Got off to a surprisingly early start, being that there was no bubbly or other alcoholic imbibement to impede my wits in the early morn. So I headed off in search of something nice to see in Panama City on New Years Day. Heading down towards the ocean, I was confronted by a virtual ghost town...empty streets, quiet houses, barred-up shops and eateries. It was a far cry from the bustling, noisy metropolis the Lonely Planet guide had predicted. But it was a welcome change, as in the following days, the noise and hustle and bustle returned. But for one day, I had the place to myself.
Along the malecón (waterfront walk), directly across from the military-barracks-looking U.S. Embassy, is the seafront glorieta with a statue of Balboa, the Spanish explorer who "discovered" Panama. It is an impressive little statue, and Mr. Balboa also has made quite a name for himself in other matters of Panamanian life -- not least of which is the fact that the currency is named after him. Though it is his in name only, since in reality, it is U.S. currency and the dollar, one Balboa, bears the familiar pixelated face of George Washington and not his earlier Spanish counterpart. That bit of business aside, the statue stands in quite an imposing site, where there is an impressive sweeping view of downtown Panama to one end, and the Old Quarter, with its Colonial roofs and Cathedral spires, to the other.
I chose to head towards the latter, continuing along the seawalk and being treated to the site of pelicans hovering above the water and performing sudden dive-bombs in to catch fish. Fish and seafood are big in Panama, and in fact the name of the country comes from an indigenous word meaning "abundance of fish." So I guess you might call these patriotic Pelicans. Then again, you might not.
Continuing along the walk towards the south, one comes to a pedestrianised zone spanning out to the left. Usually it is hopping with vendors of all kinds, and a lot of goods are sold off cheaply here. Though on my first pass through, it was uncharacteristically dead. At the bottom end of this is a small park called Santa Ana, with a little band stand, and more shoeshiners than I think I´ve ever seen in one single spot, save maybe the Plaza de Armas in Lima, Peru. That particular one I think should be renamed the Plaza de Pies for its plethora of nagging shoeshine boys. But I digress. Beyond Santa Ana lies the beginning of the Casco Viejo proper -- the Old Quarter of Panama City. This is not actually where the city was originally founded; that site lies a few kilometres away on the other end of town. But nonetheless it is chock full of beautiful colonial-style architecture. The only problem is, a lot of the buildings have fallen into disrepair and there is quite a dangerous element living in many of the blocks here. I was warned time and again that it was unsafe to be here at night, and even alone during the day. Nevertheless, I had no bad experiences when I went, probably due in part to the fact it was early on New Years Day.
The Plaza de Independencia here is where the Nation was born in 1903, and has a beautiful Colonial cathedral and several government offices and museums. The square looks as if it came straight out of a film set, and indeed scenes from "The Tailor of Panama" were filmed in this zone. Just two blocks away begins the Presidential complex, where the guards let me wander in to have a look. No sight of Mireya Moscoso, Panama´s female president, though there was an impressive view across the water to the downtown area (Casco Viejo is on a peninsula). Back out towards the tip of the peninsula, there is the National Theatre, another small plaza where Simón Bolivar gave a speech in a school about the necessity to unite the Latin American nations, and the French Embassy. Beside this last building, there is a little plaza and monument honouring the French attempt to construct the Panama Canal first, with large concrete tablets telling the history. Next to this is an old dungeon that has been converted to a classy jazz restaurant and museum, and atop it all is a lovely vine-covered seawall walkway, where artisans come out to sell crafts to unsuspecting tourists such as myself. Sitting in this area in the hot late-morning sun, sipping on a raspado (fruity ice slushy) and listening to Cuban son music blasted in the distance, made me remember why I love Latin America so much.
Heading back to the hotel, I began to get really hungry looking for a place to eat. Everywhere was closed, including all the recommended places in my guide. Finally, after much searching, and a near run-in with some firecrackers that some locals decided to put in my path for a bit of a laugh, I stumbled upon a Chinese place that was doing lunch. Thank goodness Chinese New Year is in February, otherwise I would have starved. Kung-hi-fa-choi.
In the afternoon I met up with family members of my friend Rochelle´s who live in Panama City. Bringing me out to see some sights, we passed again through the Casco Viejo and nearby Chorrillo, seeing some of the buildings and areas that were bombed in the U.S. invasion in 1989 to oust Noriega. In the poor Chorrillo district, the locals have taken to blasting loud music in the streets all the time it seems, so it wouldn´t work if the U.S. tried that trick again.
Crossing the Bridge of the Americas, the sole land route spanning the Panama Canal, we got a wodnerful view out to the Pacific Ocean, where boats awaited entry, and along part of the Canal to the Miraflores locks, where boats were coming through after their 8-hour journey across.
After a brief spate of car trouble (where a highway patrolman told us, helpfully, that we were in a bad place to break down because a lot of bandits were about), we crossed the Canal again and saw some boats pass through the Pedro Miguel locks farther inland. It is an impressive process to watch, as slow as it is. All the more impressive, though, because it hasn´t changed a bit since 1914, when the U.S. began officially running the Canal. Since then, the only major change has been in the administration, which was handed over to the Panamanian people on 31 December 1999, thanks in large part to a Treaty struck in the 70s with Jimmy Carter. Now Panama very proudly runs its own Canal without outside help, thank you very much.
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