Before I posted my question about Beauty in Boquete, I thought I would start a blog and spend time in the mountains of Panama writing stories. The embers of that idea may die or they may roar to life. What follows is the beginning of that idea.
Stories from the Mountains of Panama
There are, some claim, five magical mountain towns in Panama. Each town is occupied by both Panamanians and Expats. Each town has its own stories to tell. If you want to hear those stories, you have come to the right place. Stories from the Mountains of Panama. Enjoy.
For more than fifty years I have been telling stories. Writing them down. Sharing them with others. Bringing forgotten memories back to life. It became easier once we had computers and the Internet.
Those stories will surely survive, interwoven in new stories that will come from mountain towns in Panama. How many stories are told from volcanic craters, high in the mountains? We will explore them together as soon as Covid-19 allows. The stories will open our minds to new ideas. To new opportunities. To a life we never imagined. Walk with me. We will discover this life together.
Every story has characters. Let me introduce one to you. His name is Yuan Bao. It means old Chinese money, which was made of gold and came in beautiful shapes and pieces and sizes. Yuan Bao spends most of his time looking and acting like a cat. He is a British Shorthair. Born in Ukraine in early 2019.
He is primarily an indoor cat, but he loves to spend time in his back yard. It is a favorite part of his Kingdom. He will ask, politely, for someone to open the door for him. But if the door isn’t opened quickly, he will grumble and complain until someone listens to him. Rainy days are not his best days because he must stay indoors. Once he gets outside, he stalks lizards and bugs, and on occasion baby rabbits, practicing his natural hunting skills. He never tries to climb the fence to look outside his yard. He is content to rule the Kingdom that he can see.
Yuan Bao has some unusual talents and characteristics. He understands and responds to both English and Chinese. My wife speaks to him only in Chinese, and she talks with him incessantly. She thinks he is her baby. He thinks he has her well-trained. She cuts up the raw food that he eats and hand feeds it to him.
He will never jump up to share a seat with you, or allow you to pick him up and hold him. He is proudly independent and will find his own place to rest or sleep. But that changes at night time. He wants to share a bed with someone. He will jump up on the bed and choose his spot for sleeping. He especially likes to sleep close to my feet, which is strange since he is my wife's shadow during the daytime.
But if you reach for him and pet him, he will leave the bed. He will return when you are sleeping and claim his spot on the bed. Many times, he will come and share a bed with someone who is taking a daytime nap. He will nap with them and will usually continue with his nap even after his napping companion has left the bed. It is his way. And his way is the only way. Because he is fiercely independent.
My office, my desk, my computer, my printer, are all inspected by Yuan Bao daily. Many times, he will sit behind my monitor looking out the window while I work. He is not the least bit bothered by the way I drove away someone who I first met in November 1968 after he reestablished contact with me in February 2020. He sent me a picture of the two of us standing together in our combat clothing. We were fighting in the Vietnam War.
The side of the picture has the date November 1968 printed on it. Neither of us can remember how or why we were together when that picture was taken. We cannot remember how or when or why we met. After the War he became a CPA. I became a lawyer. We had long careers in these professions. What are the odds?
I wrote too many stories to him in emails and he felt continuous pressure to reply, but he had no desire to write stories in return. He was a happy man when I told him I would start a blog and he could read it or not and have no reason to feel that he needed to write something in response to any of my posts. It doesn’t say much for my writing skills that I could not hold his attention for even six months after more than 50 years since we last communicated with each other, although he begged me to keep writing stories to him.
Maybe Yuan Bao will enjoy my posts until my blog begins to attract other readers. Maybe expats who already live in the mountains of Panama will have an interest in posting on my blog. After all, they have stories to tell. It would be a great way for my wife and I to get to know those expats before we arrive in Panama.
Or the idea may simply die. It takes inspiration to keep a writer going.
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