Wednesday, May 27th
Nice start to the day when, without having to move an inch, I
opened my eyes and saw Panama's skyline coming out of the morning
mist across the Bay of Panama from the huge ceiling-to-floor window
next to my bed. I then very much appreciated not having to queue for
a shower and had fun making my own pancakes for breakfast (apparently
this make-your-own pancake breakfast, mixture provided, is quite
typical in Central American hostels).
Took a ride amongst the staring but friendly locals in one of the
whacky, colourful, American-style buses (the so-called “diablo
rojo”, “red devil”) to Panama Viejo where I met Melitza
(Panamanian girl I met at Cartagena airport yesterday). The visitor's
centre there was a good starting point for filling in the many gaps
in my knowledge about Panama's history. I discovered it was founded
in 1519 and during the 1520s and 1530s became a base for expeditions
to Central and South America. In January 1671, it was attacked by
the Welsh pirate Henry Morgan (it's interesting where Britain's
aggressive foreign policy has popped up on this trip!). As a fire
destroyed large parts of the city after Henry Morgan's looting of it,
it was rebuilt in a new location in 1673, five miles from the
original Panama site. That's why the city now has two "old
towns" - Panama la Vieja (ruins from the Panama pre-Henry
Morgan attack) and Casco Viejo, where the government buildings
now are and where my hostel is.
Militza and I walked around the ruins and then popped into a
little artisan market where my new Panamanian friend made an
essential purchase for me ... a must-have, apparently, for any girl
in South and Central America: dangly, hoop earrings. I'm sure I'll
blend in now.
The day took one of those unexpected,
with-a-local-anything-could-happen turns when Mily announced around
lunchtime that she had actually just purchased a car (her first ever)
and needed to go and collect it. And get this ... she wanted me to
drive the car out of the car house as she hasn't had an automatic
before (like I have!). I told her that would be crazy; Harrogate and
Panama City driving environments couldn't be more different:
organised, one-way street traffic, busy but respectful in a northern
England town versus, well, pure chaos. I just wasn't sure I could
drive and beep constantly, ignore red lights and forget to use my
indicator. The Panamanians would have me for dinner; I would end up
being the jam in the traffic, if you like.
So after a bit of an uproar because one of the documents wasn't
ready (the girl has more balls than a snooker player), Mily
eventually sat behind the wheel and unashamedly asked one of the
garage men to drive her to the petrol station, fill and wash the car
and then tell her how to drive it. Given her gorgeous Latin looks,
she generally gets men eating out of the palm of her hand and today
was no exception. Once the briefing was over, the keys were placed in
Mily's hand and we jolted out of the car park giggling away. What
is it with girls and garages, Mily and men!
Mily had the great idea of heading straight for The Amador
Causeway, a narrow stretch of land which connects mainland Panama to
four islands (as an aside, it was made by rocks excavated from the
building of the Panama Canal). Lunch was a fantastic meal on the
terrace of a restaurant overlooking a harbour full of yachts at the
end of The Causeway whilst watching small boats making deliveries to
the ships waiting to enter the Canal. It was all quite perfect and
wonderfully unplanned.
On the way back to the mainland, I decided to take Mily up on her
offer and drove her new Honda Civic back down The Causeway –
probably the safest road in Panama to drive down given that there is
water on both sides reducing the frequency of manic over-taking. At
the end we stopped to take photos of the Bridge of Americas - an
arched road bridge which spans the Pacific entrance to the Canal.
We wanted to watch the sun go down from the top of Cerro Ancon (a
hill with supposed great views of the city) but the security man at
the bottom warned us it was not advisable at dusk so we quickly
checked out "Mi Pueblito" at its base (a number of artisan
shops in an artificial village setting) before driving on to the
convention centre where there was an artisan fair on (what an artisan
day we were having!). It was great being with Mily because she took
me to local hangouts and the fair was exactly one of these places. It
was an enormous array of stalls selling traditional clothes,
jewellery and food and it was buzzing with smiling Panamanians
carrying new purchases. A band and dancers in traditional dress
provided great background entertainment to the shopping frenzy. Mily
bought me some sandals and I bought her a sunflower plant and a
little accessory she'd said she'd liked so we too joined the masses
leaving with smiles and bags.
It was late by the time Mily dropped me off at my hostel but she
came in with me to check out information on trips to the San Blas
Islands (an archipelago off the eastern coast of Panama). Mily has
never been and I'm delighted that she's decided to join me on a trip
there ... firstly because I think all Panamanians should see the
paradise which lies on their doorsteps and secondly because she's a
lot of fun and it feels like she's an old school friend despite
having only met her a couple of days ago. We booked up for leaving on
Friday ... at the shocking hour of 5am. That gives us one day to see
the Canal, hike in Parque Metropolitano, walk to the top of Cerro
Ancon, go salsa dancing and get some sleep. Why do I always want to
do everything?
Thursday May 28th
Well not surprisingly, the
overly-ambitious goals for today, bar one (the salsa dancing), were
not achieved. As it was, I spent most of the morning and early
afternoon just trying to get to the post office, conscious of the
fact that I couldn't let another day pass without posting my sister's
birthday card. The confusion came about when I asked a passerby what
the name of the road I was on was called. According to my map it
should have been the Central Avenue. I was told, however, that I was
on Calidonia Road. As I had just walked through what looked quite a
dodgy area, I wasn't too pleased about having to walk back through it
but I did, half an hour back, in the rain. I then asked another
passerby and was told that the road I had just come from, was, in
fact, Central Avenue (as well as being Calidonia Road). So it was
back past the same men calling out the same lines, ranging from
hisses to almost marriage proposals.
I did eventually get to the post office
and realised then why few people had been able to give me clear
directions to it: the city famous for being a logistical hub,
connecting the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans, has a post office the
size of small corner shop; in fact that's generous, it's maybe just a
bit bigger than a newspaper stand, drab and archaic-looking without
any sign outside to indicate it was a post office, nevermind the
capital's central one. Anyway, to get to the point of this really
not so interesting but at the time frustrating and therefore
necessary-to-tell -to-clear-my-head adventure, my mail wasn't accepted because I had
put celotape on the envelopes. The lady must have felt a wee bit
sorry for me as I stood there wet and tired-looking and after a
little pleading on my part, she got someone to make some new, larger
envelopes for me into which I could slide my dangerous celotape
envelopes.
As I was walking down the street
wondering whether my sister would ever get her birthday card, Mily
phoned me (she's lent me a mobile, how strange does it feel to be
called after 10 months of not being contactable!) and told me she
could meet me for a late lunch in an hour or so. I decided to kill
some time by heading to Via Espana, one of the main streets in
Panama, to try and change my Colombian pesos into dollars. It wasn't
a particularly pleasant walk there, along busy, congested streets and
passed more men who felt the urge to hiss and refer to me as their
amor but I managed to complete my mission and was entertained
in the queue in the process by three Israeli guys who were making out to an elderly
Panamanian woman that they were musicians from Cuba. Upon leaving
money exchange place, Mily phoned again and told me to head to Via
Argentina. Unfortunately, she failed to tell me where on Via
Argentina and, in the Panamanian style of hanging up without saying
goodbye, I didn't get the chance to ask her for that small detail. I
had no credit on the phone to call back so just headed to the street
and hoped she'd phone back soon. Given that by now it was going on
4pm, I had practically walked across the whole of Panama City, had
had nothing to eat since breakfast and knew that we had no chance of
getting to see Panama Canal the same day, the 45 minute wait in the rain
was somewhat soul destroying. All was forgiven, however, when she came around
the corner smmiling and started telling me she was going to take me to a salsa
class after our late lunch.
The class was the highlight of the day,
three hours of instruction and practice with whoever asked us to
dance. We left around 9.30pm,
conscious that we had to be up at 4am to leave on our trip to the
San Blas islands. After driving back to the hostel, packing my bags
for the trip, and checking my e-mails, it was actually gone midnight
by the time I sneaked through the dorm into bed. I guess I'll be able
to rest on the desert island ... no electricity after 10pm, just huts
and sand ... what could possibly keep us up so late there?
