Unphotographable…

Oh the times I wish I had my camera…

I try to carry it with me at all times, mostly because when I don’t have it, I see something that I would love to photograph and include in a blog post.

Like the parakeet I saw the other day on my walk. Actually, I did have my camera for that one, but couldn’t get it on fast enough. The pretty bird was right in front of me, on a low branch. I saw it’s lovely green face and unmistakeable light yellow-orange parrot beak and said aloud, “No way!” I reached for my camera but it was gone.

The little guy looked a lot like this… (not my photo)

I have birder friends who are skeptical. But I did some research and learned that it was either an Orange Chinned Parakeet which is reported to be on Taboga or, as a friend suggested, a pet parakeet that escaped from its cage and has made its home in the jungle.

Since then I have looked for it every time I walk that way, camera at the ready, but no luck so far. Interesting fact: they make their homes in the abandoned mounds of termite colonies.

And there are plenty of these in the jungle for them to remodel and live in…

This one could be a multi-family abode.

~~~~

Then there was the day I was hiking along with Chili, my trusty doggie companion. She disappeared into the brush as she often does to chase a lizard or whatever it is we hear rustling in there. When I heard the rustling getting closer, I figured she would emerge per usual, looking at me as if to say, “Hey – you should have seen all the stuff I saw in there! Am I in trouble? Everything okay? Cool! What’s next? Let’s go!” and then sprint off in search of a new adventure. Instead, what appeared just ahead of me on the path was a panicked agouti (a small rodent commonly found in Panama), running across the path and into the brush on the other side.

Pretty cute for a rodent…

Now, I’ve seen these little guys in the city, in particular on Ancon Hill when hiking up to the top for a view of the city. But this was my first sighting on Taboga. I checked with Vidal, a local who works for a long-term resident of Taboga, a man with an impressive ranch which I pass each day on my walk and with whom we have become friendly, who confirmed that, yes, there are Agoutis on Taboga – muchos! But they are known here by their nickname which a friend told me to be something like: Nyecki. I have no idea how it is spelled in Spanish, but that’s the name that got him shaking his head affirmatively.

~~~~

Then, there are things that simply cannot be photographed. Things that happen that you want to record somehow. The Club Soda caper being one.

I really like Club Soda. It’s fizzy and refreshing and less filling (and fattening) than beer but with the same satisfying, thirst quenching result. Plus: Campari and Soda; Vodka and Soda…  you get the idea. When we go shopping in the city, if I find some, I pick up a six pack or two and lug them back.

About a month ago I heard about a guy, Raul or Pépero (everyone here has nicknames), on the island who sells beer and soft drinks AND Club Soda to the local restaurants and to individuals. I got his number and called him asking if he would sell me a case. “Sure! I can do that. I’ll deliver it to you later this week.” I felt pretty proud of myself to have made this insider connection and told some friends  – fellow Club Soda lovers – about it.

Nope. Didn’t happen. I called him again. A friend who wanted a case, too, and knows Raul, got involved. We both started calling him. Pestering him. Every time I ran into him on the street I would say, “Raul! Club Soda!” Which in Spanish sounds like, “Raul! Clooo Soda!”

“Si! Si! Mañana!” was the reply. Siempre. Always.

Walking home the other day from the pueblo, Dan & I passed a neighbor’s home. We glanced in to wave hello as we do, and there, sitting on the couch was Raul. I walked past and as it registered, I took three steps backward and said, “Hey! Raul! Cloo Soda!”

“Si!” he said. “I have it for you. Just jump in that golf cart with my amigo and go down to Popeye’s Restaurant and you will have your case of blue cans!”

Okay. In the golf cart, wild ride to the restaurant, case secured to the back of the cart. $20 to Raul and then I asked for a ride home in place of the promised delivery so we wouldn’t have to carry the case, sweating all the way.

It only took one month, ten or so phone calls and/or personal encounters, a ride in a golf cart and $20 and I got my case of Cloo Soda.

Gold in a Blue Can…

ahhhhh….

I ran into Raul a few days ago and he said that anytime I want more to just call him. I think I’ll call him today just to be sure!

Advertisements