Mistaken Mojitos in Punta Barco, Panama |
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| Written by Matt |
| Monday, 25 February 2008 07:14 |
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It was not long ago that a friend invited me to her home in Punta Barco on the grounds that she would be out of the country. I've realized this happens to me more often than not: a generous invitation from a friend followed quickly by an excuse which disqualifies them from any obligation. "I will be in Venice" Miriam said, "but I'll have Moises the caretaker let you in and you can stay there as long as you like." I liked the name Moises for a caretaker as it evoked almost a biblical sense of responsibility. I envisioned the man doing basic tasks like cleaning the pool and washing the cars, but all the while with this wise, old air about him; perhaps wearing a crown of thorns around his head and speaking in an ancient religious tongue. The road to Punta Barco Authentico-a glitzy beach community outside of Panama City-is a rocky one; just off the Inter-American Highway about two miles past Coronado. It's ridden with the typical potholes you find guarding many gem-like beach destinations; potholes that appear to speak to you. "Turn back now" they seem to say. "Trust us, it's not worth the damage to your chassis." I pulled up to Miriam's house for the first time which stood two floors tall and bore a striking resemblance to a home I once saw on the popular show MTV Cribs. That specific mansion, I remember, was owned by a famous musician who gave the tour of his beachside palace wearing only a small towel around his waist. I parked the car under a beautiful veiled trellis, adorned with bougainvilleas. A man who I presumed was Moises came out from the back and looked just as I had expected; middle-aged, a curious grin, and sun-burned skin the texture of commercial cow hide. Other than Moises, there was no one else to be seen on the premises. This is what rich people do, I suppose: they buy or build wonderful things and then never use them. You can see this phenomenon at yacht clubs and private air strips where idle, million dollar vehicles are perhaps used as extra storage. Moises didn't speak much, perhaps, I figured, preferring to show his warmth through a freshly-mixed mojito. I entered the home which was quite simply spectacular. Floor-to-ceiling windows afforded each room in the modern home with gorgeous ocean views. Large ticket items like pianos and dining room tables sat wrapped in foam paper, suggesting they had just arrived off the showroom floor. The pool, about the length of an olympic training ground, overlooked the Pacific and on the deck sat three beach chairs which were designed to look like oversized fallen leaves. Moises stayed mostly to himself during our visit, not even venturing out to offer us the promised mojitos. We enjoyed the afternoon in the warm Punta Barco sun. Custom-monogrammed towels by the jacuzzi read Calypso Villa: I assumed the name of Miriam's home. A fully stocked bar and wider-than-life plasma TV acted as the perfect weekend getaway from the city. Miriam's got it good, I thought to myself while fondling through her refrigerator for a glass of juice. She had told me her kitchen was pretty, but she left out the fact that it sported a full wood-burning pizza oven. Similarly, she once described her bedroom using the word spacious, which is how morgue employees explain their caskets. However she neglected to reveal that the master bedroom was roughly the size of a cinema theater. This appeared to be the theme of Miriam's rhetoric: humbly explaining something magnificent as peculiarly run-of-the-mill. Upon leaving her house and Punta Barco, I paused to call Miriam and thank her for the lovely afternoon I'd just spent at her home. "I'll have my Panama cell phone on me in Venice," I remembered her saying the day before. "But I don't know if it will work on one of those skinny little boats." Dongolas I think she accidentally called them. Well the cell phone did work, and upon answering, I expressed my deepest gratitude to Miriam for her generosity. I became surprised to find out though that Moises had already beaten me to it. "I just spoke with Moises" she said, the distant sound of Venetian gondola paddles in the background. I cut her off, announcing that Moises was so very polite in setting up lounge chairs by the pool. A perfect gentlemen, were the words I think I used.  "Matt," she interrupted. "Tell me what time you plan to arrive?" "Huh?" With that terrifically awkward unraveling of a serious mishap, she clarified my doubt with several innocuous words. "We don't have a pool," Miriam revealed. "That's our neighbors house. But I just spoke with Moises. And he says the mojitos are waiting for you!" Â
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Comments (3)
  written by Yossarian , February 26, 2008 Matt, are you sure this was really a mistake or are you moving onwards and upwards from crashing hotel pools? where will this stop? maybe there's a pool somewhere in the Palacio de las Garzas???
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 written by Mateo , February 27, 2008 Yossarian,
Trust me, if this was intentional, I would be bragging about it! Matt report abuse
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 written by bob capps , February 29, 2008 matt,
my name is bob capps. i'd like to talk to you its about a writing project that i am doing, can you send me an email? rbcapps@hotmail.com thanks bob report abuse
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| Last Updated on Monday, 11 August 2008 22:23 |
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