Today’s forecast called for a 90 percent chance of rain, with a low of 63 degrees and a high of 71. I grabbed my umbrella, stuffed it into my backpack, put on a long-sleeved shirt, and headed out to find the newest coffee shop in town.
A friend had recently asked me, while we were sitting in another coffee shop, whether the new place had opened yet. Naturally, I felt it was my retired-person duty to investigate. It’s a tough job, but someone has to wander around town looking for coffee.
Black Mountain Coffee Shop is only a block from where we live, and it’s one of our favorite places to enjoy breakfast and coffee. Sometimes we meet a friend or two there for conversation and serious retirement business, such as discussing the weather and deciding where to drink coffee next.
Retired life is hell.
In the photo, you can see Black Mountain Coffee Shop with Volcán Barú, our local volcano, rising in the background. It stands nearly 11,400 feet tall and is difficult to ignore, especially on a clear morning.
I eventually found the new place, Corpachi Cafeteria, about half a mile from our home. Unfortunately, it wasn’t open yet, and there was no sign announcing when it might open. In Panama, mañana does not always mean tomorrow. Sometimes it simply means “not today”—and possibly not this week.
Since I was already out walking, I planned a route that would take me past a few local fruit trucks and one of my favorite vegetable stands.
The cover photo shows a young man standing with his son beside their truck while his wife sits inside. I enjoy buying from these small, family-run vendors. From about half a block away, I spotted several bright yellow piñas displayed on the back of the truck. They were practically calling my name.
The young man greeted me with a huge smile and sold me a beautiful pineapple for $1.20.
My next stop was a small local farmers market. There is a larger market along the main road, but I prefer this one. It’s quieter, friendly, and usually has the fresh vegetables and fruit we like.
All I needed were a few bananas, but then I noticed some fresh tangerines. Grocery lists are more like gentle suggestions anyway. I bought four bananas and two tangerines for the whopping price of $1.50.
I arrived home around my usual breakfast time. While chopping the pineapple, I tossed a slice of bread into the toaster.
About five mornings a week, my breakfast consists of toast with natural peanut butter—just peanuts, without sugar or other mysterious ingredients—a small drizzle of local honey, wheat germ, hemp seeds, raw walnuts or almonds, a few raisins, and fresh fruit. Usually, the fruit is banana and pineapple, although blueberries occasionally make a guest appearance.
And, of course, coffee. Breakfast without coffee is simply morning paperwork.
It turned out to be a successful walk. The walking warmed me up, the rain never arrived, and my umbrella remained safely buried in my backpack.
I sat on our patio with my cat, ate my breakfast, drank my coffee, and listened to the birds. I felt grateful for this life in the highlands of Panama with my wife, our cat, and our dog.
One of these days, I’ll write about our budget and what it costs us to live here in Panama.
Perhaps mañana.
¡Hasta luego! ¡Más café, por favor!
What a rough ife you have, Victor Wayne!