Panama made Jed wonder if temperature wasn't a state of mind. The last day on the Kuskokwim River they had experienced a pleasant Alaskan summer day of a reported 78 degrees Fahrenheit. At a stop-over in Mexico City, avoiding processing through a USA port of entry on the flight from Canada, the mountain air, even converted from a Celsius reading to 80 degrees, was exhilarating. So why, other than the known fact that Panama was just a tad north of the equator, and thus in the tropics, did the capital city's 90 degree afternoon heat hit him so hard? An on-shore breeze from the blue-green Pacific didn't seem to help at all. Jed assumed his problem in adapting was because he was used to crisp mountain air, but Jenny concurred that each breath was a struggle.

They found, after an intense but refreshing rainstorm that the problem was humidity. Late July, it was explained, was the height of the "winter" rainy season. January through March, when the torrential rains let up, was considered to be "summer." They were to learn that the THI, or temperature humidity index, was the scale that counted. As with a more familiar windchill factor, a higher humidity could be charted to show that the thermometer was not an accurate representation of reality. Fortunately, whenever the humidity rose too high, the sky let loose to provide a brief moment of cooling. There was no need for raingear, which couldn't have turned the tide of rushing water anyhow. The procedure was to find a bit of shelter for five minutes or so, then step out into a clean, fresh world of awakened flowers. What a difference from an endless Oregon drizzle.

Another perplexity in Jed's mind was, why, after years of college-level study on different cultures around the world, did he always expect to come across the black and white scenes from the textbooks used in the third grade class of the tiny schoolhouse outside Cascade City? As illustrations of natives of other lands leading donkeys to an open market in a plaza.

Neither Jed nor Jenny were prepared for the modern, upbeat tempo of Panama City. Jenny claimed it reminded her of San Francisco experiencing Chinese New Year and the Fourth of July at the same time. The spirit was infectious!

In a cab, dashing through the devil-may-care traffic on the way from the airport, he couldn't help laughing at Jenny as she launched into a animated conservation —arms waving, head bobbing—with the driver, in a Spanish that shot past his ear with the rat-tat-tat of a machine gun. When he asked what was going on, she explained, "When in Panama —Panamania!"