xpat escape

I talk to my mom once a week and last week she gave me some sound Baby Boomer Generation advice.  She lovingly urged me to move back to the states in pursuit of a stable job with a good pension.  Then when I’m ready to retire in 33 more years, I can move back to Panama.  I laughed at the joke and told her, “good one, mother.”  To which she replied,

The hubs and I got to talking a few days ago about how different our lives are now than from when we moved to Panama.  The adjustment when we moved from Austin was a little awkward because we used to be extremely social even though we worked a ton.

When we moved to Panama, we only had two people to socialize with…each other!  We were friendly with our neighbors and began making friends as we became regulars at different restaurants, but found ourselves being more and more

Jeri is our new-to-us Jeep CJ7 with a colorful history before becoming a part of my small meandering family.  She was born in 1978 in the US and made her way down to Panama some years later to serve the canal.  Not sure how many owners she passed through before reaching Playa Venao in the Azuero Peninsula, we found Jeri one day on Encuentra24.com back in August.

If you’re not white (like the hubs and I) and are still being called a “gringo,” do you ever wonder why you’re still being called a gringo in Panama?  The hubs and I do.  Being Latin and first generation Americans, other immigrant Latinos never called us gringos.  The hubs’ first language is Spanish.  Can the locals look at us and tell that

Remember when I was telling you the story (aka nightmare) about our neighbor problems at Paco’s over here?  I alluded in another post to having a new set of pesky neighbors at Locos Backyard Grill.  On three sides of Locos there are empty lots and a “Chino.”  (More on the Chino in another post…)

The fourth side?  Well, there’s a house.  It was an empty house when we first made the move to Gorgona.  After a couple weeks, the house became occupied…

Ever had queso fresco (fresh cheese)?  Ever had fresh homemade queso fresco?  Knowing the translation makes it sound a little redundant, doesn’t it?

I’ve always thought about making homemade cheese, like mozzarella, since way back when before we were expats.  I never got around to it since I found

I’ve been deathly afraid of things that can fly and sting ever since I can remember. I’m the crazy lady that you see waving her arms, screaming, and running for the nearest exit if I even think one of these insects could possibly be near me. My flailing arms technique has miraculously and dumfoundedly worked all my life…that is until I recently

Guys, just by reading the title, you know this one’s for the ladies, although you’re probably thinking otherwise.  At any rate, feel free to read on if you like!

The boobage was probably the least of my worries when moving abroad.  Of course, before the big move I had a little mini shopping spree in this department.  I’ve been a loyal customer of a particular store in Austin for years because they carry all the weird sizes so I wanted to get my fill before leaving the states, postponing my withdrawal as long as possible.  In my mind, I just didn’t want to go to another store.  I didn’t think Panama was