Ok, ok, ok, I’m writing blogs again, mostly so I can remember what I did on these travels.
Why did we go to Panama? We basically were trying to find any place in the world that would be fun, warm, not too expensive, cheap to get to and have things to do. Panama ended up being the only real option with about ten days notice, if that. I guess it would be a way for me to travel in the last Central American country I hadn’t been to.
To get from the airport into town, we decided to take the new light rail. It was so new that getting clear information on how to get to town on it was difficult. We asked around at the airport, trying to get my Spanish back on its feet. People were helpful and friendly and we made our way onto a light rail that I know I’d been on before. It must have been made by the same company as the one in Seattle or Saint-Denis, but I wasn’t quite sure which. We quickly noticed how clean and orderly everything was. There was lingering evidence of what were once strict covid protocols. Signs with cartoon mimes urged people not to talk on the train. The backdrop of illuminated skyscrapers against the night’s sky was dramatic and I was feeling like this country would be a lot different from every other country in the region I had been to.
When we emerged from the underground station closer to the center, we finally got hit with that thick, tropical heat and the street seemed much more chaotic than our sterile light rail ride. I was relieved.
It was only 9:30, but the streets were empty. A few homeless people, some passed out drunks, stray cats and dogs were the only souls we passed on the way to our guesthouse where we had a reservation. They didn’t seem to have a record of our reservation, but they were friendly and were clearly trying to make a good impression on us. They even moved us to a different room after we noticed ours didn’t have a window.
We went for a little walk. Someone standing in front of the guesthouse warned us that if we went in one direction it wouldn’t be safe and to only go in the direction of what was a pretty bougie, touristy neighborhood. We semi-complied, doubting that it was really that dangerous around here.
Day 2
The next morning we went on a long walk, which started just around the corner at an exquisitely old school cafe that won’t survive the gentrification rapidly infecting this neighborhood. It was in one of these colonial era buildings with high ceilings and probably other interesting features that I wouldn’t know how to spot. They served basic, classic stews, meats and starches from a counter. But we just wanted their big cups of coffee in styrofoam cups. Now, it’s kind of weird to find styrofoam weird because it was a big part of my life until pretty recently. But I never see it anymore. I assume it’s banned in France and I know it is in Seattle. But we could have filled a small lake with the amount of styrofoam we used in Panama. Anyway, I imagine Panama will probably get rid of it soon.
We continued our walk into the Casco Viejo (also known as Casco Antiguo) the oldest standing neighborhood in Panama. The original settlement of Panama City, the real “old town” was destroyed when it was raided by Captain Morgan (yep, that Captain Morgan) in the 1670’s. So the city was rebuilt here. It is extremely charming and clearly a lot of work is and has been made to restore old buildings, attract investment and promote tourism. I mean if someone wants to feel like they are in some colonial town in the tropics, getting rich off banana plantations, this neighborhood is nailing the vibe. However, it doesn’t take long for it to feel a bit synthetic. The restaurants are too hip, a few too many of the shops are selling souvenirs and if you’ve seen almost any other part of the city, it just doesn’t match. Anyway, it is very pleasant to stroll in and a lot of the architecture is easy on the eyes. Also, lots of Americans in tour groups.
We continued on toward the adjacent old China Town. It’s not large, in fact there are other, more modern parts of the city that have much larger Chinese populations, but this is the oldest Chinese neighborhood in Panama. The Chinese have a much longer presence in Panama than in the rest of the region. In fact there is a monument near the canal, which I assume was built by the Chinese government, commemorating 150 years of Chinese in Panama.
This China Town was pretty basic. Just a few shops, some restaurants with the classic ducks and pork bellies hanging in the windows. It wasn’t lunch time yet, so we didn’t eat here.
Nearby there was an indoor, air-conditioned market. I mean, I’m not going to complain that Panamanians would rather shop in an air-conditioned market, but it wasn’t my vibe. There were a lot of good products though, including an array of oils, like avocado, onion, shark, sea turtle, coconut, etc. I also bought some locally made hot sauce which would go on to rescue dozens of meals over the next few weeks. The highlight was the fresh juice. Lise got carrot/orange and I got pineapple horchata. Wow, so good.
Next stop on our walking tour (which, honestly was just half of what Anthony Bourdain did when he went to Panama) was the fish market/ceviche stands. The fish market was, well, a fish market. Interesting to see prices, but I’m not really able to buy a kilo of langosteens right now. Then we went to the row of ceviche stands. There were at least a dozen of them with plastic tables and chairs in front. Every one of them had servers that would come running out to wave menus and assure you that they had good prices and everything you want. We ducked and dodged all these servers until we found the stand that hadn’t noticed us (the servers were busy chatting) and so we just sat down there, rewarding them for not being annoying. Luckily it was also probably the cheapest stand! We got three ceviches (shrimp, octopus and corvina) and a couple beers for 9 bucks. What more could you want?
We continued on foot away from things that might attract tourists, to just a normal neighborhood. This is when I really caught fire. The markets were open air, there were stands on the street selling fresh juices, fresh fruit, pastries and hella other stuff. We stopped at a stand selling batidos, which is between a fruit smoothie and a milkshake. I got a batido with borojó, a type of fruit I’d never tried before. I was so pumped. I felt like I was finally back in my element after years of staleness. There were fruits everywhere, many of which I’d never tried. I decided I would try to have a different fruit every day.
We kept wandering the neighborhood. At some point there was a downpour that lasted five minutes. At some point there was someone selling palmiers (what they are called in French, orejas in Spanish) the size of a plate so we got one. We went into a grocery store and Lise snuck inside the beer fridge to cool off. I condemn her actions, but she was refreshed. I realized I should also be on the look out for seeds for the local Aji Chombo, a chili similar to a habanero. I asked a woman selling decorative plants if she knew where to get them. She recommended I go to Melo, which turned out to be a chain gardening store. It was a new mission.
As we walked around this neighborhood, we noticed a lot of hair salons and Lise got curious. She had wondered if coloring her hair in Panama would be a good idea, so I encouraged her and we started asking around for prices. Lise decided to go ahead and bleach her hair. This would take a few hours so after getting her settled into her chair I went back on the street and kept walking. I saw a large mosque (apparently mostly used by south Asians who have slowly arrived in waves over the years). I also went to a modern grocery store because I needed an ATM. This is where I learned that it would cost me $6 every time I withdrew money and I could only take out $250. I also helped a young woman withdraw money. She said she’d never done it before and needed help, but her card was well-worn. I was kinda suspicious, but nobody pick-pocketed me. Maybe she was just looking for an excuse to talk to me?
Back at the hair salon, Lise was finishing up. The stylist warned her that she couldn’t just bleach her hair, because it would turn out yellow and bad. So she did a bleach and a dye. But the hair came out yellow anyway. I didn’t care. I thought this was fun and that Lise looked good. Lise was fine with it for now, but figured she would get it fixed later.
On the walk back to our hood, I noticed some people selling a fruit recognized called kenep, also called mamoncillo or Spanish lime. I’d had it in Belize years ago and pined for it ever since. I even tried my best to get on good terms with folks at a Jamaican restaurant in Rialto so they would hook me up with the fruit when they got a hold of some. It’s like a small lychee with the skin of a lime, orange flesh and bit more tart.
As we walked back to our hotel, it was early evening and the street was alive and brimming with people, vendors and music. Chickens were getting roasted on street-side grills all sorts of things were on offer. I figured we would go get a quick shower and then head back out for dinner. Unfortunately when we came back out onto the street around 8, the street was nearly empty again.
We walked around the neighborhood until we found a relatively lively spot, just a few steps outside of the touristy Casco Viejo area. It was seedy. Prostitutes advertised openly next to a few cops. We sat at the wide open of a casual restaurant and ordered a couple beers. The owner sent someone to the club down the street to get the beers for us. Although it was empty, we liked the atmosphere of the restaurant and our window gave us a great view of the street where there was plenty to watch. Across the street there were a few basic food stalls. We went to one that looked good and got a filling dinner of grilled chicken with a side of patacones (a style of fried plantains) drowned in mayonnaise, ketchup and (because I brought it) hot sauce.
We went back to the hotel and stopped in at the bar on the ground floor for a last beer. As we sipped our beer on the sidewalk, one of the bar patrons approached us. He asked us the normal questions about where we were from and told us that he was a cop. We chatted for a long time. He warned us that Panama City is very dangerous and to be careful. I chalked that up to him being a cop. I mean, if you see crime all day, won’t you think it’s a dangerous place? I imagine health workers see the world as disgusting. In interviews, drug dealers always talk about how EVERYONE does drugs.
Day 3
The adventure was about to get underway. We rose early to get to the bus station. We wanted to make it to the highland town of Santa Fe.
The light rail took us directly to the main bus station. Finding our bus was pretty straight forward. The modern, coach style bus to Santiago was fairly comfortable. On the way out of town we crossed the canal. The Panama one. That seemed like kind of a big deal. On the opposite side of the bridge, there was a monument commemorating 150 years of Chinese presence in Panama. The first Chinese came to Panama in 1854 to work on the construction of the Panama Railroad. While there are Chinese populations throughout Central America, they have been in Panama longer and appear much more woven into the fabric of society. This does not mean, however, that we didn’t see an incredibly racist portrayal of Chinese shopkeepers on a local TV show.
The highway west of Panama City is pockmarked with glimmering shopping malls and brand new housing developments. There were areas that could have been indistinguishable from Florida or Texas. American chain restaurants ran roughshod over the local food courts.
A few hours later we arrived in the bus station in Santiago. The chaotic atmosphere was familiar, but I wasn’t quite enjoying it. Eventually we found a minibus to our next stop, Santa Fe. The bus was a bit beat up, and intermittently crowded. We were starting to travel in a manner that suited me more than the air conditioned coach. The roads got narrower and windier as we eased into the hilly interior. The fashion faded from cheap Chinese knockoffs to cowboy hats, jeans and long skirts.
The small town of Santa Fe welcomed us with one of those made-to-be-instagrammed, brightly colored displays of the town name that sits somewhere in the center of every single city, town and hamlet in the world in 2023. The center had just a handful of small shops, an empty marketplace and a couple basic restaurants. Anyway, we weren’t really here for the town, but more for the surrounding nature.
We checked into our hotel, which was clean, basic and fairly empty. Each room had hammocks hanging in front of the door. It should be legally required for hotels to provide hammocks in front of rooms. In town, which was up a steep hill, we went to an empty but somehow homey little restaurant for dinner. The woman who served us was shy, but charming. She explained the few options to us. Lise had a pork chop and I had a piece of smoked pork, both served with rice and beans. It was simple but very delicious. We went on down the hill and stopped for a beer at a small bar/restaurant on the way. Then it was time to hit the hammock and read a bit before bed.
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