Panama panama panama...

Panama has never been (and probably will never be) my favorite country. Its capital struggles with the split personality of rich American colonizers and poor shantytown dwellers. The women have been unbelievably and unreasonably rude and the men are very nice and helpful; a little too nice maybe. The exhaust from the evening traffic coats our sweaty faces. At times the city drowns behind an inpenetratable curtain of rain. So why in the world did I decide to come back here?

Almost 4 years ago, the Pan Am Highway carried me down from México to Panamá. Seven countries in five weeks. A real whirlwind adventure and Panama City was the final stop on that trip. So this time, with my eye set on Patagonia Chile, I thought why not just pick up where I left off? I didn’t want to jump right into Colombia, especially with my Spanish so rusty. Panama seemed like the logical decision.

So here we are, mom and me, navigating the busy streets and being attacked by the humidity. Our hotel hadn’t received our reservation and didn’t have any rooms, so we trudged our packs through the rain to Hotel El Parador. Um. It certainly lives up to its review: “The Parador is popular with the Panamanians, because it’s a bargain, but the service is mediocre, and if the receptionist smiles, consider yourself lucky… indifferent staff.” And it was true. I have never been so furious at anyone. But all in all, we had a place to sleep and that’s all we could ask for.

We had one day in Panama, only one. After an egg and toast breakfast, we confirm our boat reservation with Zuly. We are scheduled to leave on the 20th (the day after!) for Cartagena via the San Blas Islands. We decide to leave the angry receptionist hotel and stay instead in the drab backpackers hostel. From the bus stop in front of the McDonalds, we ended up at the Albrook terminal. Friendly woman showed us to the buses to Paraíso. We grab the seats behind chatty Colombians. The guy talks my ear off, the woman just held her head in her hands.


We jumped off the bus at the sign for the Panama Canal. We walked the uninviting path to the visitors’ center. The Colombian was a little clingy, so I walked faster.



From the top level of the center, we watched a boat pass through the locks while listening to statistical commentary. I look over and mom’s hair is standing straight up! She looks at me and giggles. Is this St. Elmo’s fire?! I’m not about to wait around and find out. We find shelter and not a moment too soon because the rain starts. Slow and steady at first and then bursting suddenly into a full-fledged downpour. We decide to splurge on a taxi back into town. The taxi driver and I make small talk.

Back at the hotel we leave immediately for food. We ask for typical Panamanian food, but we are given directions to a rather touristy restaurant. We end up wandering around to the point where we’re very hungry. We sit down at a nice looking restaurant populated with locals. There’s only one dish with the choice of chicken, lamb or pork. I choose chicken and we explain mom’s vegetarianism to the waitress, who frowns.

The minutes pass. And pass. We’re getting worried about our 3pm check out time. When our food comes we scarf it down. Mmmmm… Arroz y frijoles con ensalada de pasta y pollo. We get mildly lost finding our way back to the hotel. 10 minutes til 3pm. I ask for the key for room 202 and sprint upstairs with the key only to find that the puta recepcionista gave me the one for 302. I sprint back down. I ask again and the cabrona gives me 402, but this time I’m ready for her and catch it. Did she really want us to miss our check out time?! Or was this some sick joke? Either way I curse her under my breath as I sprint back up. Quick pack up and then back down stairs with a few minutes to spare. Ha!

We trek our stuff over to Zuly’s and then head to Casco Viejo. Bus to Calle 12 and get off at Parque Santa Ana. On the ride I glance at my map and realize that we are heading into the no-go zone for tourists. The dangerous no tourist zone.

Off the bus, we walk. Past abandoned skeleton buildings. Past the tourist police. Past children biking. Past the bustling market. Within a few blocks we reach the plaza de catedral. Down to the water and follow the coast on a pedestrian walkway. Past indigenous artisans selling colorful fabrics.
We can see the skyline of the new city, skyscrapers reaching toward the clouds. Everything is familiar. That night we have a tasty dinner at Restaurante Jimmy.

Panama just redeemed itself. Our four-wheel drive car to the Caribbean coast leaves the hostel at 5am, but we’re up at 4. After a few stops we’re on our way. We’re packed in like sardines. I’m sandwiched between the driver and mom with no foot room because of the stick shift. The car is falling apart. Everything is just barely hanging on. There are no door handles or windows. It’s going to be a great day! The sun was rising over the water. The driver pointed in that easterly direction and said that in just a few hours we’d be there: San Blas! The highway narrowed to one lane as we approached the passport control. It was just a formality though, they asked us questions and jotted down our answers incorrectly. Soon we were on our way.

Breakfast was puffy fried bread, called hojaldre, with tortillas de maíz. When we were finally back on our way, the road conditions got noticeably worse. But as the potholes multiplied so did the jungle appearances of our surroundings. We kept seeing signs for the Darien Gap. Oh man. I get goosebumps just thinking about it.



Today our destination is San Blas, the autonomous region of the Kuna Indians. So exciting, especially to see a culture that has survived the Spanish conquest!

We climb up up up! The weighted down Land Cruiser chugged slowly along. At times I didn’t think we’d make it up the hills! The jungle is lush and green and wild all around us. And we’re exceptionally thankful for the beautiful weather. The sun was out and at times we could see forever. At a small makeshift passport control we passed out of Panama and into the indigenous territory.

And the road quality never recovered. We bounced around, groaning up one hill after another and squealing brakes on the way down. After hours of the up and down, side to side, we spotted the coast! The drivers threw down our bags and demanded the money. We then had to lug our bags through slippery muddy paths down to the river where we were loaded onto some long wooden boats.







We motored through the jungle. Our eyes were open wide to take in every detail. The banks of the salty river were lined with thick vegetation and crocodiles. Kuna indigenous folks calmly paddled by. I love it! What a complete 180 from Panama City, eh?

Then we reach the coast and its open water. The sky is sharp and clear. Islands filled with palm trees dot the horizon. The water is a brilliant blue. Everything is so bright and pure, like it was taken right out of a postcard! We approach the Stahlratte, our home for the next 5 days. It’s a huge sailboat with a very friendly crew. What is to follow is a journey full of wonderful people, rum, swimming, bbq, island hopping, star gazing, jellyfish attacks, starfish spotting, wonderful food, reading, writing, and dreaming. Much more to come in the next blog post, so keep your senses tuned!




p.s. I have fallen in love with Colombia. I may never leave.