Just because you’ve lived in Panama for a while or visited more than once – that doesn’t mean you’ve actually achieved the exalted status of “expat”. To be a bona fide expatriate, with full status, you must have changed in some very fundamental ways. Below is a guide to see if you qualify as a true expat.

You know you’re an expat when:

...you’ve actually moved into your condo. That’s right, even though you’ve been renting for two and a half years; you’re still a visitor, until you move into your own place.

...you refer to home as Panama and the other place as “The States.”

...you get to go through the resident line at immigration at the airport.

...the person meeting you at the airport doesn’t have your name misspelled on a piece of cardboard.

...you can’t remember your old zip code.

...you can’t stand all those tourists wandering around Casco Viejo in Panama hats.

...the locals don’t break into your car because they consider you a neighbor.

...You don’t refer to your neighbors as “the locals.”

You know you’re an expat when you no longer feel guilty about:

...taking your jubliado discount on the check at a restaurant.

...only tipping 10%.

...never even considering washing your own car.

...only paying your maid, gardener, driver or whoever less than $20 a day.

...the recession at home.

...leaving the kids on their own. After all, they’re 32, 28 and 24.

...actually, you know you’re an expat when you no longer feel any guilt.

As far as getting around Panama, you know you’re an expat when:

...you honked your horn more than once today.

...you stick the hood of your car out into traffic because that’s the only way you’ll ever get anywhere.

...you look both ways before you travel through any intersection at a green light.

...you’ve ridden on a Diablo Rojo at least once. (Usually, once is enough.)

...you’re no longer anxious about driving in the city, but actually enjoy the competitive spirit.

When it comes to politics, you know you’re an expat when:

...you refer to the government of the U.S., or Canada, or Venezuela, or Germany, or where ever you’re from, as “them.”

...you care whether or not Martinelli beats Balbina in the election.

...your primary source of information is Don Winner.

...you pay attention to Chavez’s latest crackpot quote.

The language – what about the language? You know you’re an expat when:

...you no longer use pantomime to communicate.

...you listen to Spanish language radio in the car.

...you decide to stop going to Spanish lessons.

You know you’ve “arrived” as an expat when:

...the bartender at the Yacht Club knows your name.

...you haven’t worn socks in over six months.

...if you’re a guy, you wear long pants out to dinner because that’s your idea of dressing up. (still no socks.)

...Laura Alexander knows your name.

...you don’t wait around anymore for the cable guy (or the plumber; or your lawyer; or whoever) to finally show up. You’re there most of the day, but you still go out and get your errands done and you’re back in plenty of time for the guy to finally show up at 4:15.

...you’re able to talk to your friends about something other than the progress or lack of progress on the completion of your condo.

You know you’ve completely embraced the expat lifestyle when:

...You can’t remember what day of the week it is; but it feels like the weekend.

...you have time to download movies.

...your wife now takes care of four dogs, three cats, two parrots and a two toed sloth and you don’t mind.

...your husband looks at all the cleavage and you don’t mind.

...you promise to do something “mañana.”

And finally, you know you’re an expat when somebody else complains and you get to say... “Welcome to Panama.”