The Corona commercial´s aren´t quite like this

I met Rochy while hanging out at the local Panamanian tobacco store fueling my newly found Cuban cigar habit. Rochy is originally Colombian but in Panama right now and seemed kinda impressed that I knew my way around Colombia a bit. She gave me some tips for places to visit next time I was in Colombia.

So when I ran into her two days later and told I hadn´t been able to do anything in Panama but go to the Brazilian embassy and try to figure out my next set of flights, she quickly agreed to show me one of the beaches outside of Panama City the next day. Finally!

Around noon the next day we headed to the Albrook Terminal. The bus terminal in Panama was equally confusing as all Latin American bus terminals are. I think there just not designed for gringos. I guess that makes sense, why would they be? And I was thrilled to have a native spanish speaker by my side as we tried to figure out what bus to take.

But without too much trouble we found a bus leaving for Gorgonza which we were told is a little fishing town with a beautiful beach about an hour and half outside of Panama City. The bus was pretty typical of the busses I´ve take in Latin America. No air, the seats sucked and there was some guy with a 32" TV as a carry on. But as soon as we crossed the Bridge of the Americas and got on the Pan-American highway none of that really seemed to matter.

The bus let us off in Gorgonza on the side of the Pan-American highway which was aparently still a ways from the beach. As we started walking towards the beach I spotted an obvious gringo looking in distress. He sputtered out in his pidgin spanish ¨¿perdon, puedes ayudarme con los direciones?¨ I replied ¨Do you speak english?¨ He seemed very delighted to find a fellow gringo to give him a hand.

Turns out Ned is a semi-retired airline pilot kinda bumming his way around Panama. Funny all the people I meeting bumming their way around Latin America are either semi-retired or dirty smelly hippies. How come there aren´t more burnt-out software engineers down here? But we got Ned squared away with directions and he offered to give us a ride to the beach, sometimes things just work out perfectly.

The beach was spectacular. A strange mix of white and black sand, but virtually undisturbed. There was a little restaurant right on the beach which had shower and bathroom facilities, and lots of salsa music of course.

We lounged around for a bit in the hammocks and then decided to test the waters. A perfectly refreshing warm Atlantic current had me hooked. We swam for a bit and Rochy thought it was wonderfully amusing to try and dunk me under the water repeatedly. Colombian women, go figure.

Just when I was convinced I was in paradise both Rochy and I met the business end of a jellyfish. Damn! Those little bastards hurt, ¨chucha tu madre!¨ After recovering on shore for a bit we ventured out more cautiously painfully aware of the ¨aqua mala¨that was waiting for us. Every little bit of seaweed or fish we stumbled on caused a high-pitched Colombian shriek (and maybe a lower-pitched yelp from the gringo) that soon convinced us it was time to get out of the water.

Back on shore we enjoyed the speciality of the day, a couple pieces of freshly caught and fried fish and the local fixins. Then the hammocks were back on top of the agenda. By the time dusk fell and the mosquitos came out we decided it was time to head back. But of course there was a bit more of bad news...aparently the busses back to Panama City only run until 8 PM. Well it was about 7 PM now, it only took 5 minutes to drive down here in a car, so we should be fine, right?

We started walking back up and after 20 minutes we passed a Chiva, basically a local bus, heading back to the main road. ¨Damn, where were you when we needed you?¨ I exclaimed. Now we were so close it´s not even worth it. Well 20 minutes of walking later I was asking Rochy why she didn´t stop the bus. But Rochy was a good sport and just laughed.

We finally made it back to the Pan-American highway 45 minutes after we started, and my feet were killing me. Between the jellyfish sting and my sore feet Rochy said I had plenty to remember this day. And it turned out the busses ran 24-hours after all, so our haste in hiking up the road was for naught. A short 15 minute wait later and we were heading back to Panama City. Reality is seldom as perfect as you might imagine it to be, sometimes it´s even better.

Turns out it’s just a big freakin’ ditch

I’ve had a couple people say to me “Ooooh, you’re going to Panama, well you gotta check out the canal” This guy I met my first night at the hostel told me pretty much the same thing when I asked him about it “Well you can’t go to Panama and not see the canal.” While the logic seemed to make sense that didn’t exactly sound like a ringing endorsement.

I’ve always been wary of doing the stuff that I’m supposed to do. You know like going to Chicago and going up the Sears Tower. So far on this trip I had managed to avoid doing anything I was supposed to, but that was kinda the point.

But I admit it, I gave in and went. The got me with the “engineering marvel” part. So I spent the $4 on a cab there and another $4 on a cab back to the hotel. And I even spent the $8 for the full access pass to the Miraflores Locks Visitor Center. And it turns out, it’s just a big ditch that ships go through.

I’m sure it’s really great engineering, and its importance to the global economy is indeed staggering. But when they call it the 8th wonder of the world I don’t know. I remember when Bill and I were in Medellin and we decided that the derrière of a typical 23-year old paisa was the 8th wonder of the world. I didn’t see anything today that made me change my mind.

But if you happen to be in Panama City and you’re looking to fill some free time, and you happen to really be into canals, by all means, go check it out. But I’d suggest saving a couple bucks by only getting the $5 pass and avoiding the exhibits altogether. Unless you’re into exhibits too.

Welcome to the Banana Republic

Panama is more than a little different than Cuba. Panama has a sky-line that puts Seattle to shame. I still haven't figured out why they need so many banks and hotels and casinos. Almost everyone speaks a little english and there's a US fast-food chain on every damn street corner.

I guess this is what you wind up with after a 100 years of US Colonialism. But I guess Panama does enjoy a relatively high standard of living compared to the rest of Latin America. But I don't know, I feel like I could just have stayed in the US and gotten this experience.

Oh well, once I get my Brazilian visa (hopefully tuesday!) I'm free to go off and explore some more of this country and get out of Panama City. The San Blas Islands off the Atlantic Coast sound like fun, and I don't head to Brazil until Feb 13, so I got a little time.

Sometimes things just work out, and other times…

I came to Panama pretty much without the inkling of a plan. Panama was actually just my Plan C. You see I needed proof of onward travel in order to enter Cuba, and I still needed to get a Brazilian visa. Panama City had a Brazilian Embassy and was the cheapest flight I could get leaving Cuba. So Panama it was.

I showed up at the airport and at the tourist booth I found a flier for a youth hostel. I had the nice Panamanian lady working behind the counter call them up and sure enough they had space for the night, and only $8 a night! At the line for the cabs I was able to find a Spanish woman who was heading in the same direction so we split a cab.

The next morning first thing I headed to the Brazilian embassy. My Spanish has improved to the point where I can understand most of the reply I get from a question like “where is the Brazilian embassy?” After walking in circles for a little bit the last person I asked just pointed to the Brazilian flag about a block away. In total only took ½ hour to walk the 4 blocks, which isn’t really that bad.

At the embassy the very helpful Brazilian representative assured me that a tourist visa would only take 24 hours, unless it was an emergency and then they could issue it the same day. That was so much better than the answer of “maybe two-weeks but come back tomorrow” I kept getting in Havana. She even had the direction for a place that would give me the Yellow Fever vaccine that I needed.

I was able to catch a cab to the health center without any problems. Within another ½ hour I had my vaccine and more importantly my International Certification of Vaccination. It only cost me $5, sorry Ellick they didn’t have anything for Dengue fever, I checked. I caught another cab and headed back to the youth hostel to figure out the tickets.

As I heading to the hostel I saw a place that was advertising free WiFi. Fantastic, I can finally use my own laptop! I hopped on Expedia and found what I still think is a great deal for tickets into Rio and out towards Buenos Aires. I even found a bittorrent of the Pimsleur Portuguese lessons I’d been looking for! Everything was going swimmingly!

And then I checked my e-mail. My 19 year old cousin has just been diagnosed with Stage IV Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Her chemo-therapy is already scheduled.

Fuck.

I don’t remember the last time I prayed, but when I saw that message I asked God for mercy. I recited every bit of the Qu’ran I could still remember. They say there are no atheists in fox-holes, I suppose that applies to love ones in distress as well. So those of you out there reading this, do me a favor and say a prayer to the god of your choice, it can’t hurt. Her name is Sana Javeed and while she can try one’s patience at times, she’s really a sweet kid.

Cuba, a photgraphic retrospective