Good Friday? Stay home.

Good Friday is serious business in Panama. The entire week is all about the party, so on Thursday (the first of the back-to-back national holidays), 66% of the city heads to the beach (that's a million people, for those of you keeping track at home).  Brent had the misfortune of taking a friend to the airport on Thursday. Getting in was no problem. Getting out took four hours from the bridge -- usually a one-hour drive -- and that was after a couple of hours just trying to get from the airport to the bridge.

First things first: no drinking, no music, no joy on Friday. Stores and restaurants are forbidden from selling alcoholic beverages.

Then, be careful not to offend anyone. On Good Friday, if someone gives you "the evil eye", you are required to go to their house the following day with a blanket. The offended person will pee on the blanket, and you have to wrap yourself in it: a small price to pay for forgiveness, obviously.

Oh, and don't go swimming, or you'll turn into a fish. Seriously, the beaches were empty.

RIP Carlito

Geckos are a fairly regular part of living here in Panama. They often make their way into the home, and I have to say they're a delight: they're fun to watch, they make funny noises, they're really fast and sneaky but you never find them in your shoe (I'm looking at you, spiders), and they eat bugs. What's not to love?

Starting a few weeks ago, every night we would hear a gecko barking so loudly that it sounded like it was inside, but we never saw him, so we assumed he was right outside the door. I looked forward to hearing him every evening, but didn't think much else about him.

Then one day, Carlito moved in:

 

We saw him first on the wall above our bed, and gradually made his way around to the light on the ceiling, where he set up his dinner table. Carlito was tiny, just about an inch and a half long (when I first noticed him, I asked Brent if it was a gecko or a bug), so there's no way he was the one barking every night from just outside the door.

He came again the next night, at about the same time.

On the third night, he wandered away from the light toward the wall above the door -- right near where we hear the other one every night. And all of a sudden, there he was: the Big One, looking even bigger in relation to tiny Carlito. 

Turns out, he'd been living inside all along, right behind the thing that holds the curtain rod above the door.  He was super shy -- every time one of us moved, he'd dart back under cover -- which explains why we'd never met him before.

Brent and I sat still and watched, and slowly the Big One came back out. Carlito was on the ceiling, the Big One was on the wall, both of them near the corner. The Big One lifted his head up and looked at Carlito, and I got scared -- I was pretty sure the Big One was going to eat our Carlito.

Suddenly, Carlito ran like hell back to the middle of the ceiling (confirming my suspicions of what the Big One was up to). The Big One ducked behind the curtain rod again.

The next day, we went on our weekend trip to Boquete. And when we returned, Carlito didn't show up for dinner -- and he hasn't since. Brent can't face the truth, but I'm pretty sure the Big One ate Carlito. We still hear him barking every night from his home behind the curtain rod.

We're saving a spot at the dinner light for you, Carlito. Just in case.

Oceanfront Property

Sometimes, when you get offered a job you didn't apply for and didn't even know was available, you say, "Thank you, universe" and get on with it.

That's how it went here a couple of weeks ago, which is why we're gearing up to be very, very busy kids, indeed.

Inside Panama is a company full of some of the coolest people selling some of the best real estate in Panama, and now we're going to play, too.

First up: managing a handful of properties in Gorgona. This activity is new to me, but Brent has a lot of experience with it. We had our first check-in yesterday, and it was fun, getting to be with people in the first few moments that they pull into town, full of an excitement that is absolutely contagious. They're going to love it here! Because it's awesome here! I love it here! Hooray!

Also first up, we get to play expert to a spectacular resort called the Bahia. We're currently spending a few nights there to get to know the property and the employees. Gorgeous condos, gorgeous views. Brent doesn't know it yet, but he's in for a fight over who gets to sleep closest to the ocean.

So, you open your eyes, without even getting up, to see this....

 

 

Then you start thinking you'll make a day of it, so you stand up, take three steps, and bring it into focus....

Mountain Weekend

Knowing that we will soon be very, very busy (more on that coming soon), we decided to head for the hills last weekend. It was a fairly quick five- or six-hour drive that led us to the mountain town of Boquete where we ate, drank (coconut water), and tried to climb a volcano:

Stick to it.

This is embarrassing: I don't know how to drive a stick.

I'm not really sure how this happened, having grown up on a ranch where you couldn't throw a fresh egg without hitting a manual transmission. I just remember wanting to avoid being taught by my dad.

Dad's a great fellow with incredible patience that didn't always carry over to us kids. Once, when I was driving (an automatic) with my learner's permit, he shouted my name from the passenger seat as I was merging onto the highway. It scared the crap out of me, and he shook his head with disgust, but to this day I have no idea what didn't happen, since he didn't explain what he was trying to prevent by not yelling any instructions as to what to do with the vehicle. What I did learn was that I didn't want to drive with Dad anymore.

Also, I knew that lurching and stalling would provide ample opportunities to be made fun of, and I was not interested.

So, somehow, I slipped under the stick radar, managing to volunteer to drive the automatics when we were out on one chore or another. Then I got busy with school, then I left for college, and now I'm darn near grown up -- over the years I spent less and less time at home, which translated into fewer and fewer opportunities for anyone to realize I didn't know how to drive a stick shift.

Fast forward to Panama, where we recently became the part owners of a manual Ford Ranger.

Somehow, my inabilities didn't go into hiding as easily here, as before I even knew we had the pickup people were expressing their surprise at what I don't know how to do.

As much as I'd just like to avoid driving, it probably won't be possible here, so Brent gave me my first lesson in the parking lot. Afterward, he kept telling me what a great job I did. He's a really great boyfriend.