Our Guide

Terry hired a guide, named Rainald Framhein, to drive us around Panama City. The tires on his car had blown out the week before, so he picked us up in a new rental car. Driving in Panama is an adventure. Stop signs and lights seem to be considered suggestions often ignored. Cars merging into traffic would blindly accelerate assuming they would push in. There were several instances when I was certain I would die but our Rainald’s lightning fast reflexes saved us. There was a constant angry barrage of horns honking and curses shouted out in Spanish. Alison spoke fluent Spanish after six months of intensive language studies prior to her posting at the U.S. Embassy. Terry knew some Spanish from having lived in Venezuelan for a year. I knew how to say “yes” and “thank you.” Luckily many of Panama’s citizens knew English. Even better they use American currency.

The first place we explored was the Parque Natural Summit. This natural refuge was established by the United States. We hiked up a two mile dirt road until we reached a grass clearing at the summit where we had a wide panoramic view overlooking all of Panama City. I didn’t sketch since I was exhausted and sweaty from the hike and besides I had just sketched the city skyline the day before. As we relaxed, taking in the view, I noticed a long line of Leaf Cutter Ants as they marched down a tree trunk and then along the forest floor. I laughed when I noticed a smaller ant hitching a ride on a leaf fragment being carried by another ant. It turned out even this hitch hiker had a role to perform by keeping parasites away from the leaf. The constant activity reminded me of the angry traffic on the streets of Panama City. The ants were more organized than the concrete civilization below them. They cultivate the leaves to create a fungus which is their food source. They were successfully farming thousands of years before humans. To cleanly cultivate this crop the ants have been using antibiotics which the human race only discovered some 60 years ago. Research is being done that may help make hospitals more sterile and perhaps new drugs can be found from the never ending work of these tireless workers. When the leaves have been cleaned of their fungus, the ants remove the waste and pile it up in immense mounds which are easily seen on the rain forest floor.

Portobello at San Lorenzo

Terry loves old forts. Rainald drove us to San Lorenzo. The ruin of the fort was perched on top of a cliff high above the mouth of the Chargres River. It was first built in 1595 by Spaniards to protect all the South American gold being shipped down the river. It was destroyed by pirate Henry Morgan in 1671 and rebuilt shortly afterward. Morgan captured the fort by shooting flaming arrows which ignited the Spanish gunpowder forcing the troops to surrender. The jungle surrounding the fort was used for decades as a jungle training area by the U.S. military. On the drive in we spotted a large falcon feasting on its bloody prey high up in a branch.

Terry and I wandered the ruins together for a while rushing from one shady spot to the next, then she encouraged me to sketch while she read a book in the shade. I was delighted when she suggested I do a second sketch. Rainald was talking to a Scandinavian couple who had pulled up in an RV. They planned to camp overnight at the fort, and they chatted for quite some time in Swedish. I was feeling great after finishing the second sketch and I started walking back to the shady tree where Terry was reading her book. I was surprised when she met me half way in the forts mote.

She held up her cell phone showing me the calender. She said, “Does this day mean anything to you?” It was April 28th, her birthday. I hadn’t looked at a calender since we arrived in Panama. “Oh shit,” I thought. She was visibly upset and I didn’t know how to make it up to her. As we sat in the shade of the crumbling ruins, Rainald cheerfully approached us, and we had to shout out that we needed some time alone. A week has gone by and I still haven’t mended my oversight. I’m not sure I can. I really messed up this time. As I approach 50 I carelessly loose myself searching for the next creative rush. I loose sight of what is most important in life, perhaps overconfident in the impregnable strength of marriage.