We spent a quiet day at the house, Dan working, me studying. At 8 p.m. we walked across to Ted and Pam's and met them, planing to trek up the hill together to Yelin and Jose's. We waited at the gate for a bit, and then we realized that Jose was driving down to pick us up. Their home is amazing. They are perched so high up on a hill that one can see all of Boquete and Alto Jaramillo below, as well as David, which is 30-35 miles away. Unfortunately, it was dark so pictures were not possible, but hopefully we will be invited again during the day sometime, and then I can get better pictures.
At the party were also a few other neighbors. Alan lives right next door, hidden by huge bougainvillae, so hidden in fact that he was recently robbed, beaten and shot at by two intruders. It was apparently an "inside job." The gardener, who lives there, was apparently called by an old girlfriend who said that she just had to talk to him at 2 in the morning. So, he let her into the house, not realizing that she had companions. It was a pretty ugly story which culminated in the robbers escaping and Alan ending up in the hospital. The two robbers apparently attempted another job the very next night which resulted in one of them jumping over a fence, breaking his neck and dying.
Delia and Gary, from down the road a bit, picked up the story by saying, "Okay, we're all smart people here. We should form a vigilante group." This was said partly in jest by Delia, a short, round, very smart, very funny Roumanian woman who made amazing cabbage rolls. In her working life she sold perfume. She mentioned names that meant nothing to me, but she said it was a very stressful job. Her territory included Salt Lake City, which she said was one of her best markets because people there were very appearance conscious, and Denver was her worst, where appearance and smelling politically correct were apparently not quite so important. Gary did something with CBS radio in New York, not sure what, but he commuted six hours a day, worked three, and rode the elevator with the likes of Mick Jagger and other very important people.
And then we have Jose. What a character. He was having such fun entertaining us all. He showed us around his home, gave us a bit of history (his family used to own most of the area), and laughed at Alan's story (every time). After dinner we moved out to the patio overlooking the towns below, and Jose cranked up the music. Every once in a while he would let out a little James Brown screech and start singing along. He was either totally engaged with the party or completely removed, absorbed in his cell phone. Yelin admonished him at one point, and he sounded like a little kid saying, "I just have to know what's going on." Apparently there is a presidential election coming up soon, and he, of course, is wondering if he will have a job after the end of the year. Right now he is the minister of immigration, and if Martinelli doesn't win the election, he will be out of a job. I cannot imagine that this would be a monetary concern. I looked at his realty website the other day, and he has listings as high as 20 million.
For dinner Yelin put out a buffet of turkey, ham, pork, broccoli salad with grapes, tamales, corn cake, coconut rice with guandu, cranberry sauce, challa (sweet bread) and Delia's cabbage rolls. Everything was fantastic.
Ted started to make motions of wanting to leave at about 10:30, but they would have none of it. They brought the punch bowl out to the patio and said that no one could leave until the bowl was empty and the fireworks were over. The punch was called tinto de verano. This is a traditional Panamanian beverage to celebrate the holidays and welcome the summer. So, we drank the punch, danced a little and waited for the fireworks. I enjoyed chatting with Pam and listened as Alan and Delia discussed the Big Bang and the Singularity. Alan went on about how Einstein was "just wrong," and I guess he should know because his business card shows Dr.and PhD, just in case you missed it the first time. We're not quite sure what he did/does for a living, but his card says he was in intelligence. Not sure why one would advertise that. Just curious.
So although we were tired, we hung in there until midnight and then watched as the fireworks exploded across the landscape below. It was quite impressive. Jose said that this was something that had just begun in the past 10 years or so. It's apparently big business. One fireworks can cost $200.
So after the fireworks and kissing each other with wishes of Feliz Navidad, we headed down the hill. Descending the driveway I had to lean back so far to maintain my center of gravity, that I lost control of my footing when I slipped in some sand on the concrete. I lurched forward and was doing some serious backing-and-forthing before I managed to stabilize myself again. Thank goodness I hadn't had too much of the tinto de verano. I had visions of rolling down the driveway, unable to stop, smashing into the gate below; that would leave a mark.
At the party were also a few other neighbors. Alan lives right next door, hidden by huge bougainvillae, so hidden in fact that he was recently robbed, beaten and shot at by two intruders. It was apparently an "inside job." The gardener, who lives there, was apparently called by an old girlfriend who said that she just had to talk to him at 2 in the morning. So, he let her into the house, not realizing that she had companions. It was a pretty ugly story which culminated in the robbers escaping and Alan ending up in the hospital. The two robbers apparently attempted another job the very next night which resulted in one of them jumping over a fence, breaking his neck and dying.
Delia and Gary, from down the road a bit, picked up the story by saying, "Okay, we're all smart people here. We should form a vigilante group." This was said partly in jest by Delia, a short, round, very smart, very funny Roumanian woman who made amazing cabbage rolls. In her working life she sold perfume. She mentioned names that meant nothing to me, but she said it was a very stressful job. Her territory included Salt Lake City, which she said was one of her best markets because people there were very appearance conscious, and Denver was her worst, where appearance and smelling politically correct were apparently not quite so important. Gary did something with CBS radio in New York, not sure what, but he commuted six hours a day, worked three, and rode the elevator with the likes of Mick Jagger and other very important people.
And then we have Jose. What a character. He was having such fun entertaining us all. He showed us around his home, gave us a bit of history (his family used to own most of the area), and laughed at Alan's story (every time). After dinner we moved out to the patio overlooking the towns below, and Jose cranked up the music. Every once in a while he would let out a little James Brown screech and start singing along. He was either totally engaged with the party or completely removed, absorbed in his cell phone. Yelin admonished him at one point, and he sounded like a little kid saying, "I just have to know what's going on." Apparently there is a presidential election coming up soon, and he, of course, is wondering if he will have a job after the end of the year. Right now he is the minister of immigration, and if Martinelli doesn't win the election, he will be out of a job. I cannot imagine that this would be a monetary concern. I looked at his realty website the other day, and he has listings as high as 20 million.
For dinner Yelin put out a buffet of turkey, ham, pork, broccoli salad with grapes, tamales, corn cake, coconut rice with guandu, cranberry sauce, challa (sweet bread) and Delia's cabbage rolls. Everything was fantastic.
Ted started to make motions of wanting to leave at about 10:30, but they would have none of it. They brought the punch bowl out to the patio and said that no one could leave until the bowl was empty and the fireworks were over. The punch was called tinto de verano. This is a traditional Panamanian beverage to celebrate the holidays and welcome the summer. So, we drank the punch, danced a little and waited for the fireworks. I enjoyed chatting with Pam and listened as Alan and Delia discussed the Big Bang and the Singularity. Alan went on about how Einstein was "just wrong," and I guess he should know because his business card shows Dr.and PhD, just in case you missed it the first time. We're not quite sure what he did/does for a living, but his card says he was in intelligence. Not sure why one would advertise that. Just curious.
So although we were tired, we hung in there until midnight and then watched as the fireworks exploded across the landscape below. It was quite impressive. Jose said that this was something that had just begun in the past 10 years or so. It's apparently big business. One fireworks can cost $200.
So after the fireworks and kissing each other with wishes of Feliz Navidad, we headed down the hill. Descending the driveway I had to lean back so far to maintain my center of gravity, that I lost control of my footing when I slipped in some sand on the concrete. I lurched forward and was doing some serious backing-and-forthing before I managed to stabilize myself again. Thank goodness I hadn't had too much of the tinto de verano. I had visions of rolling down the driveway, unable to stop, smashing into the gate below; that would leave a mark.