This post is part of a series called the Panama Chronicles - a rewrite/edit of an email log I wrote just before entering grad school. To protect myself and others I have disguised names and adapted various aspects of the narrative. This post was originally written only 5 months after the Panama Canal and the zone surrounding it were officially returned to Panama (the USA had exercised control since 1903, but the Torrijos–Carter Treaties - signed in 1977 - guaranteed Panama the canal after 1999). At that time there was still a fair difference between the Panama that existed within the “canal zone” and the Panama that existed beyond it.
Thursday after work I convinced my Panamanian roommate A to take me into Panama City (and out of the former Canal Zone) to see the renowned Avenida Central.
Image: Plaza Cinco de Mayo on the way to Avenida Central. D. M. Buehler
The area is a huge shopping district along one of Panama’s main streets. Motor traffic has been cut off and the street is a large pedestrian mall where people go for bargains on everything from clothing to stereos. On either side of the street stores blare music to attract customers and merchants shout over the noise to let you know what they have to sell. We were there in the late afternoon and the street was packed with shoppers, walkers and people feeding the hordes of pigeons. The atmosphere was electric.
By Canadian standards the prices were unbelievably low. I got a really nice blouse for $2 and saw beautiful summer dresses and skirts for under $3 each. A and I had a great time window shopping and trying on various silly outfits. We talked about all sorts of things and I am sort of surprised to realize that there are almost no cultural differences between us. He seems like a really nice guy and he has offered to teach me a little bit of salsa. It was a very nice afternoon.
Then on Saturday, I took a break from tromping through the jungle and went with a couple of British fieldworkers for my first glimpse of rural Panama, outside of the former Canal Zone.
It is quite beautiful.
Image: Fort San Geronimo, Portobelo. D. M. Buehler
Portobelo is on the Caribbean coast and the drive from Gamboa took about an hour and a half. The coast was beautiful and dotted with a number of small and wonderfully tourist-free beaches. In Portobelo we visited the ruins of two Spanish Forts: San Geronimo and Santiago, originally built in the early 1800's to protect the Spaniards from pirates. We also went to see el Cristo Negro (the black Christ) in the Iglesia de San Félipe. The statue looked to me like a white Christ painted black. However, it is surrounded by mystery and legend, and it attracts thousands of pilgrims to this sleepy town every October 21st.
From Portobelo we drove through coastal hills to the tiny town of Nombre de Dios (in the name of God). Although you would never know it, gold and silver from Peru were once ferried to Spain through this place - now just a tiny village - steeped in history.
We ended the day in the ruins of Fort San Lorenzo. Built by the Spanish in the late 1500s, the fort sits atop cliffs that overlook both the Atlantic Ocean and the entrance to the Rio Chagres. In the centuries before the Panama Canal was built, pirates like Drake and Morgan would cross the Isthmus of Panama from Atlantic to Pacific Oceans from this point. The ruins and the views are spectacular.
Image: The view from Fort San Lorenzo. D. M. Buehler
The most striking thing about the day was contact with the rural people. They may look poor, but they seem self-sufficient and their smiles are genuine. I found it refreshing to see backyard chickens and to smell homemade bread, in contrast to my world where people seem to buy everything that they need. Watching children playing barefoot and adults relaxing in hammocks on a lazy Saturday afternoon gave me a peek in into another Panamanian reality.
But Panama is a place of contrasts, and this was exemplified when we passed Panama's poorest city, Colon, on our way home. Colon is home to a huge tax free zone (La Zona Libre) that sits like a guarded island of materialism in a sea of poverty and crime. Inside, entrepreneurs hawk the latest technology and fashions, while outside, amid billboards advertising unnecessary products, children run around in rags and people live in rotting buildings. The houses are falling apart, and yet, satellite dishes for TV are installed atop roofs that can barely support them. Go figure.
