PANAMA CITY

My final day gave me the chance to explore on foot and try to experience the full range of what Panama City has to offer.  I’m the only tour member left now so could set my own itinerary. My first aim was to revisit the Casco Antiguo as yesterday’s lightning tour didn’t seem enough. 

I headed south past a modern hospital adorned with a highly decorative Christmas Tree and found myself in a Parkland area between the Avenue Balboa and the Pacific Ocean. 

In every way this was a First World artefact:  neatly mowed grass, paths and cycleways, tasteful planting, shelters and even re-cycling areas for rubbish. 

Policemen patrolled at regular intervals.  I’ve written before about the levels of security in Central America and the all too prominent bearing of firearms by the security services but finally have begun to think that, if the guns were removed they are providing the very service that most people in UK claim to want.  In other words; more policemen on the streets. 

Trouble is it would be very expensive to provide such a level of service in the UK.

As noted yesterday, the entire Casco Antigua is set to benefit from an urban renewal scheme which will see the building shells restored to productive use. 

Work has already started in places and men were busy in places.  Strange to see so much activity taking place on a Sunday although in the area around the hotel virtually everything is shut down for the day.  In one place it was clear that progress will be even slower as squatters have taken over the buildings and the legal wheels (to evict them) grind even more slowly than in most other places.  On the French Square there were women selling textiles who appeared to be of a completely different ethnic character to those met in Boquete.  Brief research seems to suggest that further north the dresses are called Enagua and are worn by the Ngobe Bugle whilst here in Panama City the ladies were Quechua. 

Confusingly, these people are from South America so I need to do some more research on this.  I attracted the attention of an elderly Jamaican man who seemed to want to help me.  He started off by telling me how favourable the male/female ratio was here in Panama City.  When this didn’t gain much reaction he began to tell me about some of the churches and tried to get me interested in the wares of some of the street traders.  I told him that what I really wanted was a simple nylon bag to accommodate my luggage overflow and he offered to take me to a suitable shop.  En route we passed two freshly minted American tourists and he promptly abandoned me with the words, “Got to make some money.”

I made my way back to the hotel through a district far less salubrious although I wouldn’t have wanted to walk it at night. 

It is striking how great the contrast is between the north and south side of the Avenue Balboa.  Even the pavement is not much used for walking on.  The city boasts several very modern shopping malls so my next target was the Multicentro Mall just so I could experience the contrast.  Tiring by now I took a taxi to get there.  Sad to say, Shopping Malls are the same everywhere and the only real difference here was the Christmas Angels outside. 

Inside was a ‘Relaxation Centre’ where two very bored looking masseurs were pummelling two clients who didn’t seem any the worse for the experience.  Returning to the real world I could see that I was very close to skyscraper land and set off for a closer look.  Most of these buildings have appeared in the last 15 years and although the top ends look very impressive the impact of the climate was already apparent on the lower portions of some buildings with paint peeling and rust spreading from metal fixings.  Whilst some of the buildings are commercial, a lot of them have large amounts of residential space and it is clear that this is where the moneyed classes live. 

I found a park in which extremely well dressed children were being supervised by equally well dressed women.  There were not too many men about so maybe my Jamaican friend had a point!  My final stop was to photograph the Revolution Tower.  This had caught my eye from miles away and was equally impressive close up although I wish there had been just a little sunshine to set up the photograph. 

At a distance it looks more like an optical illusion; close up it looks unique.

Returning  to the hotel and looking forward to food and a drink I found that there was nothing open except McDonalds.  This one was not like any other I’ve been to.  We had been warned to expect slower service in Panama than anywhere else but so far, this had not really been the case.  OK, there was a bit of a queue but it took 25 minutes to get a burger.  Good job Panamanians don’t go in for slow cooking.  Since then I’ve written up all the remaining days, packed my bag and disposed of my rubbish.  A taxi is due at 6am to take me to the airport and the long journey home starts.  Many hours have gone into this blog and if I’d appreciated before I began how much effort it would take I might never have started.  I’m glad I did.  Next week I shall offer a few final reflections on the overall experience but for now, Hasta Luego!

THE LAST LEG

The final travel day began with a characteristically early start,  the pay-off being that we would be in Panama City by midday.  This time we had a Toyota Hiace  van that seemed to offer slightly more space than previous vehicles and it was certainly better padded for comfort.  This soon proved to be necessary as our driver Ricardo was a confident soul whose technique involved approaching all gravel sections and potholes at maximum speed.  However we reached Santiago and picked up the Pan-American Highway well ahead of schedule.  For the major road through Central America there seemed to a paucity of signage through this area and I think it would be possible to drive a considerable distance in the wrong direction before you might notice your mistake.  At a comfort stop I noticed an unusual form of customised transport.  This photo shows a Toyota flatbed truck with a home-made cabin welded on top. 

Lord knows what the seating arrangements were!

As we neared Panama City there was an increase in settlement and traffic information as well.  I’d half expected some sort of favela as we approached the city but what I saw was lots of pretty new basic housing. 

It turned out that poorer housing was perhaps more on the eastern side of the city as well as around the central district.  Again, to my surprise Panama City looks modern in every way with more skyscrapers than I’ve seen since Chicago. 

This perhaps reflects a lack of research on my part.  After dropping our bags at the hotel I found a Panaderia around the corner where a plate of chicken and rice could be had for only $2.  A pity it has taken me the whole trip to find that such places actually exist.  We’d all opted to take a Panama trip as most of the group were flying out the next day.  I’d hoped it would orientate me for further exploration.  Our first stop was the Miraflora Lock on the Panama Canal.  It seems unlikely that watching boats pass through a lock could be such a major tourist pastime but there were hoards there and the viewing gallery was packed. 

I found it amazing that such massive ships could be moved through the system so efficiently without even brushing the sides.

From here we were taken along the causeway out of the city, where we could good views of the city and its skyscrapers but other than visiting the duty free shop there didn’t seem much point to this as we couldn’t stop on the causeway to take photos whilst the marina at the end of the causeway obstructed the views considerably.  From here we went to the old city.  Already something of a tourist magnet it is currently undergoing refurbishment, largely funded by UNESCO. 

Most of the buildings are shells only and in places a range of structures are needed to keep the facades in place.  Doubtless, when the work is finished there will be masses of cafes and bars and prices will increase dramatically.

In the evening I met up with Sarah, who seemed much happier having spent a few days away from the group; weeks of group travel is much harder than one might imagine.  Anyway, she is now looking forward to her time in Cuba.  She started over month before me so I hope she enjoys it as well.  I’m ready for home now!

IN THE SUN

Determined not to waste my final chance of sunshine I rose early for a run along the beach and, after a good breakfast (nice to be back on solids) settled in for some vigorous sunbathing before the UV got too strong.  I found myself in the middle of a crab community but every time I tried for a close-up they vanished down a hole.  Persistence paid off and now I can add a crab shot to the other creatures shown in this blog. 

After a dip in the surf and some time spent reading I decided to set out for the village and see what was going on.  In a word – nothing.  Santa Catalina is only just waking up to tourism based on the excellent surf beach and most of the buildings look as if they’ve been there for years. 

Some were only simple wooden structures but many still enjoy the magic of television.  The petrol station is a case in point. 

Hardly an advert for auto service!  Now the infrastructure is in place many newer buildings will be added and there are clearly plenty of plots for sale.

Returning to our accommodation it was time to take to the shade until the sun weakened.  As the tide came in the surfers started to appear and I could see how the gradual incline of the beach contributed to long lasting waves that offered an extended ‘ride’ for those on boards. 

Eventually the reward for further patience was a wonderful sunset and my suntan seems quite restored although I guess it won’t last too long in England now that winter is here.

THE PACIFIC COAST

An early start saw us crammed into a Nissan Urvan for the transfer to Santa Catalina.  These vans are not only designed for small people but also for ones of strange shape and with a total disregard for personal comfort.  I think I’ve said this before and given that nobody is going to feel sympathetic best to shut up about it.  Even so, it is worth the discomfort for the dramatic reduction in travel time and serious bag carrying that public buses involve.  I can’t really describe the journey as I dozed painfully through most of it.  There did seem to be a lack of villages and remarkably few places to encourage travellers to stop for refreshment.  As we progressed southwards and westwards the land became lower and drier so that cattle once again reasserted themselves as a feature of the landscape.  Nearing our destination I even saw a combine harvester but there was little evidence of fields growing stuff that needed combining.

Our accommodation at the Oasis Surf Camp could only be reached by wading through a shallow channel so we should be pretty safe here. 

We are staying in little cabins right on the beach so the sound of the surf should lull me to sleep tonight.  My cabin is a fetching mauve colour. 

The early arrival meant that we had time for lunch before I ventured out to walk along the beach in both directions.  In the next cove is a little tent settlement so once again the first and third world rub shoulders fairly closely even in a surfers’ paradise.

INTO THE MOUNTAINS

Gastric complaints are very much part of normal life in Central America and the traveller, exposed to such a variety of sanitary arrangements and food preparation, is probably more prone than most.  I’d begun to think myself immune to such matters so when reality struck in the wee small hours I at least gave me time to do something about it.  Immodium is wonderful stuff and two tablets supplemented by a draught of vanilla extract administered by Luis our host, seemed to stem the flow.  Equipped with the back-up of a Lomotil tablet I was ready to face a day’s travel without embarrassment to myself or the rest of the group.  As has become the norm on travel days the sun shone without interference from cloud cover and the sea was mirror calm.  The boatman, the same man who brought us to Bastimentos had the good grace to apologise for the previous ride and promised a smoother transition back to Almirante.  Safely delivered our transport was waiting and we were quickly on the way to Boquete.

The road surfaces were excellent and we soon began to climb through what appeared to be virgin forest whilst the routeway was sufficiently open to allow extensive views. 

Given that the forest is such an important resource for the planet as a whole and the tourist industry in particular, Panama has done well to preserve so much of it.  Whether this is by accident or design I don’t know.  Eventually we were sufficiently high to see all the way to the Pacific Ocean. 

The final stretch into Boquete showed evidence of major road building so clearly there is an attempt being made to facilitate travel from Panama City into the more equable climate of the highlands.

Our hostel is basic but comfortable so I was glad to be able to retire to my room and deal with stomach cramps and nausea in private. 

I emerged mid-afternoon to find some coffee and attempt food to be accosted by a charming gentleman who tried to get me interested in buying property.  No tax for 20 years was the main carrot.  He did, however, lead me to an excellent coffee shop.  I’d imagined that good coffee would be a norm in this part of the world but this has not proved to be the case.  An empanadilla seemed like a good idea but proved difficult to digest so I headed back to bed and made use of the hostel’s excellent wi-fi service to download some music successfully.  Apparently the provision of wi-fi is something that has developed rapidly in the last year.  Certainly, only a few places have been without it but the quality of provision has varied wildly.  This was the best by a long way.

A long evening nursing my aches and pains was punctuated by a single visit to buy some coca cola and a bio yoghurt before it was necessary to fit ear plugs in order to get some sleep.  Hostels are generally pretty noisy and this was par for the course.

I rose the next day feeling decidedly frail but definitely over the worst.   A brief exploration of the town led to a cup of coffee but I postponed breakfast until a little later.  The town seems to function more widely than the tourist centres visited recently and, whilst tourism is still important, there are not that many cafés and bars but the range of shops and services is much broader.  A REAL town, in other words.  I had got used to women in traditional clothing in Nicaragua and Guatemala but this was not a feature of Costa Rica.  Here in Panama the costumes are worn by many although the ladies are no more willing to be photographed. 

Like everywhere else, preparations for Christmas are in full swing and I came upon fresh evidence of Christmas trees. 

In Bocas I spotted one through a window, still in its nylon wrapping and already turning brown at the edges. These looked OK but at those prices I wonder who actually buys the things. 

After the opulence of the churches witnessed elsewhere the buildings have seemed low key affairs recently and in Bocas ‘low’ church was definitely the order of the day.  Here, the Catholic church made a comeback but it was definitely a rather restrained affair although workmen were busy replacing all the marble tiles on the entrance steps.

The afternoon was given over to the pleasures of quad biking and I greatly enjoyed bombing around the tracks and minor roads of the area. 

As we got higher coffee plantations took over but it was surprising to see areas cleared for the cultivation of more temperate vegetables in small terraced plots.  The scenery was often dramatic and at one point we stopped to see where Jo, one of our number, had been rock climbing in the morning.  It looked like basalt except that the columns were horizontal. 

Apparently this is what happens when molten lava is cooled by contact with water.  I’ve seen plenty of basalt but this was a first for me.

After showering off the dust; ironic after all the rain we’ve seen recently, I opted for some food and managed to eat some of it before returning to pack my bag ready for an early start tomorrow.  Only two more journeys now!

BOCAS AND BASTIMENTOS

The day started with a tumultuous downpour but I tried not to let this dampen my spirits. 

I seem to be exploring progressively less with each place visited.  Eventually a boat taxi brought me to Bocas del Toro and I set to with trying to get a feel for the place.  It became quickly clear that this town, like so many others, is entirely dependent on tourism.  Every other shop front is selling tours, diving instruction and activities as well as transport to the more remote surf beaches. 

Before setting out I’d imagined that touring these places was something of a minority activity.  Nothing could be further from the truth:  there are literally thousands of young people on the move following the tourist and surfers trail through Central America. 

In addition, there are many more elderly who, attracted by the low property prices and good tax breaks have set up homes for at least part of the year.  So, the main street of Bocas has signs of modern development with modern building techniques replicating vernacular styles. 

Two blocks back, however, some of the homes are not quite so pristine and some blocks are vacant.

 Even so the signs of development exist and satellite dishes adorn even the most basic of homes. 

On passing the school I decided to go in, introduce myself to the headteacher and ask for permission to take photographs.  She was happy to let me photo the buildings but not the Niños.  The main buildings were well ventilated if a little dark inside but only the staffroom had the benefit of air conditioning. 

Given that it was lunchtime there was none of the barely repressed bedlam typical of UK schools.  All seemed calm.  There was also a church school in the town and, as far as I could tell, all children were in uniform so family incomes must extend to providing these basics.

After a distinctly disappointing lunch I headed back to Isla Bastimentos but continued past the hotel to visit Red Frog beach.  The boat taxi made its way past pristine mangroves and nosed its way past some very expensive boats before stopping at a wooden landing stage.  A boardwalk led to an entrance kiosk where I was parted from $3 entrance fee.  Red Frog is a private beach and resort.  Not that this put people off; taxis arrived at regular intervals to deliver fresh people cargoes. 

I declined the offer of a golf cart to transport me across the island – am I beginning to look decrepit?  The walk took all of ten minutes.  The beach was picture postcard and I risked a quick dip in the heavy surf which was not as warm as I’d expected it to be. 

There was even a beachside bar so a beer stop was inevitable.  Amongst all this apparent wealth I found two children using vines or lianas for skipping ropes. 

Two worlds collide indeed.  On the way back the taxi man before mine identified a sloth in the mangroves and took his passengers over for a closer view.  Mine was not so obliging.

A quiet evening followed at the hotel where Steve, one of the Americans introduced us to a dice game.  After six successive blank scores I went on to win three straight games and was only defeated on a technicality on the final game.  Pity I couldn’t do that in Las Vegas!