Through clear blue waters
the bow slices straight and true
The Andiamo!

Figured this was a good time to bring my post from that day out of the archives. Dedicated to all my London friends who deal with the memory every day.

Up at the observation point - Mt. Santis, Switzerland

I decided I was going to do things a little differently this year. It was going to be all about doing trips with Andiamo and getting caught up on traveling abroad. Considering that I had been working much more over the past couple of years, change was due. This was going to be the year that I got caught up on traveling as much as possible.

To prove my seriousness, I gave up my shared apartment in Panama City last January. Thus, not having anything to keep me lazy and comfortable in the city during my breaks in between trips. Since then, I’ve had many nice little jaunts around Panama, back stateside, and even Canada. And now, it was time to splurge and do Europe.

Late May and early June was proving to be a slower time for Andiamo. Rather than whine about it, I opted to clear the schedule and take three plus weeks off and hit the continent. I hadn’t been to Europe in more than four years, I was long overdue. It was time to hit my old haunts, and visit some dear, long-time friends in their habitat. But it also meant checking out some places that I hadn’t been to and visiting some new friends I made thanks to Andiamo. To hit all the places I wanted to hit, my visits would need to be short and sweet.

After making a quick stop in Florida for my niece’s wedding, I was off to Zurich. Zurich is one of the few popular european cities that I had yet not made it to. Thanks to Andrea and Anne, a couple of super-cool and funny girls who were on Andiamo a few months ago (they were onboard during the now-infamous creepy Babyhead incident), I had not only a great crash pad, but great people to hang out with. Anne was just getting back from a month-long trip in Southeast Asia, so the timing was perfect. When I arrived in Zurich, I got a warm welcome from them at the airport, and we were off to a running start.

Sandra, Cathy, and Menno, more A'dam Andiamo Alums!

The next days in Zurich were a fantastic blur of outings. From going to a nice dinner party at the house of a friend of Anne’s the first night to heading up to spectacular Mount Santis in the Alps for the day with Andrea; to walking around and hanging out in Zurich by the lake on a brilliant summer-like Saturday; to jumping in on a local poker tournament at a popular Zurich poker room (with Andrea so patiently watching the action; I lost btw … ); to having a nice dinner night at Anne’s place; watching the girls get silly and dancing to cheesy music; laughing and joking the whole night. Good times! I was so appreciative at the great hospitality Andrea dished out (uh… speaking of dish… sorry about the dishwasher fiasco again… :/ ). Time went by too fast. I simply can’t wait to get back and pick up where we left off.

From Zurich, it was off to London. My friend Steffenie, who I’d met in Isla Mujeres six years ago, offered to let me crash at the flat she shares with her new hubby Spesh in North London. She was busy with work and being pregnant, so our hangout time was highly limited. It was nonetheless great to see her as well as get to know Spesh a bit. From there, I headed over to Camden to meet up with Claire. We became friends back in Utila more than five years ago. Since then, we’ve met up in London to hang out the last couple of times that I had been to the UK. But we hadn’t seen each other in at four years, and man was it good to see her! I ended up crashing at the flat she shares with her super cool if not eccentric roomie Franklin. We managed to hang out quite a bit during the days I was in London. we even had a hellacious night out starting at a great Greek Restaurant over by Primrose Hill, followed by a nice walk up the hill after dinner. The view was amazing, looking down at the city lights. Hell, we even saw one of London’s famed city foxes milling around the park. The rest of the night involved slamming drinks at a half dozen bars along Chalk Farm Road heading towards Camden, and dancing our heads off at a club til the wee hours. Neither Claire nor I had lost our party jones. Just like old times…

What’s so great about London for me is how many people I now know there. There was a bundle of great meetups, with some of the great “Andiamo Alumni” as I like to call them. Had lunch with Ashley, a cool guy who works in the financial district. He had been on the boat last year and thanks to Facebook, we met up. I also met up with Barry and Maja, an English/Danish couple who had done one of our Cartagena runs last summer. Cay, a South African friend of mine who I met in Bocas three years ago when she was cruising with a mutual friend, met up with Claire, Stef and me for a great sunday afternoon of coffee, lunch and drinks in Camden Market. She drove a couple hours over from Bournemouth on the coast just to hang out. The great meetups just kept coming and coming. I took a train over to Reading, then on to Theale to hang out with Narrinder and Selina, a cheeky mother/daughter duo who forever left their mark on Andiamo when they came aboard last autumn.

Tracy, who had just been on Andiamo back in April, showed up for lunch and drinks in Camden, along with Barry and Maja who were up for a second round on my last day in town. Time went by so fast with all the visits and catching up, it seemed almost a blur. All I know is I’ll be visiting the UK again really soon. I didn’t forget how much at home I feel there, strangely enough.

From London, it was off to Amsterdam! It had been a few years since being there, and this is one city I can just NEVER miss visiting. And luckily, there were a lot of old and new friends to see. Sandra, a loud, spunky, gruff, no-nonsense Type A who was on Andiamo on her maiden run from Cartagena to Panama in August ’08, graciously offered to let me crash at her amazing flat. It was so smack in the center of Amsterdam, it could not be believed. She even offered to let me drive her company car around if I needed to, though I figured I’d spare the streets of Amsterdam, as well as spare myself.

On the first night, we met up with Shanice and a friend at a hip rooftop cafe. Shanice is a budding actress friend I met back in Bocas back in ’07. We’d stayed in contact ever since, and strangely enough, we’d become great friends even since she left Bocas. She was heading off to Greece the next day, so we only had that first night to hang out. Along with Sandra and Shanice’s friend Nadi, we hit several bars around Leidseplein having drinks reminiscing, joking, and making plans for the next meet up in LA later this year.

The next days and nights included hanging out with Sandra, walking the streets of A’dam, and catching up with old friends. I met up with some more Bocas and Andiamo Alums one fun night in the De Pijp section of Amsterdam, very close by Sandra’s flat. It’s a part of Amsterdam that comes alive at night with bars, cafes, and discos. Eveline, a good friend who was running the spanish school in Bocas while I was in Bocas, coordinated the night out on Facebook. And what a night it was. Merel, who sailed Andiamo from Bocas to Cartagena in late ’07, and Elsbeth, who I also knew from the spanish school, showed up. As did Cathy and Menno, a fun couple who sailed Andiamo in San Blas last spring. A very drunk Sandra showed up later after a dinner/cocktail party, and we closed the place down. Sandra and I met up with Merel again the next night for more drinks and hijinks. Before long, it was time to leave Amsterdam, without me getting to meet up with scads of other people I would have liked to have seen. Again, it went by way too fast!

Next stop was Roma! I had planned to fly into Rome because I wanted to make sure I saw my old friend Luigi before heading to Salerno. Luigi is an italian sailmaker who spends half his time in Rio Dulce. It had been at least four years since I’d last seen him and his wife. I had gotten the sad news of their recent split just before leaving for the trip. Luigi and I couldn’t coordinatefor my arrival, so we made arrangements for me to come to Rome the night before I was to fly out later that week. So upon my arrival in Rome, I hopped on a train for Salerno. I arrived in Salerno less than 3 hours later. My friend Angelo, who is my cousin Simona’s husband, was nice enough to get me at the station. The next few days would be a whirlwind of great food, visiting relatives, and catching up with everyone. I’m surprised at how many people I managed to visit with in the limited few days I had. I got to have lunch with my cousins Dino and Mauro one of my last afternoons in town.

My Italian had suffered badly since I was last there. It got all corrupted and confused by my spanish, but I made the best of it. Because I was there less than a week, my Italian didn’t have time to get coherent and refreshed, but I did the best I can. I’ll have to stay longer next time to bone up. I didn’t get to see everyone with the limited time I had, but I suspect I would be getting back to Salerno again soon to pick up where I left off. It’s always great if not interesting and entertaining to visit my Italian extended family.

I got back into Rome by train later in the evening than I would have liked. Luigi was waiting for me at the train station outside Fiumicino. He had been living on his boat, which has been getting refit at the dock since his split. We managed to find a restaurant that was open late, and had a great dinner of catching up on so many things. Our time was short, but we made the best of it. He drove me to the airport the next morning after breakfast. And just like that, my time in Italy was over, and I was off to Copenhagen for a short and sweet final stop to hang out with Sjelle.

Sjelle, an ex-girlfriend who had been on and off Andiamo for a good year and a half between ’05 and ’07 was living back in Copenhagen, leaving her very taxing boating life far behind. Over the past few years since we parted ways in early ’07, she had spent months at a time in India doing intensive yoga training and learning how to become a master instructor. Though we haven’t seen each other in three years, we managed to keep in close touch. She picked me up at the airport and we spent the next three days hanging out in Copenhagen catching up.

The only downside was the weather. Copenhagen was cold and rainy most of the time I was there. Ironically, I’d scored almost perfect weather my whole rest of the time in Europe. I guess I was due some crappy euro-weather. She had just signed the lease on a space and was in the process of opening her own yoga studio not far from where she lives. It’s an exciting time for her. I was really happy to get to see her and hang out after all this time. We hung out and watched movies, ate sushi in town, and made the best of the time.

Before long, it was time to say goodbye and get back on the plane and head to London Gatwick. From there, I’d grab the next bus over to Heathrow. Then, it was a matter of waiting for my early AM flight back to Panama via the states.

On the way back however, I learn of Spirit’s pilot strike. Which in effect cancelled my flight from Fort Lauderdale to Panama City. I managed to score a ticket on American, but it wouldn’t leave until the next day. Luckily, my friend Fabi took me in and put me up in her apartment in Fort Lauderdale for the night. She made me a fantastic late dinner, and took great care of me. Next morning, thanks to the Tri-rail, I was on my way to Miami to catch my flight to Panama.

This trip was all about seeing just a slice of all the amazing real people who’d become a part of my life thanks to my time on Andiamo. Though all individually different and coming from all walks of life, they turn out to be people who “GET IT”, that’s the only way I can explain it.

Most of the people I saw on this trip shared the common trait of having experienced time on the Andiamo. From that time, they make new connections and friendships with the other Andiamo Alums that they shared their trips with that continue on long after they leave the boat. It’s a really fascinating and rewarding dynamic to be a part of.

I especially enjoy watching people from DIFFERENT trips meet up and discuss their favorite Andiamo moments, and bond or connect with their experiences, though they happened at different times and places! I have been fortunate to witness this several times over the years, even more so now, because of all the trips I do. I never tire of it. I even find it to be a very flattering honor to bring these people together in such a small way.

I’ll say this. There have been so many times I shake my fist and curse this damn boat when things go wrong or something breaks, which is almost constantly. Many times I ask myself why I’m even still aboard her after more than six years. But then, I think of all the great people I’ve crossed paths with, all the great experiences, conversations, friendships, new and old, and incredible connections, all thanks to this boat.

And that’s the payoff on so many levels. It’s all about the experiences, and the people. So let it be known how thankful and honored I am for all the great friends of Andiamo and mine. Thanks for making my “goodwill tour” such a fun experience. Can’t wait for the next one… Only problem now is to decide on WHERE! Thanks to this damn boat, I got connections that span the globe, ya know.

It all began with my ex-wife Mahi’s summer break from UF in 1995. She had become particularly homesick in the five years she had spent away from Holland since we got married. I decided that I too needed a proper vacation, and figured if we were going to go anywhere, it was going to be Holland. I didn’t even think about an alternative venue. Though we were rather broke at the time, we did have a credit card with plenty of available balance on it. We decided it would be best used on our summer jaunt, we’d figure out how to pay it off later.

I would only agree to make it happen provided we could make a REAL vacation out of it, and not just stay at her parents’ house the whole time. I also insisted we rent a car, because there was no way in the world we would depend on her dad to drive us anywhere. He was by far the most dangerous driver on the planet.

After some further negotiations, and discussion, we decided that renting a car, doing a drive through Holland, Belgium and France would be a good call. We would spend one week in Holland, go on the trip, then come back for a few more days before flying back to the states. It was coming together, and we were excited.

So our trip for late spring/early summer 1995 was on! I was excited to make the plans, reservations, pick hotels and all the not-so-fun stuff associated with planning a proper vacation. Being that I had just gotten out of the travel business the year before after my partnership imploded, it felt good to deal with travel stuff again, it had been awhile. I also found myself getting utterly thrilled about getting out of the damn lame-ass college town we were living in for a few weeks. Living in Gainesville, Florida will do that to you.

In the course of my planning, I called Pop to ask him about the possibility of leaving our car at his apartment complex and having him drive us to the airport in his taxi to save us a few bucks on airport parking fees. When Pop answered his cel phone, he wasn’t his usual peppy self. I asked him how he was doing, and he replied that he wasn’t doing so well. Business had been terrible for the taxis of Orlando. He was in a major slump. There weren’t that many tourists coming now that easter and spring break had passed. Worse, the ones that were coming were mostly renting cars, thus not needing taxis. I can tell he was pretty depressed. Even more than usual when business sucks.

After hearing him whine a little more, I remembered to ask him about the parking/trip to the airport favor. He said no problem, he’d be GLAD to help us save a few bucks while getting out to Europe so we can have a “great time”. I detected the usual sarcasm in his voice, which he’d always do when he thought I was spending money on something he deemed unnecessary. But this time, I also detected a bit of envy. Sounded to me like he wished he can go to Europe too.

Later that evening, after Mahi came home from classes, I hit her with a strange idea. Why don’t we take Pop along on the trip? If I can talk him into shelling out for his airfare, and maybe kicking in a few bucks for the car rental and gas, it would be cheaper for us. But more importantly, it would give him a much-needed vacation. For the last few years, the only “vacation” Pop would ever take was to head down to Brazil every other year or so to visit his family there. The last few times, however, he would just come back a little more bitter or miserable than when he left. Things hadn’t always gone so well while he was there. I thought a European vacation that none of us could even afford would be the solution to his doldrums.

At first she didn’t seem keen on the idea. But she agreed that Pop could use a break. She also figured it would be a good way to keep her dad off her back since Pop would be there to distract him. She also figured it would give her more one-to-one time with her mom. When her dad was bored or miserable, which was pretty often, that kind of time with her mom was hard to come by.

The more we talked about it, the better the plan sounded, she gave a thumbs up. I called Pop the next day with my idea. He immediately dismissed the idea as utterly ludicrous. He didn’t make enough money to pay his rent that month, much less go on a transatlantic jaunt. “No way. impossible.” “You’re crazy for going too, what a dummy.”,”Why are you bothering me with this shit!?” , “Leave me alone, I gotta work!…”. The zingers kept coming, it was clear he wasn’t a fan of the plan.

After his tirade subsided what felt like twenty minutes later, I gingerly reminded him that he did have several grand saved up from when business was good. Maybe tapping into a grand or so of that money wouldn’t kill him?

He laughed for about another twenty minutes. The jagged zingers continued, yet I pressed on. I persuasively argued my points with him: This would be good for him, he needed the break. Business was slow anyway! Turn in the taxi for a couple of weeks, save on the lease fees! I can get him a decent discount on the plane ticket since my agents’ status was still good! He’ll get to see Mahi’s dad (they hit it off four years’ before when he was in Florida for our wedding, bonding over whiskey and cigars). They can relive their whiskey and cigar memories while my father-in-law showed him around Holland. Then, we can jump into the rental car and drive through Belgium and France…

Pop was in the middle of another dismissive rant while I was talking, talking over me, despite my pressing on with my pitch. I didn’t think he was even listening. Yet, his rant came to an abrupt end when he heard the word “France”.

“France? You mean as in Paris?”

“Yeah of course Paris, we love it there, we’ll spend a few days there before heading back to Holland.”

Silence.

Pop stayed silent for a little longer than I was comfortable with. I chimed in, “Why, do you like Paris too?”

“Son, I’ve been to many cities around Europe with your mother. Many times we went to wonderful places, Vienna, Venice, Portofino, Lisboa, Madrid, Geneva, London… but we never made it to Paris. It’s probably the only place in the world i’d still like to see.”

I had always believed that he had gone to Paris at some point in his life, He was even somewhat schooled in French, so it was only a logical assumption.

“Well, here’s your chance to go, are you in?” I retorted dryly.

“Let me think about it a little while, let me check my money situation, I’ll call you back tonight. Gotta go, I got a fare.”

He hung up.

I didn’t have to wait for the call back, I knew he was in. Mahi came home from classes a few minutes after the call was over, and I gave her the news. For better or for worse, Pop was coming along.

So the final plan was for a trip that would last a bit over three weeks. Pop would join us a week later. We’d hit the road, and do a nice 10-day long drive through Belgium and France. Spend a few days of it in Paris. Then drive back to Holland, where we would spend another week, then fly home.

So now the plans were being made in earnest. Everytime I called Pop about a trip-related detail, he’d grumble about the expenses or costs, but at the same time I can tell he was a bit excited about the upcoming trip. It came time for us to leave for Holland, since we were leaving a week earlier than Pop, we would leave our car at his apartment complex parking lot in Orlando, and he would drive us in. He was again bitching and moaning about how bad business was all the way to the airport. We also ended up taking our cat Aretha with us to Holland because it was cheaper and easier to do that than to put her in a kennel for three weeks. This was going to be an interesting trip to say the least.

Pop says goodbye to us at the airport in a rather quick way. He notices that there weren’t too many taxis in line coming in, so he wanted to hurry and get a good position to grab a quick fare from the airport. Through the haste, we can both tell that he’s rather giddy about the fact that the next time he’s going to see us, it’s going to be in Holland.

The first week in Holland goes by quick for us, despite the fact that it’s marred by crappy rainy and cold weather in late May. Aretha doesn’t seem to care about the weather at all and spends most of the time either on the roof of the ex-in-laws’ house, or on their patio. Endless family discussions, debates, squabbling, the usual rivalry banter between my ex-sister-in-law and me ensue during the week. Before we know it, it’s time to go get Pop at Schiphol airport.

The flight’s on time, and we find Pop at the international arrivals area with his bags. The first thing I notice is his arm is in a sling. Turns out he strained a shoulder muscle a couple of days before while loading some overweight luggage into his taxi van, and he’s been in pain ever since. Not a good way to start a vacation, I say to myself…

We get him back to the in-laws’ house, where he’s greeted by everyone. The plan is to stay there that night, then head off for the road trip. He would do his time in Holland when we got back. The road trip adventure would start the next morning.

We set off early in the morning in our rented Peugeot to avoid any rush hour traffic while making our way to Belgium. The first stop would be Antwerp, where we would spend a night. Having our sense of scale rather distorted by the distance between cities in the US, we realize that the drive to Antwerp really doesn’t take that long from the in-laws’ place in Zeeland. We’re there in probably less than two hours, and that’s with traffic. From there, we make our way down to Brussels, where we would spend another day or so. We liked Brussels better than Antwerp. Pop finds he especially likes the beer, and the chocolate. Things are looking up.

The city was alive and the weather was good. We found ourselves watching some fun festival activity that included a local beer company using the famed “Mannekin Pis” statue as a way to give out free beer to the thirsty festival-goers. Good timing on our part, great weather, and free Belgian beer. How can you go wrong? After a fun time of sightseeing, dining, and drinking a lot of beer, it was time to move. We continue on to France. We spend the first day driving through the countryside, and staying at a nice, clean and cheap roadside lodge. On our second night in France, we make it to Paris.

Our initial hotel arrangements fell through for some reason. We think it was because we were quoted the wrong rate when reserving over the internet (booking travel by internet was in its infancy back then) and the hotel didn’t want to honor it. But it didn’t matter. We weren’t going to get the rooms we wanted for the rate we wanted. Alternate plans would need to be made, and fast.

The problem was that Paris’ peak tourist season was almost in full swing. Most hotels were filled up or getting there, making the rates rather lofty. We managed to find a decent room close by the center, but it was a bit over our budget. Worse, we can only get one room, so we had to share a room with Pop. This quirk caused quite a trial for obvious reasons. But the real reason would be due to Pop’s incessantly loud snoring. Having shared rooms with him many times in the past, I had forgotten how atrocious his snoring was, until then, that is. It was clear that this situation wasn’t going to work. At least not for long.

We opted to move to a hotel a little more outside of the center so we can have separate rooms. We ended up near St. Denis, which was accessible enough to the City Center via Paris’ metro and trams, but far enough where room rates were fairly affordable. Plus the hotel had free parking for the rental car so we wouldn’t get killed when parking the car around the city. Making the change was our trip’s salvation.

The next few days involved just taking in all of the typical sights of Paris. We went to the Eiffel Tower, Champs d’Elysee, Rue d’ Rivoli among other places. We bought tickets for the convenient ParisBus so it would be easy for us to get around town. We walked along the River Seine, drank lots of wine, ate lots of great cheese, and tried to make the best of Paris on our limited budget. While dinners were farely pricey, we managed to eek out some great French Cuisine at prices we could live with.

We spared no expense, time, money, or otherwise, however, at the Louvre. While most people wanted to just swing by the main attractions like the Mona Lisa and Michaelangelo’s David and get out, we wanted to see the whole museum. It would take us two FULL days. I was actually surprised to see that even during the latter part of the second day that Pop didn’t get “museum’ed out” like even I was starting to. It was refreshingly fun to watch Mahi and him discuss different types of art, and the surrounding history, and other related subjects. We were both actually impressed at how much Pop knew about the subjects and topics. We had many great discussions, and lots of laughs, during those two days at the Louvre.

Yet, there were times when Pop would get a little impatient or grumble about how much money he was spending. A few times, it got downright annoying, and it would turn into an argument over something stupid. Things ended up not always being hunky-dory during the time in Paris. There were quite a few rough spots, oddly enough.

Watching Pop in Paris was a fascinating if not always a pleasant thing to do. At times we can see how happy he was to be walking the streets he had always dreamed about walking on. He would have moments of complete awe at the scenery and the architecture that is unique only to Paris. I remember him almost coming to tears standing outside Notre Dame, though he did his best to try to hide it behind his glasses.

Other times, he would get rather brooding and impatient, and very negative. I tried to figure out why, and it would just somehow make matters worse when I asked why he was being like that.

One particular afternoon, Pop decided on what we considered the rather repulsive idea of having lunch at McDonald’s. In Paris. Our looks back at him more than reflected our utter disdain for his idea. He bitched that he wanted to go to McDonald’s until we finally agreed to go. For awhile there, it felt like Pop reverted to age five to get what he wanted. Our eyes rolled and we cringed at the concept of setting foot in one on such hallowed gastronomic grounds.

When we got there, Pop was thrilled beyond words that he can order a beer or wine with his LeBig Mac Combo meal. For the first five minutes of his lunch, all he could do was marvel at the fact that he was having a cold Kronenbourg in a Mickey D’s with his well-warmed burger. It was almost a religious experience. Mahi and I looked at each other and decided that maybe coming to McD’s in Paris may not have been a bad thing after all. To see it make him this happy was probably worth the horrific dining faux pas we were committing.

Unfortunately, the joy was short-lived. Some unknown random thing was said, triggered an emotional response, and Pop reverted back to his cranky, brooding self. I found myself losing patience.

“What is your problem? A minute ago you were happy, you were enjoying yourself! What now?”

“Tony, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Understand what?” It sounded like he wanted me to probe a little bit. “Explain it to me!” I was almost yelling now.

“My life! If you had asked me 30 years ago if I was going to be driving a taxi to make ends meet, I would have called you crazy. There were so many things I wanted to do, especially for you kids, that I couldn’t do, and now it’s too late.”

Ok, so I didn’t expect his answer to be quite so existential.

“I have been struggling my whole life, broke my back, made so many stupid mistakes, and for what? So I can be stressed, tired and broke at the end of my life? Driving a cab twelve hours a day, six-seven days a week? So I can be distanced from my own children (he had been going through a recent rough spot with my brother at the time)? What was it all for?” He bowed his head down in dramatic self-sorrow.

I found it odd that he was telling us all this with a Big Mac in one hand, and a large cup of sweating beer in the other, in a McDonald’s by the Centre Pompidou. But that’s how it all unfolded.

Though I was a bit annoyed at his self-flagellating, I tried to take the rough edges off.

“Pop, so things didn’t turn out the way you wanted them to. That’s life. It’s still not too late. You still have lots of life to live, and time to do the things you want to do.”

“Nahhh… it’s too late for me. I’m out of time…”, I of course asked him if he found out he was dying or something.

“No, nothing like that… ”

“Then what?”

“I just feel like I wasted all my chances, and that I’m out of time.”

During the tirade, I think I figured him out. His being in Paris was a bit of a reminder of dreams past that never came to be. Somehow, his being there now, spurred some feelings and aspirations he had long associated with Paris. Being here forced him to come to terms with all the failures, real or imagined, that he had incurred through his life. I wasn’t sure why that was, only he can answer that to himself.

Let me repeat that this was all happening in a McDonalds’ over by Centre Pompidou.

“Ok listen, you’re not dying, we’re glad to hear that. You’re still here, and you still have plenty of time to at least do things that you want to do.” I tried to be pragmatic, “And besides, you’ve also been pretty lucky in your life too, you know. Lots of GOOD things have happened to you, maybe you should focus on that a little more?”

Pop just kept shaking his head, dismissing what I was saying, and it was making me a bit angry.

“Your life is not over yet. Look at yourself! You’re in fucking Paris eating a fucking Big Mac and having a fucking BEER!” I might have gotten a little loud during that last part, because the rest of the dining room got a bit quiet.

Pop looked at me a bit surprised, kept his brooding face a little longer, for maybe a minute, but didn’t say anything else. Then, in his classic style, changed the subject. He turned to Mahi and asked her where that particular church she wanted to see next was in relation to where we were. The conversation went that direction, and even though I was still a bit irritated, I let it go.

The rest of the time, Pop seemed to be in somewhat better spirits. His cranky episodes didn’t get quite as bad as they had before the McDonald’s episode. He seemed to be a bit more at ease, and even bitched less about his shoulder pain. A couple of nights later, we were headed back to Holland to spend the remainder of the week there.

That week blasted by with trips to Amsterdam with the whole family, checking out the Delta Project, and seeing lots of sights and people. It was a nice week, particularly since the weather had gotten better since we hit the road. We had fun watching Pop and my ex-father-in-law misunderstand each other completely due to language barriers, only to have the misconstrued discussions end with lit cigars, laughing and more whiskey. Mahi got to have her solo time with her mom, and I even got a day of peace to go to Amsterdam and visit some old friends there. Before long, it was time to get back on the plane, get Aretha back in her pet taxi and checked in, and fly home.

Once we got back to Gainesville, it was soon time for us to figure out how we were going to pay our now staggering credit card bill. I had started my internet consulting business a few months before the vacation, and it had been slow going. I was going to have to work even harder to stay above water. Mahi managed to score a part-time job at the university which took some of the short-term pressure off. And Pop went back to grumbling about how bad business still was, and how it wasn’t going to change anytime soon. Oddly, we didn’t even talk our usual 2-3 times a week for a solid couple of weeks due to real life setting back in. I didn’t think much of it, because I was pretty busy.

One afternoon though, the phone rang. It was Pop, he was more or less back to his ol’ joking self.

“Hey, it’s Pop! What’s the matter, your phone broken? You can’t call? You forget my phone number? You should put me on speed dial by now. Obviously your phone didn’t get disconnected yet… hehehehe… ”

We joked a little, talked about mundane crap for about ten minutes, with me mostly telling him how I was trying to kick-start business, make some sales calls, get some flyers out, stuff like that. He bitched about business still sucking, but oddly didn’t seem to be all that down about it. Abruptly, my business line lights up, another call I had to take. It was hopefully a good sales callback, I had to jump off…

“Son, before you go, I wanted to… ”

“What Pop? I really gotta take this other call…”

“I just wanted to thank you. I wanted to thank you, for giving me Paris.”

Trying to save the stuff from the roof of the sinking SUV. Leave no clean laundry or comrade's baggage behind! - Thanks Alison for the photo!

Just when I find myself cursing that I haven’t had new blog fodder lately due to life being thrust into a relatively comfy zone of tranquilo-ness, I get thrown a nice little zinger to break the quiet streak, and not a moment too soon.

Last week, I had a nice little convergence of diverse friends in Panama. My Guatemalan friend Mitzy (better known as GCMitzy, a fixture on the Andiamo blog over the years), was in town for a business exploration trip, some research work, and of course to kick ass in some local poker tournaments. Greg, an old friend from Florida, was back in town for his second visit to Andiamo in about six months. This time, he had his girlfriend Lori and Alan, a work colleague, come along for the jaunt.

I had a trip scheduled during the time they were visiting, so it worked out nicely. It was to be a nice trip with some good friends and familiar faces. Oddly enough, also booked on the trip were Frans and Kathy, a Canadian expat couple who live in Chitre. They were coming aboard for their second stint on Andiamo, along with Kathy’s sister and her husband.

It was sure to be a fun if not too-short 3-day trip. But first, we had to all get from Panama City over to San Blas to start the hi-jinks. This involved getting picked up by 4×4′s and driven out to the coast. Thanks to the fact that the road is now at the near-end of a re-construction project, traveling this route is MUCH easier. This versus its previous state as little more than a mud trail. There’s also a brand-spanking new bridge nearly completed that will make crossing the Rio Carti a piece of cake forevermore. It’s so close to completion, you can almost hear the onslaught of tour minibuses and shuttles screaming down the road to use it.

I planned for Greg’s and Frans’ groups to get picked up later than me in the city. I needed to head out there earlier to pick up groceries and help Dino get the boat ready before their arrival. Mitzy would come with me, and the rest would get picked up a couple hours later.

It was a sound plan, typical of what I do when I’m in the city until the morning of any trip. That is, until Mitzy and I didn’t get picked up at the prescribed time of 5 AM. The driver who was organizing pickups failed to look at my entire text message listing the passengers and their pickup points where I mentioned myself needing to be picked up. Due to this “oversight”, we ended up not getting picked up until almost 6:30.

Thanks to my usual luck of the draw, we got picked up by the driver that I most consider to be the “loose cannon” of the squadron of 4×4 drivers I typically use for transport to and from San Blas. For the purpose of this story, he shall be named “Pepo”. Now as I said, Pepo tended to be a bit less of an astute driver than some of the others. He was relatively new to the crew, so I figured I’d give him a chance to get his bearings and get comfortable with the road and develop his driving skills. That said, I find that more than a few times I have had to tell him to slow down a bit on the roadways, and the road-still-in-progress going to Carti.

He also tended to think he can, …ahem… “multi-task” while driving. On at least a couple occasions, he would try to send or read a text message, update his appointment book, call a number on one cel phone while reading the number off another cel phone, stuff like that, all while trying to navigate the winding, careening, hilly roads that comprise this rural part of Panama. While I’m sure there are a few drivers on the planet who are capable of doing all these things somewhat safely while driving, this was clearly not the case when it came to Pepo.

Anyway, Pepo was apparently already having a bad day when he picked us up. He had to come back to the city from a police checkpoint that halfway to San Blas due to the fact that his two dutch passengers, Juul and Madeleine, left their passports at their hostel. All tourists are required by law to have their passports on them at all times, so they were turned back by the police to get them.

Since we were essentially forgotten in the early morning to be picked up by the organizing driver, Pepo got us on his trip BACK to San Blas after retrieving the passports. We made a stop at the usual supermarket where all the drivers congregate in a makeshift office in the parking garage. There was Alison, a cool california transplant like me, waiting for a ride out. So now we were five. I had to get a bunch of groceries for the upcoming trip, So needless to say there would be lots of bags and supplies to load onto the SUV, along with the passengers.

Pepo started to make a fuss about the quantity of baggage and groceries. He didn’t know how he would get all the stuff and us into the car. Mitzy logically suggested that we put some of the bigger bags on the roof and put its roof rack to good use. Pepo dismissed the idea without giving a reason why. Both Mitzy and I pressed him to give a good reason why we couldn’t get a least a couple of the bigger baggage up on the roof. Surely he would have some bungee cords and a tarp in the car to secure them and keep them dry. After all he does this trip at least once a day, six days a week. So it’s only logical that he would be properly equipped.

Apparently, at least as far as Pepo was concerned, we were being unreasonable with this common sense expectation. It turned out that he had neither on hand. At which point we politely reminded them that we were in the parking garage of a major supermarket that surely carried bungee cords or some other type of useful tie apparatus for sale in their hardware department. Pepo did not seem to be interested in making the necessary investment for such equipment that even to the rank amateur would appear integral to his work.

I eventually offered to go down and buy the bungee cords so we can load the roof. About this time, Pepo had grown very impatient with Mitzy and things were getting tense between them. Mitzy never raised her voice to him, but clearly there was displeasure in the air due to his inability to act logically or with any courtesy. In the end, he and another driver found a web strap in his car that would do the trick. So Alison’s backpack, and my bag of fresh laundry would go on the roof. I brought up the question of the possible existence of a tarp to cover it all up in the event of rain, which is usually inevitable in the drive across the mountaintops. But that just seemed to be conveniently ignored. If there were rain coming, I’d have to bring it up again.

So after some ice-breaking Griswold and “I don’t want to go to Walley World anymore!” jokes among the five of us, we were finally Carti-bound. Pepo had his foot on the gas in a way I haven’t seen before. You’d think he was late for a highly sought-after tee time or the hottest date of his life. I mentioned to him a couple of times that he was going a little fast, to which he’d respond with “si, si…” but not slow down in any real way. The Griswold jokes start up again to diffuse the stress brought on Pepo’s crazed driving antics.

When we get off the Interamericana on to the road to Carti, Pepo apparently didn’t think he needed to drive any differently than he had been on the flat paved highway that the Interamericana is mostly comprised of. While the Carti road has been VASTLY improved over the past several months, it is still a work in progress. There are still lots of spots that require extreme care and caution. Pepo seemed to think he had it all under control. However, after a couple more nudges from me that he had to slow down, he finally started to get the hint, though hardly.

After paying our road taxes to the Kuna about two thirds of the way in, Pepo decides it was time to make up for lost time. After some manic driving I can only kindly call “creative”, we get to the banks of the Rio Carti. It takes probably half the time it usually takes. The bridge spanning the Carti River getting built just to the south of us looks encouragingly close to completion. From the looks of it, only a few more girders need to be riveted on, pour the concrete, and it’s essentially a wrap. But today, we would need to cross the river just like every time before. Over the water, across a patch of the river’s shallow gravel bed.

Pepo didn’t even brake or slow down when he proceeded across the river. Less than one third of the way across, I noticed he was a little farther to the right than we usually were when crossing. Just as I started to say to him that he was a little too far to the right of the shallow patch, I felt my side of the front of the car come off the shallow ledge of the riverbed and dive into the water. The passenger fender well was now completely underwater, and I can feel the car sliding down into the deeper water.

Pepo tried to act like he was in control, and that he’d be able to drive out back into the shallow water. After a futile attempt, he tried again, only to feel the whole car tip over even more. By this time, water was coming into the vehicle pretty fast and furious. Juul and Madeleine decided that they wanted out of the car. Now. Pepo tried again to act like he was in control, as if he had undergone some kind of crisis training for this very scenario. The girls didn’t buy it, along with Mitzy, who was all the way in the backseat. They got out via the rear driver side door, taking whatever they can with them. I was now almost waist high in water in my seat, desperately trying to keep my daypack dry. I tried to slide out of the car via the driver’s side. But of course Pepo decided he wanted to stand in the door jamb, still trying to maintain some kind of semblance of control of the situation. After repeating three times in spanish that I was trying to get out, I finally had to yell sternly, “Pepo! Vete! Ya tengo que salir!” He finally got the hint and moved out of my way.

I passed my bag over to one of the girls and asked them to get it over on land. Then I proceeded to try to get the bags off the roof before they got wet. I stood up on top of the driver side rear tire, and proceeded to try to untie the web strap holding the bags onto the rack. As my luck would have it, the knot was on the OTHER side of the rack, out of my reach. I got a bit frustrated, especially since I can feel the car tipping more and more into the deep water. The tire I was standing on, would float up off the riverbed, held in suspension, then gently come back down. The car was now full of water and teetering dangerously into the deeper water. It was about then that I realized that all the groceries were in the back hatch area, and were now mostly under water.

Just in time, another 4×4 was coming from the other way and stopped to help. One of them had a good towing strap. Pepo secured it on the bumper and then to the hitch of the other car. He got in, and started the engine (I was extremely surprised that it started up, considering that the engine was now almost completely underwater). The assisting vehicle drove hard into the shallow area, while Pepo hit the gas on his car, turning the wheels hard left onto the incline to shallow water. I stood on the foot rail of the driver’s side to give some weight ballast to the car as they tried to pull it up. The car tried to find traction in the silty gravel bed. After about 30 seconds, the assisting car made some headway and the front of Pepo’s car popped out of the murky depths. Seconds later, it was back in the shallow area, with water draining out of it in all directions.

We mildly celebrated, as the car drained out, Pepo still tried to act all in control, not realizing just how lucky he was that his car was even able to start in its submerged state. He then went on to tell me how the problem was that the river had “changed” over the past few days because of the bridge construction. I rolled my eyes while he said this, saying with probably too much cynicism for him to grasp, something like… “yes, it was the river’s fault. Damn river… “.

He went on to reaffirm his non-culpability at least three more times the rest of the trip. We were all back in the car, mostly soggy, just glad that the trip was almost over.

We finally arrived to the boat dock where we catch the lanchas out to where Andiamo is anchored. We couldn’t get out of that soggy SUV fast enough. The groceries ended up being drenched for the most part, and some of it ended up getting destroyed, but it could have been worse I suppose. We all found it a bit funny and strange that at no time did Pepo ever apologize for the poor driving, or anything for that matter.

After goodbyes, email exchanges, and promises to share photos, Alison, Juul and Madeleine went on to the island lodge that they would be staying at. Mitzy and I started loading up the lancha with the bags, supplies, and the soggy groceries. About the same time, Greg’s and Frans’ vehicles arrived. So much for us getting there early.

Needless to say, Pepo has been unceremoniously blacklisted from Andiamo’s squadron of drivers. And while I’m sincerely bittersweet about all the new traffic and development that the new road and soon-to-be-completed bridge will bring to these parts, the way I feel right now, it can’t get done soon enough. :/

Here’s a fun clip of photos and video made by Alex, a recent guest who hails from New York City. Many thanks Alex for sharing!

Paypal still works fine for most people. I’ll continue to seek out efficient and competitive payment services for our sailing trips. Thanks for everyone’s understanding and sorry for any inconvenience because of this development.

Here’s a fun clip complimenting Yeoman Amy’s entertaining report of Andiamo’s first trip of 2010, with the feared but respected Andiamo Navy Crew! Big thanks to Master-at-Arms Steve and Mess Specialist Monireh (aka “Mama”) for sharing, and big thanks to Amy for getting it on YouTube.