Comida

While Panama is many things, freindly and hot for example, it is not Thailand or Vietnam.  I haven't had any meals to rave about.  I have been doing the street food, of course, and eating in the little Fondas, the small working people's cafes,  Most of the places that have cheap eats are cafeteria or counter type affairs.  walk up to the glass, point at what looks good, and take your plate to the table or belly up to the stools at the cart.  The standard is fried chicken, fried fish, pappas frittas or rice.  It takes a bit of work to avoid a steady diet of fried food.  I'm not complaining, the food is very tasty, but a Hermano could stack on some weight in this country.

Todays bus stop fare was no different and I just wasn't up for another trio down the glass lane.  I settled for a baked sweet cake from the local shop.

Since I have left the Ciuadad, however, the culinary world is opening up.  I had a very nice lunch in Chitre', well worth waiting for.  A really tasty rice dish with a chunk of the local fish.

Dinner however, was the turning point.  I followed the Lonely Planet's advice and tried out an open-air grilll joint not far from Hotel Santa Rita.  It was divine!  No pics of the food since the iPhone was dead, but scrumptious nonetheless.  Super fresh Corvina (Sea Bass) grilled and then topped with a pepper and garlic sauce.  The accompaniments included a yam, rice pilaf, yucca cake and a salad.

Dessert was a L'Atlier cigar and an almost full moon viewed from a park bench.  LIfe is very, very good.  As a topper, the hotel lobby TV is showing the "Connan the Barbarian" so I am being treated to AAAnold and James Earl Jones dubbed in Spanish!!

Adios Ciuadad

Today I said adios to Panama City, at least for a few days.  I must be back at Hostel Mamallena on the evening of the ninth so that I can rendevous with the transport for the sailboat and the journey through the San Blas Archipelago.  But for now, I need more space than the Ciuadad can supply.

Transport here is easy and the buses run often.  I was up early for the hostel pancakes with honey.  The Mamallena menu for pancakes is "Once a day, All day".  Coffee and pancakes are free, although do-it-yourself.  Everything else you import into the kitchen on your own balboa.

So it was a city bus back to Terminal Albrook, then a $ 9.05 ticket from Panama City to Chitre' on the Pennisula Azuerro.  I may eventually spell that correctly  but don't hold your breath.  All was well with the bus and the aircon wasn't too arctic.  Regardless of how hot it is outside, one is wise to have a long-sleeve shirt handy for the bus.

We lumbered out of the city and into the canal zone.  The rain was threatening and the clouds hung low and sultry.  I swear that you can take a handful of air, squeeze it, and have a drink of water in its place.  As we passed over one of the huge bridges linking the two sides of the bay where the canal begins, i could see the boats and ships queued up to the West.  To the East were the Miraflores locks.

The bus climbed the coastal mountains. heavily cloaked in canopy jungle.  Further on I began to see the billboards for either all inclusive resorts or suburban communities.  On the hills were the little suburbs for Ex-pats or wealthy Panamanians.  Far off, where the beaches must have been, were the condo towers of the resorts.  

A bad pic of our freindly cop, but I wasn't pushing my luck.

As we topped another hill on the Pan-American highway, the bus suddenly pulled off and stopped.  The Panamania highway patrol, of whom I had seen numerous members, had stopped us for a paperwork check.  Given a chance for a well deserved piss, I walked a few meters into the jungle to answer nature's call.  Always a good idea to keep an eye on your vehicle when you leave it, no matter where.  Things have a tendancy to start up and drive, motor, float or fly off when you least expect it.  It may be awkward to run back to the transport with your bits not quite secured, but it is not nearly as awkward as being fully buttoned up on the side of the road with your gear heading south.

I cannot imagine why anyone would want to stop this bus.  It looks tip-top, don't it?

Four hours later we rolled into Chitre'.  It is only a mere kilometer from the terminal Herrara to El Centro, but by the time I got to the Santa Rita Hotel, I was drenched in sweat.  A fan room here, complete with tiny balcony and an ensuite bathroom, goes for $23.10.  It may be a bit noisy tonight as there is a bar on the ground floor, but the ceiling fan works and I have a catbird seat for watching the street life.  

There was more exploring done today, but that is for another post and the wifi here in the lobbly is tenuous at best.  

Ciao for now Amigos y Amigas 

The Canal

So, one cannot go to Panama without visiting the Panama Canal, or so i am told.  With this being my second full day in country, I decided to be a dutiful tourist and go view one of the wonders of the modern world.  

It was also the day for learning how the transport system works.  Sometimes there is a steep learning curve to buses, most of this involving ending up on a dead end road near a chicken farm or swamp when you thought you were headed for the Museum de National.  Today was not quite so bad as that.

The first trick to the Panama City buses is that you have to have a fare card to swipe.  One cannot buy the card on the bus and the bus does not accept cash.  Bus cards are easily available at the bus station, but one has to take a bus to get there.  Hmmmm.  The Hostel host explained the process to me.  One goes to the bus stop, making sure that at least one other person is there.  When the bus arrives, one ask "Tengo para mi por favor?" and then offers the 25 cent fare in cash.  Hmmmm.

Armed with knowledge and cash, I optimistically traipsed down to the stop on the corner.  Sure enough, up pulls the bus for Albrook Station (all buses go to Albrook eventually), I say the magic words and the Panamanian gentleman not only swipes his card twice but smilingly refuses my offered coin.

Albrook produces its own challenges, including finding the kiosk, prcurring my own car (Passaporte por favor) and eventually finding the bus for the Miraflores Locks, gateway to the Canal.  The bus arrived where and when I was told, a lovely modern bus with crazy aircon, and off we went.  Transportation system half conquered.  

Miraflores is the first of the Panama Canal locks from the Pacific side.  The double locks raise the ships in two stages, each stage being about 9 meters in height.  It is a pretty awesome spectacle.  The biggest ships have only two feet of space on either side between the lock walls and the hull of the ship.  I spent several hours on the observation deck watching the show.  My favorite aspects of the whole process were the "mules', small electric trains engines that hold the ship in position.  There are at least four to a ship, two aft and two fore.

Ships go in, ships come out, 27 million gallons flushes out of each lock each time, and all powered by gravity.  The new canal and locks will have reclaiming bins to conserve some of the fresh water.  It was all fascinating, even the movie in the frozen aircon theater, but I had done my tourist duty and it was time to complete the transit circle.

So, the bus arrives, Si, it goes to Albrook.  Bingo-bango, all things are smooth as silk.  Arriving at Albrook I wander over the skybridge to the Albrook Mall (all malls look alike it seems) and with the luck of the travel Gods on my side, I find a cigar store AND get interviewed by some local kids doing a school project.  

Still, the circle has not been closed.  I find what I think may be the right bus,, maybe, and hopefully climb on board.  We go in the general direction of where I think we should be going.  I am ready to bail should we take some veering detour towards the chicken farm, but all is well and then there is a mercado district that I want to check out.  Off the bus and walking, I am relying on my inner compass which proves sufficient.  Just as the doubt factor is beginning to manifest, I recognize some landmarks and TaDa!  There is the Hostel.  

Tonight it is over to the Old Town for some dinner and a walk.  Panama City is renowned for its night-life but that is mostly wasted on a geezer like me.  Tomorrow is a travel day, heading south and west for Chitre and the Azzuro Peninsula.  I need to trade in the city for some small town time.  

Panama City

Panama City is easy.  And slow. 

The flights in were perfect.  Tucson to Houston to PC.  As we approached the Gulf Coast, the clouds gave way to a scene of pearls of light on the dark water, a line of cargo ships lined up to enter the Panama Canal.  We overflew the narrow isthmus and then there were the lights of Panama City and, again, a line of ships dotting the Pacific side. 

Then darkness.  The approach to the PC airport is over dark swamp, devoid of reference.  Nothing, nothing, nothing and then runway.   It's a little spooky. 

Panama immigration and customs are not spooky.  They are downright friendly.  There were no problems, the line was fast and my bag was there.  Hooray!

My ride was also there, holding a sign with my name.  We swept off into the heat of the night and thence to Hostel Mamallena, where I am now ensconced. Think seriously funky traveller hub and you've got it. 

The morning started with rinsing off the sweat in a cold shower.  It didn't matter as the sweat was back before I stepped out of the water, but it felt good.   Luxury was self-cooked pancakes followed by coffee and a morning cigar.  Ah, laziness. Hey, it was already 85 f.  

I set out through the heat for the old town and ran right into a Panamanian national holiday.  How nice that the local folks set up a holiday on my first day!!

People were everywhere!  The seafront glistened with light and heat and vibrated with crowds of Panamanians lining the promenade for a huge parade. It was a party!!

And then came the rain.   Heat, then torrential showers, then heat, then steamy heat.  Then more rain!  And did any of this slow the party down?  No way!  These folks know how to get down with it.  Drumming in the rain just means the drummers don't sweat as much. 

Here is a link to my video of parades Panama Style. 

http://youtu.be/0692uT9UvcI

I waited out one cloudburst over a plate of grilled chicken, rice and tomatoes. Fondas are local cafes, usually tiny and hot, where food is ladled up at the counter and seating is communal.  Tasty, cheap food and instant dining company at no extra charge!  

The soaked revelers were still going strong as I slipped from awning to awning, stopping when the rain got serious.  A delicious tropical afternoon and there is still the promise of evening. 

A day full of promise fulfilled.  

Safe

Dear Blog folks

I am safe in Panama City after a perfect travel day.  Kudos to Panamanian cutoms and immigration for their enlightened attitude.

The wifi is down here so i will be blogging later today.

Buenas Dias to all of you.  Now I am venturing out into the 30 C. day to get good and sweaty whilst I explore.

Ciao!!!!

--

=============================
Marco Etheridge 
"I just don't want to die without a few scars"  --  Tyler Durden 

=============================

Miniatures

The Kid sleeps late in the morning.  The old people don't.  And daylight savings time started in Seattle.  Not in Arizona.  I was so confused!!!    

I left behind the subdued earth tones and building covenants of Green Valley, home of the maternal unit, and drove north to Tucson.  At the early hour of ten AM, The Kid was starving.  Where to go?  What would Tom Waits do?   To find answers to these questions we headed straight to Bobo's to queue up with the locals. 

Breakfast from 5:30 AM.  That's my place.  Straight up real breakfast, a packed house and loads of character without pretense.  The Rev says "Check it out!"

What lurks behind the giant door?  The museum of Miniatures.  One of the stranger museums I have been to, this one was The Kid's choice.  All things tiny, all things miniature, and all of the wonderful human obsession needed to produce theses tiny marvels. 

Creepy little dioramas...

Crazy mechanical creations from a maniacal Swiss clock maker....

And the moving parts to keep it... Umm... Moving.  

The Kid is back home, I am back in Green Valley amongst the Aged, and tomorrow I fly for Panama.  Goodbye Tucson.   Onward!!!

 

Genetic Envelope

On the first night of this journey I needed a place for the Genetic Envelope to lay his head. Air B&B provided us with a unique opportunity. We ended up in Catalina State Park, north of Tucson. Our hosts provided us with a cute little pop-up camper complete with all the gear. It was fantastic!

Last night's moon glowed over Mt Lemon as the Kid and I delved deep into conversation. Ranging from anthropology, ethics and monkey-wrenching the system to graphic novels, we passed a wonderful night.

After a cold pizza and horrible Nescafé brekkie, we headed up into the desert mountain terrain for a kick ass hike. Skinks, cactus wrens and horned toads kept us company up to the Romero Pools on the backside of Mt. Lemon.

A good day. A very good day.