold for a month for me, there. Lisbon? Same, but not even a Moka pot. Try to get a coffee anywhere, and it’s all espresso-based, no drip. Then I get to the land where espresso was born, and, as expected, no drip. However, I did figure out the Moka pot, and have ginned up larger coffees by essentially making large Americanos. It is nice to be able to stop in pretty much anywhere and get a beautiful espresso for a buck, though. I’ll survive.
• Toast. The bread everywhere has been good. The only place where I've had a toaster though was Lisbon, and it was the most inefficient, dangerous thing ever. There's something about buttery toast to go with coffee that is nearly as comforting as a woman in my bed - and immeasurably more likely.
• Tortilla chips. I guess I needed an intervention. I was plowing through a Costco-sized large bag every couple of weeks before I hit the road. As I discover, they are not much of a thing in Europe. I was able to find some small bags in Spain, but none here. I did go through withdrawal, and the shakes for a bit, but they’ve passed.
• Padded chairs. Seems they aren’t too common - at least in the places I’ve rented. But, since I’m adding my own padding as I go along, this soon won’t be an issue. Until then though, I fold up towels, blankets, or use a pillow. I often lounge on my bed. Who’s going to complain? My coccyx is appreciative of a softer seat.
• Thai food. Oddly enough, in a small town in Sicily I can’t seem to find a Thai restaurant. I probably could have in Lisbon, but didn’t have the hankering then. Some Pad Thai or Tom Kha Gai would taste pretty good right now. Sucks to be me, I suppose, eh? Maybe the next stop.

I’ll never forget the singing though. She was a beautiful woman with a beautiful soprano voice. She sang everywhere, and was part of her church choir for as long as I can remember. She even traveled a bit with a choral group. It was her jam. 

​Her sitting at the piano playing and singing Christmas carols, as I lay on the floor staring at the tree (I was probably eight or so) is a favorite memory of mine. Even when I would sit on the ugliest green couch in the world in my jammies to get my fingernails clipped, she would be humming some tune or another. We even shared some musical appreciation after I went to college. To my surprise, she enjoyed some of the artists I played - Roxy Music especially.
 
She always encouraged me to follow my dreams and ambitions. I remember her reading a story I wrote and telling me I was good at it, and to keep it up. Maybe, if I had, I would be good at it. Beyond the writing, she supported my decisions I know she disagreed with. Oh, I could tell she didn’t like it, but she didn’t oppose, and offered support.​These last years were really hard on her though, and I am happy that she has finally found rest and peace. Her physical and mental health really suffered in the last year or so. Physically, well, old age and a lot of pain. Mentally, she was struggling as well. My dad was her total rock and when he died nearly ten years ago, she was really, really lost. She kept a tight hold on her remaining anchors: her dog and her mementos, particularly my dad’s favorite chair. It was broken down, and she never had it fixed and, as far as I know, she never sat in it either. When her pup finally died, she really lost the will to stay. When I was with her in October, she probably said “Lord, take me anytime. I’m ready.” a dozen times in an hour. I guess her body finally decided it was ready, too. I’m not a believer in any afterlife, but if there is one, I'm certain my mom and dad are happy, healthy and together again.
 
The last words I got to say to her were via phone just yesterday. "Goodbye, Mom. I love you. It's ok to go now." I hope she heard them.