This canal totally kicks ass
Missing the direct bus to Panama City meant I had a much longer journey ahead of me. I took the ferry to the mainland, where while waiting for the bus I met a local boy named David. He was a black kid who was really excited to talk to me. He loved where he lived (it’s like paradise), and told me you don’t even have to work, really…if you just want something, people will just give it to you, at least other black people will. Panama is a very interesting country…it’s more diverse I think than any other country in Central America. There’s a good black population (mostly from the West Indies who came here to work on the canal), several different indiginous tribes, a smaller white population, and then, of course, the biggest of all, the Mestizo population, which is just mixed indiginous and european. But within this mestizo population, people range from really dark to really light and all in between…this is more than I’ve noticed in any other country (maybe Costa Rica is similar). Anyway, I’m always curious to know about race relations in all of these countries between all the different cultures. It seems that usually the indiginous populations have the most struggle, and more often than not I’m told that there are fewer problems for the black cultures. Apparently, however, this is not exactly how it is in Panama. David told me a great story about how he went into some store (this was in a different part of Panama, where apparently there aren’t many black people), and the guy told him he couldn’t be in the store…no black people allowed, because they are all theives. David came back a while later with three paychecks, something amounting to about $550 (by the way, they use the US dollar in Panama, which I think is weird..American bills and both American and Panamanian coins, and the Panamanian coins are the same size and value as the US coins), and he told this man he would pay him $550 for every black man they found in the jail. If there was none, he would get $550 from the store owner. They went to the jail and there was not a black man to be found; David collected his money and was also then allowed in the store. Good for him.
I took a bus down to a town called David (Pompei, I tried to find a postcard, but there’s really nothing worth wasting a postcard on). On the bus I met two girls from Wisconsin who were living in Bluefields, Nicaragua, working with the catholic church. The bus to Panama City didn’t leave until midnight, so we put our bags in storage (I was interviewed by some college girl who’s studying English), and we went to go catch a movie to kill some time. Well, what was on? Harry Potter and Harry Potter. I think it was actually on 4 screens, so, Harry Potter it was…at least it was entertaining. The rest of the evening was all very boring and the bus ride was horrendously frigid. The girl sitting next to me must have been privy to this, as she walked on with 2 blankets and a wooly hat. We arrived in Panama City at something like 6 in the morning, which is always fun.
After going to the hostel, I immediately went to go check out the canal. This was, afterall, the reason I came to Panama City. I caught a bus toward the city center and, well, there was a combination of me not knowing where I was and the bus not stopping exactly where I thought it was going to, and I was a little lost. Not too lost, though, just not where I wanted to be. I tried to ask some guy to point to me on the map where we were, but he couldn’tl, so I just got off the bus and found my way back to where I wanted to be. I decided to walk around town a bit instead of hopping on another bus, so I went and checked out the old part of Panama City, called Casco Viejo.
This part of town is known to be dangerous, but there are plenty of tourist police around. These tourist police are found in many places through Central America and were created to specifically make places safer for tourists…aren’t we special. I really liked this little neighborhood. It’s been compared to New Orleans’ French Quarter, and I definitely can see the similarity with the balconies hanging over narrow streets. Some are old and dilapidated, some are old but restored, and they look great. Apparently there are a lot of artists moving into the area and quite a bit of renovation being done…think of this as the Wicker Park of Panama City. There are little cafes and restaurants, cutely decorated houses, and art galleries housed in old dungeons. However, there is some room for improvement, as was evidenced by one man, who, walking very slowly and deliberately, turned to me as I passed and greeted me with a very definite “Fuck You”. So, yeah, I didn’t spend that much time over there, but I did get a really nice taste of the area, and I really liked it. From this area I also got my first glimpse at signs of the canal…huge ships just hanging out, waiting for entry and the Bridge of the Americas, where the highway crosses over the canal.
So I took to task of figuring out how to get out to the Canal and I got there without incident this time. I took the whole museum tour and everything, purchasing something like the extremo entrance pack… It was pretty cool; the ships were huge, holding thousands of those big bins that go on trains. Not sure what their technical term is. I sat and watched these ships for a while, waving at the seamen. Each ship takes a good amount of time to go through each of the locks (there’s three in total through the whole canal), and the total amount of time spent in canal waters can be something like 24 hours. There’s a nice observation deck there, where you can go up to the 4th floor to get a good view of what’s going on. There was also some camera crew there, taking some footage and occassionally reporting something. At one point, they came up to me and asked me if I speak Spanish. Thinking back to my embarrassment of the simple audiotape interview in Guatemala, I told them no, that I wasn’t too good with my Spanish. Well, when they heard me talk, they said, oh yes…you can speak just great, and they interviewed me, camera and all. I asked them what it was for and they said Columbian news. So, if any of you run across any Columbian news programs, check me out. I have to say I don’t think I was that bad this time.
So, anyway, just check out the pictures I put up of the canal to really appreciate the size of these ships. They’re under the Panama heading, and there’s a link to the site on the right.
Taking buses back from the canal, I got lost a second time. Again, not really lost, but not where I wanted to be. I am grateful for my sense of direction, even in unfamiliar cities. This time I did find a guy who could tell me where I was on the map, tell me where to get off, and point me in the right direction. I walked through a really nice part of town called El Cangrejo, with lots of cute restaurants and shops. I really started to like Panama City. It’s by far the nicest city in Central America, by far. One girl told me it was kind of like Chicago. Now this I’m not entirely willing to accept, but I will say that the view of the city, with all its big buildings, sitting on the water, could maybe resemble Chicago slightly. That’s as far as I’ll go.
As night started to fall, all the lights of the city came on…huge hotels and casinos, with flashing lights everywhere, and I have to admit I was a little overwhelmed by it all. I’m not entirely sure why; it’s only been 2 1/2 months since I’ve really been in a proper city (the other ones in Central America don’t count). I may have also experienced a small bout of homesickness, though I’ve never really been sure what that constitues. I did for a brief moment just wish that I was amongst familiarity. So maybe that was it. Nothing big…don’t expect me jumping on a plane back home anytime soon. Sorry.
The hostel was right around the corner from a grocery store. An awesome grocery store. When I find grocery stores like this, I tend to walk around in them and look at the stuff for a while. I look at all the nice stuff people are buying. I do buy some stuff, too, but oh, I remember the days of filling my cart to the brim, taking the food home, and then probably wasting half of it. Outside the grocery store they actually had real Christmas trees. I smelled them. I smelled them lots, and I really loved it. It’s really the first time that I actually have felt Christmas.
I didn’t really do that much more in the city. I saw the ruins of the original city before Captain Henry Morgan burned it down, and just walked around town. The next day I took a direct bus to San Jose, which left at noon. Another moment of glory…not having a watch and being curious of the time so as not to miss my bus departure, I turned to a woman, pointed at my wrist and asked, “What’s the weather like?” What an asshole. You’d think after 2 1/2 months out here that I might be able to ask a simple question like “what time is it?” Seriously, though, it’s the simple phrases that you learn the first few days of Spanish class that get all confused. This reminds me of Hiro, the Japanese guy I met earlier in my travels. He also wanted to know the time and went up to a woman and asked her how much she cost…he had a hell of a stuggle getting himself out of that one.
Tags: Panama, Tag Index
Tania