Panama 2020

Anyone who knows us, has heard the statement, "We’re going to Panama when we retire." Well it’s taken two and a half years but we finally made it. 
Sometime last summer we started discussing a trip with our friends Elsie and Walt to spend a month in Panama. Through the magic of the  Internet, we were able to make the plan a reality, weekly phone conversations that seemed to  go nowhere suddenly crystalized into a one month reservation at an unknown resort called Rio Mar. The pictures on Airbnb looked wonderful, but we all know pictures can be deceptive. Fortunately the pictures didn’t lie, everything about Rio Mar was wonderful. The three bedroom, 4  bathroom apartment with a maid's quarters of all things, was perfect. Although we had no maid, we felt pampered having a maid's quarters which we used as a junk room.

The resort has four  pools, two salt water and two fresh. A short walk to the Pacific Ocean beach, a nearly constant breeze, no bugs or stray dogs, security, a restaurant, many kindly Canadians and just a wonderful relaxing vibe that lured us into a schedule of walks, pools, beach, cocktail hour and dinner. We barely wanted to go on day trips, but we did manage a few. 

There’s a town about a half hour away called El Valle which is on the rim of a dead volcano. The temperature was at least 10 degrees cooler and they had this thing called rain there. Although it was more like being misted at the produce aisle at Stop and Shop, actually quite pleasant. There was the jungle walk over rope bridges that I so love ( sarcasm there in case you didn’t catch it) and a market selling fresh stuff and native wares. Specifically jewelry and mola, textiles which originate from the Kuna indigenous people. Mola is some fancy decretive needlework that is quite cool. I bought a bag with a big frog on it -which looks better than it sounds!

Other "day trips" included catching the local fishermen in the morning and bargaining for whatever looked interesting, which Svend would cook and for which Walt would have concocted some wonderful Panamanian cocktail. Elsie and I deserve all good things that happen to us! 

We actually made an overnight to trip o the small but popular town of Pedasi about 4 hours drive from Rio Mar. Svend and I had been there 6 years ago during our first trip to Panama. There's a small island off the coast, Iguana Island, where the snorkeling wasn't as good, the iguanas were not as plentiful, the crabs were smaller and the restaurant was not as fun as six years ago. Isn't that always the way? But we did manage to have a good time. On the way back we stopped at a low key yet interesting active archeological site with burial mounds dating for 700 -1000 AD. Apparently this was still a time when slaves and children were tossed in with the chief when he was buried. There was also a row of monoliths on the site. Ancient people around the world did love their monoliths!

We managed some restaurant trips, dental appointments for Svend and a trip tp the peninsula of Punta Charme, which has an expansive beach and a wind surfing school where one could enjoy a cold beer and watch the crazy wind surfers. I'm highly jealous of wind surfers and have vowed to take up that sport in my next life - at a younger age.

The month flew by and we enjoyed the visits of The Delevich's daughter Carolyn and her two friends, Lilu and Maria, Panamanian women who gave us some insight into the life of people who are actually native Panamanians as opposed to the lovely Canadians and US expats who where the bulk of people we encountered.
We also had a visit from friends, Jim and Eve, who currently live in South Carolina. Their four day visit was too short! They fit right into our sloth like schedule. Although  the men did go on a memorable deep sea fishing excursion where both engines failed and we might have lost them forever. But we didn't and they came home with a decent Mahimahi which we very much enjoyed for dinner. All good!
Eventually the Deleviches had to go and we had to move out of the lovely Rio Mar. We're sure to be back there or somewhere near in the future. 

Svend and I had another couple of weeks to explore Panama so we set off down the Panamanian highway after saying a reluctant good by to Elsie, Walt and various Canadians. 

Our first real stop (after an overnight in the unloveable town of Santiago) was the beach town of  Las Layas. We had booked a few nights at Casa Laguna which was down one of the worst dirt roads one could imagine. Fortunately, the slightly battered Subaru  we rented for this part of the journey was able to handle this road. becoming slightly more battered.
At our B&B in Las Lajas, we encountered an extraordinary
Dog named Peter Fist let it be know that dogs rule in Panama. It seems everyone has one or two, and the street dogs are everywhere. As soon as one decides to bark, the whole neighborhood joins in. Kind of like the twilight bark from Lady and the Tramp, but not as noble. Fortunately they loose interest quickly. Peter was one of a pack that lived next door to Casa Leguna, but when the owners’ dog died, Peter moved in to comfort them. He used to just visit, but felt Maria and Mikel needed him when their dog passed on. Peter is the stillest creature, it’s relaxing to be near him. But Maria says he goes everywhere with them, including surfing. That I need to see. 

It’s a very magical combination - the jungle, the ocean and darkness. Oh and don’t leave out the stars, the insects and the frogs

Las Lajas Beach

Being on a beach is one of life’s gifts. It may look like nothing in particular is happening, but even on the remotest beach there is non stop action if you observe closely. Take the sand crab for example. What a strange existence that creature has. First of all it’s a crab so it walks sideways, - already weird but interesting. But the sand crab basically lives under the sand and makes a small mound with a hole on top. It peeps out that hole and when the coast is seemingly clear, he pops out and runs sideways with a load of sand that gets deposited in tiny hills around the home mound..

Evidence of sand crabs

 This home mound will be washed away by the incoming tide in the not so distance future. What’s the point? I’m sure Mr Google could explain it all thoroughly but I’d rather just wonder.

After 39 days, we fianlly left the coast of Panama and headed into the mountains to a great town called Boquete. Much as we adore the ocean, to put on socks was such a treat. We are Northerners after all. Bookings.com  brought us to a lovely peaceful place about a 15 minute walk from the center, impeccably clean and orderly by a German man and his Panamanian wife.
Now when I say peaceful I leave out the action in the perfect German/Panamanian garden. There’s an interesting mixed-family here that was so fun to watch. It consisted of a hen, three chicks and a duck. Yes a duck. And not a boring duck either. She has decided to take over the raising of the chicks because obviously the hen is a negligent mother. So wherever the chicks are -she’s right there. In fact we actually saw the duck give the hen a jab on the back of the neck when she got too close. She’s a bit of a helicopter parent. But the chicks are thriving under her watchful care. 
In Boquette we took several challenging walks, one to a hot spring and another to a waterfall. Both were worth it in the end, but suffice it to say there was a bit of complaining along the way. You know how Svend is.:) 

Boces el Toro

The province of Bocas el Toro is  made up of many islands. Some busier than others. The word on the Panamanian street is that Bocas town is a sanctuary of surfers and young people wanting to party. We have nothing in particular against those people, but opted for a quieter retreat on the Island of San Cristóbal at a place called Nathany Lodge.
The journey from Boquete to Bocas is fraught with mountains and twisty road of various types of surfaces, even pavement sometimes. And being the only road, large trucks are plentiful. Ah yes, driving down a steep incline, passing large trucks...so much fun.
We finally got to the confusing town of Almarante after about  five hours of this tranquil ride and found the gas station where we would leave our car and get picked up by a launch from Nathany  Lodge. David, who runs Nathany Lodge with his wife Celeste, said it would be about a 10 minute ride. One thing I’ve discovered in my long life is that people lie. Kids lie, adults lie, I’m sure even nuns lie on occasion. And of course David lies, it was at least 30 minutes in an open boat and of course “ it’s not usually this rough” lied sweet and adorable David. Now did we make it, yes and the place is stunning. As we approached the dock, I couldn’t help but notice the rustic hut we were going to be staying in were very high up the hill, naturally! However there was an arctic cat to get us up. One problem, there were only 2 seats so the wife had to sit on the husbands lap. Now you’re wondering, is Svend still alive? Never mind Svend. What about me? It was scary going up the steep twisty dirt road!
We soon discover that as beautiful as it is on San Cristóbal, there are no roads where we are, which makes for blissful peace. But limits the outings one might like to take. Remembering that the sloth was our trip mascot, we just settled in and found the limited choices to be liberating. What we did get to do was all wonderful with a healthy dose of reading, resting and actually catching up with the blog. Our activities included snorkeling, which if sloths had snorkeling gear they would absolutely adore. There is a beautiful coral reef here that is actually alive and when you stop saying "where are the fish that look like Dory", you realize the fascination of the coral reef itself. Why are there so many different colors and shapes? We did see a massive amount of small green minnows, a few other unknown fish, lots of sea urchins and a manta ray. I have a huge grudge against manta rays since that wonderful man Steve Irwin was viciously shot in the heart by one.

After four days at this lovely retreat we trudged back over the mountains to pick up the PanAmerican highway to return to Panama City for the trip home. Of course we ended up overnighting in the town we vowed never to return to, Santiago to stay at another questionable hotel. But after a hot meal for two for $7.00 and a decent night sleep we continued on to the Airport hotel, which was surprisingly nice for our last night (this year) in Panama. We plan to return next year for triumphant conclusion of Svend's dental work!

Sweden 2019

     I like to think of my father in law, Villy, as a modern day Francis of Assisi. He’s very kind to the critters in his domain. There’s a tailless magpie that he makes sure has food, he strategically places the bird bath under a tree so the smaller birds will be protected from predators, he shoos bees and other flying insects out of the house without swatting them. He is obviously a sainted fellow. Unless of course you happen to be a snail. In that case you will find yourself cast into a pail of salt water in which you will slowly die. So much for “all God’s creatures”

Snail Hunters

It’s been quite a few years since we’ve been in Sweden at Midsommar. It’s so incredibly beautiful! Hans, Hanne, Villy, Svend and I decided to go to a real Midsommar fest in the afternoon and then go home to eat mass quantities of picked herring and other assorted midsommar goodies like shrimp, smoked salmon and more picked herring. Oh and of course some decent aquavit. Midsommar is like Christmas in Sweden. The big important celebration is on the "Eve" So imagine our surprise when we got to the field that advertised the big midsommar fest to find it looked like a ghost town and the fest was scheduled for midsommar dag (day) Now that's just ridiculous. I refuse to blame my imperfect Swedish. Having a midsommar fest on midsommar day is like having a New year's eve party on New Year's Day. The day after is recuperation time, not festival time. What is happening to Sweden?
Anyway we went home, dragged the table out under the tree and had our mass quantities of food and drink.

We were visiting Sweden before and after our big Italy trip with the Danes. The timing was perfect. In addition to Midsommar, we were there for little Leonora's 2nd birthday. I guess she would be Svend's  great great niece. Or is it great grand niece? Whatever it is she's cute and sweet. 


So we are all going to Italy to stay in a villa and 90 year old Villy is going down to a farmhouse Denmark to look after Egon and Anna's dog. And the cows I guess, seems fair.

Italy 2019

Italy is hot, the roads are twisty, places close for undetermined amount of hours, they don’t speak English, Italians couldn’t care less if you have a complaint, Rome is full of trash, they don’t believe in railings and there’s wild boar in the woods. What’s not to love?

Two years ago we made our first trip to Italy, we said it was great, but we would never go back during the summer. Is June 29 to July 13th really considered summer? Maybe not in Denmark, but yes, it was summer, it was hot, there were crowds at times, but you know where this is going. It was an incredibly wonderful trip for many reasons.

The merry crew initially began with eleven Danes one Pole, one Swede and only one crummy American (me) Our trip from Denmark was uneventful. We smoothly flew from efficient Denmark via smooth-sailing Brussels to Italy. Notice the lack of adjective there. Yes we got from Denmark to Rome  with a layover in Brussels in about 5 hours. Then we went to the Avis counter in Rome Fumicino Airport where it took us SIX HOURS to get our pre-ordered, pre-paid for vehicles. Don’t even ask me to explain what the problem(s) were. Just imagine eleven Danes (one of whom is 2 years old) one Pole, one Swede and one American (me) at a car rental office at Rome airport for six hours. Oh and by the way, Svend lost his wallet in one of the cars we almost rented, but then it wasn’t the right one so we had to repack into another, which was then stopped at the exit for not being on the list. At that point the crummy American snapped, jumped out of the car and stood in front of the exit and said“ we’re not going back, call the Police, or I should say cabinari! Yes, what fun.  

Fast forward, we finally escaped and drove for two hours into the rustic Tuscan countryside, arriving at our possibly beautiful villa sometime after midnight. At that point we knew the 200 year old stone house was beautiful inside and very dark outside. 

It was a great relief  to get up the next day to see the beautiful vista and more importantly the glorious pool. We had sort of made fun of the Danes for making sure we brought food from Denmark for breakfast. We said, “of course we’ll be able to buy groceries” not anticipating the 6 hours at the Avis counter. Nothing beats stinky cheese, serious rye bread and Coffee in the AM! 

Svend and I had to return to the hated airport the very next day to pick up our beloved Erik because of course we could never coordinate properly and arrive on the same day. But at least I had another fellow American to speak un-accented English with.

Now it was truly time to appreciate our place in the sun. We spent the next few days either not moving from the villa or making small local jaunts to our town Saturnia or other nearby locations near our remote villa. 

Tuscany is of course a well know location, Florence, Sienna, Pisa - these are world renowned locations, I mean they have Michelangelo’s David for crying out load! But most people don’t know about Saturnia, Pitigliano, of Montemerano. The remoteness of the area we were in had its good and bad points. On the good side was pretty much everything; on the bad was driving around the twisty hairpin, mountainous roads. 

After all the hubbub with Avis and driving to Rome again, it was high time to do nothing but lounge around the pool, eat good food and good afternoon limoncellos. And we did that all very well.

The Danes consisted of Egon and Anna (the Pole) Gitte , Lars, Nicklaus, Jackeline, Mathilde (the adorable) Janne, Anne, Rikke, Martin and Peter.  Age range 2-82, a perfect mixture. The first evening there Egon invited us all out to dinner to celebrate his birthday. Yes Italy is comparatively inexpensive (especially) compared to Denmark. But fourteen people, four course meals with plenty of wine was an extremely generous gesture. Don’t tell any Dane that in America you get gifts on your birthday, not give them. Needless to say we had a wonderful evening.

After several fine days in southern Tuscany, Svend , Erik and I drove north to the Tyrolean Alps to the town of Brixen, where although you are still in Italy you would swear you were in Austria. Mainly because everyone speaks German, the menus are in German and it looks like Austria. It is a very charming town with a big river running through. So what brought us to Brixen? That crazy young woman who is our daughter, that’s who. Many months ago when we were planning our big trip to Tuscany she decided to look online for a “run.” Lo and behold there was an extreme marathon in Brixen so she signed up. Hello? This is a person who never did a marathon before. I distinctly remember her saying after a half marathon that she wasn’t interested in doing more. You can’t trust anyone these days. And you can’t trust her friend Rico who decided to do a 28K alpine run to keep her company. Needless to say it was a tremendous day where they both were on the podium  for placing in their age groups. Amelia actually was number one. Very impressive!                   

I did not get a single medal for going up a steep and scary chairlift which brought us up to a fantastic vista in the Dolomites. However the finish line was nearly an hour’s trek further (uphill-in case you’re not following) only Erik was able to deal with that climb (in his Birkenstocks-again bad planners) So Amelia and Rico had someone to greet them at the end. The poor runners then had to walk down for nearly and hour to get to the place where we mere mortals were waiting.                                        

The next day is where poor planning worked well. Rico was going to Venice and we were going to go back to our beloved villa in Tuscany. But we said, “ We can’t not go to Venice!" Amelia and Erik have never been and everyone has to see Venice. So we decided to drive Rico and spend a day and a half. What a great decision! I’m not going to describe Venice, you just need to get here yourself. Along with the gazzion other people from everywhere. Our best time was Sunday evening after the cruise passengers were gone. The sky was amazing after a rainstorm, the music from the band, clad in white tuxedos, was surprisingly wonderful, the drinks were delicious and expensive and worth every cent. Especially since Erik paid.

On our way back to southeast Tuscany we took a side trip to San Marino, one of the worlds smallest country (which, PS was in the opposite direction.)  But it was beautiful, we had dinner and a walk and a long drive back through the dark small roads. We did see a lot of Italian wildlife that come out at night. The majority were cats. Cats own Italy at night. We also saw foxes, hares and the best, a big wild boar right on the side of the road. Oh my.

The Danes were not idle while we were away, they went to the actual ocean for one day and to a water park on another. Both of which they enjoyed very much.

There was a lovely outside room over looking the Tuscan hills where we generally ate dinner together. The cooking was done by various teams. The Eriksens barbecued pork with delicious sides, we did Fourth of July - steak, hamburgers - potato salad, Egon and Anna made a delicious Danish meal with beef, Nicklas did a gorgeous paella, Janne and Rikke went Italian with a Bolognese, yum! and Amelia and Rico did ceviche and other tapas dishes,
also yum. So as you can see, it was not a dieter’s vacation. Vegans and vegetarians would be welcome, but it wouldn't take long for them to give up their lifestyles and go carne. The bella vita!

So there went the Tuscan trip, that we planned for a year. When I say we, I mean the big three, Gitte, Janne and Rikke, the Danish mafia mommas. The rest of us benefited from their hard work. Next trip, we promise to help.

 

Ciao.