Michael; Establishing Secure Connection

What we hear as peace
Is a morning of violence
Swirling around us.

Tuesday, July 26, 2016

As the late afternoon clouds begin to gather and rumble, it seems just about certain we’ll go at least another day, which will make it a week, without a land line phone or the internet.

We were able to somewhat mitigate this inconvenience by going to the internet café on Sunday. There, I was able to sign us up for a race in Costa Rica. That was a bit of a gamble as Costa Rica uses Colones as currency, so I didn’t discover how much it was costing me until I received an email notification that told me my 50k race is $60 and Kimme’s 21k is $45. Reasonable enough.

But I haven’t been able to call my mom, which I usually do on Sunday’s or Monday’s. Or to email my sister, telling her the net is on the blink again, so to tell mom we’re all right and I’ll call as soon as I can.

Mother has threatened to cut people out of her will for less offenses. Doubt the will is all that lucrative, but do enjoy talking to the old lady anyway and every penny helps.

Otherwise, the only hang up is confirming the faxes of my credit card statements went through so my fraudulent claim can proceed, and planning the rest of our race vacation in Costa Rica.

Without being able to look at bus schedules or hotels and with only a week to go before we leave, those small stressors that would normally have been taken care of, are causing me to get a bit fidgety. A race is stressful enough without travel involved, throw in travel in a foreign country and easily resolved elements (If I had the net.), start pushing the worry indicator into the red zone.

Also, since one of us has to be here in case the repair person shows up, it  throws our daily routine off. Nothing we can’t work around, but we don’t want it to get to the point where this small rash of annoyance turns into a festering oozing condition that’ll have us snarling at each other.

I suppose I could go the Moliere route and whistle “Always look on the bright side of life…”, and that would be literally true here, as at least the power hasn’t failed this past week.

Michael: Senorita Muffet

Incendiary
Winds strong arm ghostly passions
Into submission.

Monday, July 25, 2016

I thought all Panamanians were tranquilo, at least when it comes to dogs, but I was hilariously mistaken.

Yesterday, Kimme got to meet my mysterious running partner, Mario. We met while she was away in the states for a month. He took us on a new trail run that began at the Lagunas, a small swimming hole/ fishing pond near Volcan’s one mile long single tarmac airstrip. He also brought along his very vicious sounding but friendly once you get to know him dog, Pilson.

It was a great trail and a great run. Unusual for Kimme and I as it was more of a rolling farm road than the roller coaster trails we’ve been running.

Surprisingly to us as well was running into Kiara just as we were beginning to drive away from the trailhead. Kiara is a Panamanian from Panama City interning for an ex-pat we know. We’ve hiked with her a couple of times while hiking with the Volcan hiking club.

And surprising to Kiara was the loud greeting she got from Pilson once she was near enough to the back of the pick up cab for them to notice each other. He barked and she did a combination of Steve Martin’s “Happy Feet” routine combined with Seinfeld’s scream when he was told that he was given some of Newman’s blood. Is was as entertaining a reaction to an animal encounter as I’ve ever witnessed.

It was also surprising to me because many Panamanians chuckle at me and believe I’m over-reacting to dogs when I bluff picking up a rock to throw at them or squirt them with a water bottle. I just figured all Panamanians were use to dogs and  just took their barks and aggressive moves in stride. But not Kiara. Maybe it’s because she’s from the city. Maybe it’s an individual thing where she’s the odd Panamanian out. But as scary as it was for her, it was a relief for me to see someone react more creatively to a dog encounter than I do.

Michael: The "Special" Chinese Woman

The evening sky,
With its rosy western cheeks,
Is the day’s ends smile.

Sunday, July 24, 2016

Kimme is special, particularly to many Panamanians.

She’s special because when we’re out together most people turn to her to talk to believing that she speaks Spanish. That’s because many of the stores here are owned and operated by people from China. And though technically she’s not from China; she’s from the Republic of China, or as we Americans call it - Taiwan, here in Panama there’s no distinction between the two. Here, she looks like a “China” (pronounced - cheena), so she’s expected to act like a “China”, and that means there’s something not quite right with her when she can’t speak Spanish or understand what they‘re saying.

I find it odd because throughout my life I thought I could pass for Hispanic.
But I’m not fooling many people here. And it’s even more peculiar to me that in Panama when I try to speak Spanish, people will often turn to Kimme like, “C’mon help your poor husband out.”

Michael: Running in the Rain

Pulses, like heartbeats
Of white lighted arteries,
Streak across the sky.

Saturday, July 23, 2016

On our last two runs Kimme and I have had a chance to run in the rain and test out the differences between jackets and ponchos.

On our Sunday Quetzal run, we got caught out in a steady rain for the last two hours of our run. Kimme wore a waterproof jacket with detachable sleeves (she had her sleeves detached.) and I used a water resistant windbreaker.

When I use to run on the rare occasions it rained in S. California, I thought Kimme’s set up worked pretty well, but I wouldn’t do it here. Why? Because at 5k ft. and above altitude, the sun is a little more intense here and you just never know how much of a sun/cloud mixture you’re going to get. Also, in patches, the mosquitoes or other bugs can be a nuisance and I would rather lightly cover my arms as opposed to using more bug chemicals. But to each their own. As far as body temperature regulation goes, in moderate to warm climates, I think her set up works great.

Mine did not. My water resistant windbreaker was good for about 15 minutes in a steady downpour before it soaked through. It did seem to help keep in a little body heat, but that could just be wishful thinking. I do have a Craft running jacket that’s more water protective that I normally use, but it’s also bulkier and warmer.

On Wednesday we ran through a bit lighter rain and we both used ponchos. Kimme used my old sil nylon poncho, that at 6 oz. is just a tad heavier than my 5 oz. cuben fiber poncho. But mine is also bulkier. And on top of that the cuben fiber’s color and texture make it look like I’m wearing the top half of the Tin Man after he’d been crushed for recycling than straightened out again. Though it somewhat compensates for it’s appearance by making a nice rhythmic sound as it bounces on and off my shoulders while I’m running.

Both of us rate the ponchos as far superior in keeping us dry and comfortable compared to our vests, windbreakers and jackets. They also have the advantage of working over our packs keeping them dry while not restricting our access to our hydration, nutrition or gear. From now on, it’s what I plan on carrying for any excursion over an hour and a half.

For races that require raingear, because of the bulk of my poncho, Kimme is going to make a mesh banana sling I can store it in and wear around my waist.

I don’t normally believe there’s such a big trade off between style and function, but in the choice between the two, I’ve got to go with the frumpy but functional poncho over the more stylish but compromising choices presented by running windbreakers or jackets.

Michael: Not Net, No Columbo?

Red tailed hummingbirds
Zing between sips of honey
On sparkling green wings.

Friday, July 22, 2016

For the past two days and probably again today, we’ve been without a land line phone or a solid internet connection. I know the two shouldn’t be related, but they are.

However, since we went to storage last week and brought back a packet of favorite films, for the first time in our lives here in Panama, we didn’t have to turn to Columbo for our nightly wind down.

Though that’s a nice change of pace, not having the net at the moment is a bit more problematic than not solving well remembered murder investigations with our favorite detective. No. Right now I’m trying to overcome a fraudulent credit card claim and sign us up for a race in Costa Rica. Both are difficult, if not impossible, to do without the net.

The credit card problem, I believe, should be able to be resolved over the phone. Why they’re requiring that I fax them a copy of my statements, statements that they’re going to pull up and look at anyway, I don’t understand.

The race will require the net for sign up; no ifs ands or buts about it.

So hopefully, by tomorrow we can rejoin the net with however it interacts with our land line phone and resume our lives in this sometimes globally connected world.

Michael: Rat a Tat Tat

The heat of the sun
Will quickly sweep away
Last night’s cold nightmares.

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Up until last week I thought the drums of Volcan were dead. But they’ve been resurrected.

For some reason, the school’s here are very much into marching bands. We came here last January but didn’t discover how enamored school children are to drums until the beginning of March because that’s when the school year begins and the students go back to doing school stuff like practicing their instruments.

Some neighbor kid would practice the drums from around 7-8 every night often joined by some kids on horns. At the end of December, when school gets out and into November when their’s a few National holidays, there are a few large parades where the kids get to show off all of their hard work by marching down the main drag.

But since that time up until last week we hadn’t heard the dude practice. I figured he either graduated or was confident enough that he knew the routine where not much practice was necessary. But I was mistaken because he’s at it again. This time, I guess because he’s a little older, he’s pushed back his practice time to between 8-9. That’s just about our bed time, so hopefully he’s hit the ceiling of his practice time or next year, if he goes any later, we’ll have to put off our dreaming a bit unless we decide we enjoy marching band themed visions passing through our nightly delights.

I also just don’t understand the need to practice for more than 5 minutes. I mean for Christ’s sake, it’s a drum, not even a drum set, but a single marching band drum. Perhaps I’m a bit tone deaf to the subtleties of the sounds someone can get out of it, but it all pretty much sounds like Philip K. Souza stuff. They don’t ever break it up by stopping and whipping out the soft whisk brushes and break into any ballads or blues. No, it’s bang away with those hard cotton ball hammers from beginning to end.

Come to think of it, that would be a great way to break up the routine of the year end marches. Have the bands stand still and play their repetitive gig while the crowds walk past, that way the bands don’t have to pretend they’re doing anything new or complicated and the crowd doesn’t have to linger just to see and take pictures of their talented angel.

Michael: The Flower Lady

The sweet watery
Sugar of a crisp apple
Is a primal joy.

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Today at the grocery store we met a flower lady.

Inside the store, where she started to talk to us, we didn’t know she was a flower lady. We didn’t find that out until we left. Inside, all we knew was this sweet looking old lady, who first asked me what the price of a package of cookies was, (I felt proud I could translate the price in Spanish - ochentaycinco - $0.85), wouldn’t stop talking to us even though we politely tried to explain that we didn’t speak very much Spanish (Pardon, hablo piquito Espanol.).

She kept mentioning “lindo” which I knew meant beautiful, but I couldn’t figure out if she was talking about Kimme, or her hair, or the two of us together. But we both smiled and felt flattered that this woman was so persistent in trying to communicate with us.

Turns out, once we left the store, we discovered she was referring to the orchids she was selling as beautiful. And they are beautiful. We bought a plant from for $3. She offered us a cookie, which we politely declined.