Dear Graham,
On June 23, 2026, our immigration journey came full circle with an email from our attorney, Tamara. Our permanent residency had finally been approved, and she told us to come to Panama City to pick up our residency cards and renew our driver’s licenses to permanent status.
We had been waiting patiently for this day, so hearing the news was exciting. Our original plan was to fly from Pedasi to Panama City, spend a few nights in Casco Viejo, and then head to an eco-lodge outside the city to see monkeys, toucans, and sloths.
But those plans quickly unraveled. We had to meet the driver’s license deadline, and suddenly everything became more complicated. We couldn’t book the hotel we wanted for four nights—only two—and every flight out of both Pedasí and Chitré was already full.
So Tom made the decision that we would drive.
“Drive?” I cried. “You said you’d never drive in Panama City!”
He admitted that was true but then explained he’d studied the map and would only have to drive on Highway 1. We could stay at the Riande Hotel, he reminded me—the same hotel where we stayed when we received our temporary visas and bought our car. It would be a bit of a reunion.
“We can take Ubers into Casco Viejo to eat and wander around,” he said. “Besides, we don’t really have a choice. It’s the only way we’ll be able to renew our driver’s licenses before they expire.”
So, early on the morning of June 23, we packed the car and headed for Panama City.
The drive from our home in Pedasi takes about five hours, mostly along Highway 1. In a way, it reminded us of the road trips we used to take on the same Highway 1 in California, driving from San Francisco down through Carmel and Big Sur. The scenery is different, of course, but it has the same relaxed rhythm of an all-day drive.
The road winds through small villages and a few larger towns. Trees line the highway, with gentle foothills rolling into green fields dotted with flowers and grazing cows. Charming Panamanian homes, painted shades of pink, green, and yellow with dark red tile roofs, brighten the landscape. The sky was a brilliant blue, streaked with wispy clouds. We had a bag full of drinks and snacks, and despite the purpose of our trip, it felt like the classic American road trip—just with a Panamanian backdrop.
We arrived at the hotel around 3:00 that afternoon. After checking in, we took an Uber into Casco Viejo and had lunch at Mia’s Vegan Shack. To our surprise, Mia herself was there, having lunch with a friend. They were deep in conversation, and we didn’t want to interrupt, but she looked up, smiled, and greeted us warmly. It felt as though we had come home.
After lunch we wandered through a couple of our favorite churches, treated ourselves to ice cream, and then stopped to listen to an older Panamanian man busking on a street corner. He had the most beautiful voice. We sat for quite a while, enjoying his songs before catching an Uber back to the Riande.
The next morning we Ubered to the immigration office. Tom was worried we’d be late, and the route our driver took seemed completely different from the one we remembered almost nine months earlier. But the moment the car pulled into the parking lot, we both recognized the building immediately, as though we’d been there only yesterday.
We sat on a bench and texted Tamara that we had arrived. A few minutes later she came out to greet us and led us inside.
This time was different.
The first time I had walked into that building, I was nervous and emotional. This time I felt completely at ease. No tears welled up in my eyes. Instead, I felt calm, confident, and grateful.
Tamara showed us where to sit, and before long our names were called. We presented our passports, answered a few questions, signed our names a couple of times, and then—just like magic—we were handed our permanent residency cards.
Mission accomplished.
Permanent residency means we can stay in Panama as long as we like. Even if we leave the country, as long as we return for at least one day each year, our residency remains valid. It felt like a wonderful milestone and the closing of one chapter, while opening another.
The next day we took an Uber to the medical clinic near the driver’s license office. Because I had turned seventy, I needed to complete another medical examination before my license could be renewed. Tom, being a year younger, didn’t have to take the exam.
They drew my blood, checked my blood pressure and heart rate, and after a short wait the doctor called my name. She smiled as she told me everything looked perfect. She signed my paperwork, and upstairs we went with Ariel by our side to complete the final step.
For the second time we sat in the driver’s license office waiting for our names to be called. We completed the vision and hearing tests, identifying arrows pointing in different directions and faint horns sounding in our right or left ears. We both passed.
They snapped our photos and handed us our permanent Panamanian driver’s licenses.
I look a little like a Martian in my picture, but who’s complaining? Certainly not me.
There was something deeply satisfying about this trip. We hadn’t stayed at the hotel we originally wanted. We hadn’t flown from Pedasí. We never made it to the eco-lodge to see monkeys or sloths.
And yet, somehow, it turned out to be exactly the trip we were meant to have.
Everyone at the Riande—from the front desk staff to the bellhop—recognized us and welcomed us back. At Mia’s Vegan Shack, Mia greeted us both times we visited. We stopped into Super Gourmet for coffee, and even the owner remembered us from January. He was genuinely happy to hear we loved living in Pedasí and that our residency had been approved.
Little by little, Panama was beginning to feel less like a place we had moved to and more like home.
One afternoon Tom and I wandered into a hat shop and each found the perfect hat. Mine is a traditional Panamanian hat. Tom chose the classic style that most people call a “Panama hat,” even though it’s actually woven in Ecuador. We both love them.
Then something almost magical happened.
Back in January, I had tried at least half a dozen times to get my nails done. Isabelle, the woman who managed our Airbnb, had told me she also owned a nail salon, but somehow I could never find it. Once we returned to Colorado I became consumed with packing the house, finishing my real estate career, and taking voice lessons before our April move to Pedasí. Before I knew it, more than six months had passed without a manicure.
This time I walked down the street from Mia’s Vegan Shack and spotted a little nail salon on the corner. I stepped inside, and the woman smiled and said, “Come back in fifteen minutes.”
Tom dropped me off and promised to return in about an hour.
It was pure luxury. I settled into the chair while she worked her magic on my fingernails and toes. The warm foot treatments alone were heavenly.
As she worked, we talked about everything—her husband, her three children, her business, and the Airbnb properties she manages around Casco Viejo.
I told her about the Airbnb Tom and I had stayed in back in January and how disappointed I was that I couldn’t find it online anymore.
“I’ll send you links to my properties,” she said.
She opened her phone, paused, and suddenly looked up.
“Wait a minute…are you Nancy?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“And are you Isabelle?” I asked.
She laughed.
“Yes!”
We both burst into laughter.
Of course it was her.
She had been the manager of our Airbnb all along. The reason I couldn’t book it again was that shortly after we left in January, someone rented it for an entire year.
Out of all the nail salons in Panama City, I had wandered into Isabelle’s.
After all those months and all those failed attempts to find her, there she was, giving me the manicure I’d been trying to get since January.
By the time Tom came back to pick me up, Isabelle no longer felt like someone we had just met. She felt like a sister. A dear friend.
Once again, the journey had come full circle.
Graham, It was another reminder that sometimes the best parts of life aren’t the ones we carefully plan. They’re the ones that quietly find us when we’re exactly where we’re meant to be. Now that I’ve brought you up to speed on everything that’s happened, it’s time to share other stories with you of our life on Destiladeros Beach in Pedasí and in Panama.
With love,
CC
