The Great Panamanian Land Grab

As I write this, I debate about using our real names. Will our family and friends think pseudonyms are silly? Probably, but if the search engines list us well, do I really want our real names here? Well, maybe. The Albatross is a good nickname and has excellent family origins (he was named thus by his late Uncle Earnest during his (the Albatross', not Earnest's) 4 year circumnavigation because, like the Albatross, he wanders for years and eventually comes home to roost), but is a pain to type. So, I'll go with the pseudonyms - for now. All of you who know us, stop giggling now, please! Thank you. Although the Albatross is happy to be called that or Kiwi Dundee, both are a pain to type and referring to myself as the leopard is awkward. So, I'll resurrect a childhood nickname - Sam - for me, and call him Munro (which is the only thing he answers to anyway, go figure).

Munro is all gung-ho to get up at 6:00 AM (oh the luxury of a lie-in, not), explore the island and bother realtors. Oh this will be fun! I convince him to take dawn photos and panoramas by telling him how perfect the light is now and how brilliant he was to discover this awful hour of the morning, which keeps him busy for another hour, allowing the staff to actually arrive to prepare breakfast and me the time to come to life without coffee, but definitely a shower. As I'm getting ready, I hear someone yelling at a fisherman in Spanish and then switching to English. Turns out, Munro has noticed the large puffer fish and other pretty fish that hang out directly under the deck of our hotel so he's decided to "have a flick" and see what he catches. What he may have caught, had the fish been interested in his plastic lure, was any of the 'pet' fish that are fed by the hotels so the tourists can enjoy watching them. As one of our fellow guests said "Ooo, what's that on the plate? Our little Harry the Puffer fish?" Munro comes back to the room looking sheepish and folding up his rod.

A note about the staff - the cost of living in Panama is very inexpensive. Most hotels that charge anything more than $30 a night include some sort of breakfast in the morning. If any of us were to retire or live in Panama with our current incomes (or even less), we'd be living well with Indian gardeners, staff for cleaning and cooking, and anything else we wanted to job out. The Bocas Inn has a lovely group of about 6 people who make a hot breakfast every morning (included in the cost of the room) with fresh coffee, juice, and home made jams. Couple that with being seated at a gorgeous hardwood table looking out into a jungle-rimmed bay with cruising sailboats anchored in the channel and you have a pretty darn good start to your day.

The night before a young boy was pestering us about a snorkeling tour and we told him "maybe" hoping to get rid of him and do the tour bargaining ourselves. As we set out at 8 AM, it's already hot and humid and we walk to the center of town to check out realtors and look at the homes. The Caribbean colors and designs are beautiful and festive. Already the vendors are out in spades selling everything from molas, fruit, snorkeling trips, and more. We find that the trips leave at 9:30 and return at 4 and we decide to go to Zapatilla Island, a nature preserve and not on every itinerary. As we walk and bargain, we finally decide on a man at the far end of the street and head back to the hotel to get our gear. A young man (20s) on a bike tries to get us to take his tour telling us the old man we booked with (but have yet to pay - you only pay at the end of the trip to ensure you get what you want) is a crook. Turns out the old man is his uncle and the young boy in their pay. Very odd Bocas mafia way of dividing up the tourists and making sure everyone makes money on any given day.

Our boat takes us on an all-day tour starting with Bahia de Dolfines. We do see some dolphins, but they're shy and we head through the mangroves (which are the side streets of all the islands) and out to Zapatilla.

Zapatilla is a must-see on this trip. The tour that includes this reserve is $20 pp vs. the usual $15, but well worth the extra time. The sand is like sugar and the reef is big and beautiful. The others from our boat oddly enough do not snorkel here - they walk around the tiny island and sunbathe. We find that the 1.5 hours isn't enough to enjoy the island.

Next stop is Coral Cay, where we get a lunch and relax before heading off to Hospital Point for more snorkeling. Fresh fish is prepared and we watch the nurse shark and baby turtle that are kept in a pen under the pier. It's beautiful, but we spend too much time here and later find out that the guides will linger because they're getting free food and drink and hanging with their families. Hint: If you go, get all the folks on board to agree to a maximum amount of time at the lunch stop and hustle the boat captain. Otherwise, you lose the opportunity to do all the islands you're promised.

Hospital Point has some caves and we snorkel there for about an hour. Munro and I head to the caves and note that while the first foot of the water is hot, once you dive down, the temp drops dramatically and their are all different kinds of fish and anemones to look at. Munro pokes some of the sea fans and the close up tight. I'm laughing so hard I fill my mask with water and have to surface.

Upon our return, we decide to go check out one of the realtors. We end up spending 2 hours with them talking about the differences between ROP (right of possession) and titled land. They seem very sharp and sharky and remind me of the real estate hustlers we've met in Baja who are carving up Rosarito into overpriced pies. We learn a lot and agree to meet again the next day to discuss more properties and also legal issues.

Panama is rife with legal problems for foreigners these days. If you own land you used to be able to get a 3 year visa. This was recently reduced to 1 year, then 3 months and now 30 days. ROP land really belongs to the government and was appropriated for the native Indians so they would have land. Any beachfront is ROP and concessions must be authorized for any building, especially out on the water. and Congress is sitting on new laws and the stories one hears are conflicting at best. We walk away armed with lots of information and a long list of questions, but know we would need our own lawyer and an additional $10k for title research before moving on anything.

On a positive note, the real estate people need a new website. They're paying a lot of money to someone in Ft. Lauderdale to do their photos and any and all uploads and site changes. Good thing "We have the technology!" Tomorrow's meeting will start with a demo of our software and web products.

We eat at Kung-Ju, the Chinese restaurant and out on the deck with a couple of cold Panamas and some decent food. Well, I thought it was OK for a huge meal for $10, but Munro was cranky and complained. He does not handle the disappointment of the real estate situation well. He sees the tropical dream moving away and sulks a bit. I can understand his feelings, but know that we'll figure something out - hopefully after the Panamanian Congress decides the fate of foreign investors and the new rules for expats.

Figuring a pina colada will help, I drag him to another bar and the bartender makes super cocktails that are dessert and a sleeping pill all in one. Tomorrow we visit the realtor again and will rent bikes to go to Bluff beach.