Tuesday, May 26h
Here's the thing. I'm way behind
with this journal so figure I'd be best just jumping to today and
writing up the end of Brazil, Venezuela and Colombia (!) at a later
date.
So, I was happy to creep out my dingy
guest house in Cartagena, Colombia, this morning where I'd been
constantly paranoid that people were spying on me through the
numerous holes in my bedroom's ceiling and where I'd sat listening to
the owners having a shouting match last night. I was also proud of
myself for resisting the temptation of taking a taxi to the airport
and for buying all my breakfast from street stalls, including one
wonderful last jugo de zapote.
I was
in the check-in queue two hours before the 9.30am departure time and
it was a good job as the airline, Aires, was opening every piece of
luggage and going through its contents thoroughly. This made me a
little anxious as it took me a good 15 minutes this morning to get my
rucksack closed as, due to restrictions on the number of pieces of
luggage, I couldn't do my usual trick of cramming everything in and
putting any items which don't fit into a plastic bag. I warned the
police guy that he was free to go through all my stuff but he'd
better help me get it all back in. When I unzipped my rucksack, he
started muttering something in Spanish about I should have bought a
bigger bag, poked at one thing and then just told me to go straight
to the check-in desk. Thank goodness - packing my rucksack for a
flight is now a work of art! The searches weren't over then though as
when I went through to the gate, my hand luggage and person were both
checked ... twice. Maybe the customs staff know that visits to a
“secret” cocaine production site are now, unbelievably, part of
the trek to The Lost City in Colombia.
I got
talking to a colourfully-dressed, African-styled girl from Panama,
called Militza, in the check-in queue in Cartagena and on arriving in
Panama City (an hour's flight), she offered me a lift into town with
her husband, Chinese-born Enrique. This was fantastic as there were
no direct buses to my hostel. As we left the airport, I commented to
Militza that she looked beautiful in what she was wearing (she'd
bought a mulit-coloured headscarf in Colombia and had it across her
forehead and going down her back) and she replied that she doesn't
always dress up but “today I'm travelling”. The difference
between myself and her, the backpacker and the short term holiday-er,
suddenly dawned on me; Militza saw travelling as the day when she was
on show; I saw it as the day that I had to try and blend in with the
crowds so as to try and appear less foreign; the day I have to wear
trainers instead of dainty shoes so as to free up space in my
rucksack and wear dark colours so not to get prettier light clothes
dirty as I drag them onto different modes of transport.
One of
the nice things about travelling is the surprises it entails. Little
did I know, when I was getting into the car with Militza and Enrique,
that within a few minutes I would actually be standing not under the
shower in my hostel but in a Panamanian girl's flat, watching her
face drop in horror as she discovered that a cockroach had taken a
plunge into her fish bowl while she'd been away. It was a bloody
scene but miraculously the fish had survived, unlike the cockroach
(which apparently can live up to 9 days after losing their heads ...
but evidently not if they lose their heads to water). The detour was
a result of Militza suggesting we all go for lunch together via
picking her mother up and dropping her luggage off. Enrique insisted
on paying for my meal. I was touched by the friendliness and
generosity. What a welcome to Panama!
A
number of things always strike you when you get to a new country and
it's good to note them down before you get used to them and forget
that they were ever interesting. For Panama it would be the
following:
Panama's
currency is US Dollars for notes and its own currency, Palboas, for
coins, although US cents can also be used so there is, in effect,
two dual currencies.
Militza's
mother, Betty, came to lunch with her hair curlers in. Apparently
this is quite common practice (I also saw women with curlers in on
the streets in Colombia). She explained that she didn't like to use
a hair drier and apparently needs to leave them in for 3-4 days and
nights (!) for them to have the desired affect.
The
traffic in Panama City is horrendous and there is no metro system.
From
what I've heard so far, English is more widely spoken than in South
America.
Men
still hiss in the streets to try and get your attention, like in
South America.
It's
another country where you are led to think things are cheaper than
they are as tax is only added on to the price tags at the checkout.
Castle Luna Hostel
Situated
in the old town, it has just about everything a good hostel should
have: it provides you with a handy pocket-sized map on arrival
indicating loads of useful things for backpackers (like where to get
buses from, where there are cheap eateries and fruit stalls, which
areas you shouldn't walk in after dark, the main sites and
activities, etc.); it serves a breakfast of pancakes, bananas and
coffee each morning (three of my favourite breakfast items!); it has
info files made up detailing anything from which takeaways will
deliver to the hostel to what the bus timetables are for getting to
Costa Rica; the dorms have wonderful views looking out to the skyline
of Panama's new town across Panama Bay; towels are provided (huge
bonus); there are lockers in the rooms and you can purchase padlocks
from reception (let's hope I don't lose the key for this one); there
is a ping pong table, free wifi, 2 book exchanges, an assortment of
board games and friendly staff!
I was
eager to go and explore my new surroundings before dark so quickly
showered and headed out. This old area of Panama, the so-called casco
viejo, is beautiful; it contains
the presidential palace, pretty squares, crumbling old buildings with
real character and a cathedral. What really got me buzzing, however,
was the walk along the water's edge with fantastic views of The
Causeway on one side, ships out at sea in front of me, sky rises of
the new town on the other side and pelicans flying over head. Moments
like those – the exciting first views of a place which was only a
name in the air to me before and the curiosity those sights inspire
about where I have landed – is one of the absolute joys of
travelling.
Dinner
was probably the lowlight of my afternoon with a packet of noodles
made in a kitchen surrounded by groups of people who already know
each other. I'm too tired to be social tonight but hope to get a good
night's sleep so that I can “make friends” tomorrow (oh that
recurring first-day -at-school feeling!).
It's
amazing how many things can happen to you in one day ... breakfast
from street stalls in Colombia, a flight over the Caribbean, lunch
with new friends in a restaurant in Panama, a murder scene in a flat,
a walk through an historical quarter and a rendez-vous with the
Pacific Ocean. Oh, and at 1am, I've just finished chatting to my dad on Skype where he could see me on his computer screen. What an amazing world.
