Panama 8- Not again...

Dammit! It happened again! Somehow, my camera has disappeared. I don't know when or how, but it's gone. Everything else is intact, except for the camera. I'm going to get to the bottom of this. As for now, I don't want to talk about it. Stop probing.

Since I'm a bit flustered, this final post won't be as I want it. I have some more searching to do, so here's the rundown of my last two days in Panama City. I arrived yesterday by bus, and transferred to my hotel in Calidonia. It's a shady area, but the hotel is nice and secure. I walked around last night, which was an odd experience. The streets were full of pimps and hos, addicts and dealers, crazies and cripples, and every other type of individual that would make my parents wish I were staying anywhere else. Yet, this is a place with a lot of places that need to be protected by security guards, and it's always busy, so it's impossible to feel in danger.

Today, I went to the Panama Canal visitor's center where there was a museum, a theater showing a short documentary about the canal, and an observation deck where I saw some sailboats go through around 1 p.m. and then a big cargo ship around 3 p.m. It was very cool to watch, but unfortunately it's an experience I won't be able to share. Just google it.

I think I'm going to go drown my sadness in beer and pizza now.

UPDATE: Upon mentally retracing my steps, I've determined that there was no thievery, and the camera merely fell out of my pocket.  Whoops!

Panama 7- Slow Times in Pedasi

After waking up in Chitre and not feeling the need to stick around for another day, I hopped on a bus to Pedasi. They kicked me out of the van around noon to a deserted city square. For a moment, I thought, "there's no way this can be Pedasi." After all, Pedasi was the "next big beach town" as my guidebook said. Apparently, that's still a ways off. If I can arrive at noon on a Saturday in the middle of the town during the height of the tourist season and the place feels like a ghost town, something that's supposed to be happening isn't.

Upon a more thorough investigation, I found the townsfolk. It seems to me that they take Panamanian time to a whole new level. Every living soul I found was sitting out on their front porch just lounging about and chatting. I had to physically wake the little old lady that was the owner of the place I had chosen to stay at. Nobody seemed to want to do anything remotely productive. I'm sure this was in part due to the extreme heat, but I suppose this is just the Azuero way of life.


(Here's the main street of the town outside my place in the middle of the day. Not a lot is going on.)

I knew I wanted a relaxing final weekend, and I got it. A quiet little beach town full of people that love to sit around and laugh is the perfect fit for my desires. And, like in Chitre, I'm pretty sure I was the only gringo in town.

I'll sum up what happened today with a picture:



No more, no less.

While at the beach, something happened that made me laugh the hardest I've laughed in a long time. It was a very windy day, and a woman's hat blew away. Her husband ran after it. It rolled down the beach like a wheel, and he ran as fast as he could to catch up with it. He swiped at it, and missed. He tried to kick it to knock it out of motion, but it righted itself and kept on rolling. He lunged for it, and fell short into the sand. This probably went on for about a quarter-mile down the beach and his wife and I laughed every minute of it. We applauded when we saw his tiny form finally manage to catch it a long way down the beach. I even chuckle just thinking about it.

So, my weekend of beach time has come to an end. Tomorrow, I will head back to Panama City for one last hurrah (I figure I should see the canal), so check for my final post on Tuesday evening.

Panama 6- Last Days in Boquete

Here is what went down my last three days in Boquete. I'm not feeling creative, so I'll just tell you them as they were.

On Tuesday, as I hinted at in my previous post, I hiked Volcan Baru with the Jim that I met in the restaurant. I woke up early and headed over to Jim's hotel where we caught a cab to the trailhead. It was about a 30-minute drive, and took us to a place northwest of Boquete in the farmland. We walked from the trailhead to the ranger station, paid our dues, and then proceeded to make our way up the mountain. I got to know Jim on this leg, and found that he's a private-school teacher in Washington D.C. He seemed to share my perspective on travel and such, so we got along great. About two hours in, another American couple caught up with us that had started just a few minutes after we had. They (Robin and Byron) were federal economists from D.C., and were great company as well. We had a pleasant, albiet strenuous hike up the mountain.

The summit was an interesting place. The trail itself was a road (technically) leading to a communication outpost at the summit. So after this great sense of accomplish from arriving at the top, there are buildings and radars and such. Still, it was desolate, and we were the only ones at the top of that cold summit, which was a plus. And when you walk past that facility, there's another scramble up some rocks to the true summit, at which there is a cross. The rocks around the summit are covered with names, spray-painted on by proud Panamanians that reached the top of their world.

Baru is the highest peak in Panama, and on a clear day you can see both oceans, which is rare. Normally, you can only see the the Pacific (as we were told). We could only see the Carribean, which was still neat.

It is to note that Jim and I were gravely under-prepared for this hike. The guidebook didn't make it sound as tough as it was. It ended up being ten miles to the top (and, of course, the same back down) with a 6,000 ft. elevation gain. But, of course, ol' Bill Friar (the author of my guidebook) puts everything in the metric system. When I see meters and kilometers, I just don't take them seriously. Turns out with this hike, even with the conversion, it was no joke. Yeah, we made it out alive, but we were not feeling too swell afterwards, or at least I wasn't. When I got back to my place and took off my socks, I was horrified at the state of my feet. 20 miles on rocky terrain is not meant to be done on a pair of cross-trainers. Needless to say, after our nine-hour hike, I took the night off.

Here be pictures:















The next day I woke up feeling horrible. Long story short, I abused the toilet seven times that day before the Pepto Bismol kicked in. (I was still happy though.)

The last day (Thursday) I hopped on a bus to the rural community of Caldera. Caldera, which is a solid 2,500 ft. lower than Boquete was blazing hot. From the bus stop, I begin on a 45-minute hike to some local hot springs (Los Pozos de Caldera). As I walked down the dusty road to the hotsprings, I saw iguanas sunning themselves on rocks as vulture's silhouettes circled in the air, and I thought there was no way I would get in those hot springs. Yet, once I got there, I found them to be quite pleasant. I was alone for most of the time, except for a half-hour period in the middle where I was joined by a young British couple that was on the last leg of a 4 1/2 month trip.

When I felt like I was just about to pass out, I exited the hot springs and made my way down to Rio Caldera, where I sat, read, and dipped my feet in the river for a few hours. Then, I hiked back up to Caldera, and hopped on the bus to take me back to Boquete. All in all, it was a very pleasant day.

On my last evening in Boquete, I noticed this:



Apparently, when she was turned down for the job of being vice president, Sarah changed her name, gain some weight, and lowered her expectations.

So now, I'm in Chitre, one of the bigger cities of the Azuero peninsula, which isn't saying much. I can't be sure, but I think I might be the only tourist in the entire city. I ate at a hotel cafe right on the central plaza at 7:30, and I was the only one there.

Tomorrow or the next day (depending on what I feel like), I will be heading down to Pedasi, a coastal city that still maintains a distinctly Spanish-colonial vibe.



Adios!

Panama 5- Bliss

There are many shades of happiness. There is pleasure, when something good happens and your spirits are raised, but only for a while. There is contentment, where you feel that all is well, and you've no qualms with the world. There is cheerfulness, where you exhibit a genuine lightheartedness. And there there is pure bliss, where every moment is a gift, every action is significant, every individual is a miracle, and you feel that your life has reached its' apex. That is the kind of feeling you get in Boquete.

You feel it as you sip a cold beer by the plaza, watching the children walk by with ice cream cones. You feel it as you wait at a bus stop high on the hillside, surrounded by coffee farms and orange groves. You feel it as you walk down the street and are greeted by an old man with a quick "buenos" and a tip of the hat. You feel it as you sit in your room and stare out the window at the mountains as the raindrops tap on the tin roofs and the thunder rolls in the distance. My joy couldn't even be shaken by the site of four men quietly carrying a coffin out of a local's home and placing it in a hurse. "What a life," I thought, "to live and die in Boquete."

Yes, the rumors are true. There's a reason why so many people come to Boquete for tourism or to retire. The people, the land, the culture... they all exude a certain warmth you rarely find.

Sentimental bullshit out of the way, let's get down to what's been going on in Boquete. I've spent a lot of time wandering around the city and surrounding area, talking to the locals and other travelers, and generally enjoying myself. I hiked through the breezy farmlands to Cerro Pianista, sauntered through some local gardens, and (finally) went on a zipline tour.

These pics are from the hike to Pianista:













Oh, and here's my mango that I bought at the market:



As I type, she sits on my dresser in my room, ripening. What a tease, she is, with her green skin. She will be mine. Oh yes, she will be mine.

Did you know you can get lice from a pelican?

So today was zipline day. I headed down to Boquete Tree Trek shortly before 10, and we borded a truck for the rollercoaster-of-a-ride up the hillside to a lodge where we were geared up. We then got back on the truck to go higher up the hillside to the first platform. After a quick hike to the platform, they started to send us across. Talk about an adrenaline rush! A zipline ride is truly something you must experience. There were twelve cables of varying lenghts an speeds, with the best being the third-to-last that was 400 meters long, allowing me to reach speeds up to 60 km/h. (Sorry about the metric measurements.) I apparently didn't brake hard enough, which ended in my slamming into the manual brake (a wooden block on a bungee cord) and almost hitting the tree. This earned me the nickname "kamikaze" among the guides.



(Notice the person suspended by the zipline in the middle. That was the second-to-last line. The third-to-last line was above it, with only a little bit visible in the top-left corner of the photo.)

Afterward, I grabbed some lunch with a few people from the group. I went back to my hostel to read for a few hours. Then, I went and grabbed some dinner with a guy named Brad, a former Peace Corps worker and world-traveler. At the place we went, we met another guy named Jim (who I don't know very well yet) that invited me to join him on his trek up Volcan Baru tomorrow morn. Should be a great hike, as long as the weather doesn't get in our way.

Now for a tidbit of advice (that is entirely useless to most of us) and a funny story.

First, the advice. On my bus to Boquete, I shared a bench with Steven, a biologist contract-worker that has worked on projects in some of the most dangerous parts of the world. Some of the worst were in places like Burkina Faso and Cote d'Ivoire, which are in western Africa for those of you that didn't pay attention during geography class. He said what he did was stitch a patch into his underwear where he would hide a big wad of cash. He did this because it was common for rebel fighters to knock a tree down on the road to stop cars, and then take everything from someone, leaving them in naught but their undies. (Rebel fighters care about another's dignity, apparently, as long as they deem that person not worth raping.)

Now, for the funny story. This one comes from Brad as he was on his way to Bocas del Toro from Panama City on a little puddlejumper. The flight was going along smoothly until a bunch of wind started to rush through the cabin. The door had come open! He, another guy (who was a friend of the guy I shared the cab with to Casco Viejo from the airport), and the copilot had to hold the door closed until they landed back at Panama City to figure out what terrorists had done this.

I've said enough for tonight. It is late, and I need to get up early tomorrow. As evidenced by my post, I'm doing alright, to say the least.

Panama 4- Pics of Panama City

I left Panama City this morning on a bus headed northwest to David (pronounced "Dah-veed"). It was a 7-hour ride, and I had planned to transfer to take the quick 1-hour bus to Boquete, but I was done riding buses for the day so I stopped here for the night. Not a great idea, since this town has nothing to offer tourists (lessen ye' be a farmer), so I will be on my way to Boquete early tomorrow morning. I'm staying at a decent place that's centrally-located, and has cable TV and air-conditioning, for $40 a night. I didn't plan on spending this much on a place, but I got here late and I didn't want to mess around finding a place to stay so I grabbed a room at the first place with availability. Now, with my belly full of a sandwich that could have adequately fed a family of four, I'm going to watch some TV and get an early start on tomorrow. This place has AXN, which regular readers of my blog will know as my favorite Latin-American cable channel.

Now, for pics:

Here's the neighborhood of Casco Viejo that my hostel was located in. It's a historic visit, and the streets are crowded with old farts on walking tours during the day.









There were also great views of the Panama City skyline, which juts out on a stubby peninsula away from the mainlain, as does Casco Viejo.



And here are the pics of Panama la Vieja (a.k.a. Panama Viejo). Just to reiterate, it was the precursor to Casco Viejo, established by the Spanish in the 1500s, and burned to the ground by the Welsh in the 1600s.







And, like in Casco Viejo, there were great views of downtown Panama City from the top of the cathedral at Panama Viejo. (Panama Viejo is on the other side of downtown Panama City.)



And that's what has happened so far. I haven't taken any pictures of David, and I probably won't because it's just a city like any place you've been in middle-America. Tomorrow I will be on my way to a place that I'm really looking forward to.

And just for some quick thoughts, I don't think I've ever quite articulated this, but I've always felt out of place when I go on these trips. People like me don't do what I do. Maybe that's because the places I go are a bit more off the beaten path than the travel destinations of the rest of the Zachs around the world, but I've yet to find a fellow traveler I can truly relate to. Firstly, the vast majority of people I find here are seniors and are doing their best to wring every last bit of enjoyment out of life. Secondly, when I do find folks my age, they are backpacking hippies that, frankly, I do not care for. They come to these places, contribute next to nothing for the local economy, and walk around shirtless, in flip-flops, and wreaking of the stink they haven't washed off in days. Meanwhile, even the poorest Panamanians wear a button-up and a hard shoe. I percieve it to be a lack of respect for the local culture, and so do the locals. It's also gross. I don't need to see your nipples while I'm eating. I don't expect them to wear a suit and tie, but at least dress like you would at home where you care about the people in your community.

So, as not to leave on a negative note, as I traversed Panama today (by bus), I saw some of the coolest landscape mine eyes have ever consumed. It was tropical and mountainous, and reminded me of Jurassic Park. I wish I could walk everywhere and take it in at my own pace, but unfortunately time does not permit.

Peace.

Panama 3- Initial Impressions

I arrived around 9 p.m. last night, breezed through customs and immigration, and headed out to the concourse to grab a taxi. I split the cab with a guy named Darren who was on the same flight and was also heading to Casco Viejo, the neighborhood that my hostel was in. He, too, had come from Seattle. I came to find that he was also a UW grad (of '07). We talked about this and that until we arrived at his place, dropped him off, and made the quick trip over to mine.

I checked in and was led to my room. It was only once I closed the door and dropped my bags that I realized how hot it was. I collapsed on my bed, sweating profusing as the fan glanced back and forth across the room. I grabbed my watch from the bedside table and saw it was 85 degrees. That's 85 degrees at night, on a ground-level room, with a fan blowing the air around. Needless to say, the following day was only worse. Coming from freezing temperatures and the occassional snow, this is a bit of a shock. I'm rocking 30 SPF, but I don't know if that's enough. I might even... get some color. Don't worry though; doctor says it'll clear up in a day or two.

As for Panama City, it's much like any other big Latin-American city I've been to: stinky, dirty, loud, and all the other things that I typically hate. Yet, I still come to these places. I guess it's the food, and the people, and the change of scenery.

I woke up this morning late, ran a few errands, and then headed out to do something. Panama la Vieja, the original Panama City that was burned down by the goddamn Welsh pirates about 400 years ago, sounded like a good place to start. 'Twas a peaceful establishment, comprised of old stone walls and grassy meadows. I'll talk more about that and show pictures later.

The ride there was horrifying. The cab driver was nice and informative as I conversed with him in my lackluster Spanish, but he drove like a maniac. To make matters worse, he flipped down a DVD monitor (covering his rearview mirror) and put on a Snoop Dog music video, watching it as he drove. THEN he got a phone call, so he's talking on his cellphone, watching a music video, and somehow managing to steer a vehicle at breakneck speed through a crowded city. Yet, we got there in one piece.

On the way back, I walked a short ways, thinking Í'd grab a taxi a little way down the street. I kept putting it off, saying, "maybe I'll just walk a little bit further." Eventually, I just decided to walk back on what was a 45-minute taxi ride. It was equally frightful, as I dodged cars during the daylight hours and prostitutes after the sun went down. It took about three hours, but I walked the length of Panama City on foot. Why? Because I'm traveling solo and I don't have to listen to your whiny voice! Yeah, you don't let me do the things I want to do, and that's why you weren't invited. Glad I could get that off my chest. I hope you understand.

So now, I must get some eats. Walking from one end of a city to the other really takes it out of you. Then, I'll ask around, check my book, and see if I can't figure out what tomorrow will bring.

Panama 2- On the Eve of Panama

Well, the day is almost here. Tomorrow morning, I set out at 7:30 a.m. on a southbound jet to Panama (well, actually to Atlanta first). In all honesty, I am gravely under-prepared for this trip. For my other excursions, I at least made the attempt to figure out a general itinerary beforehand. This time, no such plans have been made. I could chock it up to being overworked and stressed from all my other responsibilities, but that wouldn't be entirely accurate. Obviously, if I wanted to make the time I could. See, that's my problem; I get all caught up in something and I let everything else fall by the wayside. If only I could focus!

Where was I? Right, the trip. My lack of planning is no biggie, because I want this to be a leisurely, open-ended two weeks. The one bit of planning I did take care of was booking my hostel for the first couple nights. I will be staying at the Hospedaje Casco Viejo in which is in an old, historic district of Panama City. It's actually the neighborhood that the president of Panama resides in, so I'm sure it's pretty safe. After two nights there, I will be free to spend the remainder of my trip however I wish. Where I go is yet to be determined, but I imagine that a jaunt westward is in order.

Like Peru, I'll update this blog every few days with the events, pictures and witty commentary that you crave. If I go more than five days without posting, the Colombians probably got me, and it's no use coming after me. Save your tears, my precious feather, for we shall meet again.