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.
C H R O N I C L E S . O F . T H I S . F L O A T I N G . L I F E