Comments from Azuero

The newest comment is at the top, so if you want to read in chronological order go all the way to the bottom and work your way up.

17 July 2002
In March of 1995, I got my first Panamanian drivers license. I went up to Diablo Heights, paid my two dollars, showed my stateside drivers license, I.D. card, bilingual card, etc.; and left with a brand new Panamanian drivers license.

I came down here for good in October of 1995. The family here had an old Toyota Cressida, which I drove until we sold it, tired of looking for impossible to find parts. After that, I just drove whichever company vehicle was not in use. The problem was that my license was a 'licencia particular', good only for non-commercial vehicles.

I was still waiting to establish my 'residencia definitiva', so any license issued during that time would have only been good for the length of my visa. Since I was very close to finally finishing with the 'three month cards' I didn't see any sense in paying out twenty dollars for a license that would only be good for three months. I figured I would take my chances, and around the first of the next year, get another license after my residency was established.

One day in October of 1998, I left the plant about seven in the evening. I was in a delivery truck (definitely a commercial vehicle). Leaving the 'circunvalacion', entering the main highway leaving Chitr�, I was stopped in an 'operativo'. An operativo is an operation by Transito (the police concerned principally with traffic violations).

These bear no resemblance to a traffic stop anywhere else. There are usually about ten to fifteen officers, most of them armed with M-16s, and standing back away from the road. In the middle of the highway will be two regular officers in orange vests, stopping every car that comes through. (There is never a thought about just driving through one of these).

I was lucky, the road I was on entered the main highway in a sort of Y intersection. The main part of the operation was about two hundred meters ahead in the main highway. I was stopped by one, single Transito, who had positioned himself at that intersection, before the major part of the operation.

I didn't even see him until I had stopped for the stop sign. As I braked the truck, he stepped off the side of the road, lowered the rifle that was slung on one shoulder, put up his hand and approached my truck.

Truthfully, I was a little nervous. When he got to the side of the truck he asked to see my license. I pulled out my wallet, but with half a dozen official cards (work permit, visa, expired work permit, etc.) I couldn't locate my drivers license. I had to ask him to please shine his flashlight in the truck to be able to find it.

That, at least, had the positive effect of him having to sling his rifle on his shoulder. I located my license and handed it over. He looked at it for a moment, light held in his right hand, studying all of the data on the little card.

He then raised his face and asked, "Are you a member of the Armed Forces?"

"No", I said, "Yo vivo in Pes�, no tengo carro, y tenia trabajar tarde." Continuing, I explained, "My boss let me use this car since there are no buses to Pes� after six in the evening."

He turned and started to walk towards the main group of Transito, all the time studying my license. He had gone about ten yards, then turned and came back. He said, "You know, this is a very serious offence, driving without the proper kind of license."

I said, "I understand, but I had to work late and there are no buses to Pes� after six."

"But you have to understand how serious this is. The ticket is very expensive, thirty dollars, and I could impound this truck."

I answered, "The best thing would be if you just went on and gave me the ticket. I don't have any money and can't do anything to help my situation. Just give me the ticket and I'll take the truck back and park it."

He shined his light in my gringo face and started to laugh, "Ha, No money! You have no money? �No pueden anda asi!" ("You can't go around like that!") He turned again and started to walk off towards the larger group of police.

I was starting to get a little more nervous at this point, when he turned again and came back to the truck. "Look," He said, "This is very serious, and I think there must be something we can do to help this situation."

I understood perfectly well what he wanted, but the fact was I had a very serious economic deficiency. Here it was still two days away from payday, and I am, after all, one of God's economically challenged individuals. I honestly didn't have any money.

I tried to reason one more time, "Por favor, dame la boleta y permite mi a salir." ("Please, give me the ticket and let me leave.")

He looked at me closely and said, "�No tiene nada? �Nada?" ("You have nothing? Nothing?")

I reached for my wallet and said, "I don't have anything, maybe four dollars but I have to buy food for my family." (This seemed like a good idea, if it would have helped to start crying I probably would have.)

He stepped back about a half step and said, "Dame los cuatro dolares." ("Give me the four dollars.")

I opened the tired repository of my life's fortune and discovered it held only three, one dollar bills. "Lo siento, pero solo tengo tres." ("I'm sorry, but I only have three.")

He shined the light in my face and in a very serious voice, sort of like Arnold Swarzeneggar, growled out. "�Dame lo!" ("Give it to me!")

I handed him the three dollars and he then told me not to drive through the main group of police, but to go in the other direction. I did.

For the next four months, until I got my cedula and my commercial drivers license, I left work by the back road. Happy to make the five kilometer, thirty minute 'scenic' drive to get to the road to Pes�. At least there was a back way out, even if the road was just a dirt trail that was practically impassable, I had no desire to get caught again in 'El crucero de Pes�'.

Leo

Sunday Afternoon

9 July 2002
Sunday there was a baseball tournament in La Arena. A tournament between baseball teams from various companies in the area.

We got there about two in the afternoon, and joined up with the rest of my wife's family, just behind center field, under a little stand of teak trees. Most of the people watching were congregated below, across the field, to the side of home plate. Drinking a beer, and surveying the scene below, I decided to check out the crowd below.

One of the major attractions below was the beer concession. The proceeds from all the sales were to go to the 'Teleton 20-30'. I decided to make a contribution, and bought an Atlas. I passed a little time talking to different people, it seemed that I knew just about every one there.

The day was incredibly hot. One of those days in the middle of the rainy season, when there was no rain. There was also no wind, and a lot of sun. That means hot, really hot, and when it is really hot, I have the tendency to get thirsty. I bought more beer. (Hey, half of every purchase went to the children's hospital in Panam� City).

I had talked to a lot of different people. Not deep intellectual conversation, but along the lines of, "�Oye! �Que tal?" ("Hey, What's happening?") and "�Como estas? Bien. Mi alegre." ("How are you? Fine. I'm glad"). Of course, there were a lot of comments about the heat. "Que calor."

I finally moved to the entrance of the small, block building behind the beer concession. Inside it was slightly cooler. This was where the large tubs of ice were located, to chill the beer. This meant that I was a lot closer to the source of refreshment, and more certain to help those needy, sick children through more frequent contributions.

I was leaning against the wall, just inside the door, talking to the fellow that was managing the beer. He happens to be a truck driver from Panam� City, who maintains a 'girlfriend' here in Chitr� to 'comfort' him when he has to spend his nights here away from his family. It was there that I discovered one of the other big attractions of the day.

Atlas is probably the number one selling beer in Panam�. It's a product of the Cerveceria Nacional. It seems that the cerveceria was also concerned about helping children receive top-notch medical care, and had sent over three girls to help sell the beer and wait on the spectators seated below a large awning.

These girls were extremely attractive. They would have been attractive under any circumstances, but dressed in their little spandex tops and painted on blue jeans they were very inspiring.

I spent about thirty minutes more, quenching my thirst and observing the folks around me. I finally bought a couple of beers and trudged back to the other side of the field to rejoin my lovely bride.

A few minutes after I had gotten to the other side of the field a fight erupted down by home plate. It seems that one of the team members on one of the losing teams was a little upset, and after consuming a quantity of beer decided to throw a full beer can at one of his teammates. He then took off running to escape the mob. A few minutes of excitement and things returned to normal. Another game got under way.

We left not long afterward. It had been a nice afternoon. Outdoor sports, cold beer, spontaneous scandal, and very beautiful girls from the cerveceria, these were all some of the reasons I had come down here, wrapped up in one afternoon in July.

Another Sunday in Azuero.

Leo

Learning Spanish

6 July 2002
First of all, forget what everyone has said about learning Spanish if they are not a native Spanish speaker. Second, forget most of what native Spanish speakers say about learning their language. Spanish is not easy, or more romantic, or more beautiful than any other language. Many people say that if you just learn to pronounce the alphabet, then you will be able to pronounce the words because the sounds don't change. That's true for about sixty percent of words, except for regional differences and unexplainable quirks, which mean that you have to hear someone say a word to know how to pronounce it. It's downright hard to learn for an English speaking person, over the age of about one year.

One important point to remember is that language and culture and traditions are all tied together in an unbreakable bond. A person can learn another language but if he has no idea of the culture and traditions of that people, he has no idea on the real meaning of the words he says. The opposite is true as well. If a person studies the culture and traditions of another group of people, but doesn't know the language, then his understanding will be faulty.

Words are means of expressing an idea, but the words one uses are a reflection of his background, education, culture and traditions. If I were up in Andrews, North Carolina, and someone came up to me and said, "Can ya'll carry me down to Silva?" I would know that he was just asking for a ride. That he didn't actually want me to pick him up and carry him to a neighboring town. If I were playing blackjack and wanting another card said, "hit me", I would expect another card, not a punch in the face.

Spanish is the same, but different. There are verbs and nouns, and all of those other things that English has. As well as more than 14 different tenses, with each verb conjugated (at least) six different ways in each tense, plus the infinitive and gerund.

Take for example one of the most common words, 'querer', meaning 'to want'. The first person, singular, present indicative tense of this verb is 'quiero', or I want.

If I wanted to buy a Coca Cola, I would go into a tienda and say, "Yo quiero una Coca Cola." ("I want a Coca Cola"). If I wanted to ask if you wanted a Coca Cola, I would ask, "�Te quiere una Coca Cola?" (the second person, singular, present indicative tense, meaning; "Do you want a Coca Cola?"). In every Spanish dictionary I have seen, querer means 'to want'.

In English we have been taught, usually by a freshman English teacher, that a person wants something, but loves someone. That is to say that I may want a Coke, but I can't love it. Want is the desire to possess something, and love is an emotion that leads to bankruptcy and child support. In short, I may want a Coke, but love the person drinking it.

Like I said before, language, and culture and tradition are all tied together. So far, you are probably thinking that this is simple stuff, these are things you already know. Maybe so, but Spanish can get tricky. It was probably designed so that there would be a constant infusion of new blood from confused foreigners. Here is how that works.

You finally have a date with that one, exquisite, exotic se�orita (if those folks back in Stubbenville could only see you now).

You have taken her to eat in the most expensive place you could find. You have bought gifts for her, her sisters and brothers, her mother, grandmother, aunts and uncles. You have been dancing where John Travolta would fear to step. In short, she is now like a ripe fruit ready to pluck from the branch.

So, when that one crucial moment arrives and she says, "�Mi quiere?" What will you say? At this point, will you pull out a dictionary or grammar book? What did she just ask you? "Do you want me?" (Like a twelve ounce Coke, with little driblets of cold condensation running down the side of the bottle?) Does the thought go through your mind that this is just too good to be true? Of course your response would be, "Yes".

Well, there it is, a little cultural difference. '�Mi quiere?' is the common way to say, "Do you love me?" If you were to say "Te quiero mucho", she will start planning the wedding.

Leo

28 June 2002
A few years ago, I was working above Chorrera. I had almost a year in various Latin countries, and thought I could at least communicate basic needs and desires. Usually on my days off, I would travel out to Pes�. One time I had rented a car and made the drive to Pes�, arriving about eight-thirty at night. I had a world-class heartburn, and stopped at a little tienda to buy some Alka-Seltzer. There were two ladies seated in front, talking. As I approached, one of them got up and went in to serve me through the little window that served as a counter.

I had not thought that Alka-Seltzer would be too difficult to ask for, what a fool I was. "Quiero dos Alka-Seltzers por favor." ("I want two Alka-Seltzers please").

The lady looked at me with her mouth open and sort of a vacant expression in her eyes, she said, "�Que?" ("What"?")

I repeated myself, being careful to speak as clearly as I possibly could. "Quiero dos Alka-Seltzers por favor."

There was still no change at all in her facial expression. If she had been a war veteran, I would have thought this was a classic thousand yard stare. Again, she said the same thing, "�Que?"

This was really getting frustrating and aggravating my original heartburn even more, Once more, as slowly and carefully as I could, I said, "Quiero dos Alka-Seltzers por favor."

She had the same blank stare, when finally the lady still seated outside, spoke up. "El quieren dos Alka-Seltzers." ("He wants two Alka-Seltzers").

Suddenly the frozen face broke apart and the lady inside said. "O, Alka-Seltzer, no sab�a, yo no hablo ingl�s." ("Oh, Alka-Seltzer! I don't speak English").

But I had been speaking Spanish, at least my mind was. I have no idea what she heard coming out of my mouth.

Sort of like the joke out here about Monagrillo. Monagrillo is a small town just outside of Chitr�. Many of the men are fishermen, and the people are notorious for the accent and manner of speech they have. The joke goes like this: One day a group of American, soldiers arrived to do all sorts of humanitarian improvements. Every girl in town was busy trying to catch a gringo. Tito always went home to eat lunch and one day he walked in his little house and there was his woman, in bed with a gringo. Tito left without a word, and heartbroken, ended up in a cantina drinking Seco. A friend of his came in and could tell that something was horribly wrong. The friend asked what was wrong, and finally Tito broke down and explained what he had encountered. His friend then asked what he had said.

Tito looked at his friend in amazement and said, "What do you mean what did I say? I didn't say anything, you fool, you know I don't speak English."

Well, enough of that, I did want to mention that I now have to add parrots to the list of driving hazards between here and Pes�. I just about wrecked the truck I was driving last night when a young parrot flew in the drivers window, and smacked against the back of the cab right behind my head. It then started flying all around inside the cab, looking for a way out. It seemed to be a little upset, and made controlling the truck difficult. I finally managed to find a place to get to the side of the road and open the passenger door to let it out. The bird was too angry to try and drive the remaining 15 kilometers inside the truck.

Another day in Azuero.

Leo

Driving

25 June 2002
I drive about twenty-three kilometers to work every day. (One mile is equal to 1.61 kilometers, so every ten miles is the same as 16.1 kilometers). Pes� is located at the start of the hills that finally end with the low mountain range on the western side of Azuero. The pueblo of Pes� is in a small valley. If you continue on the paved road through Pes�, it continues westerly to Rincon Hondo, then Los Pozos, Las Minas, Ocu, and finally comes out on the Interamerican Highway between Divisa and Santiago. In the other direction is the little town of El Barrero de Pes�, and finally the highway at the entrance to La Arena and Chitr�. That's the direction I drive daily.

The road was repaved a little over a year ago; it had gotten to the point where it was a real contest, dodging potholes and dodging cars, dodging potholes. Now the surface is nice smooth blacktop that may last another year before the holes start to reappear. They didn't build it with any shoulders though, which can make it exciting (to say the least) when you meet a semi coming at you half over the centerline.

Of course, if it were just a semi that would be one thing, but the little chivas (the small, busses) that transport folks from anywhere to everywhere here, have the bad habit of stopping to pick up passengers wherever they encounter them. That means that you may pop up over a hill to encounter a little bus, stopped in the middle of your lane (remember, no shoulders) while loading passengers. Barreling in your direction on the other side of the road is a semi loaded with 8000 gallons of ethyl alcohol. There is no choice; you have to stop.

But those hazards are trivial compared with the four greatest road obstacles you're likely to encounter, people, cows, dogs and bicycles. Sometimes they are encountered singly like one person bicycling at night, without lights, in the center of the road. Or they might be found in combinations, like a group of people standing in the road, talking, from which a dog will suddenly emerge to dart across the road in front of you.

Cows are sometimes encountered alone wandering in the road, or in groups, completely blocking the road until you can edge your way through them. In the dark, they are difficult to see and are a much bigger obstacle than the little possums and alligators that just get smashed under the tires. You have to watch out for cows.

But my favorite is people, on bicycles, at night, without lights. They are hard to see, and seem to think they have as much right to use the road as I do. That may be true except I don't drive at night without lights. These folks will be toodling along, a foot from the center line, thinking of whatever it is they think about, and their minds oblivious to the fact that they are invisible. The common thing is to hit your high beams to give yourself as much advance notice as possible. If another car is approaching from the opposite direction, this can be tricky. Usually everybody is temporarily blinded, and the bicyclist is offended. It's common to hear insults screamed at you as you pass them. (My personal favorite is the bicycle approaching, a car coming from behind it, he hits his brights to see the bicycle, I hit mine to see at all, and the bicyclist is blindly weaving across both lanes screaming "Baja la luz, Maricon.")

Another day in paradise.

Leo

Chitr�

24 June 2002
Well, the rain here in Chitr� has let up a little, but there is no way I will be able to leave the plant today to check out the San Juan celebration. Too bad, I usually manage to have a pretty good time during those things.

I would like to pass on a little story that occurred last October during the parade for the founding of Chitr�.

The founding is actually the 19'th of October, but the big, big parade is always the Sunday after. Last year the parade took place on the 21'st, which turned out to be a sunny, hot day.

After the parade had started, I took pictures of, well, things I wanted to take pictures of. This involved a lot of walking, and since my face here is fairly well known, a lot of "�Leo, quire una cerveza?" Well, I have never liked to disappoint anyone, so I felt obligated to drink at least one with each offer. This occurred various times. Finally, I had progressed, drinking, walking, photographing, and sweating to a location where the parade was moving down from Parque Union (the center of Chitr�, where the Cathedral is located). At this point, I was attempting to get a picture of a Chinese dragon dancing in the street. This was a little difficult because the parade would move forward a few feet then stop, and each time it stopped, the dragon would take off its head to get some relief from the heat.

I decided the best strategy was to wait for the parade to actually get started again so I walked on down a little further, taking pictures of people watching, and finally went in a little tienda to get another 'refreshment' (hot, thirsty work). After finishing that, I stepped back onto the street and there was a camera crew from a TV station working its way up the street. There were two men, one carrying the camera, the other the microphone, and one woman. At that time, the parade actually started to move, so I stepped out and finally got my picture of the dragon. As I stepped back to the side of the street, the man with the microphone spoke to me. He said in that sort of officious, self-important way of a lot of news people, "Buenos, soy de Canal 28, Panam�. �usted?" ("Hi, I'm from channel 28, Panama City, and you?") I realized that he must have been fooled by the fact that I was carrying a camera and had a couple of lenses strapped to my belt (and he had probably observed the nifty lens change I had just done), into thinking I was a real photographer. I looked him in the eye and said," Buenos. soy de Pes�." ("Hi, I'm from Pes�"), and stuck my hand out to shake his. He wouldn't, He didn't say another word, turned and slowly disappeared into the crowd. I think he must have thought I was something else and been so disappointed when I wasn't that he didn't know how to act.

Leo