Monday, January 21, 2019

Ancon Hill and coming home

After our usual breakfast of tea and empanadas, we took an Uber to the Ancon Reserve, a hill that overlooks Panama City and even the canal. We got out and started hiking up to the top. The first part of the walk goes by some homes that look distinctively American, albeit a bit dated and weathered. As it turns out, this is where a large number of the American canal workers lived when the United States owned and operated the canal. This, at one point, used to be the administrative area and was essentially U.S. territory. Not surprisingly, that became a bit of a sore point for Panama. We, as Americans, would probably not be too keen on the Russians owning and operating the Hoover Dam without any say from us. Anyway, as a sort of reclamation of their own sovereignty, there is a massive Panama flag flying over Ancon Hill — the size of a basketball court to be exact. We were hoping to see some wildlife during our hike, but all we saw were vultures and some kind of rodent. Supposedly sloths hang out in these parts, but they couldn’t be bothered to say hello.

Fortunately even without the sloths, we enjoyed some good views of Casco Viejo and Panama City from above. We could even see ships passing through the canal in the distance, including the new canal which can accommodate much larger ships. After taking in the views at the top, we worked our way back down and caught an uber back to Casco Viejo for the outrageous sum of $2.60. We just sort of kicked back for the rest of the day. We had awkward timing with our departure because it was not scheduled to depart until 1am. On top of that, while there were 50 open seats going to Panama City, the flight back to Houston was oversold. We ended up using miles to get confirmed seats. (More specifically, Nicole used miles to get us seats). She would no doubt have made some sort of comment if I didn’t include this fact.




 While our time in Panama was brief, it was enlightening. My prior knowledge about the country included the canal, the U.S. invasion (centering around the canal), and Manuel Noriega (who kind of caused the invasion). To be fair, my knowledge was a bit narrow. For both Nicole and I, we didn’t know exactly what to expect upon leaving the airport because not a lot of people visit Panama. Our hotel was over 20 miles from the airport. The last time we had to go that kind of distance was in Bali, except Bali was actually shorter in distance. Fortunately, in Panama, it did not take over an hour to get to the hotel (which was the case in Bali). Major freeways connect the main points of interest. It is, as Nicole would say, “very with it.” But as we observed from some of our cab rides outside the city center, there are some spots that got left behind. I read somewhere that Panama is the wealthiest country in Central America, and that shouldn’t really come as a huge surprise. The canal is a huge money-maker and employees thousands of people. Unfortunately, Panama also has the greatest wealth disparity in the region, and I can believe that. When people ask me if Panama was affordable, it’s a difficult question to answer. Panama City has prices that one would find in any major city in the United States, but somehow you can take an uber for 5 miles and it only costs $2. We would feel like we were spending too much money one minute and feel like we got the deal of the century the next.    We also had a very limited scope of what we saw in Panama, having never really left Panama City by any great distance. That being said, we quickly picked up on some cultural differences. Under most circumstances in the U.S., honking one’s horn is done out of anger/road rage. In Panama, it appears to be some kind of necessity and a multipurpose tool. Alerting other drivers to your presence? Beep beep! Need to let people know that you intend to go next at a four-way stop? Beep beep! Are you a cab driver and notice people walking and think they would much rather be in your cab? Beep beeeeeeeep beedly beep!!! That last one was especially troublesome to us because I simply could not understand it. If I wanted a cab, I would find a cab. I would not convince myself that I needed a cab, simply because one showed up and beeped at me. It is so widespread, however, it must somehow be effective, though I can’t imagine how.   After our third day in Panama, my voice had mostly returned, but I would have to restrain myself at Tocumen International from getting into a fight with the folks at the security checkpoints who were making up rules as they went along. My new years resolution is to not judge a place by their airport security employees because that profession seems to lend itself to the most miserable human beings on the planet. I was yelled at for failing to remove a single coin from my back pocket. Mind you, this coin did not set off the alarm, and it wasn’t a body scanner so they shouldn’t have even had any idea I had anything there, but they took great offense that the equivalent of 25 cents had made its way past a metal detector. I held my tongue, but my eyes rolled anyway. I had the sense to recognize that outside this airport, people were friendly and warm and helpful, and that’s how I shall think moving forward. Blocking out one’s experience at the airport is a much better way to see the world. That being said, my last memory of Panama was an uber driver explaining to us that the CEO of Copa Airlines bought up the land around a landfill, built a bunch of high-rise condos, and rent there is now higher than Los Angeles. Panama is on its way . . .

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