Michael: Shave and a Haircut...

Horses in the field,
Corralled by living fences,
Seem to be content.

Tuesday, June 28, 2016

Today was barbershop day and thankfully very little Spanish is required to get the style I desire. In fact I bet I could use the same exact wording that I used today at any Supercuts in the states and get the exact same cut; “Numero dos en toto.”

My hair care requirements have just about come full circle. It started with my dad giving me buzz jobs in the backyard when I was a kid, now I walk to somebody’s front yard where they have a small two chair operation going in a small bungalow to get the almost exact same buzz job. My dad didn’t charge me $3, but then again he didn’t trim me with a razor or brush a little baby powder on me when we was finished either.

There were a few hair era’s where I strayed from the simplicity of a simple butch job. In the 70s after my parents divorced, without my dad around, I grew long hair like a lot hippie wanna bees. It wasn’t pretty but at 16 neither were my friends or I.

Then in my 40s when my hair started going grey, for a few years I’d have my hair dyed with henna. But when that stopped taking and my stylist suggested I may want to switch to a permanent dye, I just let my hair go grey and went back to a buzz job.

And it’s not that I don’t care about my appearance. I feel the simple #2 looks a lot better than a lot of the goofy semi-mullets that seem to be in fashion around here.

As an aside, hair on my head is about the only place where I have hair. I barely need to shave and am still quasi hoping one of these days to grow a proper mustache or beard. However, at this point that would probably freak me out as well, figuring the abnormal growth would be a sign of cancer.

Kimme thinks I’m an alien because the few other places where hair is visible on me is under my knees and on my big toes. An alien? I could live with that.

Michael: Two Days Off?

The spider web clouds
Drift past our iron barred view
Of the captured earth.

Monday, June 27, 2016

For the past 5 years I’ve tried to workout everyday until I hit a streak of 1,000 straight days. I came within a couple of hundred days this year. Today is the first time in that stretch, maybe longer - I’d have to check my journals, where I’m taking two days off in a row. That’ll be 4 days in total so far this year.

I know that the objectives of recovery from illness or injury and maintaining or improving athletic performance shouldn’t be in conflict, but when I don’t do or complete a workout, I feel disappointed. I don’t believe in penciling days off. Easy days yes, but it feels good to get outside for a while everyday and 99% of the time it’s not a problem.

It only becomes a problem when the contrasting objectives of recovery contradict the requirements of maintaining a streak, like they did last weekend when I got a very bad cold. I took it easy for a few days but still managed to workout. I even had a very good 9 mile trail run on Wednesday, but come my gym workout on Friday I knew I was in trouble and should’ve scratched the trip into town for some stretching or some other less rigorous workout. I got through it, but it set me back a few days with a high fever and heavily soaked in sweat clothes and bedding.

But it was also at the gym where I decided this is ridiculous. The operator/coach of the gym; a very strong weightlifter type, was also sick the same time I was. He was taking the week off to recover as he had lost 10 lbs. over the course of his illness. Now if a young, strong dude isn’t worried about taking a week off to recover why am I freaking out about two days?   And with a possible 50k coming up at the beginning of August I want to make sure I get in a few solid weeks of hard training before I start to taper. That may not happen if keep toying around with this cold.

The focus should be on my over all health. Don’t get me wrong. I’m still not going to schedule rest days and I still plan on completing the streak. I’m just hoping that during some stretch of my life that 99% of the time where the goals of the streak and fitness coincide will span over 1,000 days.

Michael: Due to Circumstances...

Cows on a cow truck
Head to tail and tail to head
Must wonder what’s up?

Sunday, June 26, 2016

“Due to circumstances beyond our control,” should definitely be part of this region’s of Panama theme. It’s also neutral sounding enough to perhaps intrigue tourists.

Lightning, for example, what’dya going to do about it? The lightning that struck nearby a couple of days ago caused a power surge and split a cable in half on one of the main road transfer boxes. (The ‘transfer box’ I’m making up. I don’t know what it’s called, but transfer box sounds accurate and is better than calling it doohickey. But now that the net’s back up I can look it up. I won’t. But I am going to look up the derivation of the term ‘doohickey’).

The power surge then traveled along the phone line and entered our cottage  and continued to our splitter. There it had 5 choices; it could go up the line to our internet modem, it could go through our land phone line, it could do both; it could stop; or it could go back. However electricity works, it chose the modem and left the 15 year old General Electric phone our landlord loaned us alone. Go figure.

It also may have taken out our landlord’s rotor and computer. She’s got to take them in and have them looked at. She does have internet again, just no way to access it.

So two days so far this year without the net. That’s manageable. It didn’t come at the best of times with Kimme being in the states. In order to contact her I had to walk about 15 minutes to the internet café, but it’s a nice walk.

It’s odd that people use the expression, “shit happens” to reference unwanted occurrences. But shit doesn’t just happen. At least I hope not. It ought to be like clock work and seen as a sign of good health. A lightning strike on a transfer box; now that’s a more apt example of an uncommon and problematic event. How to work that into a pithy phrase like “shit happens” I’m not sure about. But I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s not in the lexicon around here.

Michael: World Markets; World Pockets to Pick

The white knuckled clouds
Grasp the volcano’s bald head
In a childlike way.

Saturday, June 25, 2016

It doesn’t seem to matter where you live in the world your subject to identity theft and credit card fraud. The only difference living overseas is that mailing new  I.D./cards out involves multiple agencies and is a longer and more time consuming endeavor.

As far as filing the theft reports goes, those can be scanned just like in the states. The phone calls and filings are still a hassle, but they’re a hassle no matter where you are.

One difference is when you’re living overseas foreign based companies are far less likely to call you back. That, at times, can be problematic if for instance the company representative tells you they want to do some investigating then call you back. That’s not likely to happen when you’re living overseas.

I’ve had my pocket picked in the states. I’ve had it picked while I was living here. I don’t know how profitable or risky electronic pick pocketing is, but it sure does seem to happen with much greater frequency than the old fashioned up close and personal thievery.

Michael: Hotel Don Tavo and Columbo

Today’s warm breeze
And undulating sunshine
Soothe an old soul.

Friday, June 24, 2016

I hadn’t been in the Hotel Don Tavo or seen Lt. Columbo in over a year. I thought I’d left that pesky thick haired Italian in my rear view mirror long ago. Don’t get me wrong. I love the guy and admire his work but I was hoping not to see the old wily crime stopper for a while.

So what does the LAPD’s best homicide detective have to do with the hotel, Panama and me. It’s really not all that much of a mystery.

With the lightning jolt the other night that took out our phone and internet for what may be a couple of days, I’ve got to take a 15 minute walk to the hotel to use the net. That’s the Hotel Don Tavo part.

Columbo comes in at night just like he always does when your winding down and not expecting his knock. Why? Because last week when I went to storage I didn’t take the time to go through it and see if I could find any of my other old DVDS. Columbo’s all I’ve got.

Come on in old buddy. Ask whatever you want and really I’m not just saying that. What would be cool though is if your main suspect dropped in. Then I could talk to them about their little mistakes and then watch what would happen when they correct them.

Michael: Lightning Jolt

Lea the pit bull
Looks as vicious as any
Friendly dog could get.

Thursday, June 23, 2016

A little thunder and lightning show is very common here, but last night I was plucked from the audience and almost singed by the performance.

Amidst the usual flashes and rumbles came a jolt so powerful I thought it blew one of the windows open because almost simultaneous with the jolt was the sound of something bounce across the floor.

The electricity was out for a few minutes so I lit a candle and went to investigate. All the windows were closed but when the electricity came back up the internet and phone were out. Great, Kimme’s away and I have no way of contacting her.

Near the dining table I noticed a small square of white plastic that had been singed on one side. Odd. Turns out it was part of the cover for the line splitter between the phone line and the internet box. I unplugged the phone from the splitter and tried to connect directly to the phone line to see if that would work. No luck. That’s when I noticed the line missing from the splitter to the internet box. I found that line on the floor near the phone stand. It had been singed off at both ends and the connecting clips were still in the internet box and splitter. I also noticed the internet box had some black residue on it right where the clip from the line plugs into it. And just this morning I discovered half of the eight outlets to our power modulator are shorted out.

Then, also this morning, while I was waiting to contact our neighbor and landlord, Luzmila, to report the problem she called over to me to ask if I had electricity. Their’s went out and her nephew’s phone needed charging so she could report that her internet was out.

That was my first live action experience of  lightning damage. A short circuit. A blown fuse, I could understand, but blowing apart plastic and singing wires, I hadn’t expected that.

Michael: A Small Adventure

A mamaseta,
Coffee and bright morning sun
Works to start the day.

Wednesday, June 22, 2016

A bus ride of any length here is bound to provide an opportunity for a small adventure if you keep your eyes open. Yesterday, for instance, on my 4 hour round trip journey to pay our storage unit fee a few moments pop out.

First off a man that sat in front of me handed me a small pamphlet called El Cuarto. It was all in Spanish but when I looked on the back of it, it says it’s published by the Mennonites in the U.S. I couldn’t tell a Mennonite from a Shiite in a theist line up but I decided to hold onto it as a measure of my Spanish abilities. Right now it doesn’t make sense because I can’t read much of it. When I reach the level where I can read it but it still doesn’t make sense, I’ll feel I’ll have made real progress.

Just a bit further down the road the bus pulled over not to pick up or drop off a passenger, but so that the bus assistant could pick some over hanging fruit. He didn’t even have to step off the bus.

Coming back to Volcan after leaving David a man asked the assistant if he could address the bus. I believe he was making a plea for his sick daughter. Some people gave him change.

At the Bugaba stop, where the bus turns off the Pan American Highway and turns up the scenic windy road toward Volcan, there are usually two familiar vendors. One sells pork rinds, fried bananas and drinks served in baggies. The other serves ice cream. The pork rind seller walks around the bus and does his transactions through the windows while the ice cream dude usually boards the bus.

Between the road from Bugaba to Volcan many elementary students board the bus to make a short trip to their homes on the fincas (farms). It still amazes me when a 5 year old girl exit’s the bus to walk down a long farm road by herself. I’m not sure that wouldn’t be seen as some form of negligence in the states.

Further up the road and almost into Volcan the bus stopped at some house and the driver got off and gave an old woman $10 for something in a small plastic bag. Have no idea what it was, but you never know what private transaction you might get to sit through on a bus ride here.

A lot of people somehow manage to sleep through all of this free entertainment, but it’s still new and amusing to me.

Michael: The Lazy Lonely Man's Diet Guide

The ink splattered cows
Are pretty darned good neighbors
Who keep to themselves.

Tuesday, June 21, 2016

With Kimme gone for the month I’ve tried to keep my dinners healthy but easy on the preparation and clean up side of the ledger. Really all of my meals evolve around my laziness, but I feel that’s a good thing. The plan’s like this:

Breakfast:

Utensils - small coffee cup, spoon.
Food - Bob’s muesli, almond/coconut milk, banana and coffee.
Preparation - coffee
Tip - Eat your cereal first in the coffee cup and use it for your coffee when finished, rinse if desired because it can be used again for dinner preparation.

Lunch:

Utensils - plate, small snack bowl, knife, peeler.
Food - apple, orange, carrot, trail mix of raisins/nuts, crackers and either peanut butter or cheese.
Preparation - peel carrot, spread peanut butter/cheese on crackers.
Tip - serve on plate which can be used later for dinner. Set aside snack bowl for evening or tomorrow.

Dinner: For variety’s sake is a rotation of veggie wraps, eggs, burgers, no leaf salads and/or chili. The great thing about the wraps, burgers and eggs is they can be combined in a variety of ways to make several dinners. They can be eaten alone or mixed together and if you’re really feeling creative you can throw in some grilled onions and peppers.

The chili comes from a recipe I got off the net but only requires 3 cans, peppers, onions, a couple of spices and salt and pepper. 40 minutes from start to finish and will make two dinners.

Utensils - plate, bowl, fork, spoon (if having chili) small plastic container, cup from breakfast if you want to mix the eggs, knife, cutting knife, fork, spatula, small fry pan, small pot if making chili.
Food for salads - onions, tomatoes, cucumber, pepper, pre-cut cubed feta cheese, olives, trail mix, olive oil and balsamic vinegar.
Preparation - coat pan for frying eggs or burgers, dice onions and peppers both for salad and to sauté for either eggs, burgers or wraps. Mix one tablespoon of olive oil to 3 tbs. of vinegar for dressing (makes 3 servings), dice onions and slice cucumber and pepper.
Tips - Use cherry tomatoes and black olives. Your mouth is big enough so they won’t need to be cut.
Don’t slurp or rinse out dressing when finished with your salad. Pour into small plastic container.
Wraps are a back saver; so versatile. Don’t feel like making a salad or frying? Just throw the veggies, trail mix and a few slices of cheese on a wrap and viola, dinner is served.

Snacks/Desserts - (See lunch), 4 squares of Ritter chocolate.

Beverages - (See breakfast), water.

Bored or tired from all that work?  Eat out every once in a while.

Michael: Do Overs

Afternoon sunshine
During the rainy season
Lets the birds dry out.

Monday, June 20, 2016

One of the great things I enjoyed about teaching was if I screwed up and the kids just didn’t get what I was talking about, I could go back and try a different approach the next day. I’m trying to adopt that same attitude to trail racing.

Over the years I’ve dropped out of several races. I’ve hoped I’ve learned from those experiences and can go back and complete as many of the races I’ve dropped out of as I can.

And I feel this should be done within the next few years. Not that I feel death is imminent or the world is going to end, but I want to be honest enough with myself to acknowledge that at some point in the not to distant future, my capabilities could very likely decline. And I don’t want to just finish, I want to compete.

Also, in a year and a half I’ll turn 60 and will be in a new age group. That seems the perfect time to come back to the states for a few months and stomp on some of those courses that have kicked my butt in the past.

Meanwhile I plan on running a long trail race in nearby Costa Rica every few months both for the adventure of it and to make sure I’m not deluding myself about my prospects of success on my whirlwind old geezer birthday tour.

So Southern California, if you haven’t burned down or shaken yourself up too much, I’ll be back to seek my revenge very, very soon.

Michael: What's in Your Wallet?

What is there to see
But an ocean of green leaves,
Gray skies and raindrops.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

We have two monthly payments here, our rent and our storage fee. Our landlord we pay in cash. The storage fee we… also pay in cash. And that’s not uncommon here; for businesses not to accept credit card payments. Which can be a big pain in the butt.

Take our storage unit, which is a two hour bus ride away. If I don’t want to make that drive I’ve got to transfer money from my account in the states to a bank in Panama. Both banks will charge a fee. Last time I transferred money from my bank in the states to my bank in Panama, it cost me $80. That’s a steep fee to pay on top of a monthly charge of $110.

Since we just opened the storage unit a couple of months ago, going there and paying in person hasn’t been too much of an inconveinence as it gives us a chance to organize. But I can’t see that being worthwhile after a few more trips.

So what’ll we do after that? I suppose we’ll make quarterly cash payments. But transactions like this would be so much easier if they could be done with a credit card like all businesses do in the states.

Michael: Hechos, No Palabras

As blues as the sky
Dragonfly hovers above
The sparkling flowers.

Saturday, June 18, 2016

“Deeds, Not Words,” plastered on a billboard with the picture of a decent looking man wearing glasses was the only indication to me of political activity in this country until I met some runners here earlier this week.

They informed that in 2019 where they and I live will become a separate district from Volcan and will be represented in congress as the Tierras Altas.
Since we’ve been here, I was completely unaware that I was in a district and I’m presuming that if we’re here in 2019 I won’t much feel the change of being in a new district. And that’s not to knock Panama. In the states I knew the mayor’s name, but had no idea what congressional district I was in or who represented me.

But maybe things work differently here and local politics means something. Heck, maybe it means something in the states and I was just too cynical or lazy to put in the effort to find out.

Michael: High Voltage Comedy

The darkening skies
Assure the brilliant green leaves
Their thirst will be quenched.

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Last year the electric company replaced the old wooden posts with cement poles on the road to Rio Sereno. This year they’re stringing the cable. In certain sections along the road, by our house for instance, PVC water pipes run just below or exposed on the ground right below the utility poles. So here you have a bunch of guys with ladders and other heavy equipment working for weeks around our PVC water pipes. And, yes, comedy ensues.

And here’s the way it works here. The electric company workers break a pipe. They place a large rock over the break. Our water pressure drops. The water company only responds if you tell them where the leak is. We find the leak. We call the water company. It promptly gets fixed. Repeat several times a week until the electric company has moved beyond your neighborhood.

It’s ridiculous though that we’ve got to serve as the middleman. If it’s inevitable that a pipe is going to get broken now and then I don’t see why this isn’t acknowledged and why the utility companies don’t work together or minimally the electric company could make the call to the water company to say “Oops, happened again.”

But that’s not the way it works here. Fortunately, they’ve now moved up the road and taken their act to the few scattered neighbors we have between us and the border town of Rio Sereno.  

Michael: Givers, Users, and Beggars

Tied up all day long
The lives of certain dogs here
Are miserable.

Wednesday, June 15, 2016

Because Volcan is a small town certain behaviors are much more visible, or invisible here.

For example, we don’t see homeless people here and last week was the first time I saw someone asking people for money. She was an older woman standing outside the bank carrying a sign of a child laying in a hospital bed.
She looked legit to me. In the states I’m sure I’d be far more prone to believe it was a scam.

Similarly, we only know of one ‘user’ here. She’s always wanting to borrow peoples’ tools, or phone chargers, pirates free cable or internet if she can… you know the type.

Fortunately, there are a lot of givers here. People who are not just part of some formal volunteer group, but just kind everyday people who are happy to offer you a ride, or give you fruit and vegetables, offer to show you a little known hike, or how to plant or use a tool.

I hope that’s the way it is in small communities in the states as well. I wouldn’t know, I’ve always lived in a city there.  

Michael: A Running Partner?

The chattering calls
Of the pair of woodpeckers
was quite humorous.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

There are a few more runners here than cyclists, but that isn’t saying much. Rarely have I ridden with anyone for long and I’ve never run with anyone here outside of Kimme. That should change tomorrow.

Yesterday, while I was doing my hill speed work, two runners who spoke very good English stopped to chat with me for a bit. Mainly it was to inquire if I’d be interested in helping out if the group they’re associated with could get a ½ road marathon race together. Sure, that would be fun.

Neither they nor I had or phones with us so I asked them when they would be running again and I’d pass along my contact information to them then. I told them I’d be running on the jeep  road to the springs on Wednesday. Mario, the younger of the two, said that would be great as he’s training for a Q50 trail run in Costa Rica in October.

Wow, a trail runner as well as a road runner here. That’s a rare combination. I’ve never seen anyone else running on the trails around here. They both live just up the street so tomorrow I’ll head off on a run with someone else beside Kimme for the first time since we’ve lived here in Panama. Kind of exciting.

I doubt it’ll lead to many more runs together. In all my life in the states, I never put much effort into finding someone to run with. But if it led to an occasional run and/or finding out about new roads, trails and races around here, that would be great.

Michael: Frequency Makes a Difference

Silent lightening
Flickers erratically
Outside the window.

Monday, June 13, 2016

People don’t know us here, but we do the same things enough to where some people recognize us and yesterday that helped me out twice.

The first assist was at the ranger station on the Quetzal trail. If the Ranger’s there you’re suppose to register and pay a fee. My fee would now be $3 since I’m a resident. The very cordial ranger, whom I’ve met many times, shook my hand and took out the log book. When I gave him $5 he said he didn’t have change. I asked him if I could pay him next week and off I went. He trust that I’m good for it. And that feels good.

The next assist came after the run at the Quetzal lodge. When I went to pay for my meal the hostess, another person whom we’ve dealt with frequently, didn’t charge me for coffee. When I told her she said I wasn’t charged because I’m a frequent customer. That was a nice treat.

It just occurred to me that what if I get treated better because people recognize me but don’t know me. If they did and that took the sheen off of their friendliness, that would be a pretty devastating personal discovery.

Michael: Chayote King

Dark jagged edges
Rise out of the amorphous
Dull white and gray skies.

Sunday, June 12, 2016

Food preparation not being my forte, before Kimme left for the states she tried to use up all the vegetables that require any work beyond pealing. One of those vegetables being a local favorite, chayote.

Chayote looks like a cross between an avocado and a pumpkin. It has the shape of an avocado with gourd like pumpkin creases. It’s light green and yields a  jicama like flesh that can be eaten. But to get there you’ve got to peel it then cook it.

Right now I’m up to peeling three foods; bananas, carrots and onions. I’ve penciled in potatoes and chayote for 2017.

But Kimme, being the kind person that she is and very aware that any whole chayotes she left behind would eventually be pitched into the field behind us, skinned and cubed some chayote. All I would need to do is dabble some olive oil on them, sprinkle on some pepper, place them on parchment sheet lined pan, then pop them in the oven and in no time I’d have a chunky potato like treat. I haven’t got there yet.

So what happens? Almost as soon as she’s out the door our neighbor from two doors down shows up with a bag of chayotes. Then yesterday our landlord, Luzmila, drops off a few more. Now I’m in chayote heaven…or purgatory…or hell.

If only they’d meet me half way and peal themselves. Then I might pitch in and slice up the bastards and cook them.

Michael: Cedula Update

The clouds cry all night
So we can enjoy the days
Of warm bright colors.

Saturday, June 11, 2016

On my return from the airport from dropping Kimme off I decided to again see if our cedulas were ready to pick up. Since I’d been to the Tribunal Electoral before I knew the drill, which isn’t complicated; show the attendant near the door my document showing that I’m there to pick up my I.D. He tells me to go to the last window. I give the paper to the lady. She finds my card. She ask for an electronic index fingerprint. And, voila (or whatever the Spanish equivalent is - I’m not there yet), I’m done. I now have an E - Cedula, a permanent residency card.

I couldn’t pick up Kimme’s because I didn’t have her finger with me.

From an aesthetic point of view it’s a bit disappointing compared to my now outdated Pensionado card. It’s a very simple card with light blue at the the bottom with a globe to the right, then your basic white up top, with flat black lettering. In contrast, the Pensionado is tri-colored and much more festive looking; small white strip at the bottom, large lime green section in the middle, with a dark blue section at the top that has a nice shiny brass badge of some type in the upper right hand corner.

They do have different numbers which is why the Pensionado should be useless, which is why I’m going to carry it around locally. If I lose it, no big deal as the numbers on it won’t get anyone very far. I’ll use my Cedula when conducting business or traveling.

After leaving the Tribunal, card in hand, I did get turned around a bit trying to find the bus station to return to Volcan, even though I’ve walked the route before and it’s only a few blocks away. But I don’t blame David’s confusing layout for that. In L.A. I’d get turned around on simple trails I’ve done multiple times. I suppose that’s why I like to go exploring. It’s going to happen anyways, might as well do it with a smile on my face.

Michael: Rocks and Squirts

The buses leapfrog
In a poorly choreographed
Hop through the country.

Friday, June 10, 2016

The hills can be daunting. The rain blinding. The drivers insane. But it’s the dogs that are frightening me to death.

A lot of people run and ride here and just don’t seem to be bothered by dogs barking at them or coming toward them in a threatening way. But for me, I might be able to learn how to cope, but I’ll never be able to just treat these near attacks nonchalantly.

To cope on the run we’ve been told to bend over and pick up a rock. Usually just the act of bending down and reaching for a stone will stop a Panamanian dog. It’s been effective. I’ve only thrown a rock once, and that was not to hit the dog but to warn it that I had the nerve to do it. That has lead me to modify my approach. I now try to pick up two stones if I see a dog is going to be aggressive. One to warn and the other in case it doesn’t heed the warning.

Similarly on a ride I’ve been using the water bottle squirt method. A good squirt aimed at a dog sprinting at me seems to stun it enough to halt the pursuit. Problem yesterday was a dog came after me within a quarter mile of home and I was out of water. Modification: don’t drink all my water until I’m home. I’m also going to start carrying pepper spray just in case the dog’s thirsty and water isn’t doing the trick.

Michael: About Schmidt Syndrome

When the petals fall;
Lost to an overnight rain,
The flower still lives.

Wednesday, June 9, 2016

In About Schmidt an older man feels he’s wasting his life away because he’s anchored to his dull wife and life. When his wife dies he feels he’s gained the freedom to get out and travel and live again. Months later he’s still sitting in front of the T.V. living a sloppier version of the dull life he lived with his wife.

I feel just the opposite. Having the stability of a loving relationship frees me to occasionally jump out and travel and do things I wouldn’t do if I were alone. Plus I don’t feel the routines Kimme and I have developed are spirit crushing. Some I enjoy like exercise, writing, reading and studying Spanish. Some are maintenance task like cooking and cleaning that are more easily and enjoyably accomplished with her here than if I were single.

Now, with her in the states for a month, I’m just hoping I don’t let my life devolve into an About Schmidt bore of just searching endlessly through the net following whatever thread grabs my attention.

I’m sure being single works for many people but I know it’s not a condition conducive to my spirit’s enrichment.

Michael: Nixonland

Time away from you
Is measured with a cold hand
That trembles at night.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Two weeks ago, after finishing a book on the Lincoln - Douglass debates an ex-pat loaned me, I thumbed through the free reads on scribd.com and settled on Nixonland. With the upcoming Presidential election in the U.S. I felt Nixonland would be a good follow up to the 1800s scene and also clear up what was going on politically during the haze of my childhood. I was 10 when Nixon became president in 1968 and was much more concerned about whether our mercurial neighbor Joe was going to torture me than what was happening around the rest of the planet.

And now another prominent figure from that fog has passed away - Muhammad Ali. I was 11 when Ali was allowed to fight again after his court battles for refusing induction into the military. But again, like Nixon, I was just growing out of childhood and don’t recall much of what Ali was about pre preparation for his 1970 title fight with Joe Frazier.

What stands out about these two men from that impressionable era of my youth is Nixon’s subdued demeanor as being in stark contrast to the flamboyance of Ali.

I was raised to be Nixon. My parents grew up on farms in Minnesota. My big sports heroes while I was growing up were Harmon Killebrew of the Minnesota Twins and Chuck Foreman of the Minnesota Vikings. After Harmon hit a homer he would almost deferentially jog around the bases. Similarly, after Foreman scored a touchdown, he would hand the ref the ball like he was handing his time card in after the end of a long shift.

Ali was just the opposite - an explosion of self promotion. He, and all the athletes and personalities that so openly display their admiration for their own talents, still baffle me.

Man, for better or worse, the world really was changing a lot while I was outside playing with all the other Roman Catholic kids on St. Anne’s cul-de-sac.

Michael: The Pin Drop

Clouds like a visor
Worn low on the volcano’s
Imposing forehead.

Tuesday, June 7, 2016

A week and a half ago, on a Saturday night, our noisy neighbor had one hell of a party. I put in my ear plugs and called it a night.

But since then it’s been eerily silent. They’re still there. We see them and if I strain at times I can here their T.V. But we’re uncertain as to why they decided to embrace silence after one very loud hopefully last hurrah.

We do know our landlord complained to theirs, but she’s complained before without any difference. Was this the straw that broke the camel’s back? Though curious, I’m not going to do any investigating.

All I know is peace has returned. The sounds of nature have drifted back into our mornings and my temperament is much brighter. Life is good again and I’m cautiously optimistic it will remain that way.

Michael: Slip Sliding

Horns of a bullfight
Blare a quick dance step rhythm
Through the sleepy bus.

Monday, June 6, 2016

Unlike my aversion to riding my bicycle when the roads are wet, I’ve always enjoyed running in the rain. But because of the Jekyll and Hide nature of the days here during the rainy season (warm and sunny early/rainy in the afternoon), combined with our out the door early exercise habit, we rarely get rained on and haven’t ever been caught in a deluge.

Surprisingly, even with a decent amount of rain almost everyday for months on end, quicksand like mud isn’t a problem. Most of the popular trails here are very hard packed and slipping on wet rocks and roots is much more problematic than possibly loosing a shoe in deep squishy mud.

The major annoyance for us with the rain isn’t even while we’re running. It’s when we’re finished and want to stop and enjoy a nice lunch afterwards. That’s when, standing or sitting still, we feel the wetness cling to us in a very uncomfortably chilly embrace. By the time we get home a hot shower will have transformed from an ordinary ritual into a spirit lifting baptism.  

Michael: Storm Chaser

Yellow tailed black bird
Glides through the sharp green forest
To search for a mate.

Sunday, June 5, 2016

You would think that a rider that moves to a country with a pronounced and long rainy season wouldn’t mind the occasional ride in the rain. But that’s not me. I’m no storm chaser. Heck, I’m not even a drop chaser. I don’t want to get wet or cold and I definitely don’t want to worry about my tires sliding or my brakes fading going down any steep and treacherous slick descents.

Fortunately I’ve only been lightly rained on twice and rolled through a bit of fog once since we’ve lived here. It rarely rains in the morning. Two or three times at the most have I not mounted up because of early rain.

Almost always the roads are pretty dry by 8:30 and the rain doesn’t start until after 1. But then there’s those bizarre circumstances that can throw the whole stay dry calculus out the window. Like yesterday, when traffic was stopped to remove a truck that had slid into a ditch. I was forced to sit there and wait and worry. It was interesting to watch and I’m glad no one was hurt. But the big selfish relief came when I was able to ride again and get home without getting wet.

Michael: Bubba's in Volcan

The thunderous rain
Beats down on our metal roof
With thousands of  slaps.

Saturday, June 4, 2016

No, not Bubba Bill Clinton. Bubba veggie burgers. And just days before Kimme leaves for the states for a month. Now that‘s a tease worthy of the internet - Shocking Development in Small Farm Town in Panama!

Last time Kimme went away on a trip I alternated between two evening meals; veggie chili and eggs and cheese with a no greens salad. Now with Bubba showing up I’ll have an easy trifecta of dinners to rotate through. Unbelievable.

When we first arrived here over a year and half ago, PriceSmart carried Boca Burgers, but shortly dropped them. Kimme made homemade burgers for a while, but she stopped and burgers dropped off my plate and out of my mind.

Ahhh…but soon a little mustard, a little cheese and a BURGER all wrapped snuggly and warm inside a tasty herb and pesto wrap.

Now if they’d knock down that ugly blue bar and open a Blaze pizzeria here, I’d truly believe in miracles.  

Michael: Mucho Trabajo

The chirping crickets
In the dark sleepy forest
Foreshadow peril.

Friday, June 3, 2016

Because of the topography here trying to fit in some good old fashioned LSD into a fitness regimen can be very problematic.

For example, from Volcan a 25 mile somewhat flat loop is possible, but if you want to go for a ride over 3 hours without doing loop de loops, forget it. Any direction you set off in is going to require either very long climbs or very steep climbs. In other words, as the man stopped by his coke pick up truck to make a phone call said to me as I was finishing one of the steep climbs yesterday, “Mucho trabajo”.

There are routes where you can spin at times for a good 15-30 minutes in between the near cardiac arrests inducing climbs, but you’ve just got to set your mind to it that you’re going to have to punch you’re EKG graph out of the mild zone a good 8+ times on a ride of any moderate length. That makes doing any truly “easy’ ride here not so easy.

There is one moderate long glide downhill here of 20+ miles that technically  I could spin back up that should fit into the “easy” category, but I haven’t been able to convince myself yet that  grinding up a 20+ mile hill is easy. Sure it starts out that way, but going into hour two of that spinning and my mind and legs seem to concur that somehow they’ve crossed over the easy threshold into wilting fatigue territory.

I don’t wear a heart rate monitor so I’m not sure what my cardio system has to say about this. But my woozy monitor is definitely indicating we’ve seen the last of “easy” unless we stop for a long coffee break and “easy“ takes the bus to catch up.

The rides and the roads here are great, but incorporating LSD into my riding plans definitely requires an asterisk noting that you‘re not going to get away with any lengthy ride here without a decent amount of huffing and puffing.

Michael: Nearly Naked

Light shines in the clouds
With a smile that promises
The angels are here.

Tuesday, June 2, 2016

Trail Runner magazine sent me an email that claimed I don’t need to bring water or nutrition on runs less than 90 minutes. Running without any pack or my watch beeping every 20 minutes to eat or drink seems rather daring, but yesterday I thought I’d give it a go. If I ran at my usual pace the trail run we did yesterday would take exactly 90 minutes, so if I crawled in or was dying of thirst, then I’d chalk it up to the 90 minute rule not working for me.

But not only was it not a problem, it was joyful. Running free of a pack, I almost felt naked. Next time out I’m going to take it up a notch and not even wear my watch. I can’t even imagine a time before college when I ever did that. In fact I almost always own two watches to insure that I’ll always have a working timepiece ready to be shackled to my wrist.

Running sans pack and watch; That’s going to feel as close as I’ll ever get to streaking. I hope I don’t enjoy it too much or I may even want to go the Full Monty. That might be fun but I doubt my wife or anyone that saw me would be pleased.

Michael: It's the Little Things

The “Buenos dias”
While boarding the buss demands
A cordial reply.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Panama, parts of it anyway, is still playing catch up when it comes to the digital era.

For example, yesterday we went to pick up our new visas at the Tribunal Electoral in David. They were suppose to be there May 26th but our lawyer told us to give it a couple of days. We did. We went yesterday on the 31st.

They weren’t there. We asked the clerk when would they be there? She tentatively told us to come back June 3rd.

Neither our lawyer nor the clerk mentioned to check on-line to see if they had been scanned in and would be available for pick up. That would be a nice convenience. As it is we’ll hop on the bus again sometime well  after the 3rd, but this time with a few other errands at hand, just in case our visas are still in transit.

Michael: Speaking of Volcanoes...

Taps on the key board,
Buzzing of the fly, creaking couch;
Where is there silence?

Tuesday, May 31, 2016

Kimme and I have both made the Bull Dog 25/50k one of our annual to do events. Since we’ll miss this year we thought we’d look for a substitute race/adventure in either Panama or Costa Rica. In August, the same month as Bull Dog, the North Face runs a race in Turrialba, Costa Rica.

Turrialba is an active Volcano. I didn’t know how active until we were on our own nearby dormant volcano - Volcan Baru. There, while we were cleaning up the trail, we asked an expat, John, who has property in Costa Rica, if he was familiar with Turrialba. He told us at the moment many people in Costa Rica are familiar with that volcano because it’s been spewing ash for a couple of weeks now and is threatening to blow.

That could make running a race there a problem.

I’ve had races cancelled because of mud and fires, and almost had one cancelled because of an earthquake, but a volcanic eruption would be a new one.

It just never occurred to me that these things go off once in a while. Even after reading and watching the news while Mt. St. Helens was erupting, volcanoes just seemed like other worldly or primordial events that don’t really occur in these modern sophisticated times.

I do hope the activity dies down in time for the race to take place. Running around a volcano that’s just been subdued by whatever the locals do to appease the earth gods would add another dimension to the race adventure.

Michael: Gravity

The jet black weasel
Like a tightly wound coil \
Sprang across my path.

Monday, May 30, 2016

The effort was noble but the execution wasn’t pretty.

Kimme’s been getting all the shine from doing good, now that she’s a volunteer at the quilting club, so yesterday I was grateful to have the opportunity to pitch in a bit myself. The Volcan Hiking Club was going to do a little clean up in aisle three - The Western Trail; the beautiful single track trail that leads to Volcan Baru, the highest point in Panama.

The trail is a lot cleaner than it was the last time we went on a clean up mission, but at a small camp site just below the 5k mark there was a bag’s worth of trash. After corralling the junk into Spanish Hefty bags, I turned down hill to meet the rest of the group and show them my plunder.

But it was not to be. There are some steep pitches on the trail that are best done using both hands. So I let my trash bag roll down in front of me to safely carry again after I scrambled down. But the bag didn’t stop rolling. It hopped off trail and was nowhere to be seen.

All I accomplished was to camouflage, consolidate and move a bunch of trash from a higher spot on the mountain to a lower one.

Lesson learned: Next time out I’m going to strap the trash to my back so we’ll at least roll down the hill together if it decides to go off trail.

Michael: Machismo

Like a green ocean
The deep rolling pastures bend
To a gentle wind.

Sunday, May 29, 2016

Every Saturday morning Kimme and I go through the same ritual. She asks me how long I’ll be gone and I tell her around three hours unless I meet some riders coming up the hill, then I’ll turn around and will be back a little early. In a year and half that’s happened once. Yesterday I wasn’t back early but I was fortunate to meet up with a couple of  stronger riders that gave me a boost and another lesson in machismo.

From our place to Bugaba is a 22 mile 4500 ft. gradual drop. It takes me 45-50 minutes to ride there. Then I’ve got to turn around and make the long climb back. My rule of thumb is if I meet a group of riders past the halfway mark, I can turn around and try to ride with them back. Yesterday, I didn’t see two riders making the climb uphill until I was just 10 minutes away from Bugaba.

I decided not to turn around and try to catch them for two reasons; 1. They looked very fit and I didn’t feel I’d be able to catch them and 2. I was very close to Bugaba. I figured I might as well hit the bottom then maybe get lucky and catch them on the long climb back. Really, it was wishful thinking, but I thought if they stopped and took a bit of a coffee break, it might be possible.

They did. A little more than halfway up the road to Volcan they were sitting outside a store resting. I waved and thought don’t look back. They’ll either except the challenge, mount their steeds, and come after me, or continue enjoying their siesta.

They came after me and were along side me very quickly. They paused long enough to shake hands, which I interpreted as a sign of respect and brotherhood. It’s also something I would never even think about in the states. I just don’t trust my bike handling skills enough to get that close to another rider and reach over and shake their hands. Why anyone would trust that I could do that without bringing us both down, is puzzling to me. But if an experienced rider has sized me up and believes I’m capable, I guess I should feel pretty good about that and I did.

After that they started to ride away from me. I figured it was still a long climb into Volcan and not to rush it. Keep at my own pace and if I could keep them insight, maybe their machismo and adrenaline rush from having sharked me would get the better of them and they start to fade a bit.

One of them did. I saw that he was dropping back and I would slowly be able to reel him in. I did. And I was smart not to rush a pass. I thought I’ll just hang in behind him a bit, catch my breath and wait till it felt right to move by him.

That didn’t happen. At a point where the road started to level out he pulled away from me again. Dam!. Now I was the one being betrayed by my own fade of machismo and adrenaline.

Still the cat and mouse was a lot of fun. Hope I get to duke it out with those boys on some upcoming Saturday rides. You can learn a lot about people and yourself by playing tag.