TheExpatJournals.com

So right now…if I don’t worry about eating supper…I have about 10 minutes. That’s my life since I’ve gone back to work. I want to go take a quick walk on the Paseo, something I never get to do anymore. But this intolerable work schedule is almost over…I hope! At least the east coast is once again on Panama Time which makes calling Atlanta, NYC, Philly, DC etc a bit less daunting. I know…you don’t know what I do, but does it really matter? I reach out to teachers in high schools all over the US every day. And unfortunately, they seem to all only be available at the same time! So lately, I’ve had the unfortunate task of reaching some 800 teachers in a couple of weeks all during the same lunch hour. That’s the real glamour of the music biz folks. Working on databases at night…are you bored yet? Then a Panamanian friend of mine said last week, “You’re working too hard, come to the beach house this weekend. You can swim, read, rest and we’ll pamper you. ”
Oh God. The word pamper felt like a drug to me. Not that I do drugs, but I’m too tired and hurried to think of a better way to put it. I mean, the guy ‘had me’ at “Come to the beach house.” And boy was I pampered. So this is how the other half lives!

Coffee is waiting when I wake up. All meals are served to order and so deliciously prepared…wow! This is Panamanian home cooking! It puts the restuarants to shame. One surprise was the carton of uchuvas that he picked up at Riba Smith knowing how much I liked them. How thoughtful is that?

There is something about Panama that feel so sensual…not to be confused with an exclusive association to sexual any more than the word intimacy should be. So much seems oriented to please the senses, not just stimulate the mind. It’s primal. It’s nurturing. It’s tender and warm and rich. It’s, well, pleasant.

To walk across hot sand and then step onto the cool tile floor shaded from the intense sun by the spectacular craftsmanship of a locally made bohio. To sit in a comfortably cusioned Panameno version of an Adirondack chair while staring out at the perfect combination of blue green sea on a day so clear you can see mountain of the Azuero. And all the while feeling the perfect velocity of an ocean breeze blowing a thermocline of warmth on the lower part that has passed across the hot sand and cool on the upper part straight from the sea.

And the sea! Clean, emerald blue bathwater atop sand that feels like talcum powder under your feet. If you know the color celadon, I’ve decided that’s actually as close as it comes to the color of the Pacific beaches of Panama.

I do this exercise in the ocean that is quite a pleasant workout while simultaneously eliminating any fear of being swept out to sea by the notoriously strong Pacific rip tides. I swim in one direction, parellel to the shore which is also perpendicular to the current. At times, it’s a great effort to simply swim in place the current can be so strong. When my arms start to give out, I plant my feet, raise my arms as though I’m wading and holding something up high so it doesn’t get wet, and then I lean forward at an angle that could never be duplicated on dry land and I run. In the water, against the tide, feet digging into that fabulous sand. The combo is one hell of a workout. And then I lounge while being served breakfast as I want it.

I have only been to one other Pacific beach and wrote about the visual in the water in one of my journals. This time, the sea looked completely different. Instead of choppy facets, the caps were rounded and smooth and individually reflected the nearly cloudless blue sky, like a celadon green field of silk blowing in the breeze and glimmering blue.

I know it might sound boring to many, but I was fascinated by a group of young men hauling in the morning’s catch. I watched how much work it was for them to reel the net into shore and then felt for them at the small catch. I was glad to see them throw the rays and other non-edibles back into the sea. And I felt bad for the fish who didn’t survive long enough to be thrown back until my friend suggested that ‘the birds have to eat, too.’ And sure enough, a short while later, it was as though one flying friend had told one flying friend and so on and so on until there was a blizzard of birds having breakfast.

I ended up forcing a couple of vultures to endure my presence about 2 feet away from a fish. It was their price for lunch. And once they realized I wasn’t a threat, they ignored me snapping their photo and just kept eating. I could trick the crabs coming up out of holes, but any motion sent them scurrying back under.

And then I had lunch and read and napped. Swam and walked. Had dinner, talked, fell asleep watching TV and slept like a baby in a room so cold I got to use heavy blankets…that alone was would have been worth it! And the next day was more of the same sweet heaven. And now, work is just as hard, but I’m different. Thank you my friend for sharing the kind of gift that can’t be bought. Now will you share all those secret platano recipes? Wow!