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 Panama
April 29, 2005
I wasn't in Panama for very long and the time I did have there was only in the western part
near Costa Rica. In all the other Central American countries I visited on this trip, I traveled the entire length
of them and passed through their capital cities, but not so in Panama. By Central American standards this is a
fairly long country and I didn't feel that it would be worth the required investment of both time and money for
me to go all the way to Panama City, plus tour the famous Canal. Both are fairly popular with tourists but are
located in the central part of the country - too far away for me. But there're other worthwhile attractions in
Panama and a couple of them were easily accessible to me.
You might recall in my story about Costa Rica that I made the border crossing while traveling south along the Caribbean
coast. I was with Vikky, my teaching colleague from Xela, and our bus dropped us off in Sixola. We were now in
the company of two amiable young lads we met while getting off of the bus, a Costa Rican named Jose and his friend
Peder from Sweden. It was raining extremely hard, which as I also mentioned previously, was a constant theme along
that coastline in December and January, even though it was Dry Season in the remainder of the region.
At the border we entered a tiny timbered shack and got our passports stamped (it cost nothing to exit Costa Rica)
while temporarily avoiding the plummeting rainfall for a few minutes. Following that, we had to cross over a decaying
wooden bridge used for both vehicles and pedestrians. It spanned the two shores high above a raging river and parts
of the walkway had collapsed, so walking across became an exercise in concentration, not at all aided by the sheets
of driving rain. The whole scene smacked of a clandestine boundary crossing and I half expected Harrison Ford/Indiana
Jones to suddenly show up with his felt hat and leather whip, feverishly urging us on, "Hurry, the snipers
are reloading their carbines!"
Once safely across, we stepped into another run down immigration office and paid a $5 entry fee. We were near Guabito
and the four of us then climbed onto an old shuttle bus that subsequently bounced down a deeply rutted dirt road
towards Changuinola. Our objective was to reach Archipiélago de Bocas del Toro and getting there necessitated
traveling most of the way by boat. From near Changuinola we disembarked (in the rain, of course) and after navigating
a river and a canal and then crossing the Bahia de Almirante, we finally arrived in the community of Bocas del
Toro. (The province, archipelago and town all share the same name.)
We were on the southeastern tip of Isla Colón - yet something else named after the man who was largely responsible
for initiating the greatest act of mass genocide in the entire history of the world: Christopher Colombus, or as
he's known in Spanish: Cristobal Colón. If you travel in this region with open eyes, the after-effect of
the Spanish immigration becomes obvious. And if you want to truly understand the European colonization of the Americas
and not be willing to settle for the blatant revision of it that shows up in the typical Western history text,
read "American Holocaust" by David Stannard, a professor of American Studies at the University
of Hawaii. I just did.
This contemporary book is incredibly well researched, thoroughly footnoted and painfully disturbing to read. However,
once you finish it you'll be aware of the truth rather than the sugar-coated myths and distortions that most of
us have been spoon-fed while growing up and being "educated" in public schools. You'll also gain a deeper
understanding of the psychological foundation underlying more than two hundred years of United States' foreign
policy, including G.W. Bush's current crusade against the "evil doers" and his self-nominated, "divinely
guided" mission to impose "American values, freedom and democracy" wherever he and his kind feel
it's needed.
Bocas del Toro has become the focal point for visitors to this northwestern coast of Panama. It's not only a convenient
base for exploring Parque Nacional Bastimentos and other regional highlights, but there're plenty of nearby beaches
and reefs for swimming, snorkeling, and diving - plus it's also a kickback locale for just relaxing. When the four
of us arrived we immediately headed for Mondo Taitu, the most popular accommodation for backpackers in town. It
was full. We then wandered around a while and finally settled on Hotel Sagitarius where we got a comfy shared room
with private bathroom for $6.25 each.
We were still being plagued by the remaining rainy season and the initial day there was depressingly overcast and
drizzling. But the second day was sunny and brilliant, so we decided to head to a beach on another island called
Red Frog that we'd heard rave reviews about. Water taxis from island to island are fairly easy to find, but it's
best to vigorously negotiate the price unless you're fond of paying too much. Since Jorge was fluent in Spanish,
he took charge of some resolute haggling and we arranged a round-trip ride that cost $5 each for Vikky and I. Jorge
and Peder would also be taken for some snorkeling, so they paid $10 each (gear included).
This area is gorgeous and after a pleasant ride to the island, we were dropped off at the wooden dock. From there,
a short stroll brought us to Red Frog beach and it was stellar - tranquil with white sand and clear, clean warm
water - perfect! There were a few palm trees to relax under and at the end of the shoreline was a boardwalk leading
up to a tranquil viewpoint. I had it all to myself as I sat on the wooden railing under hulking tropical trees
and enjoyed the waves crashing against the rocks. It was a wonderfully peaceful afternoon.
Later the four of us returned to the waterfront at the pre-arranged time of 4:30 and waited for our boat. It didn't
come and didn't come and while swatting a mosquito I started thinking, "If it doesn't show up we're definitely
stuck here for the night, which wouldn't be too cool!" At almost 5 pm another boat arrived to collect a Latino
couple who were the very last tourists on the island. After a quick and friendly chat they and the driver agreed
to let us join them, at no charge. On the way across the bay who should be spot but our exceptionally tardy boatman
coming in our direction. We changed vessels in mid bay.
Let's get back to Bocas del Toro, which stands for "Mouth of the Bull", by the way. Not much goes on
in this town which is just the way everyone likes it. But you can find a few decent restaurants. Shelly's Bar-B-Q
is owned by a woman originally from the Michoacan region of Mexico where I once lived and she serves up tasty tacos.
A plate full and a beer cost me $5. (Panama was more expensive than most other Central American countries, but
not prohibitively so.) Another great place and cheaper is Don Chicos, which is cafeteria style with local cuisine.
An excellent spot for breakfast is the Golden Grill - basic, but sparkling clean and inexpensive. However while
there, for the second time in my life, I thought I was going to closely witness someone breathe their last breath
while I was having a meal.
Once in Austria, a guy seated near me collapsed and had a seizure during breakfast at the hostel I was in, but
fortunately survived after getting prompt enough medical attention. In Bocas that morning, a woman standing next
to me suddenly toppled over, her head hitting against the counter, and she went into an epileptic fit. She was
shaking, her mouth foaming and eyes rolling in her head and she was in danger of swallowing her tongue and choking
to death. Fortunately there just happened to be a fireman/paramedic from Mt. Shasta, California sitting there who
jumped up and knew exactly what to do.
After two nights in Bocas, Vikky and I wanted to check out the mountains farther south, so we bid farewell to Jorge
and Peder who were returning to Costa Rica. Traveling is like that: meeting people and getting to know them and
then quickly bidding them farewell far sooner then you'd prefer to. But I've had some unforgettable experiences
with new acquaintances on the road and with the ease of email I've now accumulated a wonderful network of comrades
here and there around the world. But I still do tire of saying goodbye so often.
We wanted to get to Boquete up in the high country that same day and on the map it sure looked easy, but there's
the issue of the Cordillera de Talamanca. This is a lofty mountain range running west to east that we needed to
flank on the eastern side. So, for $3 each we got a boat to Almirante, then a taxi ($1) to where we found a bus
($7) for a three-hour ride to the city of David in the southern province of Chirqui. Once in David, you then backtrack
north to Boquete. It would be like going from Chicago to New Orleans to get to St. Louis, or from Amsterdam to
Rome to arrive in Zurich - but a shorter distance, of course.
Getting all the way to Boquete in one day was too much for us, so we spent a night in David, which is a great idea
if you want to go somewhere lacking either notable charm or tourists. We walked around and explored some, but mostly
took it easy. While spending some leisure moments in Parque de Cervantes I intently studied the scene and tried
to get a handle on the Panamanian culture. Exactly what was it, this way of life? Ok, it was Ladino, a mix of Spanish
intrusion with original native population. As in most Latin American countries (the exception being Guatemala),
"full-blooded" indigenous inhabitants in Panama are seldom encountered since the extermination of their
ancestors was carried out quite thoroughly. The Guaymí people and their distinctive colorful dress do exist
in this particular region, but barely. And they're clearly on the extreme economical and political fringe of society.
As I sat back and scrutinized the locals I perceived a desperate imitation of American society by a population
financially unable to really pull it off! Ever since the US government managed to strong arm their way into Panama
over a century ago to build and subsequently manage the Canal, their influence has been dominant. This goes back
to1903 when Panama became independent from Colombia. Prior to that the French had attempted a canal, but after
22,000 workers died from disease without them even getting very far they opted to try and sell the concession to
the USA, who up to then had planned on building an inland waterway through Nicaragua.
But the Colombian government refused to grant a canal treaty to the US, so when revolutionary sentiments rose and
a military junta declared independence, Teddy Roosevelt sent in battleships to prevent Colombian forces from reaching
land and stopping the secession. This new regime was getting backed by a classic case of "gunboat diplomacy"
since it'd previously agreed to orchestrate the sale of the concession for building the interoceanic pathway so
critical to the United States for both shipping and the movement of armed forces. Over the decades since, there's
been additional US military intervention on several occasions which has resulted in intermittent friction between
the USA and Panama.
One case was "Operation Just Cause", the invasion of Panama City by 26,000 US troops with tanks and aircraft
on December 20, 1989 to capture Colonel Manuel Noriega, a former CIA operative who'd apparently grown too big for
his britches. The US government was willing to overlook his abuse of power and involvement in international drug
smuggling up until he thumbed his nose at the United States just one too many times. Noriega was captured, but
at a cost of over 4,000 Panamanian civilians: the all too familiar "collateral damage" that usually results
from these kinds of foreign "operations".
As I passed through each Central American country on this trip and subsequently became more and more aware of preceding
US foreign policy towards it, I often wondered how it is that the natives of these nations are not more "anti-American"
than they are. But, other than in Nicaragua and to a slight degree in Guatemala, I've encountered very little animosity
towards Big Brother from the north while being here, even though a strong case could be made that there's ample
justification for being more than just a little resentful.
Certainly many jobs and a lot of investment capital have appeared due to North American presence and everyone in
Central America knows someone else who's working in the US and sending desperately needed money back home to their
family. They see opportunities and possibilites in the US that they don't have at home, as well as a model for
the quality of life they aspire to. The USA has done a terrific job of marketing the American Dream both inside
and outside its borders and in some cases has delivered on this promise.
But what about all the military invasions and other constant interference in their internal affairs, the propping
up and funding of dastardly dictators who spread terror while draining the treasuries, the economic control by
US corporations that have exploited and virtually enslaved the locals while extracting massive profits for themselves?
Regarding all that, I reckon the locals are either politically ignorant, uninterested, immensely forgiving, or
just too worn out to be bothered. This is a region where speaking up and taking action has frequently resulted
in you and perhaps even your family "disappearing" or being unceremoniously gunned down!.
Of course the Canal has been under the control of the Panamanian government since December 31, 1999, but the U.S.
had managed such a thorough job of dominating the country ever since the inception of the last century that their
influence has lingered and permeated nearly every aspect of life. For example, Major League Baseball has known
several quality players from Panama, unlike any other Central American nation, due to the decades-long influence
of military personnel there playing ball. The passion towards the US culture is dominant via other sports, pop
music, TV, movies, advertising… and especially clothing styles! Stores selling "Ropa Americana" are a
common sight.
Almost every teenager wants to look North American: the boys always with athletic shoes, jeans, t-shirt and baseball
cap and the girls with their trendy duds, though that's true all over Central America… hell, true over most of
the world! They've all been sold the image of the American Dream and they can't get enough. Nearly every boy wants
to be Brad Pitt and marry Jennifer Aniston and almost every girl wants to be Jennifer Aniston and marry Brad Pitt.
(I wonder if they've heard about the breakup?)
The next morning Vikky and I got a bus for $1.20 to Boquete, a ride of slightly more than an hour, uphill all the
way. This minuscule community sits at 1060m and is surrounded by luxuriant mountains. Taking a page out of neighboring
Costa Rica's tourism pitch it's described as being "a slice of Switzerland", which having been to that
European country I can say is stretching the truth considerably. But it is a visually stunning area and it's easy
to see why real estate there is being bought up at a dizzying pace. The climate is cool, the environment clean,
and it's highly suitable for both vigorous hiking and tranquil living. There'll be a few folks making an obscene
amount cash in the near future selling land. Unfortunately, the average Panamanian in this area who can't take
advantage of the foreign invasion will suffer economically due to the inevitable increase in the cost of living.
For some time now, Panama has been a favored destination for US ex-patriots and Bocas del Toro and Boquete are
two of the hot spots. Their allure is powerful: blissfully warm weather year-round; a virtually trouble-free, laidback
lifestyle; numerous opportunities for investment; plus the joy of thumbing their noses at the IRS. The US and Libya
are the only countries sleazy enough to try to tax their citizens regardless of where they live on the planet.
Despite this questionable practice and the decidedly bad company they're keeping, the IRS has been checking on
expatriates' tax status when they enter a US embassy to renew his or her passport. More and more US citizens are
moving abroad, opening businesses (tax laws are favorable for "extranjeros"), and getting second passports
from another nation before their original passport expires. With a foreign passport they drop off of the radar
screen.
For people who've gathered up their life savings and made a run for the border, Panama offers a chance to get a
bigger bang for their buck without "those greedy bastards at the IRS" taxing their interest bearing accounts.
With a reduced but steady revenue stream from retirement sources coming in they can usually transport their former
lifestyle down there with little adjustment. And rather than whine about the inevitable introduction of McDonalds,
Pizza Hut and Blockbuster Video, they salute and celebrate it. They find a little ex-pat community to hang out
in and learn just enough Spanish to get by. They then get to reap the benefits of thirty years or more of busting
their ass in some place like Raleigh or Flagstaff or Toledo. Ask them and they'll tell you that they're in seventh
heaven.
In addition to the above listed reasons for relocating outside of US boundaries, there've been more of late: the
increasing trend of an arrogant and recklessly domineering foreign policy by their government, a rapidly deteriorating
economy that's underwriting foreign invasions and occupations, plus the alarming rate at which individual human
rights are being stripped away in their home country. The post 9/11 Patriot Acts have virtually eviscerated the
Constitution and there are more and more Americans who see a disturbing trend and are "getting out before
it's too late", as I heard a few vehemently declare. More than one has commented to me, "The US is a
lot closer to some type of fascism than almost anyone up there realizes."
These are not glassy-eyed fanatics or burned out losers, but mainstream Republicans and Democrats, Methodists and
Catholics, teachers and construction workers and a lot of former servicemen and women - some of them "lifers".
They've served their country, paid their taxes, voted in every election, raised their children, done their civic
duty, been involved in their community and/or church, paid off their mortgage, and all whom I spoke with were well-informed
and calmly self-assured… though when the name George W. Bush came up the veins in their necks started bulging!
If you haven't noticed yet, on this six-week trip I had a bad run in with rainy weather and didn't hold up all
that well around it. Boquete didn't help. Once again I was confronted with an almost constant wind and mist and
I must say it really pissed me off! Who the heck wants to walk around with their raincoat on and their hood pulled
up over their head more than half the time? Well, that's just what Vikky and I had to do there. One night her umbrella
finally lost the battle and simply crumbled. One older couple informed me that this weather is not that uncommon
there, but that it's less windy and rainy "over the hill" - wherever that is. We did walk around and
explore a little, but our enthusiasm for hiking was certainly dampened. Apparently it's a brilliant trek to the
summit of Volcán Barú (3475m) in the nearby national park.
One place we did visit was "Mi Jardin es su Jardin", a private estate on the edge of town that was amazing!
It's a massive flower garden complete with fish ponds you can enter free of charge and wander around and hang out
in to your heart's content. There're also coffee plantations in the area you can check out and Café Ruíz
is popular with tourists for viewing the coffee processing, plus swilling down a freshly brewed mugful.
Vikky and I stayed at Pensión Marilós for $4.60 each and found it very nice, though the owner (North
American, I reckon) could have been a little friendlier for my taste. Ristorante-Pizzeria Salvatore served up some
decent pizza and was worth the walk. For breakfast, I recommend a small café called Olgas. Everything about
the place was special, including Olga!
If you noticed the absence of an exchange rate posted at the beginning, it's because it would have to be written:
$1 = $1. Panama uses US greenbacks as their official legal tender, a definite convenience with so many other currencies
existing in this region. As a traveler navigates through a few Central American nations with each varying currency,
he or she is faced with plenty of mathematical gymnastics. One day it's lempiras, another day it's córdovas,
then it might be colones or quetzales a few days later - each with its own unique exchange rate. I always keep
a calculator handy to avoid falling victim to mental meltdown.
During your transactions you'd better pay close attention to the part where you're getting your change back, especially
on buses. You might just get less than what you've got coming to you once the guy you're dealing with has sized
up your sucker quotient. Let's face it, when it comes to working with bigger numbers many tourists aren't all that
quick on the linguistic trigger finger. Even if their Spanish is a little shaky, grasping that "seis"
is 6 or that "ocho" is 8 is easy enough. Perhaps "diecinueve" (19) is "no problema".
But how will they do with 23.75, which is "veintitrés, setenta cinco", especially when the "v"
in veinte sounds like "b"? Or how about "cuatrocientos, treinta y dos, cincuenta" (432.50)?
At times, when people can't understand the numbers they just hand over a large bill and see what change they get
back. - pay and pray! I've certainly done that in some countries.
In summary, Panama was brief and frankly less than spell-binding for me. My perspective was clearly tainted by
less than favorable weather and I suppose it's a shame I didn't have more time, but that's the way it is. At least
I got there and saw and did something. I never want to influence anyone to avoid anywhere I've been - I want you
to go and judge for yourself. I just share my experiences and personal viewpoint and you should take it or leave
it as you see fit.
Many visitors marvel at the Canal, which is surely a remarkable feat of engineering. I've also heard some positive
comments about the old section of Panama City. In the far east on the border of Colombia is the Darién Province,
a pristine region of tropical rain forest declared by UNESCO as a world heritage site. It was way too far from
Costa Rica for me to get to or I would've gone there for sure. It's gorgeous and very diverse in flora and fauna,
but some parts are extremely dangerous due to environmental hazards, narco-traffickers, and plain old everyday,
gun-slinging banditos.
From Panama I would return to spend more time in both Costa Rica and Nicaragua - which I've already narrated. Then
I would sprint across the southern tip of Honduras to enter El Salvador, a country I would really enjoy, especially
after meeting the grandsons of the authority on guerrilla warfare who trained Che Guevara and the Castro brothers
for their historic revolution in Cuba. I got the whole story and it'll be next!
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Abrazos y besos,