A Canadian In Panama

Welcome back Speculators. I’m on the road. Record feedback from our last edition got me curious enough to run the numbers on my reader’s data. We’re growing fast, really fast, and our fastest growing demographic? 

Canadians! Bravo!

To say thanks for your patronage, I wanted to do an issue just for you guys. 

So, Tuesday I boarded a plane to Panama, to pay a visit to Michael, one of my oldest friends—and the most successful Canadian I know. 

The guy is a beast of business. He bleeds talent. I love seeing him in action, it’s like watching someone use the force. 

And he’s really crushing the whole life thing. Successful people hang out with Michael and feel broke, myself included. Which is how I feel now, sitting in his Den.

When I lived in England I had this custom-built designer flat, right in the heart of London Bridge. Column-style glass fireplaces, waterfall showers, heated floors.

The master bedroom had a projection screen and a Jacuzzi; you could play Grand Theft Auto half submerged. Yeah. And I thought that was impressive. 

“I liked that place though, it was cute…” His Canadian accent cascades with reverb, crossing marble slabs. 

I’m reading aloud. He’s pouring shots. God I love this guy.

We’re at least 1000 stories up, how many exactly I can’t say—lost count in the elevator after passing out from altitude sickness. Bell boy must be a damn Sherpa. 

The architecture is weaponized simplicity; every view is the same:

Stone. Glass. Ocean. 

My “guest suite” is roughly the size of the house I grew up in. Granted, I was raised in rural Kentucky, but still. 

The rugs underfoot—and the bedding for matter—were definitely alive at some point.

“I downed those beasts myself with a 16th century bow & arrow…. or maybe it was a spear…. hard to remember. Things move fast when you’re riding a unicorn.” 

Guy is as funny as he is rich. 

Michael’s a FatCat, an investor and an entrepreneur. He’s started half a dozen plus companies; some he sold, some he took public, a few he still runs.

Several years ago he started a private, invite-only hedge fund. His investment style?

Polyphonic and aggressive.

No industry, no market, no business is out of bounds. And with few exceptions, if he can’t see a path to 10X return, he’s not interested.  

The result is Babe Ruth. A good number of strike outs, but enough home runs to change the game, and then some.

The success of that fund was one of the original motivations for starting this site—grab a seat, take a shot, join the club and walk amongst giants. 

We hea to Intimo in Punta Pacifica for dinner.

Panama City is modern.

You could mistake it for Miami, except that it’s too clean. And the people too friendly. Definitely worth a visit.

As is Intimo.  Best lamb I’ve had in a decade.

Before we make it to the table, a welcoming parade descends: owner, chef, bartenders, waiters, the whole staff. Michael knows them all by name, and actually knows them too. Guy never met a stranger––a big part of his success to this day.

Every year without fail, some of our best investments are the result of some random conversation he started, with some random stranger he happened to meet, while herding goats in Patagonia or ice fishing the Equator.