Not only do I love alliteration, I also love going for drives and exploring new areas here in Panama. It reminds me of the fun I had on my RV trip across the United States, but without the issues of being in a 24’ long oversized house on wheels. It’s so much easier in a car! Though, the luxury of taking a nap or making a cup of tea in my RV, Goldie, was pretty cool.

Back in December, I kept seeing these statues along the InterAmericana Highway popping up everywhere. I thought maybe it was a way to attract attention for a business. But I learned they are called Judas Dolls (old year dolls). People create these dolls often as a political or social commentary about what they want to release from the prior year; a do not repeat this crap message to the Universe. The dolls are stuffed with firecrackers and paper and set ablaze on New Year’s Eve. It’s like a burning bowl ceremony, Panama style; of course fireworks are part of the deal!

Maybe next year I’ll stay up late enough to witness the explosive celebration of ushering out the old and welcoming in the new, but this New Years, I was home and gave some thought to what theme I wanted to create for 2020. At first my chosen theme was clarity because I’m in a bit of limbo until my house sells and I figure out where I may want to settle down here in Panama. But after a particularly sweaty day of doing some manual labor, I picked up on the theme of luxury. Yes, I’d like a bit of luxury in my life.

When I was growing up in the 70’s and 80’s in New England, I viewed luxury as mansions, vacation homes, 5 star hotels, expensive dinners, shopping at Lord & Taylor and Bloomingdales. It meant ski trips and furs in the winter, boating and a few weeks in Nantucket in the summer.

I worked at Bloomingdales. Briefly. It was one of my first jobs, with my mother’s help, I was hired to work in the handbag and accessories department. I had to wear heels. All day. I realized then that what might appear to be luxury can often be constricting and painful.

When I was moving into my mobile home, while there was a part of me that felt so excited because I absolutely loved my home with the golf course view and room to create a patio garden, I also felt ashamed to tell anyone I was moving into a mobile home park. After all, I’d lived in an upscale neighborhood in Burbank; wasn’t I supposed to be moving up in the world, not slumming down to live in a trailer park?

But that move not only fostered connections in a great community of neighbors, it also created the opportunity for freedom to roam. My house had three bedrooms and I rented out one room to a college student from Switzerland and still had room for a dear friend to come stay for a while. Having my friend there to take care of my cats meant I could venture out to explore lower cost of living countries. What a luxury; to be able to travel for an extended period of time. What a luxury to have the support and encouragement of my family and friends. What a luxury to be happy about my new opportunities.

I ENVISIONED IT AND THEN CREATED IT

I found myself craving a bit of a drive out to Chame to explore the area. And on one fine day, Panama Patty went to visit with Panama Peg at the Pink Palace, a sweet little hotel I’d heard a lot about, but hadn’t been to before. It’s homey, welcoming and has a settled in feeling I appreciate because it’s in contrast to my unsettled living status. The art on the walls is beautiful and I think of the canvases of my mother’s paintings in my darkened storage unit; will they ever see the light of day again or a wall from which to hang? Peg’s kitchen shelves are filled with serving bowls and platters, stacks of colorful glasses and an assortment of coffee mugs. I think back on all the beautiful dishware and serving pieces I parted with in the massive pre-Panama-purge. Did I keep that beautiful wooden salad bowl? Do I still have that glass platter with the hearts etched into it?

The Pink Palace feels like home. Not just from the comfy sofas, art and aroma of savory brunch, but because Peg is the matriarch of this Palace. She is the keeper of the space, greeting people and welcoming them in to her environment of comfort, warmth, congeniality.

Part of me longs to rebirth that part of myself. The part who loved hosting people, conversing with them over tea or by the fire. The part who actually enjoyed ironing pillowcases and spritzing them with aromatic spray, imagining my guest’s weary heads hitting the pillow after an exhilarating day of exploring the vast city of Los Angeles. The part who enjoyed washing the silver platters passed down to me, connecting me to both my past while reviewing delicious moments of connection.

While I was romanticizing the thought of creating a homestead in the mountains where I’d host van campers and Air Bnb guests, another voice needed to be heard. Actually, two of them; the introvert and the realist.

Introvert: Oh, hell no! I’ve worked too long and too hard to have some peace and autonomy around here. I’m not giving that up, are you fucking kidding me with this craziness?

Realist: Not to mention all the freaking work it takes to keep up with managing hosting people! Bathrooms to clean, everything to clean! And then you can kiss that freedom you love so much goodbye.

Introvert: Yeah, and you’ll have to interact with people whether you want to or not! You can’t be an introverted host - you have to engage, ask questions, listen to them. And what if they’re complainers? No, no, no. Not interested.

Oh, and a few more characters are showing up on my mind’s stage. The dreamer, love her so much but she’s not the sharpest tack in the box. And hippy-gypsy, bless her heart.

Dreamer: But imagine holding space for people and creating an environment like the ones you’ve enjoyed on your travels. The garden you want to make for bees and butterflies, the labyrinth where people can take contemplative strolls. And imagine hanging out in the communal bohio kitchen area; everyone doing their thing but connecting at the same time.

Introvert: Yeah, and when do they leave? When do I get my alone time, with no one around? What if I want to walk around naked?

Realist: If you’re thinking of creating this homestead as a business, you can’t just shut the doors whenever Introvert needs her space. How viable is that? How realistic is that? What kind of financial projections have you considered? Any?

Hippy-gypsy: Well, I need to go out and explore, so I can be there part of the time but I don’t want to be locked down to one place forever. I’m just getting started on this journey - I mean there’s so many other countries out there!

Dreamer: But I really want to create a home. You guys know I’m a nester at heart. Let’s not worry about it right now. It will all work out the way it’s supposed to. And in the slow season, there won’t be that many guests and Hippy-gypsy, you’ll have time to go wander.

Realist: Ummmmmm, who’s going to take care of the garden? And the miniature goats I see in the dreamer’s mind’s eye? Not to mention the herd of cats that found their way from the jungle of Panama to your homestead?

Introvert: Yeah, what she said.

Hippy-gypsy: Yeah, I agree. I mean, we loved our cats, but it’s been nice to have the freedom - not to have any pets to take care of.

Dreamer: I don’t know you guys. But maybe there’s a way for all of it to work out for all of us?

Realist: Just promise me you won’t be in a damn rush and make any impulsive decisions. Please, tell me you learned that lesson!

Dreamer: Learned it. Won’t repeat it.

Introvert: Okay, well, great little chat but I need to go lay down.

As per usual, when I got home from my adventure out in Chame where I saw kite surfers gliding on the ocean while I enjoyed fresh pesto pasta, I reclined on the couch and searched online for waterfall properties for sale and perused the Work Away website. A plan is formulating to satisfy all the parts of myself. And again, I remind myself to be patient.

FOLLOW THE JOURNEY