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 . . .

To the Canal!

Our hotel has an agreement with the cafe below us to give us free breakfast. I had an empanada and some tea to soothe my throat. We spent the morning walking around Casco Viejo a bit more and did some shopping. There was one shop that had Panamanian futbol jerseys, and I had my eyes on them. They had the home and the away jersey, but they wanted $45 a piece for them. I was able to get both for $65 which I thought was pretty decent. Unlike many of the other jerseys I have from my travels, these may actually be authentic. Nicole and I couldn’t find any differences between the ones we bought and the “official” jerseys available on the internet for a lot more money. Nicole bought a small hand-crafted basket to display on our shelves back home.   

After getting all of our souvenirs, we went back to our hotel for lunch. From there, we made our way to the Panama Canal. We sent for an Uber, which took us through some more impoverished areas of Panama City. At one point, there was actually a sign at the side of the road that read, “Bienvenidos a la peor calle de la ciudad de Panamà,” or “Welcome to the worst street in Panama City.” Below it was a sarcastic thank you to what appeared to be the department of public works for working hard to repair it. It was certainly a different area of the city. Homes were missing walls and held together with cheap corrugated metal. Open-air barber shops seemed to be all the rage. It is a stark contrast to the massive high-rises we can see across the water from Casco Viejo.   It took longer than anticipated to reach the Canal’s closest set of locks at Miraflores because there didn’t appear to be a direct road. I suppose when people think of Panama, they think of the canal, so it should have been no surprise to me that there were more tourists here than anywhere else.

There was a special viewing area with viewpoints at different levels, but there was no place along the edge to get a good view. It was packed. A large “Panamax” cargo vessel was in the middle of transitioning through the locks. “Panamax” refers to a ship that was designed to the maximum size that was allowed in through the Panama Canal. I don’t know how they squeeze through without banging into the side. The ship is somehow guided by multiple tiny trains that parallel the canal on tracks. It was interesting to watch this, but I was also angered by the hordes of people everywhere.   We went inside for a bit to get air conditioning and a break from the people. After a bit we went to a different viewing deck, which was technically a cafe, but nobody hassled us . . .yet. I got my best pictures from this spot. I would have ordered a drink or a snack, but service was a bit lacking, so I just took pictures. I was hoping to get some kind of timelapse footage of the ships going through the locks, but the process is a bit slower than I anticipated, and I didn’t feel like awkwardly waiting for 30 minutes just for another ship to show up.   We walked around the area a bit more, but the people were driving me crazy. When we returned to the cafe, the staff basically threw us out, but not anyone else (none of whom had at any point ordered any food or drink). I’m ok with being kicked out of the cafe, but I’d be happier about it if the rules were enforced equally. That was kind of the last straw, and Nicole and I decided to leave. The canal was cool thing to see, but the facility built for tourists is poorly designed. Considering the canal goes through the entire country, the viewing areas are extremely limited. Furthermore, a newer, bigger canal was completed a couple years prior, but there appears to be no effort to have some sort of shuttle bus that takes visitors to see that. A bit disgruntled, we headed back to Casco Viejo. Our Uber driver appeared to get lost a couple times, and then turned away from our hotel, so we just told him to stop. It took us 45 mins to get back from the canal, which is only 5 miles away.  

After the stress of the canal, Nicole and I went to a rooftop bar. I drank a beer while watching the sunset over the old rooftops of Casco Viejo. It was much more relaxing than the chaos at the canals. After that, we had dinner at an Italian place and then Nicole got me ice cream because I was a good boy. Despite being a Friday night, it didn’t seem much worse than the previous night as far as crowds and noise go. It seems that Casco Viejo is hopping every night. We slept well once again.    

Panama City (Panama not Florida)

Shortly after visiting New Jersey for Christmas, I developed some sort of bizarre sort throat ailment. I called in sick to work for a day and went to a clinic in Marina del Rey where they determined I had some sort of virus. In spite of this, I continued my journey to Houston to visit with my own family. After ringing in the new year, I discovered I no longer had a voice. I found myself communicating via hand gestures and a bit of acting. This isn’t too different from how people in New Jersey communicate. After doing research on my condition, the internet doctors recommended adding moist air to my sinuses. It was a bit cool and dry in Houston, and not much better in Los Angeles, so I persuaded Nicole (through the use of several gestures, pie charts, and a powerpoint presentation) that we should go to Panama. Why Panama? The winter holidays are typically peak time for northern visitors to the Caribbean and other destinations in places like Mexico or Costa Rica. Panama, on the other hand, has remained relatively off the radar, and as a result had plenty of seats on the plane.

After leaving Tocumen International, we caught an Uber into Panama City. We decided to stay in an area of the city called Casco Viejo, or the old quarter. It used to be very run down, but it has recently transformed into the “it” place full of restaurants, cafes, clubs, bars, and hotels. We checked into our b&b, where we got a room on the second floor with a balcony overlooking the narrow streets below. We went out to explore the rest of Casco Viejo. The sun was working its way down on the horizon and the humid air felt good on my throat. We made a loop around the entire neighborhood. It did not take too long, but we were on foot. As we soon learned, driving a car through this area is a bit masochistic. The narrow streets and lack of traffic lights make progress quite slow. We did some research on where to get dinner and ended up at a microbrewery called La Rana Dorada. While the doctors suggested not drinking alcohol, this was difficult to do at a microbrew and I enjoyed my pizza and IPA.

Afterward, we made another lap around Casco Viejo at night, taking in the views of downtown Panama City and all of its high rise buildings.   We made a quick stop at the market across the street from our hotel to get some beverages and then settled in for the night. Our host had warned us that it can get quite loud at night and our room even came with earplugs. As we sat out on our balcony, we observed dozens and dozens of youths descend upon the club that was just below us. In spite of this, we went to bed early and had no difficulty falling asleep.

Not Your Average Honeymoon

Without any conscious effort to do so, we had spent our entire honeymoon in countries that drive on the left. Also, each place we visited (other than a brief layover in the Narita airport) was new to both of us. On first-time visits, I tend to get a bit antsy like there aren't enough hours in the day to accomplish everything there is to do. Not this time, however, and that has to do with the nature of how we "planned" the trip. We sort of chose Bali as our focal point of the honeymoon, but the dilemma was how to get there.

There are no direct flights from Los Angeles, so we bookended it with Singapore and Sydney, cities which don't have copious museums or attractions like a Paris, a Tokyo, or a Rome. I mentioned in a previous post that the mass transit system somehow made the top 10 on TripAdvisor for Singapore. And having rode aforementioned transit system, it's nothing to write home about. It's clean and efficient, but if you're going to have credit card and mobile pay options at the ticket kiosks and then only accept cash, the bugs have not been completely ironed out.

Point being, Singapore and Sydney have one or two "must-see" attractions, but beyond that it is whatever you make of it. For Singapore it was Gardens by the Bay, and for Sydney it was the Opera House and Harbour Bridge. This made it easy to find time to relax because after seeing these "must-sees," we could just see where the day would take us. I was relaxed, Nicole was relaxed, and as a whole, the trip was stress-free, in spite of six different flights being involved and some standby ticket woes.


I want to ensure that I do not sound like I'm picking on Singapore and Sydney. They are, in fact, very interesting cities, which turned out differently than expected. Singapore, which calls itself, "Asia's World City," was an interesting mix of old and new -- heavily favoring the new. And due to its small size and geographic location, it has a unique culture that is really a blend of multiple cultures -- Chinese, Malay, Indian, and even a small European faction. The food reflects this, and every meal is some kind of fusion. Nicole kept pointing out Italian restaurants and saying, "Look!, Italian is really popular here, so if you want an authentic meal, we should get Italian!" Clearly, this is nothing more than Nicole up to her old tricks. She surprisingly did not join me in eating Hainanese chicken rice with curry.

Singapore is often talked about as being one of the cleanest cities in the world. Nicole did remark on how her pack of gum mysteriously vanished after processing through customs. I was reading that the cleanliness of Singapore is almost a necessity due to its muggy tropical climate. Any garbage left stagnant for any length of time becomes a health risk. Steep fines are imposed for littering, and they are enforced. The punishments for crimes in Singapore do seem a bit much for the crime committed, but perhaps it is working. Our customs forms to enter the country said, "Possession of illegal drugs is punishable by death." And that's no joke. At a minimum, one can face some good thrashings by caning (a bit archaic, but perhaps preferred to life in prison or . . . death). They have used the death penalty on more people for drug offenses than murder, and this includes drugs like marijuana, which is now viewed in the U.S. with the same reaction as Diet Coke. It does all seem a bit harsh, but then again, the policies are working. Crime, drug use, and even smaller offenses like littering are extremely low. I also saw no homelessness. A lot can be learned from Singapore, but maybe the caning shouldn't be one of their exports.

With Sydney, we found familiarity -- a virtual Los Angeles down under, but somehow friendlier, more accessible, and disturbingly more expensive. The food was almost exactly the same as our systems were accustomed to eating back in LA. We ate burgers, pasta, waffles, muffins, and pancakes . . . basically the main staples of my diet. Surely things outside Sydney change a bit, and the Outback/Uluru, the Great Barrier Reef, and other sites would make our to-do list on the next excursion to Australia.

But as previously mentioned, Bali was the center point of the trip, a place where we felt we could spend a lot of time relaxing and recovering from the chaos, stress, and people-pleasing that consumed our lives for the past year. We did not want to be at the beaches, which seem to be the more popular destination in Bali by far. They just seemed to be a little trashy, crowded, and had a weird vibe. . . not to mention a fairly high rate of crime. We chose Ubud as it seemed (on paper at least) to be more relaxed and removed from all of that. Our hotel was amazing with a bathroom alone larger than a good number of hotels I've stayed at. It was immaculately landscaped and decorated to look like an aged temple. Going to the pool felt like an Indiana Jones adventure. Once leaving the property, however, the town of Ubud is perhaps not what either of us was expecting. One, the sidewalks are extremely narrow, so this results in walking in the street a lot. Two, the streets are not particularly safe due to pretty erratic driving -- the worst offenders being western tourists who mistakenly believe they can ride a motorbike. Three, white/hippie/dime-store yogi/instagram tourism has completely taken over the town of Ubud and it is just the worst.

I had not seen Eat Pray Love, prior to our trip to Bali, but having seen parts of it the other day, it is pretty accurate. While the viewer of the movie is supposed to take away that Julia Roberts character is becoming enlightened, centered, and balanced, one cannot ignore that the only people she speaks to in Bali are all white people looking to find the same things (whatever those even mean). It is extremely disingenuous and hypocritical for these hippie conquistadors to just march into a country, claim an area as their own and then act like they are part of a culture they never knew anything about. In fact, they have essentially influenced Ubud so much that the town now revolves around white people pretending to be something else. Nowhere was this more evident than Zest, a vegan restaurant with rave reviews and terrible food. The clientele dress in sarongs as their token nod to Indonesian culture, and wear jewelry or do their hair in such a way to look different than one would walking through the streets of America or Europe. There are two problems with this. In their quest to all look different, they all end up looking the same. The second issue is that it's all an act. They pretend to be zen, take a selfie, check how many "likes" they receive on said picture, and plot out their next fake "experience," such as visiting rice paddies that are no longer in use for making actual rice.

They have, in a sense, created an entirely fake life in which they have devoted all time and effort to their pseudo life that exists on the internet, where they try to impress people they will never meet. And it's not just the tourist crowd that rubbed me the wrong way. The hypocrisy continued with religion. There are numerous Hindu temples around Ubud, many which are closed to the public. The few that are open to visitors have a strict dress code . . . sometimes. It is inconsistently enforced because at night, there is money to be made in the dance shows. If you turn someone away for baring too much shoulder, that's 800,000 rupiah ($50) of revenue lost. I understand money talks and all that, but if it's ok at night, it should be ok during the day. You cannot be both welcoming to all, and hours later turn away a woman for menstruating because they're considered too "dirty." The entire local population has been reduced to assimilating into perpetuating a myth that was created by white western tourists for white western tourists. It is as real as Morocco in Epcot or Paris Casino in Las Vegas. It was once a beautiful area with rice paddies that reflected the sun's glow without some guy from Montréal wearing a rice hat for a photo op or some woman from Portland hosting yoga retreats for other western tourists.

Many people come to live in Ubud because they have been led to believe that it is free-thinking, artsy and carefree. This is true on the surface. Ubud is where one can swing toward the heavens without a care in the world ($35/Limit 12 swings). The traffic is bad (and frankly dangerous) for a town of its size. The newspaper reported on two men being arrested for running a Facebook page as a means for gay people to find each other. Had I not met up with one of my Indonesian students from flight school, I wouldn't have had a single authentic Indonesian experience during our stay. The restaurant he took us to was the only one during our visit where Indonesians outnumbered western tourists. So, Ubud is polluted, intolerant, and simulated. If the westerners who flock to Ubud wouldn't stand for these kinds of things back in London or Marseilles or Seattle, why are they ok with them thousands of miles away in another country? It is simply one big lie that people simply fail to realize or choose to ignore.

When we stopped short of taking a United flight home and instead hopped on a flight to Fiji, we
thought we were being a bit crazy. And yet, there we were on our own island in the middle of the South Pacific, watching the vibrant and clear blue waters from our hammock. But it wasn't real. I mean, yes the ocean was real. The hammock was real. But I have the sense to know that this is not daily life on Fiji. It was delightful and relaxing and all those wonderful things, but I am not going to move to Fiji tomorrow and pretend that the Fijian way of life is all coconuts and paddle-boarding. Having visited and lived on Hawaii, I know that there is a pretty significant difference between perception and reality. When I lived on Oahu, I never drank a Mai Tai, only surfed twice, and subsisted on SPAM and plate lunches (none which included pineapple).

The point is this...in spite of what it may sound like from this post, we actually had a fantastic time on our atypical honeymoon adventures. The point is to use caution when evaluating your experiences as a traveler. There is a growing trend of people my age pursuing an "authentic" experience without much regard to what reality actually is. People can go to a place like Ubud and take a cooking class to make Indonesian food! Super authentic! Or is it? . . . Did these overpriced cooking classes exist before the influx of western tourists? Methinks not. I am reminded by a quote from fake movie president Andrew Shepherd in The American President:



Lewis: They're so thirsty for it they'll crawl through the desert toward a mirage, and when they discover there's no water, they'll drink the sand.

Andrew:...People don't drink the sand because they're thirsty. They drink the sand because they don't know the difference.



And that, ladies and gentlemen, is really the point I'm trying to drive home. You can have a great time on vacation, but recognize that your experience may not reflect daily life. I really liked Cuba. Cuba has a history of human rights violations. I liked Israel. Israel is always involved in some sort of controversial settlement dispute or military action. I have always enjoyed Japan. Japan refuses to accept responsibility for the war crimes it committed in the past and has a habit of ignoring its own faults. I am an American. America favors special interests, enjoys putting people in groups for electoral gain, and is somehow simultaneously free, welcoming, and forward-thinking, and yet incredibly backward, racist, and misogynistic. Any country has the potential to be great, but every country is not without its own problems. And for one's honeymoon, one is supposed to sit back and relax. We did just that, but we did something else. We questioned things. And that's ok too.

Fiji-Ween

I set an alarm to wake up for the sunrise. Seeing as though this will be our last day, I thought I'd taken advantage of our locale and try to capture it on my camera.

I did eventually return and tried to fall back asleep, but no such luck. I'm not entirely sure what time zone my body is functioning on at this point, and it will be interesting to see how we adjust back to Pacific time.

After breakfast, we decided to take one of the kayaks around the island. We admired the blue waters and deftly maneuvered ourselves around an entire island. How 'bout them mangoes? As of yet, our arms are not protesting too much from this excursion. After coming back ashore, we decided to walk a bit around the island again and ended up sitting under on the beach for a spell.







After grabbing some lunch, we spent the rest of the afternoon just relaxing or vegging out, which incidentally is how you could describe Nicole's eating since we've arrived. For whatever reason, everything we order here contains lots of vegetables. Nicole ordered a quesadilla that only contained vegetables, and no cheese. Anyway, we had already arranged a late checkout and boat pickup around 6:00pm, but this did not seem to matter a whole lot as some workers were lingering outside our hut as if to hurry us along. I suppose it worked. We boarded a boat at 5:30.

In the end, this didn't really serve us well as we've now been told to wait more than an hour outside security at the airport until our tickets can be released. Standby travel is . . . complicated. Anyway, it has been quite a "honeymoon," one for the books. There have been so many different parts of this trip, it should make for an interesting analysis. We had very different experiences at each stop, each providing us with a new country to pin on the map. While it may seem like we've been hopping around a lot, it has actually felt very relaxed with not a lot of rushing around. I think it's fair to say, however, that this will be our last flight leg for this trip . . . I think.

Mischief Night

We woke up to the sun brightly shining into our small beachfront hut. After a late breakfast, we walked around the entire island, which was not the impossible task it may sound like. Even with the need to watch our footing over some rocks and driftwood, it probably only took us about 25 minutes to go all the way around. The water was a rich blue color and the sun felt very warm beating down on us as we walked. It was, however, not nearly as humid as it was on Bali, so it was comfortable-ish. We stayed hydrated with the Fiji water provided by the resort. I had this strange moment where I was looking at the bottle as if I'd only just realized that Fiji water comes from Fiji. It was just a bit surreal to be seeing something that's so ubiquitous (especially in Los Angeles) and then actually be sitting at a beach on the group of islands where Fiji water is sourced from.

We noticed that other people were acquiring snorkel gear or going out in sea kayaks. We assumed they had not transported these items on the plane, so we tracked down the guy who lets guests borrow various sea-related apparatus. We elected to do Stand Up Paddleboarding. This is actually only the second time Nicole and I have done such an activity -- the first time being on Turks & Caicos. We are just naturally skilled at such things. After paddling around for a while, we made our way back ashore and then hung out by our hut and relaxed in the hammock just outside our door.

Our "resort" is not big, so we keep seeing the same people around, or after a short walk, no people at all. As sunset approached, we walked a little ways toward the other side of the island, so we could watch sunset. There weren't a lot of clouds in the sky today, so the colors weren't very dramatic, but it was relaxing to watch anyway. Fiji is one of the best spontaneous decisions we've made in a while.

After sunset, we made our way to dinner where we were again entertained with music and enjoyed the relaxed outdoor atmosphere of the island's one and only restaurant. After dinner, we spent some time back in the hammock looking up at the stars.

Welcome "home?"

We arrived at the airport about 80 mins before our United flight was scheduled to depart for LAX. For reasons that remain unknown, United demoted our listing from business class to economy and without any action on our part, decided to put us in seats that were in completely different rows. There 60 open seats. We inquired as to why this occurred, and they said it was because our last names are different. This was never a problem before we were married, so it's interesting that this somehow threw United for a loop.



We did end up going to the gate (with seats adjusted to be together, although pretty far in the back) and were just shy of the secondary screening, when we stopped short. This is not how we wanted our honeymoon to end - angry at the airlines, angry at the efficiencies of Sydney's Kingsford Smith International, and poised to spend the next 14 hours in mediocre seats. Right then and there, we canceled our listing. There was a Delta flight leaving in an hour to LAX, but we were already resigned of that option. I went on my phone and booked us a hotel in Fiji and a standby listing to Nadi.

It was an interesting journey to our resort, which is on its own island about 20 minutes from the main island. We met a driver after customs who drove us for about 25 mins to the wharf and then we bounced along in the boat to Serenity Island where we received a royal welcome with musicians, a welcome party with everyone saying "Bula!" and "Welcome Home!" It's like we were celebrities. Not bad for $145/night. We have a beachfront hut. Honestly, they all seem to be beachfront, as the island is maybe only a 1/2 mile around. Having arrived at night, we couldn't really confirm if our view was great.

We could hear the ocean, but for all we knew, we could be sitting on a pile of trash since it was so dark out. We fell asleep to the sounds of the waves crashing just 10 meters away as the rustling of the palm trees lulled us into a deep sleep. We haven't even seen daylight yet, but I think Fiji was a good choice...

Yes.