I had good grades and went on to university where I got my degree a year before the stipulated schedule. I got a job as an accountant in a small firm that produced high-end kitchen furnishings, such as cupboards, countertops, and modules.
My social life was limited to a couple of friends. I would meet them for a few beers once or twice a month. I had a few girlfriends over the years, but they didn’t stick around for very long. Apparently, they found me boring and anti-social. I didn’t want to go out in large groups or go to private parties, preferring to stay at home, watching a movie and eating pizza.
Part of the reason for my shyness is my looks. I am well over six feet, slightly stooped, with blue eyes and thin blond hair. When I was a kid, I had the nickname The Stork, due to my appearance. Now, everyone calls me Horst which is my given name and a good German one.
I drive a mid-sized BMW and like to eat healthy food and I don’t drink if it’s not a weekend. I live in a suburb of Hamburg in northern Germany and I have never been out of the country. So, when my boss called me into his office one Friday afternoon in February and told me to pack my bags, I was stunned.
“I don’t own a suitcase, Andreas," I said, using my boss’s first name.
“Of course you have, Horst, don’t be ridiculous. Everyone travels these days.”
“Not me, I have never been outside of Germany.”
Andreas sighed. “And why is that, if I may ask?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It doesn’t appeal to me. I don’t like strange places, strange food or drinks,. Come to think about it, I don’t like strangers either.”
He stood and walked around his enormous desk. “Tough shit, Horst, you are flying to Panama on Monday, which gives you tomorrow and Sunday to buy a suitcase and get ready.”
He walked out into the office area. I followed behind begging, “Why me? I am not a salesman, send Mathias, he's in charge of sales. I am just the accountant.”
Without turning, Andreas said, “Mathias broke his leg yesterday. He was on a skiing holiday with his family and took a bad fall.”
“Please, send someone else. I'm afraid of flying.”
He turned and raised his eyebrows. “How can you be afraid of flying if you've never flown?”
“Well, you know, plane crashes. Remember that crazy pilot who flew his plane into a mountain the other year. That could happen again, you know.”
Andreas burst out laughing. “C’mon Horst, be a man, buy a suitcase and I will give you the rest of today off. Pick up your ticket from Gretchen at reception. She has all the documents you need. Oh, and you have an appointment at the police station to get you a passport. I have thought of everything for you, Horst.”
Andreas walked away from me again, heading to the bathrooms and I stared at his back in bewilderment. If he had told me to fly to France or England, it would've been bad enough. But Panama! I didn’t even know where that was. All I knew was that we had signed a contract with a company there that imported our products and they were doing well.
After getting my new passport and buying a suitcase, I went home but then made a beeline to the closest Bierstube, or beer house, to my apartment and had two large beers, which was unusual for me. I guess it was down to the nerve-wracking thought of flying for nine hours to a country I didn’t even know where it was or what it was like. I decided to go home and Google it.
As I read about the country, my feelings dropped even further. Panama used to be a dictatorship but now was one of the fastest growing economies in all of South America, thanks to a real estate boom and big investments by the government into the amplification of the canal, the building of a metro system, and other governmental incentives.
There was a growing concern about corruption, drug import and export. Several European businessmen had been kidnapped over the years and random shootings were common in and around the capital of Panama City. For a moment, I thought this was Andreas’ way to get rid of me. Instead of firing me, he'd send me to Panama hoping I would either get kidnapped or shot. I pushed the irrational thought away, deciding Andreas would never do that to me. I'd been with him since he started the company fifteen years earlier.
On Monday, I took a taxi to the airport for the first leg of my long journey. The flight was on time and, before I boarded, I went to the bathroom and puked up my breakfast. My hands shook as I walked down the aisle looking for my seat. I had a window seat next to an older man and, when he tried to make polite conversation, I ignored him until he gave up. As the flight took off, I closed my eyes and prayed for the first time in my thirty-seven years.
A couple of hours later we landed in Frankfurt where I was to take a Lufthansa flight to Panama City. Before boarding, I made another trip to the bathroom and heaved out my lunch.
On the flight, I realized the booze was free so I drank five small bottles of wine and two miniature bottles of cognac. Two hours into the flight, I passed out.
*****
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are making our final approach to Panama City. Please make sure your seats are in the upright position, fold away the tables and put on your seatbelts.”
The female voice woke me and I blinked a few times before getting my bearings. I had an urge to take a piss, but there was no time. My mouth felt like if it was filled with cotton and I had a slight headache. I looked out of the window but all I saw was a blue ocean. Then I saw a few large ships and smaller ones.
“Those ships are waiting to go through the canal,” said the man I had ignored at the beginning of the flight. Now, I turned and looked into a dark face with kind, brown eyes. He looked to be in his sixties and wore a suit and tie.
“In the morning they go from the Pacific to the Atlantic and in the afternoon the other way. Panama makes a lot of money from the canal, but it is not distributed to the people.”
“Oh, that’s not good,” I said and felt stupid when I had uttered the words. I quickly asked, “Were you in Germany on business?”
“No, my daughter lives there with her husband, he is German. What is your reason for visiting my beautiful country?”
“I’m here on business, just a few days.”
When the plane touched down and began taxing to the airport building I let go of a long sigh. My neighbour must have heard it because he said, “You don’t like flying?”
“This was my first time. Come to think of it, it wasn’t too bad. Maybe the wine and cognac helped.”
He smiled. “Yeah, maybe. At least they made you snore.”
“I am so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it; just make sure you see some of our culture, not only the inside of an office.”
The first thing I did when I got off the plane was to stretch. My tall body had been cramped in the seat for over nine hours and it felt good to stand up. The second thing I did was to find a bathroom.
When I walked up to the luggage carousel, the bags were already coming out and I was lucky, my bag was the fifth to appear. The customs and passport officers hardly gave me a look when I walked up to them and they waved me by.
When I walked out into the arrival hall an avalanche of sounds met me: children screaming or crying, adults crying and hugging family members who had just arrived, drivers calling out names of the people they were picking up, and a PA system making an announcement. My ears were shocked by all these sounds.
Gretchen had told me I would be met at the airport and I looked around for someone with my name written on a sign. When I saw it, I walked up to the short black man holding it and said, “I am Horst Shubert.”
“Ah, Mr. Shubert, welcome to Panama. Let me take your bag.”
I followed him outside and that’s when the next shock came; the heat. It was like walking into a sauna and I immediately began to sweat profusely and my shirt stuck to my body under my suit jacket. It felt like I was melting.
I followed the driver across a road and a bus almost hit us while a taxi stopped so hard the tires squealed. When we reached a large Mercedes-Benz, the driver opened the back door and then the trunk where he deposited my suitcase.
The air conditioner was like velvet on my face and I sighed with pleasure. That short walk had almost made me faint.
“My name is Carlos, and I will be your driver during your stay. Is this your first time in Panama?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then you have to see the canal, the zoo, the Casco Viejo, and try our Corvina...”
I zoned out and didn’t hear all the other things he rattled off worth seeing or trying. We had driven up on a highway and I looked out of the windows. Both sides were covered in green trees, bushes, and palm trees. I had never seen so many shades of green in my life.
The traffic was horrendous but Carlos was a good driver. When we reached a long bridge I could see the city skyline at the end of it. It reminded me of Miami, not that I had ever been there but I had seen it on a TV series. To the left was the Pacific Ocean and, from the bridge, I could see the ships waiting to go through the canal.
The drive took another twenty minutes and when Carlos stopped outside a skyscraper, he said, “This is your hotel. Check in, have a shower, and I will see you in an hour to take you to our offices.”
I checked my watch, it was just after three in the afternoon, and all I wanted to do was to take a nap. The jet lag was killing me.
“Sure, I’ll see you in an hour.”
The hotel lobby was a beauty in marble and chrome. I walked to the reception desk where two girls and a man stood with big smiles on their faces. The girls were so different I had to stop and look at them. Could they be from the same country? The one to the left was blonde with blue eyes and her light cinnamon coloured skin looked like gold. The other had skin like Mocha and had black long hair and large brown eyes. The man looked Indian with high cheekbones and sloped eyes. Three different cultures at one reception desk. Amazing, I thought and walked up to the blonde girl.
“Hi, the name is Horst Shuman,” I said and looked down at her.
“Welcome to Panama. Can I have your passport please.”
The check in procedure was a short affair that ended with her telling me what time breakfast was served and where the casino was located.
I took one of six elevators up to my room on the fifteenth floor. When I stepped into my room, I dropped my bag - and my jaw: I could see the entire city before me. I walked further in and realized it was a suite. It was bigger than my apartment with a bedroom that held a king-size bed, a walk-in closet, and a bathroom. The living room had two sitting areas, a large LED TV, a minibar, and a coffee maker on a table.
After hanging up my clothes, I took a quick shower and shaved. I felt better and dressed in a lighter suit than the one I'd travelled in. I grabbed my laptop and headed to the elevators.
Carlos was waiting outside and opened the car door with a smile. The drive to the offices was short and, within ten minutes, he dropped me off outside another skyscraper with a guard outside. He told me to take the elevator to the twentieth floor and he would be up after he had parked the car.
I had to sign in at a desk where a pretty woman, probably in her thirties, smiled at me, showing perfect white teeth. Her uniform blouse could hardly contain her large boobs and the buttons threatened to burst any minute. She pointed to a bank of elevators and, when I stepped in, I was joined by two women and a man. All of them were dressed in what I presumed was a uniform. The women had white blouses under dark gray jackets and wore skirts in the same colour. The man had a white shirt, blue tie and a jacket in dark red. Back home, businesses never made you wear a uniform, you dressed as you liked, but professional.
I found the offices I was looking for and stepped through double glass doors into a small lobby. To my left was a couch and a low table which held a few magazines. In front of me was a reception desk where a black girl sat. I stepped forward and was about to open my mouth to state my name when she said, “Welcome, Mr. Shubert. Mr. Jimenez is waiting for you.”
I didn’t speak but stared at her. I had never seen anyone so beautiful. She had long, slightly wavy black hair, and her eyes were green. Even though her skin was black as night her facial features could have been European, a thin nose, beautifully curved full lips and a long neck that reminded me of sculptures I had seen of Nefertiti in a museum. When she stood, I noticed she was quite short. She had to tilt her neck when she spoke to me.
“This way, please.”
She turned around and when I saw her ass, I had to swallow. Even though she wore a similar uniform to the women in the elevator, her jacket was black instead of gray and so was her knee length skirt. I could see a perfectly firm round ass.
We walked through a large office space where several people were working on computers and they all looked up, following me with their eyes. I guess they had never seen such a tall, white man before. I figured the receptionist, who hadn’t given me her name, was no more than five-feet-one. I noticed that all the other workers wore exactly the same uniform as she. The men had white shirts and green ties under their jackets, and black pants.
She stopped at a door and knocked.
“Yes?”
“It’s Leila; I am here with Mr. Shubert.”
Now I knew her name.
“Come in,” said the voice from behind the door.
When she opened it and stepped aside, I walked into the largest office I had ever seen. The view was over the ocean and the ships. Behind a large glass desk sat a man with thick black hair, an expensive looking dark blue suit, and he had a big watch on his right wrist. When he stood, I saw that he was heavy and had a beer belly that hung down over his belt. He came around the desk and, when I stuck out my hand to shake his, he ignored it and gave me a bear hug instead.
I am not fond of people inside my personal space so I tried to take a step back but it was impossible. He smelt of heavy aftershave and something else that took me a few seconds to recognize. It was whiskey.
“Welcome to Panama, I am so glad to meet the man behind the numbers. Please, sit, sit.”
He nodded to Leila that she could leave and then pulled out one of the two heavy leather chairs that stood in front of his desk. When he was seated on his side he said, “Can I offer you a drink or a cigar?”
“No thank you, I don’t smoke.”
“Oh, I see. Anyway, I am so glad you are here. My name as you know is Jorge Jimenez and I and my brother own this company. Apart from your products we also import from Asia and North America, those are cheaper brands, but they sell well in the poorer parts of the country.”
While he spoke, he picked up a box of cigars and took one out. With a gold cutter, he cut the tip and then lit it. The heavy smoke from the cigar made my nose itch and I almost sneezed.
After a few puffs, he continued, “I have made an agenda for us. Tonight we will have dinner. Sadly, my brother can’t join us, he is in Miami. Then we go for a few drinks, and tomorrow I will go with you to look at our stores in the city. In the afternoon you can work from here. I have arranged for an office down the hall which you can use."
After giving me some documents, he said he had another meeting and called Leila to arrange for Carlos to take me back to my hotel. While I waited for Carlos in the reception area, I couldn’t help staring at Leila.
She must have felt my gaze on her because she looked up and smiled. “Can I help you with something?”
“No, no, I am fine. It’s just that your eyes... well, they are so green. May I ask, do you wear contact lenses?”
She laughed. It was a bubbly sound that made me smile. “No, they are from my grandfather. He was Spanish and had green eyes. Then he married my grandmother who was of Afro-Antillean descent. I guess the green stayed in the DNA and I got these eyes.”
“Well, they are very beautiful,” I said to my surprise. I usually didn’t comment on a woman’s looks the first time I met them.
“Well, thank you, Mr. Shubert.”
“Call me Horst.”
At that moment, Carlos showed up and we walked to the elevators. I kept looking at Leila through the glass doors while we waited and Carlos saw it.
“Very pretty, isn’t she?”
“What? Yes, she is.” I felt myself blush.
“Maybe you should ask her out?”
“No, I can’t, she works here, and it wouldn’t be politically correct.”
Carlos laughed. “You are not in Germany anymore, and things are different in Panama. Are you going to dinner and drinks with Mr. Jimenez tonight?”
The elevator arrived and I said, “Yes, I am.”
Carlos didn’t say anything further until we were in the car and he was driving me to the hotel. “I suggest you get ready for a wild night, the boss loves good food, drinks, and women.”
I was surprised and said, “I thought he was married with children?”
Carlos shrugged his shoulders. “Like I said, this is not Germany, but I am sure you will have a nice evening. By the way, you don’t have to dress in a suit tonight, it’s too hot.”
I was buttoning my shirt when there was a call from the reception to inform me that Carlos was waiting in the lobby. I checked the time; it was ten to nine so he was a bit early. After making sure I had my wallet and key card, I took the elevator down.
In the mirror, I checked myself once more: light blue short-sleeved shirt, khaki coloured pants and brown loafers. I adjusted the collar and was pleased with the result.
When Carlos opened the rear door for me, I saw Jorge Jimenez sitting inside.
“Hi, Mr. Jimenez,” I said as I got in.
“Call me Jorge. Cigar?” he said and held one out to me.
“No thank you, I don’t smoke,” I said, wondering if he had problems with his memory.
“Carlos will take us to a very nice restaurant. I suggest you try the Ceviche for entree and then the Corvina for the main course.”
“Sounds, great, what is it?”
“You will see.”
During the drive, he pointed out several banks that he worked with, a few casinos and the church where he had been married. When Carlos stopped in front of a large villa nestled behind a high wall with a lot of flowers in different colours growing on it, Jorge said, “Carlos, we will be about two hours. I will call you when we are ready.”
“Okay, Mr. Jimenez.”
The restaurant was half full and I immediately noticed that the customers were of the influential type: expensive suits and dresses and the flash of gold watches and diamonds.
We were seated in a booth in a corner and Jorge went ahead and ordered for us. The first item to arrive on the table was a bottle of white wine in a cooler. The waiter poured an inch in Jorge’s glass and he tried it.
“Very good,” he said with a nod.
I tried it and it was the most amazing wine I had ever tasted. Usually, I stick to beer but once in a while I will have a glass of wine. Back home, I always drank German wine because it was cheap. I picked up the bottle and saw it was from Chile.
“I had no idea they made wine in Chile,” I said.
“They do, and in Argentina. We drink a lot of wine from our neighbours down south,” said Jorge.
The waiter returned with a large plate that he placed in the centre of the table. Then he placed two smaller ones in front of us.
“That’s Ceviche. You have fish, shrimp, or octopus,” said Jorge and pointed at each little bowl on the plate with his fork.
“How is it made?”
“Basically it’s raw fish that is placed in lime and lemon juice with onion and a few other things, the acid cooks it. Try some.”
I looked suspiciously at the bowls. When I saw the suckers on one tiny octopus arm I swallowed hard and chose the shrimp. I was surprised how good it was and tried some of the fish which was also nice. We talked about the latest shipment we had sent to Panama and the delays Jorge had had with customs. While we spoke, we finished the entree and the waiter replaced it with the main course.
On the plate in front of me lay a whole fish about twelve inches long. It had been fried and sprinkled with fresh garlic.
“Cut along the spine and the meat will come off the bones,” said Jorge.
I did what he said and took a bite. A big smile grew on my face as the fish melted in my mouth. “Wow, this is fantastic. I have never tried a fish that tastes this good. Back home all we eat is herring or cod.”
“I am glad you like it. Here, have some more wine.”
Jorge was a fast drinker. Before I'd finished my second glass, he was drinking from his fourth and ordered another bottle.