Tag Archives: Expatriate

The Boat Bug Explained…

Arthur Michell Ransome (18 January 1884 – 3 June 1967) was an English author and journalist. He is best known for writing the Swallows And Amazons series of children’s books.

Regarding boats he wrote:

“The desire to build a boat is one of those that cannot be resisted. It begins as a little cloud on a serene horizon. It ends by covering the whole sky, so that you can think of nothing else. You must build to regain your freedom. . .”

He also wrote that the difference between a house and a boat is: “Houses are but badly built boats so firmly aground that you can not think of moving them. They are definitely inferior things, belonging to the vegetable, not the animal world, rooted and stationary, incapable of gay transition…The desire to build a house is the tired wish of a man content thenceforward with a single anchorage. The desire to build a boat is the desire of youth, unwilling yet to accept the idea of a final resting place.”

Despite emphysema, arthritis and the three stents I carry around in my heart I’m not ready for a final resting place. That’s why this blog is named One More Good Adventure.

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Bamboo For Shanty Boat Building

Continuing on the search for building materials for a shanty boat build here in Boquerón, Panama. Five years or so ago I talked to Courtney Parks, owner of the Bocas Marina and a good friend of my friend the late, great Frank Hilson (everyone who knew Frank misses him). Back then Courtney was working on getting a boat yard up and running in Almirante on the mainland. Yard, travel lift, the whole nine yards and rare as hen’s teeth down here. Well, going through a ton of sites this last week it seems he’s actually done it and the yard opened a couple of years ago.

http://cruisingoutpost.com/2012/11/bocas-del-toro-boatyard-construction-underway/#idc-container

Courtney said then, that the plywood they sell here in Panama is garbage, and he usually had what he needed shipped down from the States. So, talk about expensive! Figure in the cost of shipping and then the import duties, sheeesh!

Today I went to one of the largest hardware outlets around, Franklin Jurado, over in Bugaba. They had a limited stock of plywood and while it was marked “Marinero,” I doubt that it really IS marine-grade ply. A 3/4″ sheet is listed at $26.05 and 1/2″ at $22.53. Cochez, the other big supplier in the area prices their stuff within a few cents of Jurado’s prices.

So, building a small, 18′ scow hull like the Atkins “Retreat” which I’ve lways rather liked, http://shantyboatliving.com/2012/shantyboat-living-book-design-options-retreat/ you can figure that the plywood for the scow hull is going to run around $450, not counting framing (2X4X8, untreated pine runs $4.84 each) plus fastenings, glass and resin for sheathing I’d make a very rough guess at about $1,250 for the hull. And remember, of really lousy plywood, too.

So this brings me back to wondering what using bamboo would cost, and what would it look like? Well, they seem to use it quite well in Thailand where these pictures were taken:

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Now I have to track down a source for bamboo for pricing. Besides, I’m thinking of building the cabin with split bamboo because of its light weight.

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Bug Bit Again

In spite of the fact that I’ve worked on some exceptionally fine yachts in my day,

Lady Ann-Hatteras 58

Jolie Aire-Golfe Juan

And had my own small sailboat that I single-handed for a nine-month trip from Fort Lauderdale to Mexico, Belize and the Rio Dulce in Guatemala back in ’92 after sailing the boat in the picture above from France to Fort Lauderdale.

Nancy Dawson

I am secretly a HUGE fan of unconventional craft. Boats on the cheap, so to speak.

Back in the early 70s I dreamed of building a pontoon platform and loading one of those pickup truck RV inserts onto it and power it with an outboard. I never did it, but it’s STILL an excellent idea.

You know, sort of like this:

like this

I mean everything you’d need is right there in the insert…galley, living space, sanitary facilities (heads we call them in pirate talk). All together you’d have a relatively inexpensive shanty boat. And the pleasure of being on the water isn’t related to how much the boat costs, either. And it’s true that boats are used in INVERSE proportion to their size. The smaller the boat the more it’s used.

In 1980, after attending my 20th high school reunion (Okay, it was actually our FIRST class reunion. It just took us 20 years to get it together to have it.) I went to Maine to visit some dear friends. The first night there I was browsing through some National Geographic Magazines that were on the nightstand in my bedroom when I came across an article about a couple, Gwen Carpenter Roland and Calvin Voisin, who recycled an old Louisiana shotgun style house, mounted it on a steel barge and had it towed deep into the Atchafalaya swamp where they eventually lived on it for the next eight years.

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http://www.amazon.com/Atchafalaya-Houseboat-Years-Louisiana-Swamp-ebook/dp/B003IT5SKC/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1403133956&sr=1-1&keywords=atchafalaya+houseboat

I thought it was one of the coolest ideas I’d ever come across. Without knowing it at the time, I would eventually come to know the Atchafalaya Basin extremely well running a crew boat all through the area taking men and supplies to the drilling rigs located there, but I never came across their house.

I think I stole that copy of the Geographic and took it back to New Orleans where I was living at the time. (Coincidentally, I at the class reunion I won the prize for traveling the farthest to get there, but that was only because Sheila Bonnell didn’t make it from Japan where she was working as an architect.) I envied that couple and the realization of their dream. I knew I’d never have enough money to own a yacht of my own, and actually I found it much better to play around on somebody else’s yacht and get paid for doing it than owning one of my own. But the story made me believe that owning and living on a shanty boat was actually doable. Though the cost of a deck barge like theirs was prohibitive for me, not to mention how much it would cost to hire a tug boat to tow it somewhere was totally out of the question.

And it was. In 1984 I found a half build shanty boat tied up to a tree in the Tchefuncte River on the north shore of Lake Pontchartrain. It was essentially a shack on two pontoons made from oil well casings, and it had a 25 hp Johnson outboard motor for power. I bought it for $1,500, and with my friend Woody Northington, a professional seaman like myself, brought the boat across the lake and down to the Mississippi Gulf Outlet Marina on Bayou Bienvenue (Welcome Bayou) in Chalmette, a suburb just outside of New Orleans.

Houseboat trimmed

I lived on the boat for nearly three years and loved it as much as any yacht I ever worked on (and that included the 175′ Gallant Lady). Altogether I had less than $2,000 invested in her, and when I had to leave Louisiana after losing five jobs in three years and getting laid off for the last time ON my birthday I sold her for $2500 and left.

When I decided to retire to Panama my original idea was to build a shanty boat and spend my remaining days being a “character” over in the Bocas del Toro archipelago. Well, so far that hasn’t happened. Hasn’t even come close to happening. But like one of those songs that get stuck in your head that you just can’t shake all day long, the lure of a shanty boat has returned to haunt me.

I have been very content with my life here in Panama, living way up in the mountains in Potrerillos Arriba and down here “on the flat” in Boquerón. But this little house I love and have called home for three years is for sale and I’m on a month-to-month basis. So far it doesn’t seem that I’m in any danger of being removed. People aren’t beating down the door to look the place over and possibly buy it, but it could happen at any time. Then what would I do? The houseboat worm is burrowing around in my brain.

(You have absolutely no idea how much I’m craving a cigar right now after having stopped smoking nearly 7 months ago.)

I began to think about a modified version of the Louisiana boat. When I ride the bus into David we pass by a place called Riegos Chiriquí (Chiriquí Irrigation). Out in their lot surrounding the office building are stacks of various sized PVC piping. Some of it easily as big in diameter (24″) as the pontoons of my old boat. I started Googling building shanty boats with PVC piping and found some really cool stuff that the Chinese (wouldn’t you know) are doing.

They are using PVC piping to replace what had once been traditional bamboo construction. And I’m not talking about small stuff, either. They’re making freight-carrying boats in the 30′ to 40’+ range.

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Pretty cool, huh? Well, it turns out that while it is cool it’s too damned expensive to do here in Panama. I dropped in at Riegos a couple of days ago and found out that the 24″ pipe which maxes out at 20 feet (the Louisiana boat was 35′) costs over $1,800 each. The smaller pipe like in the pictures above, also max of 20′ cost over $400 each. Prohibitive for my budget.

We’ve all seen pictures of the reed boats of Lake Titicaca…

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Why couldn’t one use bamboo bundled together to make pontoons for the base of a shanty boat? Bamboo grows wild around here. I’ve seen forests of it in my travels up in the mountains. While at Riegos I asked how much 4″PVC cost, figuring that was about the size of most of the bamboo I’ve seen here. A 20′ length of the  stuff is $23.07, and I haven’t done any calculations on the flotation capabilities of the stuff to know how much would be needed. But at a buck fifteen a foot it, too, is prohibitive.

But what all this has done has been to keep me wandering through various sites and dreaming the dream once again.

 

 

 

 

 

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Not Free, But Cheap Food

I recently wrote a post about how much free food was available here in Panama. Yesterday I went to a supermarket for groceries. Naturally that wasn’t free, but when I went to the bus stop to get back home there was a gentleman about my age who had set up a box on one of the two available seats. It was filled with avocados and pibas.

Now, you all know what avocados are, and there are several large avocado trees along my street. People come with long bamboo poles to knock them down.

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The old man was selling them for 50¢ each. Half of what they go for in the supermarkets. They were all rather soft and ready to eat so I bought one. It was scrumptious, too. Creamy and just right. You know how avocados are judged? You buy them in the market and wait for them to soften up. Each day you give them a little squeeze and goes like this: too hard, too hard, too hard, too hard, too late it’s rotten.

He also had a dozen bags of pibá (known in English as Peach Palm fruit.).

pibas

They are seasonal and people throughout Central and South America love these. In Costa Rica they’re called pejibaye. They’re chontaduro in Colombia and Ecuador, pijuayo in Peru, pijiguao in Venezuela, tembé in Bolivia. The Brazilians know them as pupunha and in Trinidad and Tobago they’re called peewah.

Whatever they’re called they’re about the size of a golf ball and just about as hard when they’re raw. They have to be boiled for hours in order to soften them up enough so you can eat them. Most often they are cooked in salted water over an open fire in a large pot known as a fogón. Cooked this way the fire imparts a smokey flavor to the nuts. Personally I like them. The flesh, even when cooked right, is rather tough but it reminds me a bit of the flavor of artichoke hearts.

What really surprised me was what a bag of them cost. Only 25¢ for a dozen. (Don’t count them in the picture. I ate two before taking the shot.) They were so cheap I wasn’t sure I understood what he’d said the first time and had him repeat it. Twenty five cents a dozen. And they’d already been cooked. As you roam around downtown David (Dah VEED) there are dozens of street venders selling produce and now they all seem to have little plastic bags of pibá .

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Comunication

I don’t know how many times I’ve said, here, that I mangle the Spanish language. I dish out grammatical errors like Halloween candy. But I manage to communicate with the locals all the time. Everyone, though, says my pronunciation is excellent. However, there are times when a tiny segment of Panamanians are just plain dumb. It usually happens with store clerks who have what I can only assume to be a limited education. But not always.

Earlier this week I had to buy my blood pressure medications. I went to the Romero supermarket which has a well-stocked pharmacy. A good looking girl, probably in her late 20s or early 30s greeted me and asked what I wanted.

I said, “Zestril, diez miligramos.”

The veil of stupidity descended. It indicates there’s a light on but you’re not sure if anyone’s home.

“ZES trill,” I said.

Again, not a hint of recognition that we were living on the same planet on her face. She handed me a piece of paper and a ball point pen.

I wrote it out.

“Oh, zes TREEL,” she said with a smile.

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“Voilà,” I said. (That’s my favorite French word, and it covers so much. There’s really nothing that will take its place.)

She got the box. It contains 56 pills: nearly a two-month supply.

“¿Algo mas.?”

“Sí, Cardiotal”

Vapid expression once more and she started to push the paper and pen at me.

“No,” I said, “trabaja conmigo.” (No, work with me.)

“Car dee oh TAL. Cinquenta miligramos.”

She gave me a genuine smile as what I said registered and she got me another two-month supply.

“Ahorra, Clo ped eh GRAL”

Again, nothing there.

“Como Plavix,” I said, “pero generic.”

Another smile and she wandered back into the stacks.

“¿Cuanto?”

“Dos cajas, por favor.” (Two boxes, please.)

“Finalmente, ee b’you pro feen oh, quartro ciento miligramos.” (Ibuprofen, 400 milligrams.)

It took her a moment of two to sort it all out but she got it.

She totaled it all up and it came to $132.96. (That’s a two month supply, though the Ibuprofen will last much longer.)

I slid my “Puntos del Oro” card (It’s sort of like Green Stamps but you don’t have to lick anything.) and my carnet (my government-issued residency card) across the counter and received a $26.59 old farts discount. Final bill, $106.37. Not bad when you consider that the last time I bought just Plavix in the in the States, about six years ago, a single month supply cost me nearly $200!

It was a bit of a chore at the pharmacy counter, but we got it worked out.

 

 

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Boquerón Is Booming

I came to Boquerón back in November 2010. It was a sleepy little village of about 1,500 people. http://onemoregoodadventure.com/2010/10/18/a-quick-peek-at-boqueron/

Things have changed quite a bit since then and the place is booming with a lot of new construction. Within the last year the Banco Nacional has opened a branch up near the Town Hall, across from the park.

BANK 2

A whole new housing development has been created called Brisas de Boquerón (Boquerón Breezes). And going up the hill towards home I see new construction sites every week.

brisas de boqueron

And right here in my little neighborhood there’s building going on next door. One house has been built already, and last week another one was started.

Construction

There are no new bars or restaurants, though. But yesterday walking down from the Post Office I noticed one house’s patio was filled with clothing and a hand made sign that said, Ropa Americana (American Clothes). Now, I often see comments on stories that say ALL of the western hemisphere is “America,” not just the United States. Technically that’s true, but you know that Ropa Americana refers to the USA, and NOT Honduras or Paraguay. And while I didn’t stop and check, I’d be willing to be that those “American Clothes” have labels saying they were made in China, Bangladesh or Viet Nam.

There’s no stopping progress. There was a sign across from the bank spelling out some of the public works projects that will be taking place here in the near future, one of which is repaving the road from El Cruce to the Town Hall. Boquerón is booming.

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Food For The Taking

Half of the entire population of the Republic of Panama live in the capitol. The rest of the country is pretty much rural. Even here in Chiriquí with the country’s third largest city (David) things are different than they are in most of the U.S. There’s free food for the taking almost everywhere.

As I’ve said before, while the official National Bird is the harpy eagle, the defacto national bird is the common chicken. They roam free all over the place. I even see them within the city limits of David. Unlike Mexico, Italy, France and other countries there really isn’t anything like a national cuisine here. The closest you could come to a national dish it would be sancocho. Basically that’s chicken soup with ñame and yucca, two root veggies, and seasoned with cilantro.

Sitting on my front porch I can see several different food sources and while some of them are on people’s property, others are kind of free for the taking. Like avocados. It seems that many people here have long, long poles, usually made of bamboo, that they use to knock down the fruits they couldn’t normally reach.

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He’s after avocados.

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Next door the neighbors have a lot of plantains…

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And papaya…

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There are also two HUGE mango trees and they’re LOADED and should be ripe and ready to go in a couple of weeks. There is an extremely bountiful lime tree in my back yard and orange and grapefruit trees are all over the place.

One thing’s for sure. The people around here will never starve.

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La Ley Seca

Tomorrow, Sunday, May 4th, is Panama’s election day. They only do it every five years. And it’s for every office from President down to Mayor. All over the country. Voting isn’t supposed to be optional. In theory it’s mandatory that everyone of legal age goes to the polls. Of course there will always be scofflaws who won’t go.

In Panama there are three major parties. The newest is the Cambio Democrático, with 36 members in the National Assembly. The current president, Ricardo Martinelli, owner of the huge supermarket chain, Super 99, is the leader of that party. He can not run for a second term for 10 years.

The second largest party, though its membership has fallen off in the past five years is the Partido Revolucionario Democrático with 17 members in the Assembly. This is followed by the Partido Panameñista with 13 members.

The Movimiento Liberal Republicano Nacionalista has 4 in the Assembly but they support the CD candidate for President. And then there’s the Partido Popular which isn’t all that popular since it only has a single member in the Assembly.

Like in the States it’s sort of a circus, but a little livelier. People fly the flags of their favorite party at their houses, they adorn their cars, and even their motorcycles, with the same flags as well as plaster them with huge ads like you’d see on buses back in the States.

Pickup trucks with loudspeakers mounted on their roofs roam the streets blaring out the virtues of their candidates. It seems that there’s a campaign poster on nearly every telephone pole, often with the competing parties on the same one. It doesn’t seem like they tear down each other’s posters, and each party has to put up money in order to post this stuff so that workers will be paid to take it all down after the election. On the InterAmerican Hwy., on the way into David (Dah VEED) there is a long structure for 11 billboard-sized posters in one place. Right now, 9 of them are political posters. One spot is empty and the other is an advertisement for a hardware company.

Groups from each party wander through the neighborhoods, stopping at each house, to talk up their candidates. I became pretty adept at saying, “Soy extranjero. No puedo participar en su proceso electoral, pero, buena suerte.” (I’m a foreigner. I can’t participate in your electoral process, but, good luck.)

There are outdoor rallies where stuff is given away, the most frequent and most visible are baseball caps and tee shirts. I saw one of my neighbors who I know is a big Cambio supporter by the huge party flag flying at his house wearing a new baseball cap touting Juan Carlos Navarro, the PRD candidate for president, and a Juan Carlos Varela, the Panameñista choice, tee shirt. When I commented on the mixed message he smiled, shrugged his shoulders and said the Spanish equivalent of, “Hey, free stuff.”

In a comment on a local forum one member said that his Ngobe worker was given 6 chicks as an incentive to vote for someone running for office in Chiriqui.  And a promise of 6 more this week. That’s better than the empty promise of a “chicken in every pot.

Needless to say, but I will anyway, the airways are flooded with campaign ads.

I recently read some stories in a newspaper at a restaurant where I was having lunch, that the Panameñista candidate, Varela, has accepted over $1.5 million dollars over several years from an international Internet gambling ring laundering money in the States, and he also was given a Bertram yacht valued at another two million.  The story, originally run by Miami-based Diario Las Americas was accompanied with photo copies of checks made out to Varela and documents from Bertram.

When I mentioned the story to a Panamanian friend the other day she said, “Oh, Varela was on television last night and explained it all.” I missed that.

They take their politics seriously here in Panama, and one thing they do is invoke La Ley Seca. The Dry Law. Voting day is tomorrow, Sunday, and starting at noon today, there will be no alcohol sales anywhere in the country until noon on Monday. There are signs wherever alcohol is sold advertising that fact. The only exception is sales to foreigners at the hotels where they are staying if they have proof that they aren’t  Panamanian citizens.

 

 

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Grip Broken

It seems as if the grip that the ‘dry season’ has had on the country over the past several months has been broken. At least here in Chiriquí Province. We have had rain every afternoon this week, and it started today about an hour ago, 3:00 EST, and is still coming down in buckets. It will probably continue for another hour.

One thing we like about this kind of weather is that it moderates the heat. Shortly after it started raining the temperature dropped seven or eight degrees almost immediately. Now it’s to the point where I’ve had to put on a tee shirt to be comfortable. Most of the time I run around the house in a pair of shorts and flip flops. There have been times where its chilled off so much that I’ve had to put on a pair of jeans and socks to ward off the chill.

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Root, Root, Root For The Home Team

I am one of those people who always roots for the ‘home team’ wherever I happen to be living.

Growing up on Cape Cod it was, naturally, the Red Sox in baseball. When I was in the eighth grade I won a pair of tickets to a Sox game. My buddy Harry Bennett and I were put on the train in Hyannis for the ride up to Boston’s South Station by my mom with written instructions on how to get to Fenway Park and the oral admonition that when ordering lunch that Salisbury Steak was really just hamburger. The Red Sox ended up losing both games of a double header to the Orioles.

Through high school our DeMolay group would take the, then, three hour car ride up to Boston and visit the ‘Garden’ to see the Bruins play.

I never got into basketball very much, but I kinda followed the Celtics. After all, they were sort of the Yankees of their sport winning championship after championship and, at that time they had players like Bob Cousy and Bill Russell.

When Boston got an NFL team and I started cheering for the ‘BOSTON Patriots.’ Actually it was the old AFL then. When I moved to Miami I was torn. Of course the Dolphins were now the ‘home team’ and I pulled for them to win but was conflicted when they had to play the Patriots twice each year since they were in the same division. Eventually I sided with the Dolphins through it all, and when the two teams met I could live with whichever team came out on top.

I absolutely HATE IT when those sick bastards who moved down to south Florida from New York go to Joe Robbie Stadium and cheer for the stinking Jets. They shouldn’t even be allowed out of their homes during Dolphins/Jets games if they aren’t going to root for the Fins.

I lived, off and on, for five years in Chicago. Two years full-time and then just in the summers for three. I always rooted for the Bears, of course, but I never could work up any enthusiasm for the Bulls. Basketball, no matter where I am just doesn’t do it for me.

All the time that I lived in Chicago I wasn’t too far from Wrigley Field so, by default, the Cubs were my home team over the White Sox on the south side of the city. Though baseball is not ‘my sport’ I did go to several Cubs games during the summers of ‘75 and ‘76. Back then Wrigley was the lone hold out for installing lights and their games were played in the afternoons the way God intended it to be played. I’d usually twist up a couple of ‘fatties,’ and puff one before setting out. You could get a seat in the grandstands then for $2.00 and sit in the shade, watch the game, the pretty girls, and as the munchies set in people would bring you food and beer. My ‘seventh inning stretch’ was usually finding a spot away from everyone else and firing off the other doobie.

While I’m not what you’d call a ‘rabid’ fan I do like watching American football. Not soccer. That’s the sort of akin to watching paint dry. Wait a minute! Watching paint dry is MUCH MORE EXCITING than soccer. Anyway, I know the highs and lows of watching and cheering for a favorite team. I happened to be living in Fort Lauderdale when the Dolphins had their miraculous undefeated (17-0) season in 1972, led by Earl Morrell after Bob Greise broke his ankle in the third game against San Diego. (Earl died Friday, May 25th, at age 79.)

And I know the downside, too. I was living in New Orleans in 1980. The year the Saints became the ‘Aint’s’ losing 14 straight and fans sat in the Super Dome with paper bags over their heads. They only won a single game that year. Then the team acquired Kenny Stabler to replace the long-suffering Archie Manning. You’d have thought the heavens had opened up and that Jesus Christ, himself, had descended to lead the team to fame and glory. But Kenny was long past his prime and played on shaky knees so the humiliation continued.

I saw a lot of games in the Dome in the early ‘80s. Back then I was captain of the ‘Lady Ann,’ a yacht owned by New Orleans Tours.

Lady Ann-Hatteras 58

We used to do cocktail and dinner charters on Lake Pontchartrain. New Orleans Tours also had the contract to meet all the visiting NFL teams at the airport, take them to their hotel and then to the Dome for the games. The bus drivers were allowed into the games for free and were allowed to watch from the ‘wheelchair’ section which was actually on the 40-yard line and nestled among the $40 seats.

Well, it didn’t take long to figure out how to scam the system. I’d put on my work shirt that had ‘New Orleans Tours’ embroidered on it, take off the captain’s epaulettes and buy the cheapest ticket there was, $15, up in the ‘nosebleed’ area of the Dome. Then, once inside, I’d go to the wheelchair section, tell the guy with the clipboard guarding the entrance that I was with New Orleans Tours and point to my chest and be admitted. Then I’d find someone who was actually IN a wheelchair, introduce myself and tell them that if he wanted anything during the game I’d get it for him. Now, if asked what I was doing there, I’d just say ‘I’m helping him.’ Those were the good old days. Like everyone else who ever rooted for the Saints, their Super Bowl victory was sweet indeed.

I need to back up, here, and get back into baseball. Back in ‘96 or ‘97 my buddy, Soby, the dock master where I lived on my boat at Marina Bay, asked if I’d like to go see a Marlins game. His girlfriend had season tickets. I said, ‘sure, I’ve always wanted to see what Joe Robbie Stadium was like on the inside.’ (Sidebar: Joe Robbie owned the Dolphins and he built that stadium with his OWN MONEY. No scamming taxpayers to pay for it as everyone is doing these days. When Wayne Huizenga bought the team, and the stadium, he sold ‘naming rights’ to the place and it has carried half a dozen different names since then. But to thousands of us, no matter what the sportscasters call it, the place will ALWAYS BE Joe Robbie stadium, and when it’s finally torn down we’ll point and say ‘that’s where Joe Robbie Stadium used to be.’)

I hadn’t been to a baseball game in over 20 years before Soby, his girlfriend and I went and sat through, no lie, the longest game ever played in the history of the National League without going in to extra innings. Five plus hours of batters racking up 3-2 counts to where you wanted to scream ‘Swing at it, you jerk.’ Both teams went through their entire pitching rotations and the Marlins ended up blowing a three run lead to eventually lose by three or four runs. I tell you, if I’d had my own car with me I would have left after the third inning. But the stadium WAS real nice.

Baseball is a big deal down here in Panama. They show major league games from the States several times a week on the T.V. and all the team scores and standings are in the newspapers. Carlos Ruiz, the starting catcher for the Phillies is from right here in David (pronounced Dah VEED) and his mother lives on my street on the other side of the Boqueron road and one of his cousins is my next door neighbor. I met Carlos over there a couple of years ago.

http://onemoregoodadventure.com/2011/12/03/pride-of-chiriqui/

Panama has sent a bunch of players to fame and glory in the States. There’s Carlos Ruiz, as I mentioned. He has a World Series ring and was in the All Star game two years ago (injured last year). Mariano Rivera just retired from the Yankees and is destined for Cooperstown. He was a reliever. Thirteen All Star appearances, five World Series rings. He is MLB’s career leader in saves (652) and games finished (952). There was Rod Carew, a former Major League Baseball (MLB) first baseman, second baseman and coach. He played from 1967 to 1985 for the Minnesota Twins and the California Angels and was elected to the All-Star game every season except his last. While Carew was never a home run threat (only 92 of his 3,053 hits were home runs), he made a career out of being a consistent contact hitter. He threw right-handed and batted left-handed. He was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame and the Caribbean Baseball Hall of Fame. Carew served as an MLB coach for several years after retiring as a player. The Panama Metro field is named for him.

Each of the provinces here has their own baseball team. Probably equivalent to minor league teams in the States as far as skill is concerned. The games are broadcast on T.V., in Spanish, of course, but you soon learn that the outfield is ‘el jardin’, the ‘garden. The infield is the ‘cuadro interior’ the ‘inside quarter.’ The pitcher is ‘el lancedor’ and you can think of it this way…a lance is thrown. My favorite, though, is the catcher. In Spanish he is the ‘receptor.’ The basemen are known as ‘defenders of the respective ‘sacos.’ Primero, segundo, trecero. The lancedor throws ‘stikes’ and ‘bolas.’ Three ‘outs’ constitute an ‘episodio.’ Other tough terms to understand are ‘foul bol,’ ‘home plate,’ ‘home run,’ and sometimes a batter hits into a ‘doble play,’ or a sacrificio.’

Baseball season here is held during the ‘dry season’ where there’s less chance that games will get rained out. Right now they are playing the Republic’s version of the World Series. Defending champs, Chiriquí, my home team since I live in Chiriquí Province, are battling the 2012 champs, Bocas del Toro. Instead of playing at each teams home field the games are being played at Rod Carew Stadium in Panama City since it’s the largest in the country.

Last night Chiriquí won a squeaker with a walk-off double in the ninth to win the game 2-0 and now leads the best-of-seven series two games to one.

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