My good friend Walter suggested that I might be more comfortable and find my commutes to the hospital shorter if I stayed at a different place and informed me that a friend of his liked to stay in a private house that rents out rooms.
Omar, the operator of Panama by Luis called Villa Michelle for me, secured a room and wrote down the address.
Altos del Golf
Villa Michelle
Entrar por Waikiki
al final de la calle
En El Muro Naranja
porton negro
which translates to
Altos del Golf
Villa Michelle
Entering Waikiki (a famous restaurant)
at the end of the street
Orange In The Wall
black gate
Interesting addresses down here, but I’ll go into that later.
Thanking Omar, the hard working operator of the operator of Panama By Luis I checked out. A 10 minute taxi ride later I found myself in front of an 8 foot orange wall with a massive 8′ tall black gate. There was no sign in front to indicate that this was anything other than a private residence. I pressed the buzzer and walked up the drive to be greeted by a flat chested woman who showed me around.
I was given a bedroom which was formerly the library. The walls and ceiling are mahogany planks. Two walls are outfitted with wonderful shelves but no private bath. The queen sized bed had 600 thread count sheets. Ahh, this is more like it.
Presently the maid receded into the depths of the house and a cylindrical blonde appeared with a ready smile on her face. “I am Ivonne, this is my home of 28 years.” Ivonne appears to be in her mid fifties.
We walked out past the pool and entered the rancho. She pulled out a business card and flipped it over. There was a map of the immediate neighborhood three streets by three streets and she put in little boxes and said things along the lines of “This is the closest and cleanest chino.” Again a chino is a grocery store. The Chinese do nothing but own grocery stores and all grocery stores are owned by the Chinese. Restaurants, ATMS and other things of interest were marked off.
She collected four days rental at $45/day asked for no identification and I filled out no forms. Certainly walking around the grounds was within the scope of my physical condition. The large rancho ended at a drainage ditch. The concrete wall on this side dropping fourteen feet to the bottom of the ditch which flowed with clear water. On the far side the wall rose six feet surrendering to a ledge filled with rich black soil support all manner of greenery many of which where vines which ascended the 18 foot wall on the other side of the ledge. A security moat and an arboretum in one.
Looking as I turned clockwise I saw successively a massive stainless steel Brinkman grill a full sized refrigerator a sink, four feet of tiled counter, a two burner stove, an extreme high output stove, the swimming pool, a bar a large glass fronted beverage refrigerator that was most certainly was intended for a retail establishment, a massive deep freezer and a TV. In the center were two large tables six and eight feet across. This is obviously the center of activity.
My fellow guests were described as a family of Colombians and some jewish Ticos. Not feeling well enough to walk three blocks to a restaurant I chose from a list of menus and had Seafood Soup delivered, popped a painkiller and sat down to read.
The tico kids splashed in the pool a cute little eight year old asked me if she could charge her ipod on my computer, which of course I graciously accommodated. She then went over took out a huge block of ice and seeing that it wouldn’t fit into the glass took a big butcher knife and was going to drive it toward the palm of her left hand. “ALTO!” I took the ice block and beat it with the wood handle of a spatula.
I found out the maid was male and just an employee not Ivanne’s lesbian partner.
While sitting reading I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. A guy in a long sleeved shirt and underwear was crouched on the far side of the refrigerator furtively opened it, grabbed a beer and scampered away. What the hell was that? That was my introduction to Hotta, the Colombian.
Needing money I walked five blocks to the ATM, which requires oh, two turns. On my way home, I got lost and had to take a taxi.
Come dinner time everybody here came under the rancho and cooking commenced as the families gathered around. A quiet, peaceful, sociable evening. Just what I needed.
Jonathan Allen LaFleur