Month: April 2009

So, it’s only fair that I learn some Spanish along the way – actually, in retrospect, Spanish would have been most useful. Irregardless, some things culturally specific to Panama just gets lost in translation altogether: e.g., the “Chicken Buses”, which are basically yellow U.S. school buses sold and repurposed to the third world. What’s unique is that they’re graffitied all over in spray paint a la urban “art”. Yesterday I saw one bus named the “Ghetto Life”, on the front of the bus was spray painted in big words “Pussy Hound” (I can’t make that up). I find them grotesque but some how it just blends so harmoniously to scene.

Other cultural oddities strike me as well; for example, having wander a long way on foot down Avenida Central today, I noticed that the street vendors sold Chinese incense along with their candles for Roman Catholic worship. Now, this is decidedly odd… it’s not being sold to Chinese but to the local Panamanians in general. I have no clue what they do with it.

Back to Spanish, I’m heading off to the main bus terminal to try to buy a night ticket to David City with my limited Spanish. The plan is then to Boquette; perhaps I’ll ascend the volcano, or else head to Costa Rica after a couple days.

In the late afternoon I decided to take one last round down the corridors of the old colonial part of the city. Through the crumbling facades of many of the buildings, one can imagine the faded glory of things past. The halcyon of Casco Viejo was long gone until recent urban planning started a revival project. As it is now, most of the buildings are still in ruins and occupied by poor residents, but gentrification is coming and quick. Many have been bought and renovated to the old Spanish colonial architecture.

Such urban decay is juxtapose with spectacular views of modern Panama City, which is by far the most cosmopolitan of all of Central America.

Where ever we go, it seems we tend to absorb a bit of the local flavor, but also leave a trace of ourselves behind. Where we are is where we are, the question is how to make do with what is presented. What use pining for things lost when there is yet life to live and a thousand paths untried? Besides, what is pleasant now can be a pain come the morrow. Every step one ventures leads to it’s own beauty.

Such like today, having taxied all the way down the Causeway, I discovered the boat to Isla Tobagos was sold out. Plans never work out much anyway, so I ended up on a local bus for 2 hours to some Coranado Beach with a couple travelers I met along the way. Unfortunately, as it turns out, the beach is private. We snuck in from an adjacent beach and walked back. As it were, wondera lead to wondera and I’m now sitting at a resort pool near some nice hotel, under a cabana and enjoying the nice breeze and the expensive facilities for free. Let the world be as the world is.

What’s a visit to Panama without seeing the canals? 13,000+ ships pass through these gates transiting from the Caribbean to the Pacific and back. Perhaps they’re a metaphor for life (are you reading this?). One gate necessarily has to close before another gate opens for these canal locks to work. Or, rather, you have to choose to close one gate before choosing to open another; for nothing would move otherwise. Every moment there are doors closing and opening, the question is how long does one want to stay locked in one room.

Arrived in the historic district of Casco Viejo in Panama City. By chance, the gentlemen from NY next to me on the flight also checked into the same hostel; and being that he has frequented Panama often, I questioned him at length. But as things are by the previous observation, he will part tomorrow. So for one evening, we wandered the cobblestone alleys and colonial architecture suffused under yellow light. In the late night, the soft noises of the domiciles faintly echo down the alleys syncopated to each measured step. The calm is only punctuated by the presence of the Policias holding semi-automatic riffles posted on each corner.

After wandering a few short blocks, we turned into a dive-dive-dive “bar”; replete with corrugated tin roof and severely crumbled brick walls. Inside, the throb and rhythm of local life pulsated under the balmy April skies as the people moved to renditions of Guns & Roses (among other tunes). Can’t ask for a better beginning.

It’s now struck one o’clock local time. After 2 hours sitting on a balcony caressed by see breezes with a waxing gibbous over head, it’s time to rest up before exploring tomorrow.

April 5, 2009 Miami International Airport –
Seems life is ever caught midstep between here and there. The world moves in such random chaos with such strange synchronicity. Pausing here awaiting for a connecting flight to Panama, am struck by the sheer mass of humanity shuffling their feet hither and thither. But for a moment, total strangers are concoursed to this strange propinquity, so close and yet so distanced with our brethren. We each walk our paths, and for a time we meet, only to part.

Is it not a wonder that despite the vastness of the world and the almost insignificant measure of each step, we manage to span the globe? Long is the path – and here I go again.