Poppycock From Panama.....

Another first in Panama happened for me last night when I sat down to watch the World Cup Soccer game between Panama and the United States. It was a first because I'd never before in my life watched a soccer game, or at least not that I remember.  Our Panamanian neighbors had a yard full of company and had positioned their television set outside in front of their house, surrounded by chairs ready to watch the game.  We left for a few hours to enjoy some time in the pool at a nearby resort that we belong to, and to soak up a little sun.  Besides it was nice escape from the pounding, Panamanian style music coming from the house across the street too.

Unsure as to what time the game would be televised since we'd heard times such as one, four and nine in the evening.  It was around two when we left and the neighbors were still rockin' to the loud music blasting from their large speakers outside, so we assumed the game hadn't started yet.  We returned home around four and were surprised to find the neighbors still not watching soccer.  Once inside I turned on the television and found the game already in progress unsure of its start time, but it was scheduled to end at five according to our Direct TV guide.  We watched the last half of the game as the US scored the only point for a score of 1-0.  The US took home their 5th world cup in soccer, a victory over this tiny little country of Panama that's no bigger than the state of Florida.  And to think this ditzy, damsel void of any sports knowledge didn't even realize that the US was that into soccer.

Panama vs USA!

 

A while later we noticed the music had stopped and the neighbors had gathered round the television outside to watch the game.  Not sure if the local cable stations televised the game later than the satellite stations, or if they were watching some other game?  But I so wanted to run outside and tell them not to bother watching because the US had already won.  Clyde said that I might want to do it from inside the gate and be prepared to run fast back to the house since mangoes thrown by angry Panameños could certainly hurt.  Of course I wouldn't do such a thing, and should they ever try to retaliate against us because of the win, surely I'd remind them that we moved here from Canada.

Recently Clyde had it with the chickens and wanted to see them gone.  Since they'd become not-so-popular, pooping and pecking machines that refused to lay any eggs, he was tired of spending money and time feeding and taking care of them  After all he'd given them a year, raised them from cute, cuddly chicks but still only managed to get a few eggs out of them.  But how to dispose of the frantic, feeding machines?  He could kill them and we could eat them, but being a lifetime, life saver in the fire department he just couldn't do it. Besides killing a chicken is something he'd never done and apparently doesn't want to learn now.  Another option was to drive them one street over and throw them into the yard of our gringo friend since his Rottweiler has taken a liking to eating chickens.  Mysteriously, the chickens that he had a while back turned up missing with tell tale signs of guilt sticking out of his dog's mouth in the way of feathers.  This poor guy even tried the popular method of putting the dead chicken in a sock and tying it around the neck of the dog.  After days of sitting around with a rotten chicken on it's neck and being ignored by his beloved owner, the dog would supposedly get the message that he'd done a bad thing.  But this clever canine managed to get the sock off his neck and ate what was left of the decomposing carcass from inside.  Ok so apparently that trick doesn't work, or at least no one told this clever canine that it was supposed to do the trick anyway.  So last week during our Spanish lesson Clyde asked our Panamanian teacher if she'd like to have the chickens and she agreed to adopt the pooping cluckers for her very own.  She lives with Mama and said that after a while of tending to them, her mom would kill them and make a large pot of sancocho, the local version of chicken soup. A few days later Clyde stuffed the fat, fluffy hens into a box and took them over to her house where they'd spend their final days.  Clyde is quite content and our yard is once again free from clucking and stinky smells that go along with raising laying hens, that turned out to be lazy lassies who didn't earn their keep.

This was NOT what we got from our lazy ass chickens!
 





Another mango season is almost over as we pick up the last of the free fruits from the lawn. Our freezer is full of bagged mangoes that will make the rest of the year sweeter as we indulge in their gooey goodness.  We've eaten our fill of mango salsa, mango cookies (the healthier version without sugar),  low-sugar mango jams, mango chutney, mango sorbets, salads and parfaits all crafted by the sweet, loving, hands of the one-and-only "Mangoreesa".  Mango's have been munched and crunched, boiled and baked,  fried and tried on most everything, with the only thing left to be spreading it all over is my handsome hubby. And perhaps when and if we do find mangoes making their way into the bedroom we best bury our befuddled, boudoir, behavior in the back of our brains and not broadcast it here....along the gringo trail.