?Porque No? Panama City Round 1

My latest adventure started off just as any good adventure should, with a 5am wake up call from the cabbie parked outside of the house. It's a testament to exactly how Oregonian i am becoming because i was only half packed and made the cab wait for close to thirty minutes and make two reminder phone calls before i staggered out to the waiting yellow Broadway cab. When i got to the bottom of the front stairs i was briskly greeted by a mammoth Russian with a short hair cut and a very thick accent. The cabbie's girth was further accentuated when he stuffed his large frame through the door of the ever so typical Portland, environmentally friendly Toyota Prius. The ride to the airport was quiet as were the rest of my travels down to Panama, via Newark, NJ. Why Newark i may never know. It made for a hell of a long day but in the end the 10 hour plane ride was worth it.


I was greeted by my Panamanian tour guide and brother from another mother, Bosco. He stuffed a camera in my face upon first sight and requested some profound comment. Honestly, after 10 hour flight and the anal probing of Panamanian customs, i wasn't feeling as profound as much as violated. We made our way back to the Vallarino household where i was greeted like any other family member would have been (i know because i saw many other family members greeting during my stay). Bosco and i caught up over some photos, some delicious Oregon wine and my first of many Panamanian beers. Bosco had pulled out some old photographs from when he was living in the burg. He had the most amazing photograph of a cat looking right into the camera. I told him he should enter it into a photo contest, i mean seriously, how often does a cat look right into a camera (sorry, you aren't supposed to get it, a little inside joke). More family members arrived as the night grew into morning. His sister Annie and her beautiful baby girl Alannis hung out for a while, then Bosco senior strolled in under an exhausted daze (i guess that's what happens when you running for mayor of your country's largest city, long days).


The wine and beers went down too easy and it was time to hit the city. We drove Bosco's ever so kind lady friend back to her house. We hit the town running only to find that most of the bars had closed down for the night or a cover charge was being requested. Everyone should know by now that i feel there is a special place in hell for cover charges, even in Panama. We hit a late night mini-mart and did a low-riding tour of the city. The sun rose and reminded us that it was time to fuel ourselves with something other than Balboa cerveza. Bosco knew of a great Monte Critso place in the city that proved to be just was a booze filled stomach needed. Being the ever so diligent guide, Bosco took notice of what he believed to be some shady characters paying a little too close attention to our presence. He handed me the keys to the car and directed me to the formerly dark alley where the car was parked and instructed me to pull it around front. I heeded his cautions and completed my duties. Bosco came out of the restaurant without incident and hopped into the passenger seat of the already dented Peugot 203. We "tore" off down the street (really, i just squealed the tires because a) i had had too much to drink and b) i haven't driven a 5-speed in some time). My cautious tour guide was poorly giving directions. . .or i was doing poorly following them, whatever the case may have been we attracted some unwanted attention. After making an erratic turn "left" as prescribed, which ended up being a bank drive through window, i followed it with an even more erratic right back onto the main street. It was about this time that i suggested we "flip a bitch" or U-turn for you less savvy folk. It was good thing that Bosco shot down my idea because it was about that time that a motorcycle cop pulled along the passenger side of the car, machine gun dangling from his shoulder, and pointed to sidewalk implying that i should pull over. Pull over i did.


The cop walked up to my side of the car and asked me to step out of the vehicle (in Spanish, which i don't speak but i got the picture). He started rambling off some stuff in Spanish, which again, i don't speak. I handed him my passport and visa which seemed to calm him slightly. Bosco got out of the passenger side to spark up conversation with the agitated officer. I'm not sure exactly what was said but i believe it went something like this. . .


Officer: "Do you know that your license plate has expired?" (it showed 2007. I guess in Panama instead of issuing new stickers for license plates they issue all new plates)


Bosco: "Yes, here are my papers. Please excuse my friend, he's American and it's his first time driving in the city and hasn't driven a manual transmission in a long time."


Officer: "Has your friend been drinking?"


Bosco: "No."


Officer: "Tell me the truth because if i have to get the breath-a-lizer out here it's going to be an additional $150 fine and i'll impound your car if he is drunk."


Bosco: "He has not been drinking."


It was at this time that the cop made a very strange gesture toward me. He pursed his lips similar to a 13-year old boy about to make his way to first base at a school dance and drew his face closer and closer to mine. Still being in my first 7 hours in the country i didn't know if this was a strange custom i had yet to experience. I mean Bosco's family did kiss me on the cheek when greeting me but a cop? The officer stopped his advances about an inch from my face and blew a puff of air, implying that i do the same. I did and he threw his head back as if i had actually accepted his lust filled advance. Some more Spanish chatter ensued. Bosco drew his wallet hoping that the officer would accept a trade, his ID for my passport. When the officer saw the cash in his wallet his eyes light up like a corrupt cop looking at a wallet full of money. . .no wait. . .not "like" a corrupt cop, he was a corrupt cop, or a guy just trying to feed his family. Bosco asked how much it would cost to fix the situation and they settled on $40. We were instructed to get back in the car, stick the $40 in my passport and wait to be pulled over again. About 50 yards down the street he pulled us back over and i handed him the cash filled passport. He returned it to me sans cash. If you ask me the experience was worth the $40, minus the terror when i thought the cop was going to jam his tongue in my mouth. The time was about 6.30am and i was in desperate need of sleep. We headed back to Bosco's house and crashed for several hours.

Pre-cop make-out session.

The next day started a little late. Annie, Alannis, Bosco, Jessica and myself took a day light, cop-free tour of Panama. We started with a trip out to the Causeway, a man made strip of roadway that drives out into the Panama Bay and connects the city to several small islands, one of which was used as a US bunker during the invasion. We got a small ranch (thatch roofed cabana like table thing) and had some lunch. After the Causeway we took a peak at, what at one time was, the only bridge connecting the Americas. The bridge itself is impressive enough but the idea of it being, now, only one of two bridges that connects North America to South America is quite impressive. Next stop was the famed Panama Canal.

Beering up before a long day of sight-seeing.

Superman pose on the Causeway.

Baby Alannis napping in the backseat of the Peugot.

Boats from the Causeway.

The "Bridge" (i'm sure it has some fancy name).

On our way to the canal we drove through an area known as Clayton, as in Clayton Army base from when the US occupied large portions of Panama. I never realized how much impact the American invasion, as well as the canal, has had on the Panamanian people. There are three bases within Panama City's limits. All of which consist of some pretty impressive structures that after the US left, the Panamanian government turned into housing developments. They are just everyday neighborhoods in Panama being referred to the same as some cheesy golf community would be.

This day was attempt 1 of 3 to visit the canal. Seeing as it was attempt 1 and not 3, hopefully one can deduce that we didn't actually make it to the canal. We got as far as the entrance gate only to be turned back because it was too late. After a short drive up the road we managed to steal a glimpse of the head of the first lock but it provided little excitement. I took a picture but it wasn't quite worth keeping.

Panama City really consists of 3 cities, Panama Viejo, Casco Veijo, and modern day Panama City. Sunday started off pretty easy with a visit to the ruins of Panama Viejo. Panama Viejo was the first city ever established on the Pacific Ocean. Panama has done a good job of maintaining the ruins and making it accessible to the public. At the center of the action is a large tower that served as the lookout tower for the old city. The city was "sacked" by Captain Henry Morgan (you know the drunk pirate with his leg resting on a barrell) in 1671. Much of the city has fallen to the ground but i snapped a few photos of what is left.

The tower in Panama Viejo

The same tower. . .different angle.

A window.

The newest version of Panama from it's oldest man made view.

Looking out a window in the tower, sans color.

An old well. It was very shallow. No wonder the city was sacked by a drunken pirate, the locals were dehydrated.

An old wall to the old city.

The new city hiding behind the old.

Looking back at the tower from the edge of the city.

Bosco and I made another attempt at visitng the Panama Canal the following day but instead picked up a few of his buddies and low-rode our way further up the canal and into the rainforest that lives just outside of the city. The weekend ended with a killer plate of nachos and taco night at the homestead.