(500) Days of Summer

After watching this movie last night, I was not thoroughly convinced of whether I liked it or not. It was good... a little slow at points... and I was on edge. Then... it stuck in my mind. I thought about it... and thought about it... and thought about it. And realized, wow... what a great story. It truly captured the essence of a relationship everyone has gone through at some point of their life, whether it is as a Tom, or as a Summer.

I was a Summer.

The boy who was my first crush, and subsequently my first kiss, was a friend's older brother in New Jersey. I was 12 years old. It obviously led nowhere, as I moved literally days after it all went down. We never saw each other until many years later (as you will read below). But nonetheless, I apparently stayed on his mind. I remember in high school, we'd sometimes chat on AIM (aol instant messenger) or even on the phone, and though he was aware I had boyfriends, and I am sure he had girlfriends, he always seemed convinced that in the end we'd be together.

A little while before I met M (maybe a year), me and this boy stopped chatting as much, rather on and off here and there. When M and I first met, that summer I went to visit NJ, my dad and I were driving through our old neighborhood, and I saw my old friend (the guy's sister)... we stopped and chatted with her, and then her brother came along. We said hello... and talked some more... and that was about it. When I returned home, he saw me on AIM and simply said "tell your boyfriend he's a very lucky guy". I did tell M, hehe...

When I went to university, M and I had a bit of a rough patch, and took a bit of a break for 3 months or so. During that time, me and this guy started chatting again on AIM. I can truly honestly say for me it was harmless, more like talking to an old friend here and there. I mean... I was 12, like I said above. Again, the chatting waned slowly (this sentence I feel may be wrong, but I will keep it)... and M and I became very serious. About a year later, we decided to move in together. One day, this guy messaged me out of the blue on AIM. I mentioned that me and my boyfriend decided to move in together. He signed off, and I never saw him online again for many months.

One day, I came home to a message which said "I don't understand what happened... I thought we were getting to where I always thought I knew we'd get to... and suddenly you're moving in with a guy"... and that was it. I have never seen him online since; pretty sure I am blocked.

I've read a lot of discussion board about the movie that say how can Summer ever be forgiven... but in mine, and in her defense... I don't think it's always as obvious as it may seem, what a guy's intentions or feelings are... or at least to what extent they exist.

Cheapness?

It's, once again, been a while since I've posted. I actually think I've graduated from having to say that at the beginning of each post, to it just being assumed.

In September, M and I met a couple who moved here from the UK. Seemed quite nice, though different from us, but nonetheless we planned a Diwali dinner at Beirut (see below post re: "secret menu"). We actually did not end up ordering from the Indian menu, although there was one, a very pricey one, but from the actual menu. For the record, in my opinion, Habibi's on Calle Uraguay is MUCH better, and though I've heard disputes, the price is around the same in both areas. Nonetheless, I digress. Anyways, so the end of the night, we get a bill. Again, it was a pricey meal, and since they typically don't serve alcohal their wine selection was few and far between, all priced high. Just as a ways of a disclaimer, a normal, decent meal in Panama shouldn't run over $20- MAX $30 a head, in my opinion, including the bottle or 2 of wine. Nonetheless, the point of this story is not the actual bill, but the events that followed.

So we receive the bill, tip was not included at this restaurant, and the bill came out to $116. So M and I are pulling out $75, thinking $75 each should be sufficient, with tip etc... the other couple pulls out $60, and announces "$60 each, which is $120 and that covers the tip". WHAT?!?! Anyways, M took their cash and put the remainder on the credit card, and we covered the sufficient tip. Should we have said something? We didn't. We also have not seen them since that night. It totally did not sit well with me. I've always been a heavy tipper, but even so I don't scoff if someone gives 10%, as that is the normal here. But $4 dollars on a $116 bill? Are you kidding me? I know at this point we aren't in the position to pick and choose friends, considering we have just a handful... but I'd rather have that handful then have friends like that.

Am I over-reacting?

Rant Over.

Life is great...

... but from time to time, I reminisce about no other than what it would have been like if we never moved from New Jersey. I don't know what is wrong with me, or if I'll ever get over the move... but sometimes I just sit back and wonder.

I was going places in NJ. I was a black belt in tae kwon do with dreams of training for the olympics (got my black belt in '98, and the first year they were in the olympics was to be 2000... it was a big deal). I may have gotten nowhere with that but it was a passion. I was a straight A student, very well liked by teachers and peers alike, and despite all the family issues, had a great life overall. I wanted to be a dentist... so badly.

And then we moved. Two months after I got my black belt. A mere couple weeks after I found out what boys were and that I could maybe like one. Just a month before I'd start 7th grade.

Do you know, even now, I say I am from NJ. I lived in Canada, met M there, but I am from NJ. Honestly... it's a part of me. What was it? I want to get over it, but I don't want to lose the memories and the fondness of it. I just wish we never moved.

Yes, I know. Maybe I wouldn't have met M. If it was meant to be, it would be. If we are meant for one another, we will have met. This is not a concern.

Just needed to get it out. It sounds so pathethic. I am no different than anyone right... wanting to be a kid again. I just get into these nostalgic moods.

Sigh...

A Taste of India... finally!

Over the last few weeks, I've had a unquenchable craving for Indian food. I looked through several cook books (yes, I'm a bad house wife that uses the aid of cook books for my meals), however the spices required were not easily attainable.

Now there are a couple Indian restaurants in Panama. In August, M, myself, and our guests visited Delicias del India. They will continue to be a stop to by fresh meat (goat in particular). The food was decent... typical tandoori chicken. But it was quite bland and didn't have that extra touch. To be fair it was also very new when we went, so I will probably try it out again.

There is another restaurant that has recently opened called Mawabis (Nawabis sp?). For those in Panama, it is across from Del Prado. From what I hear, it is very good. I have yet to go. We had actually planned to go Sunday for dinner, but as you read further you'll see why plans changed.

A third restaurant is called Masala. It, apparently, is not very good at all. For the most part, people have recommended us not to go. I am sure we will end up going anyways, and when I do I will post a proper review (as with the other restaurants).

I just found out today that Beirut, a Middle Eastern restaurant in the city, serves an Indian menu too. But you have to ask for it. Top secret and whatnot. The suspense is definitely worth trying out :).

There used to be an excellent (from what we've been told) restaurant called Taj Mahal. They apparently did quite well, but not well enough to be make it worth staying apparently. From what we hear, people here are quite apprhensive to try new foods... not sure how true that is. People always tell us they'd love to have Indian. But, nonetheless, the restaurant was said to have mainly catered to ex-pats and tourists.

So... in our quest for spices, we were lead to Kings Food (next to Farmacia Arrocha in Paitilla). And I must say, they had all the spices imaginable, and all the brands we are used to. They also had dry pre-mixed rubs for different dishes as well. They had dry snacks, cookies, and crackers... as well as drinks lie Thums Up and Limca. You will find everything your heart desires in terms of spices there.

But... but, that's not what this is about. We went on a Sunday afternoon, and guess what? On weekends they serve Indian food. And noth just Indian food, extremely authentic tasting, delicious Indian food. M and I went with 4 friends (none of whom were Indian by the way)... and between us had Dahi Vada, Chicken Biryani, Mutton, Masala Dosa, Channa Bhatura, Naan, and Pav Bhaji. It was awesome. I was in heaven that day. The tummy ache at the end of the day (hey, I haven't had so many spices since I moved to the country!) was totally worth it. Sigh.

*As an aside: this Sunday, a British-Indian expat couple whom I met online is taking us to a vegetable market which apparently has a big variety of vegetables, including Kaylan (sp? Chinese Brocolli) and Okra. Will update on how that goes.

Wife of a Purchasing Manager

Once again, I've failed to maintain some sort of routine in writing here. Often, I think of great things I want to write about, but alas life comes into the way and it just doesn't happen. I apologize for that.

We're finally pulling our life together and getting settled in our house. No puppy yet, but it's on the list. It's quite a feat trying to shop. Being the wife of a purchasing manager can be tedious. Yes, a woman complaining about a husband who loves to... lives to... shop, and shop, and shop. Ugh! We literally have to go to every story in the city... and not just that, but every chain of every store... to see where we can get the best value for our money. M's not at all cheap, but he likes to know that he is geting the most out of his money. The culture of shopping and bargaining here in Panama has turned M into a monster. He refuses to buy a major item unless he gets a deal of some sort. Even if it's 5% off.

Frustrating... but hey... we have great stuff!

Tests

It's been a while since I've written, but we just recently moved into our new house and don't the internet yet. Right now I am using what I like to call and "internet stick", which connects through a mobile WAP to the internet. It's great to have when you are bored.

Guess what? I got a job call back. I applied for a job about 2 weeks ago. The next day I received a call asking me to come in for the recruitment test a week later (last week). The recruitment test was a small personality questionnaire followed by the Wonderlic test. The personality questionnaire was interesting. The front side had a bunch of traits (energetic, polite, determined, loyal, etc.) and you were to pick which traits you think people expect you to have. On the back were those same traits and you were to pick which traits you believe you do possess. It seemed dumb, considering who in their right mind would call themselves disloyal or rude? But it must serve some useful purpose I'm sure. Afterwards we had the Wonderlic test. If you haven't heard of it, look it up. I prepared as internet research led me to some sites saying this particular company gives these type of tests. It is comprised of 50 IQ type logic/ reasoning questions, and you have 12 minutes to answer as many as you can correctly. It is a mixture of both multiple choice and ones you have to enter the answer yourself, both easy and difficult. You are not expected to finish it, and you are only marked on correct answers.

From what I read online, a decent (average) mark is over 20, excellent is over 30. The company actually only requires over 16 for a call back. I completed 39 questions upon the timer going off at the test. The next day I called back and found out I got a 33! Woo! So now I am going for my second test on the 24th. It is apparently the same test to check for consistency (a waste of time IMHO).

Interesting fact: People put pictures on their resumes here.

For those intrigued-- here are some Wonderlic type questions:

1. If three inches of rope cost 7 cents, how much would 2 feet of rope cost?

2. What is the next number in the sequence: 5, 10, 20, 40,...?

3. An instrument store gives a 10% discount to all students off the original cost of an instrument. During a back to school sale an additional 15% is taken off the discounted price. Julie, a student at the local high school, purchases a flute for $306. How much did it originally cost?

4. If the perimeter of a rectangular house is 25 1/3 yards, and the length is 22 feet. What is the width?

5. The scientist was able to evoke powerful emotions from her audience. Evoke means
A. Sell B. Calm C. Call forth D. Exaggerate

6. VINTAGE NOVELTY these words:
A: Have similar meanings.
B: Have opposite meanings.
C: Have neither similar nor opposite meanings.

7. Assume the first 2 statements are true. Is the final one:
1. True 2. False 3. Not certain
The boy plays baseball.
All baseball players wear hats.
The boy wears a hat.

8. Which of the following numbers represents the smallest amount: 0.400, 0.04, 4.0, 40?

9. In printing an article of 48,000 words, a printer decides to use two sizes of type. Using the larger type, a printed page contains 1,800 words. Using smaller type, a page contains 2,400 words. The article is allotted 21 full pages in a magazine. How many pages must be in smaller type? (although not necesarily difficult, I actually skipped this question on the test as I knew too much time would be spent on it)

10. A boy is 17 years old and his sister is twice as old. When the boy is 23 years old, what will be the age of his sister?

Have fun!

Still running... and the MOVE

I'm on week 2... woo hoo. It's crazy but I already feel better about myself. I'm sure there are no physical changes whatsoever, but mentally I feel a hell of a lot more confident. It also helps that I eat whatever I want guilt free. Love it!

Friiiidayyy we get to move into the new house! I am so excited. It was an extremely long process, apparently banks take 2-3 weeks just to release a promissary note, and another 2ish weeks to transfer the funds to the seller. Luckily our seller was willing to let us move in on the promissary note alone. Thank god. Corporate temp housing is great in that it's free... but doesn't let us feel at home. It's temporary, just like it's namesake, not allowing you to feel like this is a move,but rather an extended vacation.

So about the house... it's a three bedroom, office, family room, living room, dining room, kitchen, maids quarters, 3.5 bathrooms, balcony, patio, and 2600 squ feet. I love it. Let's walk you through it... when you come in the front door, the stairs are to the left hand side, with a lighted walk way all the way up. Straight ahead is the small hall, with an office on the right and a 1/2 bath on the left. The hall opens to the living/dining area with a walk out to the backyard. On the right is the entrance to the eat-in kitchen. From the kitchen there is a second door to the patio, as well as a door to the laundry area. The laundry area opens up into the backyard. The back portion of the laundry area houses a door to the front driveway, as well as the door to the maid's quarters and maid's bathroom. Upstairs when you exit the stairway you walk into the family room with a walk out balcony. On the right is the entrance to the master bedroom with a walk in his/hers closet and full bathroom. Behind the family room straight ahead is a guest bathroom, and on either side of it are guest bedrooms equipped with a built in california closet unit.

The curb appeal of the house is awesome too. Drive up to luscious (and I mean luscious!) green grass with a decorated palm on the front lawn. The pathway to the front door is lined with white stones and decorative flowers. There is a long window framing the stairway of the house and a covered driveway with concrete pillars. The backyard has some decorative work along the back wall (backyards are fenced by concrete here, not metal fences), and we will be putting in a small garden ourselves. I have to find another word for decorative :.

It's an awesome house, perfect for entertaining and boy do we plan to do a lot of that. It's a fully gated community with only one entrance/exit and 24 hour security, including guards who ride through the neighborhood on bikes. There is a pool, tennis courts, parks, barbecue area, gym, and social area. It's like living in a resort. So excited.

Checking in...

Did my run again yesterday. I honestly already feel better about myself. It's incredible, the mental benefits that physical exercize can achieve. I will do my last run tomorrow because I didn't take into account that I should let my body rest. No big deal.

Accountability

I've always been some who positive reinforcement works great, and negative reinforcement will funnel me into a neverending hole. Sounds drastics but it's true. Minor, fictional example-- if someone says "Niki's a b*tch", I will probably go out of my way to be exactly that to that individual, because if they already think so poorly of me what do I care to change that perception. On the other hand if someone thinks I can succeed even if I don't think I can, I will go out of my way to try my hardest because I don't want to disapoint the person. Classic example in the life of Niki: In my junior year of high school, I was taking an academic math course. Now our school split courses into 3 levels, lowest to highest being applied, academic, and advanced. After my first test in the academic class, which I achieved something around the low 90s on, my teacher approached me and asked why I am taking the academic course. I said, I don't think I'd be able to do very well in it. She responded that she thinks I'd be able to far surpass most of the kids in it.I received a 98% in her class, and the next year I switched to advanced math courses, and eventually got into university for Honors Mathematics. I just couldn't let her already high perception drop.

One of our guests is a major marathon runner. Does it often, and travels countries to participate. The second day he was here, he was talking about his trainings and what he does, and I offhand said "Wow, that's awesome... I could never do it". He looked at me and said "yes you could. I guarantee it. and you'd love it." Interestingly enough this guy is a teacher... hmm. Anyways, once he planted that seed I spent the last week thinking about it. Keep in mind, I get winded after running a few minutes.

So off I went google searching on how to train my body. Most of the marathon sites said before you start training for an actual half/full marathon you need to be able to run comfortably for 30 minutes. So I have yet to get to that level. I then found a site which outlines how to get up to that 30 minutes. I have decided to follow it religiously.

Now M thinks the first couples week are ridiculous, and I considered skipping ahead. But I ultimately opted against it. I want to start from the beginning and do this the long way. No skipping corners. My running days initially will be TWT, and once I hit 4 days, will probably add in a weekend day. I started today.

Readers (all one? of you), are my accountability. Knowing that someone is going to be watching me succeed (or possibly fail) will push me to ensure I do it. Right now my goal and what I would be ecstatic about is being able to run for 30 minutes straight. My ultimate goal is to achieve runners high.

Here goes nothing...

Ex-pat Parties

On Saturday, M, myself, and our guests (who are now 3, one guy arrived Saturday) headed out to our real estate agent's engagement pool party/ bbq type of deal. It was quite an interesting experience.

We headed in around 8 PM (which is already very dark here in Panama, where the sun sets at 6:30). There are groups of people everywhere, kind of mingling around and doing their thing. Our agent is engaged to a Panamanian girl, so there was a mix of Americans and Panamanians alike. What was intrigueing was the fact that the American native English speakers cliqued together, as did the Panamanian native Spanish speakers. This was odd, as the majority of people were fully bilingual. I guess speaking to those who speak your native language is a breath of fresh air for the brain (or something).

The group was a interesting bunch. There were your ex-pats, like our agent, who lived in Panama because they love the country, love the life, and just enjoy the culture. Lives quite humbly and mingles with everyone. Then there are those ex-pats who are there totally exploiting the benefits the country gives foreigners. Living lavishing lifestyles, not interacting with local people whatsoever, and just doing their thing to push them selves ahead. I don't know which is better in the end, but I definitely think the former is more respectable.

Granted, we did buy a car which would be way above our status level in Canada, and why? Because we could afford it here. But at the same time, we shop at the area which is normally just for locals, we are meeting people from all over, not sticking to the ex-pat community.

It's an interesting concept, being an ex-pat, and people tend to define themselves differently because of it. I think I want to still live like it's my country, even though we can afford to be extravagent in some areas, I don't think we'll exploit that at every given opportunity.

I am totally babbling... it was a weird experience and it's hard to put into words. I'll stop while I stil somewhat have some dignity.

Another Perspective

Yesterday, one of M's cousin's old roommate's older brother and his friend (did you get that?) came down to Panama and crashed with us. It's really interestig hearing different perspectives of things. One thing that really shocked them and had them talking for a good 20 minutes, was the way construction workers whistle at girls on the street. Mind you, they are good-sized guys and I was walking between them. Workers were whistling from the 20th-25th floors of building, constantly. Even if you looked out the window, any women/ girl that walked by got catcalled. They found this aggresiveness astonishing and highly amusing.

Crybaby

Ok, so I've decided to stop numbering my posts by day. It makes my lazy days glaringly obvious, and I'd prefer not to have that.

So yesterday as I was dropping M back to work after lunch. OH! Did I mention? He comes home for lunch EVERY day. That's just the norm. Awesome! Love it. It makes the days soo much more bearable. I think this country's rubbing of on me. I digress. So, he tells me to wait downstairs, as he forgot to bring home a paper I need to sign to finalize some mortgage details (no we haven't moved in or anything yet-- I will write ASAP when things are firmed up). So I am sitting downstairs, when all of the sudden, a security guard is at each window. One guy, the street guard or whatever starts speaking in Spanish, and I look at him blankly (although I knew he wanted me to move, but ignorance works well). Finally I said "Habla Ingles?"... he laughed, and just sort of waived me off as in "it's fine, not worth the effort of trying to translate, she's doing no harm" that sort of thing. Nice guy. But the company security guard was power tripping BEYOND belief. He kept tapping his watch and pointing me to move. Bring out the violins, patheticness starts here... do you know what I did? I started crying! WTF? That was completely unexpected. It's just everyone had been so nice to me and people are understanding of my very little and very broken Spanish, and I just felt so freakin helpless not being able to explain that I am just waiting for 2 minutes till my husband comes to have me sign something, and that my husband works at the company, I'm not just some random loitering around the company grounds. Ugh, I cringe at myself sometimes.

Dia Siete

So I recently found out that Panama is in a seismic zone and does get earthquakes QUITE often. This was found out after reading a sign in the elevator that said "Terremoto". Knowing terre meant earth, and assuming was moto was something to that effect of a natural disaster (within the notice, I saw things saying to "stay calm" and ensure you have agua, etc.), we asked M's manager about it, who confirmed our suspicions. M's manager just moved here from Mexico last month. So we reply with "but I thought Panama was free of natural disasters", and he laughed saying that's what he was told too. Since he's lived here, there has been 2! That's crazy. I read up some more through my good friend, Google, and found that Panama, as a country gets hit by some 100 earthquakes a year, rating between 5 and 7 on the seismic scale. Granted, these normally hit north and northeast of the City, but we still get the aftershocks. Now I'm even happier we've decided on a house.

Speaking of earth's weird ways... last night there was a MAJOR thunderstorm. Worst I have ever experienced. The hunder was so loud, that everytime it sounded, car alarms went off. I was so scared of storms when I was young, and though frightening now, I was pleased to see my fear is gone, and replaced by a bit of excitement and a bit of anxiousness. The cats didn't seem bothered by it at all, which is odd, considering they get skittesh when they hear someone in the hallway walking. Weird creatures those cats.

Days 5 & 6 (Cinco y Seis Dias)

M started work today (day 6-- day 5 was quite uneventful). He actually had a good time. His official start date isn't till the 3rd, but his manager said to come in today as the new CEO will be visiting (the former CEO retired last month- big news). It worked out great, as M, if nothing else, has luck. He happened to be in the elevator with CEO. The engaged in a conversation, upon which CEO said "wow, you have great English". M replied with "I should... I was born and raised in Canada... today is my first day here in Panama". This brought them into conversation about how he came about moving to Panama (considering it's a 3 floor building, how they managed all this talking in the elevator is beyond me). Anyways, so the CEO told M that it was a great move, and commended him on the choice. This is awesome, and great face time for M. I predict good things (fingers crossed).

Other than that, I think we may be putting in an offer for a place. If we do, I will update of the progress. Other than that, the day was quite uneventful. We did have an awesome dinner. A full pitcher (and pitcher here is like the pitcher of juice you'd make for a party at home, not one of those small, round pitchers) of sangria, a filet mignon, a plate of jumbo (and I mean JUMBO) shrimp, and some flan for dessert all for $45. And we're in the most expensive area of the city. If nothing else, we will eat WELL.

Days 3 & 4

I'll start with Day 4 which was primarily uneventful. I think we've settled on a neighborhood,well one of two anyways- they are gated communities- either Versailles or Costa Sur. Cute little homes (~2500 squ. ft. or so) with a nice yard, plus common areas including pool, tennis courts, park, and gym. Bonus-- the mayor lives there, which gives us additional private security. Jackpot. Will update on the progress.

The new agent we've been using has what it takes to be an agent. Although he is American, he has entrenched himself int learning the Panamanian real estate market inside and out, both from a personal, living perspective, and from a financial, investment perspective. He was found simply through doing a search on the real estate market, upon which M found a long, indepth manifesto, if you will, talking about the market, what to expect, past trends... the works. Everything a smart buyer would need in one place. That alone convinced him that this was the agent we needed to contact.

Panama is a little different in the way agents work. Everyone and their dog seems to be an agent, so needless to say, there is some lack of professionalism, and needless to say, massive chaos. There are no lockboxes for keys, and many of the owners are foreign investors who have never lived in the country and for all we know, have never even seen the unit. So the key is either with a friend, neighbor, uncle, long lost sibling... who knows. The average (or from what we saw before present day agent) process was to sit around and wait till said friend, neighbor, etc. finally show and proceed to take us to see a place which does not meet one need that we expressed. It's great.

After finding our new agent, a huge weight has been lifted off our shoulders. We now have an agent who spent the time understanding our needs, and would rather take time to show us 3 places that meet those needs than just cram a whole bunch of useless homes (to us at least) into a day to feel accomplished. Beyond that, he tells it straights- the goods, the bads, the uglies. No rushing us out just to get a quick sale. I will continue to post on our progress, but till then if anyone wants his contact, leave a message.

Now the fun part, yesterday. Our first real drive somewhere- we were going to Albrook mall, which is about 15 minutes North- West of where we are staying in Costa Del Este. At one point the road forks off, and you can end up going the wrong way, or going to the mall. The wrong way is Chorillo. You don't want to go to Chorillo, or so we have been told. As we were driving and the surroundings became a bit sketchy, and we felt perhaps we were going the wrong way. Before waiting to find out, M decided, "hey let's just pull a U and get out of here". Right in front of the cops. Great. So now we have 2 cops running after us as we pull to the side of the road. Luckily we have been schooled in the fact that Panamanian cops don't want to give a ticket, considering they don't really get anything out of it. Observation: on the bright side, isn't it nice that they don't get satisfaction out of making us suffer through the hassle of a ticket, unlike NA cops. Anyways, so we played the "we're Canadian, tourists, no habla espanol, please don't ticket us, por favor". After about 15 minutes of the cop telling us we made an "infraction" which is "very bad", we pleaded with him to make some sort of arrangement. He then looked at the fact that there were "witnesses" around us, and spent some time telling us how to get into a side street to meet him there. He heavily stressed that "in Panama at a red light, you must stop. Don't go till it's green". That made me laugh.

Anyways... we met him on the side street, where he spent some more time questioning whether I actually speak Spanish. I don't, although I don't think he was convinced of the fact. After, M counted in his wallet. We truly, honestly, had only $15 on us. We told the cop the same. After mishearing, and thinking we said $50, he relented, handed us his traffic book and said put it in here. We exchanged his book for our license/passports, and went on our way. Easy peasy.

Well, if nothing else, this move will be an experience of the differences from country to country. Despite the chaos, I think I'm going to like this.

Days 1 and 2

Wow, I'm already falling behind. Well I guess the first few days/ weeks will always be busy, but once we get into the swing of things, I can make this more routine.

So our first full day here was spent doing the basics- grocery shopping. As much asI loathe it on a normal basis, it was definitely an enjoyable experience. We started the day just walking off the building property, and upon some discussion, deciding to turn left. This seemed to be the wrong direction, but we continued on ahead in hopes of maybe finding some better clues as to where we were. It proved successful, and after a couple conversations with us speaking English and helpful strangers answering in Spanish, we managed to find our way there. There were 2 major supermarkets right next to each other- Super 99 and REY. The purchasing background in M forced us to compare prices in both before deciding where to shop. We brought out our handy pen and paper and started in REY writing down prices of key items which we could compare. Security found this very suspicious and kept a close eye on us. Finally he asked to see what we were writing, and seemed satisfied. Upon doing our comparisons, we decided REY overall was the better supermarket for our needs. The back and forth undoubtedly struck the security guard as odd, but other than a sideways glance, he did not bother us.

Saturday was car renting day. We needed to take a taxi to meet some friends of ours who would show us where/ how to rent a car. Finding that taxi proved nearly impossible. Empty taxis will drive right past you without a glance. Others will stop, hear the destination, and drive off in utter contempt that you even had the nerve to ask them to drive so far out of there way. Finally, after running for shelter upon a sudden terrential downpour, we found a willing driver. He charged us $3 which I suspect is higher than the actual rate, but got us to our destination and we can't complain.

Renting a car a National was actually quite easy (mas facil). Driving, on the other hand, was an adventure. We managed successful trips back home, and later on out to dinner, and were satisfied.

We spent the evening in the heart of the Panama City nightlife which was great. It's a cool little spot called Calle Uraguay which hosts many restuarants, bars, clubs, and lounges. We had a nice relaxing evening, and some good chats with our friends. All in all, it was finally beginning to feel like home.

Panama... Day 0

M has asked me to start a blog writing about our experience here in Panama. His motive for it I'm sure is to keep me busy in a new country while I remain unemployed. Fingers crossed my visa filing is quick so I can get a job. My motive for it is, who knows, may I can be published one day. This, of course, will not read as a publishable type novel of any sort, but I'm just writing as it comes to my mind and therefore you're not allowed to judge (so there!).

So our first steps in Panama started with the Immigration agent, who did not speak a word of English, holding onto my password and asking us to wait over there (communicated through a series of hand motions). A few short minutes later, someone else takes my passport, goes to another room (which looked suspiciously like a banos (bathroom) but who am I to question?), and in about 2 minutes brings it back and we're on our way.

Next came the daunting task of getting the cats inspected. The inspection consisted of me sitting outside with the cats and our piles of luggage, as M went in to a backroom, spoke to a vet who I never got a glimpse of; he marked down that he completed a thorough inspection, paid a significant sum of money, and off we were. Their thoroughness and concern for the health of our cats astounded me (roles eyes). Moneygrab if I've ever seen one.

The rest of the day was spent just looking at our new condo (well new as in temporary), adjusting the temperature so we don't wake up as icicles (yes, in a tropical country... for some reason they feel 15C is a reasonable, comfortable temperature... brr), and coaxing the cats to come out from under the new bed.

Respect your Elders

I am of strong belief that respect is earned, not simply handed out. I particularly disagree with the notion that elders should automatically receive respect due solely to their age. In my opinion, that's ridiculous. Some of the 'elders' I know are the most ignorant, pompous, insolent, ornery, and downright unrespectable people I know.

One man, who will remain unnamed, is an elder within my fiance's family. All the younger brothers/ cousins look up to him. He knows this, and takes pride in it. When his three daughters got married, he boasted the fact that he dropped a couple hundred grand on their wedding. In turn, he places immense pressure of what the sons of his brothers/ cousins (one of these sons being my fiance) do.

Now of these three daughters, the first broke off her arranged marriage, and married for love. She has two children and has an extremely successful life. The next daughter is married, also with two children, living in a one bedroom rental apartment. The third daughter lives in her in-laws basement. Why not cough up that money and help your children settle into their marriage, forget the wedding. But somehow the wedding is the most important aspect. Showing off to the family. Is this respectable?

In turn, mine and my fiance's smaller, more intimate, and conservative wedding has sparked some comments on the "cheapness" of our families. Meanwhile, my fiance and I are on our way to purchase our 2nd home, and moving up in quite a nice manner given our young age. Yet, his cousin and my fiance's father continue to feel that perhaps we are lacking behind the family, and continuously takes the negative comments regarding our refusal to spend copious amounts of money on the wedding. His father will not say anything back regarding the fact that his future daughter in law and his son at the ages of 20 and 22 bought their first condo, and now at 23 and 25 will be purchasing a home, in a sought after community on the beach in Central America.

Why? because he is an elder!

I do not respect him, as he never respected me. I will make no notion to show respect. I really don't care.

Some Explanations

Why I feel the need to explain myself, I don’t know... but the urge has come. I realize this is two postings in a day versus my norm of 2 a month... but I feel compelled. After perusing through a blog of my friends and the subsequent blogs she followed, I realized that mine is morbid in comparison. I’m using this blog as a form of therapy, if you will. Many many wonderful things happen to me on a daily basis and I’m actually quite a fortunate girl... but these you will hear from me in person over and over again. I don’t want to bore and depress people with my dark thoughts on a daily basis. Everyone has them... some continually express them (can think of a few right off the top of my head), some bottle them up (something I normally do) and some achieve a healthy balance- which is what I strive for.

Believe it or not, (although if you read this blog you’d probably believe it), I tried out therapy for a bit last summer. It was alright, I guess, but very similar to this blog, it was simply me talking about my past and daily somewhat 'woe is me' thoughts. This seems like a must cheaper alternative.

So those of you (if any) that think this may be a dark and depressing concept of a blog, I apologize, but it’s my way of ensuring my anger does not get out of hand (which, by the way, was the trigger for me seeking therapy) and allows me a bit of release from everyday life without depressing those around me :).

Being alone.

I had an interesting revelation today. I hate to be alone. Now this I have known my entire live. I have an intense fear of being alone. But my revelation went beyond that. I’m uncomfortable by myself. I’m restless. I don’t know what to do. Being at home, and my fiancé is at work for the past 6 months has been an eye opener. The first 4 months not so much, as I had class 4 days a week, and he tends to work from home on Fridays, so I had some form of human interaction. These past 2 months however have been brutal. I kept thinking to myself, I have full days to kill... I do have 6 distance education (read: 0 interaction) courses, so I figured I can spend my morning doing some school work, and then get some wedding planning, cleaning, gym-ing, cooking... out of the way. School goes by fine, it provides me with focus for the first 3 to 4 hours of my day. And then I crash. I just cannot do it alone. If my fiancé was home, even sitting on the couch watching TV, I’d be above and beyond active- cleaning, making invitations, doing essays, cooking. It’s the company I crave. I don’t have the drive to do it alone.

Today, during a break from my school work, I sat by the window and looked onto the construction. I took note that all the construction workers are paired up at the very least, if not put into groups. I felt a pang of jealousy. What I loved most about my previous job was the interactions with [some] people, whether it be through our cubicle, in the lunchroom, or just on the instant messaging on the computers. It actually made me more productive. My desire, passion, efficiency, and productivity went down the tube (knowingly) when a new manager came in and pulled back on the reins on our normally sociable group. Suddenly 5 minute chats between cubes were frowned upon, and even a quick hello was done in the sneakiest manner. It became miserable. My colleagues and I became experts at the act of looking busy, as we tried to talk and catch up on one another’s lives. Not once, when we were a cohesive sociable group, did we fall behind on work, have a bad audit, and receive complaints. When our only source of release for the day was taken away, our work ethic went with it. Luckily I left before this became apparent. Anyways, I digress.

I’ve realized in life, I need to... must... be doing something where I have interaction with people. This doesn’t mean customer services. Not strangers... a culture where interaction, partnership, and cohesiveness are important. This is strange as I consider myself very shy and can feel lonely in the biggest of group... but I fear being alone. I can’t do it alone.

Recently, my fiancé and I had a conversation about police officers. He said they must always drive with a partner. Isn’t that wonderful? I thought it was. Even when in silence and while concentrating on the hardest of work, just the sheer thought that you have someone next to you is comforting. In my opinion.

This probably makes me a very lonely person.

Bloodline

I don't know if it's my culture, whether it's plain old fashioned thinking, or whether it's a 'quirk' within certain people, but it seems that unless you share the same blood, you are not family. Being adopted from one side never seemed to fall into the category of being adopted. I never considered myself as an adopted child. I did however feel the disconnect between my step father's family and myself. I may have been a child, but children know more that you may think.

Recently, with the wedding planning, this fact has hit further close to home. It has become apparent that my marriage is not a priority to the step-paternal side of the family. It seems everything from money to health to school to plain bad timing has caused everyone from my step- grandmother to my step- aunt to have a reason to miss out unless my dad (step) can cough up the cash for the ticket or the hotel or the something or other. The fact that it's my wedding seems to have fallen to the way side. It's been said before (children hear/ pick up on more than you think)... I am not a true [insert last name here]; I don't carry the blood. I'm just a casualty of someone's past life.

It's funny how major life events bring out the truth in a lot of people. You find out who really cares and who really doesn't. Unfortunately, from my side, it has been more a function of finding out I really don't matter. For a while, and when it concerned my so- called friends, I partially blamed myself and my apparent inability to maintain a friendship... but in light of recent developments regarding my supposed 'family', I'm not sure where the blame lies?

Burden... yes, burden was the right word it seems.

A burden?

When my mother met my step-father, he began to stay over our house and spend a lot of time with us. I guess this is expected of a new boyfriend. He was and still is a great guy, and spent all kinds of time with me.

On an aside, I remember when me and my mom once went to pick him up from his apartment, we needed to take the elevator up. I went in, thinking my mom was behind me. I don't know where she was. I ended up in the elevator alone going up to who knows where. All I remember is thinking this is it. I will never see my mom again. I don't know why I was so irrational. Little things always translated into the end... no middle, just the end.

Anyways, back to my original thought. I can't help but think what a burden I must have been. Here my mom has met a wonderful new man, and she's got to break the news that I am her daughter. Even further, I was just always around. I know they must not have actually thought 'wow, she is a burden', but I know. Know. that at some point it was wished that I wasn't born or around. How much easier it would have made life for them. That makes me sad.

Was I Different?

A recent conversation I had with my aunt brought many questions and a bit of sadness to my mind. She said to me " you were such a sweet kid... you still are... but you were different them"... when I supplied "yea, but I was so shy", she corrected me "you became shy... you were very outgoing, loved talking to everyone... really fun- loving!" What?!?! This astonishes me... and saddens me. My biggest area of concern regarding myself has always been my personality. I tend to clam up around a lot of people and am just plain shy (although often mistaken for snobbiness).

A major flaw I have (to add to the many) is I tend to place blame on others. My personality, and my shyness, was always one thing I couldn't blame anyone for. I've been like this since birth. But now... maybe I haven't. The divorce affected me in ways I couldn't even fathom. I know I shouldn't dwell on the past, but my subconscious is doing a good job for me.