The Lost Paradise of Panamá

Atlantic waves—ancient waters that predate the dinosaurs, push up against modern concrete piers with names like Cristóbal and Colón. Unlike other cities in the Americas, here, the Italian born Chris Colombo, who explored these shores for Spain, is a rock star.  After years of searching, one of his many ships may have been discovered off the sandy coast.

Panama is the literal crossroads to the world. It’s not unusual to stroll down a timeless cobblestone street past a Catholic church, a Jewish synagogue, or farther on, hear the call to prayer from a tall, slender minaret outside a Mosque.

Many foreigners have brought their vision of the world to Panama thinking it mirrored reality. They learned the hard way that the real truth, and only truth, is that Panama can be a jungle of mirrors.

Panama has had a long history with the US from the early days of the canal, and a large military presence built over the years through two Great Wars, and a long Cold War. When they pulled out, Panama was left with empty buildings they didn’t know what to do with. At first, they remained still and the jungle crept in. But over the years, they’ve been able to attract new businesses, as well as retirees, and they have literally transformed the old Canal Zone. There is a town at the edge of Panama City known as Balboa. It’s made up of mainly Western style buildings. However, with some added construction, pastel painting and landscaping, many of these structures have been wonderfully absorbed back into the Panamanian culture. One fantastic addition not too far from Balboa is at the old Albrook Air Station. The government built a multi-million dollar National Terminal for all ground travel within the Republic. What’s great about this is now there is one central location for traveling to the interior.

Previously, the smaller terminal just didn’t have enough room, and many of the buses were in very poor condition. Depending on where you were going, you had to walk down the streets of Panama City and search for locations where small vans left for the interior. The terminal is now a main focal point for your travels outside of Panama City.

The canal is a must see. It’s an engineering miracle to think that a century ago, men and machine were able to dig a big ditch across a country, link two oceans, and install three sets of locks—and the giant metal doors are still being used to this day. Franz, a Swiss friend of mine, and a door engineer, was a part of the former Panama Canal Commission. He told me how each original door is made up of several steel panels that are riveted into place. At two year intervals, because of heat and water pressure, Franz and his crew would give every door in every lock a makeover. They’d remove each warped steel panel and pound it back into shape. Imagine for a moment listening to Franz describe his work week, and the dismantling and then rebuilding of the canal doors…

And then imagine walking alone for several blocks along Avenida de Balboa and staring out to sea as the sun set. Watching the large cargo ships queuing for their transit of the most famous waterway, their running lights glimmering off of the dark waters. And knowing that for a few hours late at night, while most people in the Western Hemisphere slept, the canal that connects North and South America is separated, and then reconnected by an old Swiss immigrant and his band of faithful laborers.

 One of my favorite ways to see the canal is to go to the National Terminal and purchase a ticket to Gamboa. Gamboa is about halfway across Panama, and you’ll see some excellent jungle scenery and be able to mingle with the locals. Gamboa is a small town, once filled with canal workers. It gives you an excellent view of the canal, dredging equipment, and the Pedro Miguel locks are nearby. If you want to get a bird’s eye view of the local flora and fauna, there are some hotels situated in the jungle itself. 

The Pacific locks at Miraflores are the closest to Panama City. They also have an extensive museum, an observation platform, and a restaurant. I highly recommend checking the locks at Pedro Miguel, and if possible, the often ignored Atlantic entrance at Gatun. 

Some things never seem to change. And in Panama, one of those things is the mysterious taxi. Always negotiate the price. These are supposed to be standard, but it may not work out that way. Use only a taxi that has a sign on top of their car. Don’t hail the ones that have the word Taxi painted on their car door. These are independents and they don’t follow the same rules. If you use only the licensed taxis, they have set guidelines as far as what they are supposed to charge from one place to another. For example, from the Tocumen Airport to Panama City is twenty-five dollars. In the city it works the same way. Ask a local what the price should be, or someone in your hotel. If the driver gives you a price that is way off, then pick someone else. There are plenty of taxis and it’s very easy, and cheap, to get around. 

Even cheaper is a bus, or as the locals say, diablo rojo—red devil. And indeed they are. While out and about you’ll need to navigate through mind-boggling traffic. And when on foot, be extremely careful while crossing any road. The locals are used to it—they’re like matadors battling the big steel diablos and small, quick taxis. If you get a rental car at the airport, you need to travel down at least twenty-five kilometers of unfamiliar road, at night, and you’ll stick out. So don’t do it. However, renting a car and crossing over the Bridge of the Americas (the main bridge that spans the canal) to the interior of Panama is another matter and shouldn’t be a problem.

Your goal should be to blend in as much as possible and not draw too much attention to yourself. Unless you stay in your hotel room the whole time, at some point you are going to pass through a neighborhood that will make you feel a little uncomfortable. Keep your money and papers in your front pockets–not your back, and limit the amount of jewelry you wear, if any.

Pirates, Presidents, Dictators, Bishops and Spooks have all come and gone in Panama. But one thing that has never changed is that you can drive a kilometer in any direction and see the most beautiful, and the ugliset sights imagineable.

 My first visit to Panama was via parachute. A drop zone on a map. I had no idea then as I floated down under a silk blanket what effect this country would have on me. Italy was in my sights, but I gave it up. Why? A few weeks later I knew the answer. Europe is fine, but Panama was different. It’s when I first came to know—and love— the people. Their lust for life. Their sincerity, their caring for anyone, friend or stranger. I had to go back. And I did.

I had stayed away for the most part when Noriega took over, until near the end. I had to leave, due to the ongoing turmoil and death threats. It was painful to see the transformation that had taken place, where tranquility was replaced by a living nightmare. So many close calls. So many riots. Running from the PDF in gas filled streets; hiding my daughters in the back of lavamaticos, and searching for my wife, Elia, through choking smoke. But now, all of that was behind us.

I was returning to the Panama I once knew. Hopefully it was back to normal. I stared through the airplane window and saw the familiar jungle canopy with steam rising through the high branches, brushing the colorful wings of toucans and macaws. Suddenly, a strip of concrete split the green and the Boeing 737 landed.

I was back at Tocumen International.  

Our relatives were waiting. After going through customs, gathering luggage, stepping outside and taking a deep breath, I knew I was really back. 

Make no mistake. Panama is not for everyone. It’s not a first or second world country. Put down the travel guide books. In time, I hope to give you an idea of what it’s really like.

There are four small islands just off the southern coast in the Bay of Panama. They are called Naos, Culebra, Perico and Flamenco. These islands were originally connected with rock quarried from the excavation of the Canal. The US and Panama had military installations here, as well as on the mainland at Fort Amador and Fort Kobbe. Fort Amador was one of the first of many US installations to be turned over to the government of Panama after the ratification of the Carter-Torrijos Treaty. Over time, the whole area including the four islands became known as Amador, or simply, the Causeway. It’s a special place for Panamanians. The late General Omar Torrijos is interred in a mausoleum here.

Over the last several years there have been dramatic improvements made to the Causeway. The roads are wider. There are more shops and restaurants. And the launch to Taboga was moved to Naos from Pier 18 in Balboa, just down the road on the other side of the Bridge of the Americas. Unfortunately, there is not a lot of vegetation left, except on the hillsides. You can walk or ride along the Causeway from Amador all the way out to the marina on Flamenco. I really enjoy the Causeway, with the Bay of Panama on one side, and the Pacific on the other. You can vividly see the Panama City skyline as it sits right on the water. In the other direction, you can see the hills of enchanted Taboga rising.  

After strolling around through the various shops, check out the marina and take a look at some amazing yachts.

And then stop off at Bucaneros Restaurant, order some corvina ceviche, a cold cerveza Atlas , enjoy the views, the breeze, and be thankful that you are not in Panama City with its crazy traffic.        

After Panama Viejo was burned down by pirates, the village was moved to this area, the second oldest part of Panama. The best way to see it is by foot. Go with a guide, if possible. You’ll pass through some crowded shopping areas before reaching the San Felipe District where Casco Viejo juts out into the Bay of Panama. As in any unfamiliar surroundings, be careful with your valuables. This is my favorite place in all of Panama City. Casco Viejo is a part of Panama City, yet, separated from it. It’s one of the oldest towns still in use on the Pacific Coast of the Americas. When the French first arrived to make their attempt at building the canal, Casco Viejo is where the aristocracy stayed, and many French still live. The National Theatre is here, and the Presidential Palace. The Palace is unique in that it has an open courtyard where dozens of grey herons drop in to rest.

As you walk through the tiny streets, a collage of architecture will fill your eyes. There is Spanish, overlapped with French, and over the years a Caribbean style melted in. Many of the buildings are older than the United States. Everywhere are ornate balconies that overlook the winding cobblestone streets. The balconies are typically cluttered, mostly with planters. Geraniums and bougainvillea vines crawl over the stonework or climb up wrought iron bars that cover the windows. Clotheslines span the streets. Every few blocks you’ll find a small plaza lined with benches and men talking about politics, or more importantly, baseball. And finally, you’ll reach the great seawall and walk along its wide sidewalk near the French Plaza, and see carved statues and tributes dedicated to the designers and workers of the Canal.