Boquete, Panama for Under $59K

There is a myth that Boquete has gotten “too expensive” which needs to be debunked. Yes, prices have gone up. Panama uses the US dollar as its currency and imports a lot of items, so as the US dollar has devalued prices have gone up. Like everyone else in the world, Panama is dependant on oil. As the price of oil has risen so has the cost of fuel, essential in an agricultural area like Chiriqui. Since Boquete has been “discovered” as the paradise that it is, land prices have gone up as well.

Expats like us have moved in and build foolishly large houses: who needs 4,500 sq ft for two people? OK, like a lot of people we got carried away building our dream home. But for a lot of perhaps more sensible folks, 4,500 sq feet of house to maintain and 4.5 acres of land to cultivate isn’t their dream of a relaxing retirement! There are nice, North American-style homes available on the market in Boquete ranging in price from $250,000 to several million dollars. But what if you can’t afford that? What if you don’t need, or that?

Take the house we’ve almost finished renovating for my brother. It was a simple house we originally built for our farm worker – block, tin roof, Panamanian-style windows [no glass, decorative concrete block]. We needed to have my brother close at hand to deal with some of his physical challenges, so we renovated it. He has a really cute house, about 1,100 square feet, very nicely done . . . and almost finished. We have some final painting touch up to do inside and out, but he has two bedrooms, a living room, a small kitchen with dining nook, walk-in closet, bathroom with washer and dryer. He has a nice yard . . . and our total cost $32,000.

Here’s how that breaks down:

If we had to buy 1000 sq meter lot at today’s price of $15/meter in Palmira $15,000
Original cost of the worker casita $8,000
Cost to renovate to “gringo” standard (i.e., hot water, washer, dryer, microwave, stove, refrigerator, nice windows, grills, metal doors, new electric, tile floor, hung ceiling) $9,000

$32,000 for a really cut little house in Palmira . . . 10 minutes from “downtown” Boquete.

You can buy a nice, small, buildable lot in the outskirts of Boquete for anywhere from $15 to $25 a square meter, if you look around. Many of these small, buildable parcels already have community water supply, electric, and public road access. [Buying a lot without electricity can cost you a small fortune to get connected!]

One expat gal in our community, facing a major change of life after divorce, and with virtually no money, you’ll meet a gal who created a whimsical “hobbit” home out of a dilapidated old worker’s shack. With a lot of creativity, and virtually no money, she created a unique, interesting, a fun little house!

Two other gals bought an old run-down Panamanian house beside the river, invested about $25,000 and have a cute little house . . . unfortunately it is right next to the river, which may not be such a good idea.

Another guy took two 40 foot shipping containers and made a unique dwelling. 40 foot containers run around $3,000 each delivered.

Today I received this . . . I’m not necessarily trying to sell this guy’s house . . . but just to show you what $59,000 will buy if you get a little outside Boquete proper . . .

Now I know it’s hard to read since I just had to work with what the guy posted. But you can click on the above images for a little better view . . . or email these guys at ctgage@shaw.ca or call them (in Canada) 250-423-3582. They can give you all the details.

The gal who cuts my hair has a nice home in Alto Boquete for sale for under $50K. These homes are around, you just have to look for them. That means coming to Panama, spending some time, if you don’t speak Spanish finding a local who can help you, and searching. Understand a real estate agent would naturally rather work with people who are buying $400,000 homes since they work on commission, but, if you said to someone . . . this is what I want. Find it and I’ll pay you $5,000 or $8,000 . . . they’d find it . . . and if they wouldn’t a dozen other people would.

Happy Thanksgiving!

I am thinking about all my family and  friends in the States who are celebrating the US Thanksgiving today . . . while I am celebrating a day of thanks-living slurping up pasta with my daughter Rebecca in Rome.   We have a few days to enjoy Rome before boarding the ROYAL PRINCESS the day after tomorrow.  Becky has travelled all over and done exotic adventures like identifying whale sharks in Western Australia, counting male elephants in Tanzania, and trail building around Lake Baikal in Siberia, but somehow she had never managed to get to Rome.  So it is fun to show her around, and fun to be here off-season when you don’t have to wait in a Disney-type 3 hour line to see things.  But from me, from Panama, it was a challenge to find close to wear in Italy in November/December!

Anyway, the turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce, etc., will have to wait until we get on the ship.  But I am thankful . . . for my life, this time to be with my daughter, my wife, my daughter Noelle and her husband George and our grandson Rian, my friends and special “sons” in Ventura, the Dean brothers, my life and friends in Palmira, and the ability to see the world on beautiful ships.   It’s a good life and I’m grateful.

I’ve always thought Thanksgiving in the US should be more about giving thanks to God, and less about football and food.  I resent people calling it “Turkey Day” . . . can you imagine shutting down a nation to do homage to a bird, and a turkey at that?  I know Benjamin Franklin wanted the turkey to be our national bird . . . thankfully, we as a people dodged that bullet.   But since there is a lot of navel gazing and focus on eating and . . . damn it . . . that bird, I thought I’d pass on some things  my sister-in-law, Dorita, sent me.  This is one of those Internet forwards, so I have no idea what the copyright issues are . . . and if it’s yours, and you have a problem, let me know and I will shoot it.

Happy Thanksgiving to those of you in the US, belatedly to those of you in Canada, and to the rest of the world as well.

Leaving On A Jet Plane

As you read this I will be somewhere over the Atlantic, winging my way to Europe where I will be joining the ROYAL PRINCESS. Probably not sleeping. I don’t know why. I envy people who get on a plane, close their eyes after the safety briefing, sleep soundly until the flight crew shakes them awake just before landing. I’ve tried pills, alcohol, meditation, neck pillows, yada yada yada . . . and nothing. I can start dozing as soon as we start pulling out on the runway, but once we are airborne I’m wide awake. So hopefully KLM will have some good movies.

Kudos to Princess for not flying me to Rome via Atlanta, Detroit, Newark, London, Rome – typical Holland America routing - but putting me on the DIRECT flight from Panama City to Amsterdam, and then on into Rome. You didn’t know KLM flew direct to Panama? Well, it does! Tocumen Airport in Panama City is becoming a major hub for the Americas as more and more people want to avoid the hassle of connecting in the US.

KLM is a funny airline in many ways. The flight crews for their flights always arrive all at once and march through the airport like 25 or 30 soldiers in lock-step formation dressed in their baby blue outfits. Corny, but people notice, so I guess it’s a kind of advertising. I used to think KLM flight attendants were kind of curt, until I spent more time in Holland and realized that it’s a language thing. If you know a language, but don’t really know the nuances and tonal variations, saying the correct thing, with a slightly off tone can come across totally different than intended. I was on KLM when I was in the travel business and going to Holland to become a “Dutch Specialist” on a travel agent familiarization trip sponsored in part by KLM. We were flying coach (it wasn’t that good of a trip, to be in business or first class) and all seated in the forward section of one of the rear cabins . . . where there is more leg room and often where folks with babies end up because they can hook little cribs into the walls of the rest rooms. So, typical fam trip, two or three guys and a ton of women. KLM is doing their best to make us happy . . . translation, lots of booze . . . and one of our gals notices that the hole where the crib locks in opens directly into the rest room and gives a head-on-view, so to speak, of gentlemen using the rest room. So our people, having already enjoyed what amounted to an open bar, are queuing up for a look, taking measure, and like Olympic judges scoring . . . when the KLM crew comes over to find out what is going on . . . and they are lining up and giving scores. And the poor people in the front cabin didn’t have a clue!

The last time, I think, that I was on KLM to Schippol (and to pronounce it like the Dutch do you have to clear your throat like you are collecting a great gob of phlegm to spit out) we had just landed and I was semi-comatose from sleep deprivation. As I was in the great line filing out from seat 312 E I heard what sounded, I thought, like a Dutch attempt at my last name. When I asked at the jetway they said that yes, they had a message for me, I was to call my wife as soon as possible. My heart dropped and I thought, “Something’s happened to one of the kids.” When I got Nikki on the phone she quickly informed me that she and the kids were fine, but . . . as she put it, “This is something you need to deal with. I can’t make the decision.”

When I was a young pastor in the South Bronx I became surrogate father to a number of kids and the one who was most “my” kid, was a kid named Efrain. I met Efrain when he came into our drug program . . . totally strung out on heroin, with tracks up and down his arms. He was 11 years old, and looked more like 8. Back then a kid that young strung out on heroin was somewhat of a novelty. He didn’t really fit in any program, so he became like my son. I remember crawling over snaking fire hoses and pushing past NYFD guys into the tenement where Efrain’s family lived to find out if they were still alive, coming under the not-so-friendly fire of NYPD (actually with Luther Van Dross’s mother, Mary Ida) to try and find Efrain when bullets were flying, and smuggling Big Macs into the hospital when Efrain almost died. Somehow he survived. For a year or so he lived with us in Milwaukee, and then went back to New York. When he was twenty-two he landed a very responsible job managing one of the old porn shops in Times Square. He sent me a picture of him at the counter, looking very proud and important. He had to manage the staff, which was more demanding than you might think. This was one of those places where you put a quarter in and the window slid up and you could watch a live girl . . . so he not only had to manage security, inventory, money, but also a staff of working girls. So Efrain made his twenties . . . and as has happened with all my Bronx kids, you lose track of each other.

Unfortunately Efrain, like a lot . . . maybe most . . . addicts, went back on drugs, unbeknownst to me. My wife was calling because somehow one of Efrain’s brothers had managed to track me across the states through the churches I had served to California. Efrain was in the hospital, dying of AIDS and he wanted to see me before he died. After all these years it is still tough to think about. I called his brother and they didn’t think Efrain would make it through the night. There was no way I could get there and all I could say was, “Tell him I love him . . . and I’ll see him someday.”

So KLM memories are definitely mixed.

When I leave on a trip I like to leave everything in order. Clean house. Clean desk. No unfinished business or projects. I work hard to have schedules, countdowns, so everything is in order. But it doesn’t work out that way! Ever. It seems I always leave a swirl of chaos in my wake which my poor wife is generally left to sort out and clean up. Last year when I left for my winter cruise trip the house in Palmira was still unfinished. This year, some of my projects are unfinished. Yes, partly it’s because I tend to bite off more than I can chew, although this year we’ve had some big and unexpected (and unwanted!) surprises.

What I need now is someone to feed me, clean my clothes, pick up after me, shine my shoes, give me fresh towels and put towel animals on my bed. When I got married I thought that was what a wife did . . . now I know better and know that’s what a room steward does! I’ll talk to you from the ROYAL PRINCESS!

BCP Center is open!

A few years ago a couple of expats got together and began to dream about developing an amateur theater group in Boquete. Their initial efforts were produced in inadequate, temporary space, where if it rained you couldn’t hear the play, and if it rained too much everyone needed to evacuate. They persevered and the group grew and interest grew . . . and through the years Boquete has started to become a kind of mountain mecca for the arts and artists. Additional productions and theater troupes evolved, and several community-wide concerts and art shows have demonstrated an amazing variety of both native Panamanian and expat talent. And the initial group, by now known as Boquete Community Players, or BCP began to dream of a permanent home for the arts in Boquete. They looked at defunct bars and dance halls and even an old slaughter-house . . . and four-and-a-half months ago they managed to convince a theater supporter to lease them an old bar named “Snoopy’s” that was abandoned and trashed. People pulled together, worked amazingly long hours, contributed and amazingly . . . in less than 5 months IN PANAMA! . . . created a center for theater and arts in Boquete including a 150-seat theater, expansive lobby overlooking the river and the mountains, and a meeting room for smaller events and community functions.

Yesterday was the grand opening of the BCP Theater and Event Center designed to serve the entire Boquete community. I know I promised to only post on even days, but this is NEWS and can’t wait! The BCP Center is open!

 

Sunday there were two grand opening performances that were sold out. The show featured a master of ceremonies who read extensively in English and Spanish from 3×5 cards, backed up by a talented mix of expat and Panamanian performers. But it really wasn’t about the show as much as it was about the realization of a dream of art and community center for Boquete.

 

The center can be rented for private events and meetings and is available to the community for concerts and events.

When you look at these pictures . . . you need to know that less than 5 months ago this place was trashed . . . and now . . . WOW! It’s not exactly OASIS OF THE SEAS or a Princess or Holland America stage, although hogging-spotlight-time is familiar, but for Boquete in the mountains of Chiriqui, this is big time!

52 Pickup

Remember 52 pickup . . . throwing all the cards into the air in utter frustration?

Well, that’s a little what life feels like in Boquete! 4 days until I fly away from it all . . . to work on ROYAL PRINCESS for 4 months. I can’t wait to go to “work” on the ship so I can get a vacation!!

In my dreams I fly off into the sunrise with everything I planned to do finished, leaving things all in order, my work for the cruise all done . . . everything scheduled out. Well the cruise part is done, so all of you who are joining me on ROYAL PRINCESS shouldn’t worry . . . but everything in Palmira and Boquete . . . sheer chaos! Unfortunately “shit happens” and it usually all happens just before I leave on a trip.

So, right now, the thought of my own stateroom where I can hide out and put up a “Do Not Disturb” sign, get room service or eat whenever and whatever I want, have someone to clean my clothes and make up my room . . . and sail to exciting destinations . . . well, that sounds like heaven! Unfortunately, as usual, I leave my wife to clean up the mess.

My daughter, Rebecca, will be meeting me in Rome for a few days, and then joining me on the ship for a month. She’ll get to spend Christmas and New Year’s with me on the ship, which is always fun. She gets off in January and my wife joins me in Fort Lauderdale for a month. Then two months, which will go quickly, and I’ll be back home to continue the chaos of retirement. What ever happened to sitting back, sipping wine and reading??

So here’s where we’ll be going over the next month or so, and some of the stuff I’ll be talking about . . .
the actual talk titles are different. I put on my REALTORS hat to create fluffy titles . . . remember “handyman special” [It's ready for demolition], “partial ocean view” [If you climb to the roof, hang onto the chimney and lean out far enough you may catch a glimpse of blue between the buildings], “quaint and charming” [last decorated in 1949 even before shag carpeting]. Anyhow, here’s the itinerary . . .

Itinerary Royal Princess – Tri-Continent [1921A]
1 Rome (Civitavecchia), Italy -8PM Special: “Pizza, Guns & Roses” – Sailaway commentary Depart 6:00PM
2 Naples/Capri, Italy Arrive 7:00AM Depart 6:00PM
3 Palermo, Italy – Taped: Port Talk: “Tunisia” Arrive 8:00AM Depart 5:00PM
4 Tunis (La Goulette), Tunisia Arrive 8:00AM Depart 5:00PM
5 At Sea – Lecture: “Age of Discovery”
6 At Sea – Port Talk: Casablanca”
7 Casablanca (Marrakech), Morocco Arrive 7:00AM Depart 8:00PM
8 At Sea – Lecture:: “Rum & Sugar: The ‘Oil’ of The 17th Century”
9 At Sea – Lecture: “Slavery & The Triangle Trade”
10 At Sea – Port Talk: “Adventure In Dakar”
11 Dakar, Senegal – Sailaway Commentary Arrive 8:00AM Depart 6:00PM
12 At Sea – Port Talk ”Cape Verde”
13 Mindelo, Cape Verde Islands Arrive 8:00AM Depart 5:00PM
14 At Sea – Lecture: “History of Piracy”
15 At Sea – Lecture: “Our Vanishing Rain Forest”
16 At Sea – Lecture: “Amazon River Adventure”
17 At Sea – Port Talk: “ Santarem”
18 At Sea – Port Talk – Manaus”
19 Santarem, Brazil Arrive 9:00AM Depart 6:00PM
20 Boca da Valeria (Amazon River), Brazil –Scenic Cruising Amazon Arrive 7:00AM Depart 2:00PM
21 Manaus, Brazil – Sail in Commentary Arrive 10:00AM
22 Manaus, Brazil
23 Manaus, Brazil – Taped: “Let The Adventure Begin” combined with Port Talk Parintins [Designed for those joining the cruise at this point] Depart 6:00PM
24 Parintins, Brazil – Lecture: “Amazon River Adventure” – Sail In Commentary Arrive 12:00PM
25 Parintins, Brazil Depart 7:00AM
25 Boca da Valeria (Amazon River), Brazil – Port Talk: “Santarem” Arrive 10:30AM Depart 6:00PM
26 Santarem, Brazil Arrive 7:00AM Depart 5:00PM
27 At Sea – Lecture: “Our Vanishing Rainforest”
28 At Sea – Port Talk: “Escape from Devil’s Island” AND Lecture: “Coffee in The Americas”
29 Devil’s Island, French Guiana (Isle Royale) – Sailaway Commentary Arrive 8:00AM Depart 2:00PM
30 At Sea – Port Talk: “France in The Caribbean” AND Port Talk: “England in The Caribbean”
31 Trinidad, Trinidad & Tobago Arrive 8:00AM Depart 4:00PM
32 St. Lucia – Sailaway Commentary Arrive 7:00AM Depart 4:00PM
33 St. Barthelemy –Sailaway Commentary Arrive 8:00AM Depart 4:00PM
34 At Sea – Coffee Chat
35 At Sea –
36 Ft. Lauderdale, Florida Arrive 7:00AM

Sound like fun? Come and join me on ROYAL PRINCESS! After Fort Lauderdale we’ll be doing 14 day trips up the Amazon between Fort Lauderdale and Manaus.

Bugs in The Chardonnay

Some things take some getting used to in Panama.

We are in the rainforest where there are more insect species than anyplace else on the planet.  So, yes, we have bugs.  We spray inside the house, but our doors are usually open and bugs come inside . . . all kinds of bugs.  Back in California my wife would have hit the ceiling if she saw a 2″ beetle crawling across the room.  Now, she takes a look, and calls me only if it is interesting and one we haven’t seen before.  Spiders . . . we have all kinds, everywhere.  I took these pictures on Halloween morning, thinking of all the folks back in Ventura who were going to great lengths to decorate their homes with spider webs.  I not only have spider webs, but I have webs that are fleeting works of art!

We also have tiny little coffee flies.  And they bite!  But the good news is after you’ve been here a while, or live on a coffee farm, they don’t bother you.  They just like fresh meat!  But when I come home from months at sea . . . I’m fresh meat.  The key is not to scratch.  Don’t scratch, ignore the bite, and in a day it’s gone.  Scratch and it becomes infected and lasts forever. 

So I can deal with all that.  What I can’t deal with is the propensity for these damn little flies to go swimming in my Chardonnay.  Between one sip and the next, I’ve got an unwanted protein additive.  Nikki has taken to covering her wine glass with a paper napkin, but that offends my sensibilities.  A glass of Chardonnay is not meant to be served with a napkin on top! 

There are other things that take getting used to . . .

Last night there was a big community party in Palmira.  It started at 8PM and went until 4AM and sleeping was like sleeping on a long haul flight.  Wake up, doze off, wake up, doze off all night.  The dogs, being Panamanian dogs, slept through it all, but I didn’t.  And since it is coffee harvest we have a lot of Gnobe Bugle Indians visiting from the Comarca as itinerant pickers.  So, naturally, with the Seco flowing, we end up with a lot of drunk people in Palmira.  Thankfully these all night parties are not a regular occurence!  So the neighbor who is supposed to be working on store room only, and I can only get him on Sundays, only worked half a day since he was up until 3AM tending bar.  And my really good Indian worker, who’s a 27-year-0ld, and usually doesn’t mess around, partied.  And as usual at these things when everyone is drunk a disagreement arises over a girl.  Turned out another Indian was hitting on my kid’s girl, so being a gentleman, and a Gnobe Bugle, a big fight broke out.  He didn’t work today, nursing a few cuts and a black eye, to say nothing of a royal hangover.  He passes it off to “Indians being Indians” . . . and he got the girl, so I guess all is good . . . except I didn’t get any work.

Saturday I went to Global Bank, where we already have an account, to open a new account in my name and in my brother’s name.  Now I know Obama and the rest like to point fingers at Panama as being a “tax haven” . . . which it isn’t . . . and a place for laundering money . . . which, in some cases it probably is.  So the US has a hard on about Panama while ignoring the real corporate tax haven . . . Delaware. The US would like to stick its nose in the financial affairs of this sovereign nation and is royally pissed that Panama is saying, “No!”   I’d like to see Obama come down to Panama and just try to open a bank account!  He’d need letters of reference from locals, and probably his lawyer, as well as letters of reference from his previous banks, copies of all the pages of his passport, detailed personal information and they’d probably want to hold Michelle as collateral while they first input everything into the computer, then, not trusting computers, do the same stuff all by hand, and then send the entire file to Panama City where it is carefully reviewed for at least a week before an account can be opened.  So it was . . . 1.5 hours sitting there in Global Bank while the gal tediously did all this stuff, took a few personal calls on her cell phone, and intermittently ignored us to service other customers.  She went to the bathroom once . . . I was surprised she didn’t have to call Panama City to get permission since everything else needs to go to Panama City and writing and via computer! Computers in Panama haven’t made things more efficient, they’ve just added another layer of work and created a whole lot more jobs. And this is a bank that claims to cater to expats! What every happened to bank managers who throw themselves at your feet and . . . “Would you like an electric blanket . . . and a toaster? How about a blender?” Left that back in the States!

Some days I do better at this than others.

* * * *

Thankfully Jackie decided that he needed a day off yesterday, so we didn’t work on salvaging what there is to salvage.  A day of rest, and a day to work on my world cruise lectures for Cannes and Barcelona.  Nice way to escape the mud!  And a chance to dry out my boots!

Through this arch was one of the finest kitchens in Boquete . . . now moved 50 feet and accordianed under a mountain of mud.

Of course the trucks and backhoes aren’t allowed into Valle Escondido until 9AM.  This does not constitute enough of an emergency or disaster in the eyes of Taliaferro’s Valle Escondido Resort to risk disturbing a hotel guest who might want to sleep in until 9AM, if there are any guests.

Here’s what is left of the built in Viking refrigerator and freezer . . .

Valle Escondido Resort: Callous Stupidity?

I had decided to continue digging in the mud . . . but to move on with blog subjects, until yesterday . . .

One can seriously question why Valle Escondido and it’s developer, Sam Taliaferro, carved lots out of the side of a mountain in a rain forest and sold them to expats who saw only the promised “paradise” and not the prospects of disaster. [Most of the lots in Valle Escondido are fine, but there are a few that are certainly "questionable"] One can question why Boquete town officials approved building on these lots and issued building permits given the fact that the Junta Technica, the “supreme” building and engineering department of the province of Chiriqui, had already expressed disapproval. One can question the wisdom of the folks who bought and built on these lots even after locals had expressed reservations. There can be . . . and probably will be . . . no end to these discussions . . . and probably a lot of business for lawyers and judges.

If Panama’s new President Ricardo Martinelli is serious about attracting foreign investors and enabling expats to invest in Panama with confidence, and creating a transparent government that cannot be bought, he will immediately lauch an investigation. If the Ambassadors of the United States and Taiwan are concerned about the welfare or their citizens who are investing in projects in Panama, they will put pressure on the Panamanian government to investigate.

Most of the properties in Valle Escondido are fine . . . and Valle Escondido continues to be a wonderful place to live, but in order to keep it that way there needs to be an investigation and thorough understanding of what went wrong.

Valle Escondido at one time was a coffee finca owned by Sitton, then it was purchased by Sam Taliaferro. Who is Sam Taliaferro? If you go to one of his Web sites . . . www.valleescondido.biz  . . . you will see that he fancies himself to be a modern John Galt. Galt was the hero of Ayn Rand’s mega-novel ATLAS SHRUGGED.

Hi, my name is John Galt. If you have found this website you are probably not looking for an ordinary residential community, you are seeking something more. If you will spend the next ten minutes reading this first page, it may well be the start of something that will change the course of your life forever. It could be that what you will learn right here on this page will intrigue you to look deeper into my story, and if you do, you may end up taking a path that thousands of other have already taken . . .

Now I can come out of the closet and share my story without sounding like a madman and offer you an opportunity to share in my vision and foresight to create a safe haven in a very stormy sea. Take a look at our special community and see the incredible opportunity of lots, new homes, condominiums and resale properties. Find out why over 130 families have already made the decision to move to Valle Escondido and why you should too. And if you want to come for a few days or a month and just visit we have special rates in our resort to accommodate you. If you want to rent a home or apartment for a time to be sure that this is the right place for you, we have them available too . . . Sam Taliaferro AKA John Galt

Many of the folks who bought from Sam and actually live in Valle Escondido jokingly refer to him as “King Sam” not “John Galt”, which may be because of his château at the end of the Valley with its high Louis  XIV Versailles-type fence. [Fences like that are not permitted in Valle Escondido . . . except for Sam.]

So who is this modern-day “John Galt.” Again, in Sam’s own words . . .

An inventor by profession Sam has developed and patented numerous technologies used by fortune 100 companies throughout the world. He has built a number of manufacturing operations to build these technologies, the last one in Costa Rica in 1995.

In 2000 he had an idea to create Valle Escondido, a residential resort community in the mountain highlands of Panama that would appeal to those looking for an exotic yet first world lifestyle. The small village where the project is located has become known throughout the world as a retirement/tourist hot spot due to his marketing efforts and the success of the development. It was rated the number one foreign retirement destination in the western hemisphere by the AARP in 2002 and one of the top five best lifestyle values in the world by Fortune Magazine in 2005. The success of the project lit the fuse that started the real estate boom (and bust) in Panama.

In 2005 Sam began writing the Panama Investor Blog which focuses on the country from an investors prospective and reaches people interested in Panama from all over the world. Current subscription is about 7000.

Sam and his wife Thalia also operate the Valle Escondido resort Golf & Spa located in the center of the residential project. The resort employs about 80 full time Panamanians and is one of the areas largest employers.

Sam writes an excellent blog which I enjoy and is a superb marketing genius who more than anyone else “put Boquete on the map” and to a large extent put Panama on the map as a retirement destination. There are many developments in various stages of development . . . a lot of which are still developer’s dreams on pretty architectural drawings that may, or may not actually come to fruition. Valle Escondido was the first development of its kind and it is a reality and not a pipe dream, which is one of the reasons to buy in Valle Escondido. And, yes, I still have a beautiful house for sale, in a safe spot, overlooking the Valley and the golf course. I’ve pulled it off the market, temporarily, because it is now being used as a storage place for furniture salvaged from the collapsed home of our friends Brad & Jackie.

So you have two things going on in Valle Escondido . . . or “The Valley”. You have private, custom homes ranging in price from $365,000 to several million dollars. You have two types of “Villas” . . . a fancy name for duplexes, and condominiums. All of these homeowners are part of the homeowner association to which dues are paid (Ours are about $1000 per year) and the homeowner’s provide security, road maintenance, trash removal, and maintenance of common areas.

You also have the Valle Escondido Resort  which includes a small hotel, and Quebrada Grande Country Club which includes a 9-hole executive golf course, swimming pool, gym and spa, and both of these operations are owned by the Taliaferros.

. . . Just so you get the total picture . . . Now we cut to the devastation at Brad & Jackie’s home . . .  built on one of these Valle Escondido lots carved out of the mountainside in a tropical rain forest.

As you might imagine retros, or backhoes have been at a premium with all the mud slides in Valle Escondido and elsewhere.  Jackie finally found a contractor who had sufficient trucks available to begin digging out and hauling away mud and debris and arranged for the backhoe to start work yesterday morning at 7AM.

By 7:45AM there was still no backhoe . . . and Jackie got a call from the backhoe which was outside the gate at Valle Escondido where the guards were refusing to let it in.

The homeowners have a permanent right to pass through the Valle Escondido Resort and the road access and guard service is jointly maintained by the homeowner’s and Valle Escondido Resort, with another of Sam’s many companies providing the guard service.

Jackie when down to the gate to unscramble the mess . . . here we are sitting with tons of debris to be removed and the guards won’t let the backhoe through! . . . and he is told that the backhoe cannot come in until 9AM because it would disturb guests at the hotel!  Here we are in a disaster area, and the backhoe cannot get in because it will disturb guests at the hotel . . .

Frankly, whether there were guests in the hotel or not, is hardly the point!  Surely if there were guests they would understand that Valle Escondido was a disaster area since all they had to do was look outside their door.

So, after getting nowhere with the guards [and these folks all live in fear of being fired if they deviate one iota from what "Sam says"] Jackie went at 8AM to one of the Valle Escondido Resort managers, Analia, and patiently explained that he had lost his entire house, and this was a disaster area, and if there were no guests in the hotel, and it was all of 4 minutes to drive a backhoe past the hotel to the other end of the Valley, why couldn’t he bring in a retro at 8AM.  Analia promised to check with Thalia.

Bottom line . . . no go . . . the retro sat there and wait at the gate for two hours!  In my humble opinion this was both incredibly stupid and callous .  Am I wrong?  For all his marketing genius, Sam sometimes shoots himself in the foot when it comes to public relations.  So memorable it has now become a Valley legend is the time the Valle Escondido Resort insisted on charging mourners $2 a head to attend a funeral service being held in the little chapel at Valle Escondido. [It has never been clarified if the corpse was charged $2 to enter.]  These kinds of things are quickly blamed on the guards for not using their heads, but . . . then again, the guards know they could be fired for thinking something is incredibly stupid and callous, thinking for themselves, realizing the Valley is a disaster zone, and making an exception.

Update as of 8:10AM November 14th . . .

Since the retro was left on the property . . . where in the back yard the mud is still 4 feet deep! . . . it can fire up, but they aren’t letting the trucks in until 9AM lest the non-existent “hotel guests” be disturbed!  And they’ve had 24-hours to get a clue!  Nice neighbors!  And what really pisses me off about this is that when Sam and Thalia were building their hotel, rushing to get it finished before the holidays, in the Valley right beneath my bedroom window, they had workers yelling, backhoes, screaming tile saws, cement mixers and trucks working 7 days a week starting at 7AM!  Of course that was Sam’s project.

Thoughts from The Mud

It was a little over a week ago that two low pressure systems stalled on either side of the western end of Panama, looking on radar like two giant boobs. These two low pressure systems dumped a ton of rain on Chiriqui and Bocas del Torro, areas where the soil was already saturated by the heaviest part of the rainy season. The result was havoc, and disaster for some, while others continued celebrating the Panamanian independence holidays. Those two boobs of weather would merge in the Caribbean and become Hurricane Ida, which would eventually dump even more water on Nicaragua and El Salvador leaving, at this writing, some 20,000 homeless, 120 dead, and 500 missing. So we should be thankful that the damage was not worse in Panama.

Two of our dear friends lost their dream home, and I have spent much of the past week ankle deep, and once almost waist deep (and needing to be pulled out) in mud and debris. And throughout the week I have had some random thoughts and impressions . . .

I’m not as young as I used to be!

I had plans to get on the elliptical machine and start walking and lose 5 pounds before I left on the ROYAL PRINCESS . . . 10 days from now. But with 66 lectures and talks to prepare for the DAWN PRINCESS world cruise, which leaves a month after I get back from ROYAL, most of my time has been spent sitting at my desk. Well, I’ve lost the 5 pounds shoveling mud over the last 9 days . . . and I feel the “burn” . . . boy do I feel the “burn” . . . of new muscle. I’m shoveling, lifting and working like I haven’t worked in years . . . and chugging Ibuprophen and living for the evening when I can soak in my hot tub. I’ve done this before . . . but I was a heck of a lot younger! My idea of leadership has always been to lead by doing, and so I figure if I expect the Gnobe Bugle guys I’ve recruited to give 100%, they better see the old man gringo giving 100% even if it’s killing him. Well, it’s not killing me, and I’m not going to let it . . . but it hurts! Most of all what hurts is admitting I’m not 20 any more!

“Feed the baby!”

My wife used to run a program for Ventura Public Health working with teenage moms and dads. Sometimes she would accompany case workers on home visits just to check up on things. One one such occasion the baby was screaming and the case worker wanted to discuss available options for the bewildered teen mom, and give detailed instructions on baby care, totally ignoring the screaming kid. My wife’s evaluation to the case worker was, first, “Feed the baby!” Then deal with the rest of the stuff.

Something similar happens in a disaster . . . or, for what it’s worth in grief. One of the things we used to teach in our seminars for people wanting to help folks going through grief . . . or disaster . . . was that they should never say, “If there is anything I can do . . . anything! . . . just let me know.” Or, “What can I do to help?” . . . which is a little better. Mostly people say these things because they want to feel better and no matter what their sincerity it is self-gratifying and not at all helpful to the person in need, who is likely in shock and has no idea . . . but you’ll feel better yourself for saying something polite, if trite. You got eyes! You can see what needs to be done! Do it!

I loved this week seeing folks stop by, presumably mostly wanting to look, and then saying, “If there is anything I can do to help . . . ” when we are trying to shovel out a mountain of mud! Grab a shovel! How obvious does it need to be? We need help! You think a half dozen folks are going to do this alone?

The folks I admire are the ones who just showed up, prepared to work, and started doing the obvious, or folks who just showed up with food, without asking or being asked, since it was obvious the workers had to eat. One gentleman showed up out of the blue up in his cowboy hat and drawl grabbed a shovel and did the obvious, he started digging. Thank you sir! Some folks none of us knew, showed up with meals! Thank you! A Panamanian guard at the guarded, gated community showed up on his day off just to lend a hand to someone in need. Thank you!

Recovery is a grim task.

This has been a sobering week of recovery archeology. And there have been successes. We’ve been able to find three sets of keys in all the mud, Jackie’s wallet and passport . . . not much else, but they were vital items. We’ve pulled out clothes, what’s left of beds, rooms that have been smashed so that all we can tell is . . . “This is green” so this giant hunk of wall came from the laundry on the other side of the house” or “How the hell did the entire kitchen get moved from one side of the house to the other and crushed like an accordion.” All the while knowing . . . if this had happened at night . . . if Brad hadn’t been in the States and Richard (the house boy) hadn’t been in Panama City . . . we would be recovering bodies, not the remnants of a family’s life.

Who’s responsible?

Well, this was a natural phenomena . . . and “shit happens” and tornados, hurricanes, mudslides, wildfires . . . stuff happens, natural stuff. So, I guess ultimately it is God who is responsible. But maybe, just maybe, we shouldn’t build housing tracts in areas that are prairie and for eons have depended on wild fires to disperse seeds and procreate the landscape. Maybe, just maybe, we should look at a valley created by what appears, without heavy rains, to be a peaceful little stream and wonder, “How did this valley get cut over the eons?” But we like to pin blame . . . and in this case there may be more than enough to go around.

Why did Panama allow development along a hillside which has done this very thing as recently as 25 years ago and is known by all the locals, who we newcomer gringos usually ignore, to do this kind of thing periodically? Why did they issue building permits knowing this problem? Who approved the plan for the development given these factors? Didn’t this kind of thing show up in an environmental impact study? Oh, there was no environment impact study, even though one was required. How interesting! Why not? And the head of the Junta Technica, a gentleman by the name of Sr. de las Casas, refused to give the required approval to the project and tried to shut it down several times, yet was over ruled by political considerations. [Sr. de las Casas told me this personally several years ago.] And how did that happen, and why?

I remember when we first came to Boquete and started looking around for property and one of the then well-known developers, who really wanted me to buy a house from him, showed us around not only his project but all of Boquete. He spent about 3 hours with us, and we went with him to pick up his son and rabbit at his son’s preschool. He was charming and wonderful, although I think always a bit peeved with me because I didn’t buy from him. At any rate at one point on that tour of Boquete he got a phone call, and when he hung up he was absolutely elated and said, “That only cost me $5000 to get that approved, and I thought it was going to cost $15,000.” I started thinking about that statement this week . . . wondering just what he meant . . . and thinking maybe at that point I should have gotten back on the plane and gone home.

Our new President in Panama, Ricardo Martinelli, has promised transparency and that government and law applies equally to all regardless of their money and political pull. We shall see how successful he is, particularly with out-of-town developers who come with great dreams looking for shortcuts and fast profits.

And, I know, everyone likes to beat up on the developer . . . but, as I said, there is more than enough blame to go around. The developer was just one character in this sad play . . . which could have cost lives. Makes you ask some serious questions about a lot of the developments . . . and high rises . . . under construction in Panama. Mr. President Martinelli take note! If you want foreign investment you better be able to guarantee  a government that works and can’t be purchased . . . and, for what it’s worth, so far on the surface at least, that seems exactly what Martinelli is trying to accomplish.

We have a long way to go to “community”.

There’s a lot of talk about the “expat community” in Boquete, but, after the past 9 days I suspect 98% of it is just talk. A community responds. A community reaches out. A community helps. I’ve become painfully aware of all the times during the past six years when I’ve thought good thoughts about others in need, said prayers . . . but never really done anything . . . except maybe say those dreaded and useless words, “If there is anything I can do . . . ” I’ve been surprised at how few folks have reached out, grabbed a shovel and helped, even within the “gated, guarded community” in which the tragedy happened. Yes, I know people were shoveling mud out of their own homes, and weary . . . but cleaning up mud from your living room and losing everything are a little different! I’ve been amazed at people who wanted to divert Jackie’s attention from salvaging what little was left of his home and his life, to worrying about “his” mud ruining their grass! “His” mud?!? Just because it landed on his house destroying everything, suddenly it is “his” mud? Give me a break! But people are people . . . and if I’ve learned anything in 30 years of the ministry, people are mainly concerned about themselves. You can talk about “saving the world” but navel gazing is a lot more fun, and certainly a less strenuous commitment.

What I find appalling is the comments by some other expats, who for whatever reason didn’t choose to live in this particular development that happens to be experiencing a problem right now . . . trust me, others will follow . . . comments to the effect that, “It serves those folks right!” and they seem to take some kind of personal satisfaction in another’s loss.

Boy, do we have a long way to go in building a “community”!

You learn who your friends are.

I sometimes think that over the years we’ve known them, Brad & Jackie have entertained half of Boquete. Various clubs have enjoyed their weekly hospitality, consumed their booze and wolfed down their food . . . yet have any . . . or better “many” . . . of these folks shown up to help in time of need? Brad was an impeccable host . . . but when the china is all smashed, the booze bottles are broken, the cards are at the bottom of the pile of mud and the fancy gaming table is smithereens . . . where is everyone? [See "Community" comments above]

Pondering the future of Boquete

Sure . . . I do. This is our home. This is where we’ve chosen to live. This is where we are vested and invested. And Boquete will survive, and thrive. There have been bumps in the past and there will be bumps in the future. I remember driving through Vail a number of years ago . . . more than I’d like to remember . . . and saying, “Who in their right mind is ever going to pay $90,000 for a home beside a river in Vail?” Today . . . try $9 million! So Boquete will survive and weather this and future storms. But it is a double whammy . . . a once in 20-year flood last November, and again this November another “once in 21-year” flood . . . that, coupled with a world-wide financial downturn . . . all this has taken its toll. Several well-known, flagship projects . . . mostly at this point fancy architects drawings or partially constructed dreams . . . are rumoured to being taken over by banks, or failing all together. This is certainly a time for caution if you are thinking of coming to Boquete, but . . . it has always been a time for caution! This is not the time to come to Boquete and to be so overwhelmed by the beauty of it all, that you leave your common sense at the baggage claim at Tocumen Airport.

Overwhelmed by the beauty of it all . . .

Yes, we got reamed . . . but driving from Palmira to Boquete in the morning, with the sun shining you are overwhelmed by the beauty of it all. It really is “paradise”. Unfortunately there is no “paradise” in this world that is immune from nature’s occasional rampage or human failure or tragedy. Is it worth it? You’re damned right it’s worth it! I was talking with a local expat who moved here from Carlsbad, California, and in the midst of all this chaos I asked if he missed the traffic and hassle of Southern California, and he looked at me as if I were nuts! Who wouldn’t choose this?  And one of the things that makes living here wonderful are real friends like Brad & Jackie who would do the same thing for us if we were in need.

And would I buy in this particular development again? Yes! It is reality . . . reality, like all reality, of course has a few problems . . . but it is reality, it’s not a pipedream, it’s not “going” anywhere. It is beautiful! We had wonderful friends there and we could walk to their houses for dinner and drinks, and walk home . . . now we have to wend up the mountain on dark and sometimes foggy roads. Yes, I’d buy there again . . . but I would pay very close attention to the construction . . . although in the case of this particular home the construction was the best money could buy and unfortunately no one could build to prevent a mountain from falling down . . . and I’d pay very close attention to the location of the home and avoid being directly up against the canyon walls. I’d talk, talk, talk and talk some more to locals as well as expats. Is this home built on a pad that was carved out from the side of the mountain, or has this ridge or whatever been there as long as anyone can remember? I’d do my due-dilligence and check with engineers, local building officials, and architects – but you should do that anywhere, right?

Anyhow, that’s how it all looks from the mud.

PS – And since we uncovered a few bottles of wine today, I’ve consumed most of a bottle tonight . . . so if I’m being too frank or too honest . . . blame it on the Chardonnay.

“Don’t stress . . . live long”

When we first came to Panama my banker in David advised me, “Don’t stress . . . live long!” It’s something most Panamanians are frustratingly good at, and most gringos chafe at the very idea. But, if you are not going to blow a gasket in Panama, you’ve got to get used to the idea . . . particularly now that the holidays are upon us . . . holidays of various sorts that began this week and will continue until Easter. Don Winner of www.Panama-guide.com has been here a whole lot longer than I have, and he has a way with words about these kinds of things . . .

Ah yes, it’s now just about the “most wonderful time of the year” in Panama. It rains like hell in November which then turns into the Panamanian Summer (dry season) – and during these months nobody wants to work – at all. The holiday season officially starts next week, and now you won’t be able to get a damn thing done in this country until after “Semana Santa” (Holy Week) – Easter will be on Sunday 4 April 2010 next year. So mark your calendars accordingly and set your frustration meters to “calm the hell down.” In November the 3rd, 4th, 5th and 28th are all official national holidays to celebrate Panama’s independence from Spain, Colombia, as well as Flag Day. There will be a lot of celebrations and parades, and most importantly – buttloads and buttloads of beer. Mother’s Day is always on the 8th of December, and Mom likes beer (urp). From there we slide right into Christmas, New Year, and lots more beer to celebrate all of that stuff. They typically outlaw sales of beer for Martyr’s Day on 9 January, but it’s still a holiday so stock up and plan accordingly. Carnival in 2010 falls on Monday Feb 15 and “Fat Tuesday” Feb 16. Of course that means you can get anything done from 12 to 17 February. Few gringos know that the expression “Fat Tuesday” actually comes from the Latin “ego imbibo nimium damno beer per carnival quod iam ego sum pinguis” which means “I drank too much damn beer during Carnival and now I’m fat.” The hangover lasts until Holy Week in April. You can expect that anyone who’s supposed to be working will only have one thing on their mind – how can I get paid more money right now so I can buy more beer to drink during (fill in the name of extra long holiday weekend here). They are going to tell you that they have some kind of a problem, their dog blew up, dead grandmother, sick aunt, bad hair day, butt boils – whatever. Just smile, hand over the money, document everything, and set your phasers to “chill.” April is just around the corner, so enjoy the dry season once it starts. Might as well, because you won’t be able to get a damn thing done anyway…

By letting Winner say that it gets me off the hook with my Panamanian friends for saying something like that . . . but it’s true!

My wife send me this forward that I think she got from Dinah, who got it from Susan, who got it from Michael, who received it from Fran . . . you know how this Internet forwarding stuff goes, but I thought it was funny . . .

When the stress starts getting to you, these activities will help you to laugh and maintain your sanity . . . even if everyone else thinks you are nuts!

1. At lunch time, sit in your parked car with sunglasses on and point a hair dryer at passing cars. See if they slow down.

2. Page yourself over the intercom. Don’t disguise your voice.

3. Every time someone asks you to do something ask them if they want fries with that.

4. At work put decaf in the coffee maker for three weeks. Once everyone has gotten over their caffeine addictions, switch to espresso.

5. In the momo field of all of your checks, write “For Marijuana”.

6. Skip down the hall rather than walk and see how many looks you get.

7. Order a diet water whenever you go out to eat with a serious face.

8. At the drive-though specify that your order is “To Go”.

9. Sing along at the opera.

10. Five days in advance tell your friends that you can’t attend their party because you have a headache.

11. When the money comes out of the ATM jump up and scream, “I won! I won!”

12. When leaving the zoo start running toward the parking lot yelling, “Run for your lives! They’re loose!”

13. Tell your children over dinner, “Due to the economy, we are going to have to let one of you go.”

14. Pick up a box of condoms at the pharmacy, go to the counter and ask where the fitting room is.

OK, I have a warped sense of humor . . . but I’m surviving!

Tough times never last, but tough people do!

It was the title of one of Dr. Robert Schuller’s (the original one) books, and it’s true!

It’s been a rough week in Boquete and in other sections of Panama as well, including the Gnobe Bugle comarca. If you drove into Valle Escondido this morning, or even yesterday, with the sun shining . . . it did indeed look like paradise. But even in paradise there are storms and disasters. It could be snow and ice, or tornados, hurricanes or tsunamis . . . we don’t happen to have those things in Boquete. What we do have at this time of year is rain, often lots of it. The winds blow from the North at this time and bring storm after storm off the Pacific and across Panama, so we get alot of rain in November. And tropical rain is often torrential and the predictable result is flooding and mudslides. All-in-all people have held up well.

My very good friends Brad and Jackie suffered the most and lost 90% of their million dollar home in Valle Escondido when the mountain wall collapsed on top of their house and sent a wall of dirt and mud through the part that remained standing. Their house keeper, Richard, was in Panama City, and Brad was in the States, and Jackie was home alone. He came outside to check out a wierd noise, looked up at the mountain, saw it start to move and ran . . . when he turned around the mountain was on top of his house. With the rest of the family gone, Jackie is left alone to cope with not only the loss but also the cleanup. I snapped this picture of the damage, not really paying attention to Jackie being in the picture, but when I look at it, the look on his face conveys it all.

But this is one tough China man! He’s generally pretty quiet, until you get to know him, and, at 37 is a lot older than he looks. He’s an ex-Taiwanese marine and a tough cookie, despite his slight looks. In his high school English class in Taiwan the teacher was arbitrarily giving students English names, and I think Jackie got stuck with something like Stewart (no offense to all the Stewarts out there!). He complained and the teacher let him pick his own name, so he choose Jackie Chan after the kung-fu movie star. His Chinese name is beautiful when he says it, but most Anglos can’t reproduce the tonal sounds of his name and it comes out sounding like chop suey, so, except officially, he’s Jackie Chan.

He’s faced this tragedy alone and day by day he has become more optimistic and positive in spite of the mud! He finds the humor in having spent weeks taking all the bad grass out of his back lawn and just when it was perfect . . . down came the mountain. He cleaned the gutters to be ready for the rains . . . then this. He’s gracious when neighbors ignore that his house is in ruins and complain about the mud run off ruining their grass. He worries about their problems, when he has humongous problems of his own. When I’m lamenting his loss, he is pointing out ways in which his glass is half full. Amazing guy, really, and I’m glad to have him as a friend.

It is amazing what a few people, very few, have been able to do it removing mud, pulling out a few trinkets that can be saved, and initiating the clean up. A lot has been done in a few days, but there is so much more to be done.

What has always amazed me, both professionally and personally, is how quickly and instantaneously life can change. But in the midst of tragedy . . . the tough times never last, but tough people do! What doesn’t kill you will make you stronger.

Jackie is one tough guy.