Country Article / Postcards

Overheard From the Back Seat

Date: 07/17/2007

"What's the price of that piece we walked last time?" Lief asked the real estate agent as we pulled out from the hotel to

start our morning's viewings.

"Three million."

"Three? We better move quick. The price is increasing by a million dollars every few weeks!"

"No, the price was always $3 million," replied the agent confidently.

"No," Lief responded, just as sure of himself, "last time, the price was $2 million."

"No, it was three."

"No, you told us two. That's the number we've got in our notes."

"Oh, ok, two," said the agent. "Yes, two is fine."

I sat in the back seat of the SUV reminding myself to keep quiet. Likewise, Lief said nothing.

Later that day, after we'd left that agent, we found ourselves standing alongside a river in the highlands with the local who'd represented himself as the property owner. Lief tried to clarify:

"So you own this land?"

"Well, my father owns it," said the 30-year-old Panamanian.

"Oh. Your father owns everything?" Lief continued. "Everything from here to there," he asked, spreading his arms to point right, then left.

"Yes."

"OK, so your father owns everything shown on this plan you've given me?" Lief confirmed one more time.

"Yes."

"So, I should speak with him about making an offer to buy?"

"Well, him and my uncle. My uncle owns that piece over there."

"Oh, so your father doesn't own the entire parcel?"

"Yes, he does. Except for that piece over there."

Twenty minutes later, driving out from the property:

"Is it your father or your uncle who owns this section where the gate is? The entrance to the property?"

"My cousin owns this piece."

In the three days we've been scouting, we've bought medicine for one seller's sick mother. We've paid for surveys and plans for properties we likely won't buy…but the only way to determine their value is to know their true size…and the only way to know their true size is to invest in your own surveyor.

We've sought out small farmhouses in the campo in hopes of finding the owner in residence…only to be told he's gone out…no-one knows where. Sure, the family will deliver a message…but better just to come back later…maybe he'll be home then. No, they don't have a telephone…

One day, we arrived at a bridge to find repairs under way. Standing on both sides were a couple of dozen people waiting to be told they could continue on their way across the river. In the middle of the bridge sat a Caterpillar with a handful of workmen standing around it, some drinking beer, all gesticulating and gabbing.

"How long until you think we'll be able to pass?" Lief asked one of the locals in Spanish.

"They told us they'll break to let us cross every 30 minutes."

"How long have you been waiting?"

"Forty minutes."

Lief got back in our truck and reported his conversation. We decided to stick it out. Not that we had any choice, really. This is the only bridge across this river in this part of the country.

An hour later, I prodded Lief awake.

"The caterpillar is moving," I said excitedly…and prematurely.

Finally, an hour-and-a-half after we'd arrived at the bridge, the Cat pulled off and let the traffic--the SUVs, the pedestrians, the women holding babies, the men carrying heavy loads of timber, even bags of cement, on their shoulders, the dozens of schoolchildren--pass.

That night, back at the hotel, we sat around the bar enjoying rum and cokes. A local developer, a gringo, and a few of his friends, sat down across from us. Their conversation went like this:

"Did you hear about that woman? Her agent, Suzie Sue (not her real name), got her for $80,000."

"You're kidding. Suzie Sue's keeping the money?"

"Yep. $80,000. In the end, I think the gringo lady had to respect how she'd been swindled."

They all chuckled.

Lief and I kept quiet.

Kathleen Peddicord
Publisher, International Living

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P.S. No, I haven't invented any of this. These are my tales from the road after three days of scouting property in the interior of Panama with Lief. I'm along for the ride…meaning I get to sit in the back seat and enjoy the show. You get my point in relaying these stories, I'm sure. This isn't Kansas, dear reader. And it's not ruby slippers you need to keep you safe. It's a good attorney. Your own. One agent we've toured around with has suggested that we use his attorney. "He's great…reliable…speaks good English…and he's very cheap," the agent points out. "Thanks, but we've got an attorney in Panama City," Lief replies each time.

P.P.S. That piece of land the agent quoted at $3 million? The one Lief remembered as $2 million from his previous visit? If he makes an offer, it won't be for either amount. Lief will work the numbers, given the total cost of the investment (considering necessary infrastructure and other improvements)…and he'll tell the seller what the land is worth. Maybe the seller will agree…maybe he won't. But the point is, you, as the buyer, must take control of the conversation. It helps to keep your sense of humor.

Editor's note:"I had considered buying a property in Panama before I came. I made a brief trip to Panama City in December-January of last year to scout out the scene. However, it wasn't until this seminar that I felt confident enough to buy. I think I will be purchasing an apartment or condo in the next couple of days!"- Patricia Kurowski, Lafayette, IN. What's got Patricia so excited about Panama? Find out here.