The Lost Paradise of Panamá

The sights and sounds of Panamá can be intoxicating. When it comes to shopping, wherever you go, it seems, you discover something that you want to buy. The people, even the young children—are artistic. They learn at an early age how to make wonderful things with what little they have. The coconut shell with the red flowers was painted by such a child. 

  Wood is also used in many ways. It may be in the form of a carving, or as a canvas for remarkable artwork. These treasures were found in El Valle, about a two-hour drive west of Panama City. 

From the clay of the earth comes handmade, hand-painted items with individual designs, like this unique vase…

 

I was somewhat surprised to find in an upscale store in Minneapolis, what looked like a mola. I checked it out, and sure enough, it was of genuine Kuna design. The type sold to tourists. It had never been worn. It was not faded. And there was no stitching–a sure sign if the mola had been a part of a female Kuna’s daily attire. But even more surprising was the price. Eighty—yes—EIGHTY DOLLARS.

Wow. The Kuna Yala have come a long way.

You’ll see different types of molas around Panama City. The value is based on the design, the number of layers used, and if the mola has actually been worn. For authentic molas, visit the Kuna. They have their own nation or comarca, located primarily on hundreds of small islands known as the San Blas along Panama’s Caribbean coast.

Panama is truly the crossroads of the world, and it’s hard to control the impulse to buy the first thing you see. For hand-made Panamanian crafts, I suggest checking out the shops at the ruins of Panamá Viejo, Old Panama. You’ll find cups and bowls with intricate designs.

And then… make your way to The Casco Viejo. You’ll find paintings from local artists.

As you travel, you’ll find numerous stands along the road that offer a variety of unique items that can be easily wrapped and packed.

El Valle, a two hour drive from Panama City, is not only a wonderful place to visit, but they also have exquisite items to view, and barter.

A few years ago, my daughters bought a gift for me in the states. A ship on a stand that rocks back and forth when touched.

Later, all of us were at Isla Taboga for the weekend, and we sat down for breakfast at Hotel Tropical. While waiting for our meal, I gazed around the room, and out the window. I was happy—so very happy, and privileged to be back. And then…I saw it. On an obscure shelf in a corner.

It was the ship. The Rocking Ship. A twin of the one my daughters had given me. I had a rare, very content feeling, and for the moment, all was right….

One of the treasures you’ll find in abundance along Panama’s coasts is free. It’s the shells. They’re everywhere, and in every shape. Pick up a few. Wash off the sand in whichever ocean you are on, and remember your trip to the Isthmus of Panamá.

For those of you who have been to Panama, or Central America for that matter, you know. You’ve seen first hand the lack of driving rules, and probably know that regardless of how much money you paid for a trip to the Americas, no one cares except you and the traffic will still be as crazy as ever. Buses, cars, taxis, motorcycles, scooters, vendor carts, pedestrians and torrential rain all blend together. 

Be careful.

Travel guides promote the good roads and ease of getting a rental. When you arrive in Panama, it will probably be at night. And after going through customs and getting a car, you’ll be driving down unfamiliar roads, in the dark, several kilometers away from your hotel.

This is not a good idea.

It’s safer to take a taxi or bus to your hotel, preferably in the Albrook-Balboa-Amador Causeway area, and rent a car the next day. Not for city driving—but for going across the Bridge of the Americas and heading to the interior.

I’ve had car accidents in Panama as a driver, as a passenger, and on buses. I’ve seen cars hit pedestrians while running across the road with my kids. I could go on and on. The point here is, the danger is real, and don’t take it lightly.

My daughter was coming back from Bocas del Toro Province a few weeks ago, on an all night bus trip that stopped at the national terminal in Albrook. From there, she took a regular bus, what the locals call a Diablo Rojo, Red Devil, (appropriately named, and speed bumps are called policia muerto, dead policeman) back the way she came across the Bridge of the Americas toward Howard, Arraijain, and Chapala. I’m always apprehensive about the bridge from past experience, and parts of the road to La Chorrera. Coming down off the bridge and going around the first few curves feels like a roller coaster. Anyway, it was about 5:30 am, and my daughter was sitting up front, (never the back of the bus for good reason), and watching. She saw what the driver saw–when he saw it. An abandoned car that was probably in an accident overnight, turned around, and in their lane. No markers. No warning.

The driver hit the brakes and swerved—avoiding the black car, but another diablo rojo right behind them plowed into the rear. 

This is just one of many examples. Be careful. Be safe. And you will enjoy your stay in Panamá.

October third  and fourth will always be memorable for me.

Forever.

They are always in the back of my mind for different reasons–until the day actually arrives.

October 3, 1989, near the shores of the Pacific, the day that General Noriega’s Special Forces attempted a coup d’etat at his Comandancia—just down the hill from the Southern Command Headquarters on Quarry Heights. The new US Commanding General and the Bush administration may have been caught off-guard with the news, and Noriega was able to get a coded message out through his mistress in case of such a coup attempt. Subsequently, Battalion 2000 rolled into Panama City and rescued the beleaguered general. Had the coup been successful, it may have prevented the US invasion in December.

Also starting on October 3 and ending October 4, on a different ocean–the Indian, and in a different year–1993, members of Task Force Ranger were killed on the Horn of Africa in Mogadishu, Somalia. I lost two friends that day. Master Sergeant Tim Martin, and Sergeant First Class Randy Shughart.

I raise a toast to the memory of those who fought, and to those today that fight, to free the oppressed, wherever they are, soldier or civilian.