The Downside of Ups and Upside of Downs

Panama City, PANAMA
Feb.25, 2015

Sometimes you take a sip of a cup of coffee, and it's just SO good...

Cafe Sucre - on the left

The blazing hot direct-overhead sun, along with heavy humidity in the air, drains the energy from you.  So, you can either a) take a nap in the afternoon (I actually did that the other day, and I actually even fell asleep), or b) find a good cup of coffee in a cool place.  I found such a place - Casa Sucre - in an old restored 1873 building, refurbished just right with some of the old stone walls still exposed, a few wooden antiques (piano, record player), a couch, chairs, wooden furniture that seemed to all blend, cool temperature just right.  And my "desk" at the window where I could write and watch.

I went there a few times, with the ladies as well as on my own.  But yesterday, on my own and just about to pack up and leave, a very tall, very dark and very handsome stranger asked me what I was reading.  I must have been humph-ing out loud and making lots of "so THAT's why..." faces.  When I told him "the Panama Canal" he said matter-of-factly that ok, he was going to give me a test.

A most scrumptious 'tomale' at my cafe 'desk' - yucca,
sweet potato, chicken, raisins, seasoning, wrapped
and baked in banana leaves

He had walked into the cafe about ten minutes earlier, and was heartily greeted with handshakes and "it's been so long!" by the staff, so I humoured him.  When I answered all his questions about dates and countries involved (to his surprise), I started asking my own questions.  When he answered all my questions about the politics and underlying reasons (to my surprise) and also provided his own theories, I figured he must be Panamanian.  But he spoke English well, which is not as common.  It turns out he had played minor league baseball in Alberta, somehow related to the Toronto Blue Jays farm team - he spoke no English when he first arrived.

How on earth does a Panamanian baseball player end up in Lethbridge, Alberta!?!  "Come and have a drink with me and I can tell you," he said.

Whoop whoop whoop go the alarm bells, fight or flight, fight or flight!?  I'm a slow twitch thinker, don't ever hire me into the secret service or something that requires quick action!  (He was retired from baseball, and now served in the presidential army - the presidential palace was just around the corner).

The solo female traveler connundrum: what to do when a nice man talks to you??  Part of the joy of traveling is talking with the interesting people you meet, because, (hit replay button) everyone has a story, and we all like stories.  A layer of complexity is added though, when the person is of the opposite sex, or same sex depending on your persuasion.  I really enjoy - and can get quite into - good conversation, but I have to be careful not to let that insinuate "I really like conversation with you in particular because I am attracted to you"...  Because that can lead to the eventual "come tell me about yourself" invitation, and the inevitable reciprocal "no thanks - I blah blah blah <insert reason>".  Awkward.  The "I have a boyfriend" response is lame, unbelieved, and often just elicits a response of "So?".

I had already told him I was on my way to meet my friends.  So after minutes of thought (in my head), which was actually only microseconds, I explained my friends and I had lots going on over our last couple days in Panama City, but were thinking of going to the Whiskey Bar around the corner later on this evening - he could come find us there as I was sure my friends would be interested in his stories about a non-English-speaking Panamanian playing baseball in Canada, and enjoy his company too.  I really meant that, but I often fail to recall that subtlety is an art form typically best understood within the female species.  But I really wanted to know the story!

The ladies and I never did make it out - Rasheedah joined Jeannie and I at the table in the hotel lounge where we were logisticizing (travel is regularly interspersed with bouts of logisticizing), and a box of wine was suddenly there too.  We got deep into conversation about the core of our existence: being a woman in a western civilization predominantly created by men.  The three of us were a group representing (not necessarily at the same time):  Chinese, Black, and White;  Baptist, Buddism, Catholicism, Muslim, and Spiritualism; corporate employee, self-employed, and retired; single, partnered, married, and divorced; left-brained, right-brained and combination-brained.  So you can imagine, there was lots to say.

Rasheedah, Jeannie, and a mighty fine box of wine

Anyway, today, I did not feel I could go back to the Cafe Sucre.  So, I wandered the streets
to another place where bonus:  I found one of those coffees where you take a sip, and it's just SO good...  And I guess I will never know from the fellow at Cafe Sucre, as Paul Harvey would say, the rest of the story.

SO good...  (that I bought some of the shade-grown
beans - from Panama - for my mom's birthday)