Putting On Some Miles (Kilometers?)

I’ve been putting a few miles on the orange arrow in the last week. Sunday I went for a nice ride into the hills and, of course, forgot my camera. But that’s okay, just gives me a reason to go back.

I really wanted to get out Monday for a birthday ride but Mother Nature had other ideas. We’re into the rainy season now, and as I’ve said several times before, the mornings are usually beautiful before clouding up in the early afternoon and then pouring hard for a couple of hours later on. But Monday was one of those rare, odd days. It was gloomy when I got up at a little past six but not raining. It brightened for a couple of hours but I didn’t plan to hit the road before nine so as to let all the commuters clear the road.

Of course as nine o’clock rolled around it started darken up with threatening clouds. So I just played around on line. Then there would be some breaks in the clouds. Patches of blue appeared here and there. But when I’d put on my riding clothes the holes would slam shut in an instant. You could almost hear them closing. Nature kept on toying with me like that all day until it was too late to go anywhere. It didn’t start raining until about eight that night.

I couldn’t get out yesterday. I had to go in to David to hit the bank. I also wanted to check the prices on small washing machines. I’m really getting tired of doing my laundry in a five gallon bucket. It’s especially hard to do sheets and jeans that way. I then took the Cerro Punta bus up to Bugaba to buy my cigars. Once again, by the time I got home it was cloudy and too late to get on the road.

One of the places I’ve wanted to go for a long time was down to the beach. You can’t get there by bus. You can get through the small town of Alanje on public transportation but you’re still a dozen miles from the ocean and would have to take a cab  which, being a gringo, would most likely be expensive. The morning was sunny and things looked good. I got on the road at about 9:30 and headed down the hill. I was a bit apprehensive about having to cross the Inter American highway at “El Cruce” but it was a snap. Traffic in both directions had a gap of about a half a mile between the crossroads and the oncoming vehicles.

The ride down to and through Alanje is fairly scenic. There are twists and turns but with a lot of good straight stretches in between and sugar cane fields on both sides of the road. In the distance at the edges of the big cane fields were thick groves of trees that reminded me a lot of the hammocks one sees scattered among the sawgrass as you cross south Florida on Alligator Alley.

There were a few rough patches on the road but eventually the road ends at La Barqueta Beach and the monied  Las Olas Beach Resort

To the west is the La Barqueta gated rich folks houses. Kind of reminded me of The Hamptons on Long Island where I’d seen houses similar to these but with palm trees here. Cropping the photo screwed it up but take my word for how they looked.

The sand here is volcanic black. Snugged in between the two developments were a couple of restaurants. This one was closed though a sign said they were open Wednesdays through Sundays starting at 1 p.m. though at noon I saw no sign of anyone trying to get the operation started.

The other restaurant, more of the small “fonda” type that serves “comida corriente” may have been open because I saw people working around outside of it but it, too, gave no hint of being open for business. I can understand it, though since there were only three people on the beach itself and one lone surfer dude who wasn’t doing all that well.

But it’s a pretty stretch of beach looking to the east…

And over to the west with Costa Rica just barely visible in the haze…

At our family restaurant, “Philbrick’s Snack Shack,” at Nauset Beach in Orleans, Mass., we used to rent beach umbrellas for people who wanted some shade during the heat of the day. Here they do things a little different…

Heading back home I failed to make the turn that would have taken be back to El Cruce but I did come across this neat old abandoned house…

Having missed the proper turn I eventually found myself entering the edges of David and I sure didn’t want to be there. There was no way I was going to take the Inter American Highway back to Boqueron. I made a U-turn and headed back the way I’d come. I was cruising along at a sedate 35 mph (the speedometer reads in mph and kph) when the Alanje-David bus passed me headed away from David. Problem solved! I swung in behind and followed the bus until I had gotten my bearings.

In all I covered 52.8 miles today (88k X .6 = miles). In all I’ve gone 132.3 miles on the back roads of Chiriquí Province.

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Happy Birthday To Me!

Today I reached three score and ten. A milestone birthday of sorts. Tom Hanks and I probably had a much more enjoyable day of it than Orenthal James, though.

For this momentous occasion I bought myself a super present. An Hofai 200GY-5A motorcycle.

As my regular readers know, I don’t own an automobile. For one, they cost much more than I can afford to spend. For the car, for the insurance, for the gas which hovers between three and a half and four dollars a gallon.

I’ve been quite content to use Panama’s exceptionally good public transportation system. It’s efficient and cost effective. For instance, to make the round trip from my house into David and up to the Plaza Terronal shopping center with the El Rey supermarket costs me $1.90. You absolutely cannot make the round trip in your car at double that price. However, as I take that ride in, generally, air conditioned splendor I see roads going off to the north and south of the Inter American Highway and wonder, what does Bágala look like? Straight down the Boquerón road and across the Inter American is the road down to Alanje and the Las Olas beach at the Pacific Ocean. I haven’t been to either one and I’ve been in Panama for over two years now. I’ve ridden the Routa Sur that runs from Potrerillos Abajo to Volcan several times in other people’s cars but when you spot something particularly scenic you can’t say, “Hey, stop, I want to take a picture of this.”

About a year and a half ago my Gringo snowbird friend, Denny, and I went to the annual Féria (Fair) in David. One of the things we did was look at the various motorcycles on display. There were Hondas, Yamahas and Suzukis, of course, and then there was this Chinese brand, Hofai. The Hofais were anywhere from one half to one third the price of the name brands.

Denny is a major motorcycle guy. He’s ridden most of his life. He’s done major trips on two wheels including riding one from the great Northwest of the United States all the way down here to Panama. I trust his knowledge when it comes to motorcycles. After closely examining the Hofai he said they seemed to be pretty well built and, at first glance, seemed to be a good deal for the money.

I was, of course, hot to buy one. But Denny said he had a friend who owned a Suzuki 125 dual-sport bike that he was interested in selling since the friend owned a couple of farms and wanted to move up to something a little bigger. A couple of weeks later I met Denny’s friend, Brian, and the bike he wanted to sell. It was in excellent shape, had a new rear tire and Brian is a fanatic about maintenance. The price of his name-brand 125 was a couple of hundred less than the Hofai 125. What Brian was going to buy to replace it was a Hofai 200. That’s 200 as in 200cc.

Two things stopped me from sealing the deal. First, while I had enough money to buy the bike it would have brought my cash reserves down to a level that would make me feel uncomfortable. Secondly, I never liked the looks of the off-road bikes.

So I held off.

Recently the Egg Harbor 43 that I’d bought for my corporation at a theft price six years ago was sold and I received an infusion of cash into my bank account. I immediately went down to the Hofai dealership and started to look at the bikes once more. I really liked the looks of the 200cc street.

This snazzy model, including tax, tag and mandatory insurance, could be had for $2,400. I didn’t buy it right then because it was going to be a couple of days until my cut of the Egg Harbor money would be available.

That evening I called Denny’s friend, Brian, to ask him how things had been going with his Hofai over the last year. He gave it two thumbs up. Said he’d abused the bike more than any others he’d ever owned riding around on the farms. He said he wouldn’t hesitate to buy another one. It sounded like a ringing endorsement.

So why, then, did I end up with an orange dual-sport cycle instead of the street model? While the main roads here in Panama are superior to most other Central American roads, they certainly don’t hold up to U.S. standards. Take a look at this clip and you’ll see what I mean.

When I went back to the Hofai dealer I opted for the dual-sport bike which actually turned out to be nearly $400 less than the street model.

I also went to another store where I bought this expensive but highly regarded, according to internet search results, helmet and this bright reflective vest. One thing that’s imperative when riding a motorcycle is that drivers in four wheeled vehicles SEE you. Visibility is a life saver. With a Day-Glo yellow helmet, a Day-Glo vest and an orange motorcycle I should be seen by almost everyone else on the road from a great distance.

In the future I plan to be posting photos of the things I find on the back roads of Chiriquí Province, Panama.

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Great White Off My Beach Back Home

I grew up in the small town of Orleans, Massachusetts out on Cape Cod right where the forearm makes its northward turn.  Nauset Beach is on the Atlantic side and my family maintained a restaurant there for 35 years. I spent eight years of my youth sweating there.

Today I found this story while doing my early morning net surfing. I wouldn’t have wanted to be surfing at Nauset yesterday.

http://www1.whdh.com/news/articles/local/capeandislands/12007939957768/great-white-sharks-send-cape-swimmers-running/

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Happy Birthday USA

I was going to start out with a nice feel-good reminiscence of my childhood Fourth of July activities growing up in the small Cape Cod town of Orleans. Of marching in the band early in the morning, of working like a demon at the Snack Shack at Nauset Beach during the day and filling endless bags with popcorn for the people who had come to the beach to listen to the band concert and watch the fireworks display. (Do you have any idea the volume of popcorn there is in a 50 lb. sack of popcorn?)

But this being an election year and the utter silliness that is being spewed by conservative right-wingers, especially since the Supreme Court gave the okie dokie to Obama/Romney Care, I have to devolve into a rant.

If the conservatives of 1776 had had their way there wouldn’t BE a United States. The “Founding Fathers” of the country were NOT conservatives. They were a cabal of dangerous traitors who preached and then put into action armed, open revolt against the existing order. The conservatives of that time, labeled as “Tories,” were as dead set against separation from the mother country as the Founding Fathers were for independence. Had the conservatives of 1776 been able to get their hands on John Hancock, Sam Adams and his cousin John, Paul Revere, George Washington and the rest they would have strung them up to the nearest tree and killed them. Simple as that.

If the conservatives of 1776 had their way we’d all be singing God Save The Queen instead of the Star Spangled Banner at the start of NASCAR races and the Super Bowl.

Conservatives of 1776 were wrong then. Conservatives of 2012 are wrong now. Nothing, absolute NOTHING worthwhile has ever been accomplished by maintaining the conservative status quo.

 

 

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Best Friends

Via Bits& Pieces.com

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Decimas de Panamá

I’ve written before about the Musica Tipica (Traditional Music) of Panama in previous posts. Just as American popular music has different genres, jazz, rock & roll, rhythm & blues, rap and hip-hop, so, to, does Tipica. So far I’ve been able to identify three: cumbia, tambor and decima. Cumbia is typified by Samy y Sandra Sandoval, Nenito Vargas and La Plumas Negras, Ulpiano Vergara and others. Cumbia is accented by accordion and drums with definite Latin rhythms but distinct from such other genres as the samba, mambo, salsa, etc.

My first encounter with the Decima was about a year or so ago. I was waiting for the bus back to Boquerón at the caseta on Calle Miguel A. Brenes at the edge of the Romero Supermarket parking lot. A stage had been set up and a small group of high school kids were playing. They sort of reminded me of the band my brothers David and Gary had had when they were in high school, “Rigor Mortis and the Standstills.” (Why that never became as big as “The Grateful Dead” I’ll never understand.)

The youngsters got a respectful hand from the crowd and then two men got on stage. One had a guitar and the other simply a microphone. The guitar set up a rhythm reminiscent of the Spanish flamenco and the man with the guitar started singing in a nasally drone. Every now and then I caught a word, mostly “Chiricana” which is a resident of Chiriquí province of the female persuasion.

I thought it was absolutely horrible. But the audience would laugh from time to time and I thought they were laughing at his horrible performance. When he finished there was a good round of applause which baffled me. Fortunately, just as he started into a second number my bus appeared and I escaped.

Every once in a while on my favorite local radio station, CHT (pronounced say-ah-che-tay) I would hear this similar musical style and while my ability to decipher Spanish is still quite limited I began to hear certain rhyming patterns while still thinking the genre was horrible, as a whole. The nasal, non-melodic quality simply wasn’t friendly to the ear.

The other day I was having my $2 hair cut at the bus terminal. The barber had his radio tuned to CHT and I easily recognized the Samy y Sandra. I told him that I listened to the station all the time and knew about cumbia and tambor styles and then asked him what the style where a man accompanied by guitar was called. After a couple of attempts he understood and said it was called “Decima de Panamá.” He wrote it down for me so I would be able to look it up on the internet. What I found was very interesting.

The “Decima” has a history dating back to the 16th century and is popular in Puerto Rico, Ecuador and other Latin American countries besides Panama. According to the Wikipedia: “In Panama, the tenth usually consists of ten lines, each with eight syllables, rhyming as follows: ABBAACCDDC. One way of writing the tenth in Panama is starting with four lines rhyming XYYX. This is followed by four groups of ten verses each. The last verse of each of these groups of ten is one of the verses of the first group of four.”

Decimas are divided into categories:

  • A DIVINE: This group includes all decimero whose theme or motives of a religious matters and those relating to sacred history. Among the former are real songs and prayers, praise, or praise to God and Jesus, the Virgin and the saints. Those who are nourished by the sacred history deal more particularly on the life and most of all, on the Saviour’s passion and penalties and sorrows of the Virgin Mary. Abound within the same genre compositions are fantastic inventory of relics, amulets and sacred garments have the singer says. That sometimes manifests itself in such piety is not so much as tenths vanity, not detracts from these creations.
  • THE ARGUMENT: This is a genre whose themes and content tenths express “know” whether this product acquired by transmission or reflection of their own. The acquired knowledge include knowledge that give geography, natural sciences, mathematics, grammar, history, medicine and numerous practical arts. Knowing the product of the reflection and experience of the poet, commits fully in what the social and political criticism, morals, and in addition, includes all aspects of popular philosophy. Below indicate the procedures by which poets acquired their knowledge by transmission.
  • FUNNY: The singers and songwriters together under this heading, all the tithe to cultivate “the chistería” as they say. As you might suspect, it is in them humorous or roguish reasons and the main intention is to make them laugh. However, variants containing these tenths and unexpected elements, as we shall see to dissect them.
  • OF LOVES: Inspiring or give life to the tenths of the reasons this group born of the passion of love and annexed adventures, reflections on love and its vagaries suggest, the adventures that lead to awakening, course and end of the love experience. As discussed, this group is so diverse and extensive, as befits the vital reason that feeds it. This simple classification, we repeat, is that this poetry-loving people made without premeditation. We consider it right and proper to frame an analytical study of folklore, as it must also include any intellectual effort related to the same creations.
  • CONTROVERSY: The audience favorite mode, conocidad popularly as the “heads up”, this issue is left to the end of the night cantadera, is an encounter between two or more singers to prove the superiority tenths of an improviser compared to other poets usually taken as resources for their physical defects verses, gestural, among other issues to discredit his opponent with his rhymes, making it a real battle poetry.

Decima are most often presented at events called Cantaderas and the performers presenting the various forms described above.

This is one of the controversy battles:

Not all of the Decima performers are male. Here’s a group of women on the theme of amor:

So rappers and hip-hoppers need to realize that their kind of “music” has a tradition dating back half a millenia.

What has been will be again,
what has been done will be done again;
there is nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9

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Clueless Conservatives

All across the U.S. conservatives have been putting forth an anti-woman agenda…defunding Planned Parenthood, declaring that life begins “before” conception (on April 13th Arizona Governor Jan Brewer signed into law a bill that radically redefined when life begins for an unborn child. A State Senate amendment to the bill, H.B. 2036, states that a fetus’ life starts not at conception, but up to two weeks before then—“from the first day of the last menstrual period of the pregnant woman.”) and other silliness.

An Oklahoma state senator decided to fight back with an absurdity of her own which, of course was quickly denounced by another clueless conservative who doesn’t think women should be allowed to have control over what happens to their bodies but heaven forbid anything similar is imposed on a man.

 

 

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Just A Regular Guy Like Us

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Now You Know Why…

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I’m Not A Candidate For President . . .

But I play one on T.V.

Mitt Romney wants to be President of the U.S. but his campaign can’t even spell the name of the country right:

The depressing thought is that come November millions of people who drive beat up 15 year old cars are going to be voting for this guy who has elevators for his Cadillacs…and we wonder why AMERICA is in trouble.

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