Panama City and The Canal

(also see Balboa , Islas Tabogas)

PANAMA CITY

We all were ecstatic to reach Panama City.  We were slapping the high fives.  As we entered it was another world, filled with these huge monster dinosaur like freighters.  They were anchored out in the surrounding waters waiting for the cue to get into the canal.  Some were being fueled by support ships, and some had crews swimming in the waters off the deck.  They were massive monsters.  We slowly navigated our way in and were struck by the immense cityscape that lay before us.  After miles and weeks of small villages without roads or connections to civilization, this was a surreal oasis of civilization.

We passed the causeway that linked the small islands outside the city, all built from the earth and rock removed for the construction of the Panama Canal.  We passed the Flamingo Yacht Club which was full.  We headed into the canal navigation markers to pick up a mooring at the Balboa Yacht Club.  This Club according to Dave was more rustic and you were not allowed to bring your dinghy ashore but were captive to the club’s launches to pick up you and deliver you back to your boat.  We were greeted by one of the launch drivers, who helped lift the mooring lines up to us so we could secure them to our bow.  We were on the outer edge of the moorings right next to one of the navigation markers.  The freighters and yachts would be passing right by us all day and all night long entering and leaving their passage through the canal.  We worried about how rolly this mooring would be but had no choice. 

Again the paperwork “cha cha” began.  First we were boarded by the canal inspector, a Mr. Spencer, who was here to obtain info statistics about the and to literally measure with a tape measure, the Knotty Dog for the passage.  He asked all sorts of detailed questions about the engine, fuel quantity, size, etc. etc.  Our agent Tina was our contact and she arrived shortly.  She was responsible to make all our arrangements for the canal passage and customs clearing.  She had been recommended by “Uno Mas”, another Nordhavn, who was ahead of us.  They warned us that she a “talkative” Panamanian.  I liked her, she was small but spunky and pushy, and she ordered these guys around like you wouldn’t believe.  She gave us a cell phone that we could use to contact her.  We told to buy some minutes on it and that’s how we would be in communication.  She also gave us a brand new Lonely Planet Travel Guide on Panama and said we had to return it when we left.  She was a kick and efficient. 

We all, as a group, decided that we’d like to leave by Tuesday to do the canal transit if it worked.  That would give us some time to see the city and provision.  Once that was decided the ball was rolling in Tina’s court. 

Next came the Canal Clearing agent or customs agent.  He asked about our meat.  He wanted to know if it was from Washington because of the mad cow disease.  We said it all came from San Diego, so no problems.  Then came the Panama City Clearing agent with his college student trainee.  Tina blasted the agent for bringing an extra person on board.  All went very smoothly.  Tina took our passports and said she would return tomorrow with our passports and the lines that we were going to rent for the passage.

By now it was late in the afternoon and Dave and I stayed aboard while Larry went to shore to do some final paperwork with Tina.  Richard and Margie were in such a rush to get off the boat they almost didn’t wait to get cleared by customs.  I had to keep telling Richard he couldn’t leave until all the agents cleared us.  He was crazed to get off the boat.  I guess he was anxious to get his glasses repaired as the lenses weren’t in securely as he had a fall on the boat and knocked his head and broke his glasses again.     Dave rinsed and washed the outside the best he could with our fresh water and I vacuumed and cleaned the boat inside.  When finished cleaning Richard and Margie came back, his glasses fixed and telling us about going to the Artisan Stores and Internet café, etc.

That evening, we all took a cab to the Flamenco Marina where there was a mini mall and several restaurants.  We had some cocktails and fish dinners and watched the sun go down over the skyline of Panama City.  As we were getting ready to leave, Richard went to the bathroom and got lost on his way back.  Margie said for us to go on that he gets lost all the time.  We didn’t want to leave here alone so we insisted on waiting.

BALBOA YACHT CLUB

The Balboa Yacht Club is pretty rustic.  It consists of a long old pier with a greasy fuel dock at the end.  At the top of the pier is a make shift open area bar which is pretty much just a concrete slab with plastic chairs and tables, covered with a tin awning.  There’s a make shift bar counter and the whole operation works out of ice chests and a small portable trailer much like what you would find at a carnival or fair.  Yachters of all nationalities hang out there drinking Panamanian beer and talking about where they’ve been and giving pointers to other cruisers headed in the direction that they just came from.  The surrounding area is a strange place, left over from the US occupation.  Streets with white curbs and abandoned buildings and empty fields.  Nearby is a small 6-story hotel, Courtyard Inn or something like that, with a TGIF restaurant and bar out front on the waterfront.

This is where the cabs line up to take the yachters into the city for all their errands.  The taxi drivers usually get hired for a full day to take the yachters around on their errands to the grocery stores, sightseeing, hardware stores and marine part stores.  They will wait for you while you do your shopping or sightseeing.  They charge about $10 American per hour.  All the taxis are all smaller than you would like with all that you need to carry and few have AC.  The heat is unbearable and it’s not a pleasant experience to get out in it but you get by.  About ½ mile away are the leftovers of the army base where we can get to the internet and it has a large tin covered structure with various Panamanian artisans, (mostly Kuna Indian’s) show their wares.

Dave, Larry and I head for the old town called CASCO VIEJO to do some sightseeing. Margie and Richard want to do their own thing.   We were warned by Tina that when going to the city to always keep the taxi driver with you, and have him wait, as many areas in the city are unsafe.  The books say not to draw attention to yourself with fancy jewelry and watches or clothing.  We could understand this as we drove into the city and saw the many tenements and horrible living conditions that the masses were living in.  I have never quite seen anything like it.  It was shocking how many people were crowded into these dirty buildings.

FISH MART

We had the cab driver drop us at the fish market.  It was an amazing fun sight.  It was a large warehouse with rows of tables and plastic bins filled with all kinds of fish and shellfish.  The workers were busy weighing and cutting the fish.  They loved having their pictures taken and would proudly hold up their prize fish for the day with a huge smile.  It was a colorful place. 

We then walked the waterfront towards the old city and passed some run down wharfs with hundreds of pelicans.  The shore was filled with trash and the buildings were grey and black and falling apart.  It looked like the end of the world.  In the distance across the water we could see the tall skyscrapers of the new city.  It was a sharp contrast to the poverty of the area we were walking through.

As we walked further down, we came to another district which I can only describe has make shift junk shops but probably served as the local hardware stores for the poor living in the squallier nearby. They had a little bit of everything.  One vendor had a collection of hubcaps; another old used wires of all sorts, old boots, just junk.  The vendor would be sitting an old ragged upholstered chair that looked like it was falling apart.  Another would be sleeping on a pile of dirty cardboard piled up to make a bed.    The streets were filled with men.  Most of the men looked like they were unemployed.  I felt very uncomfortable for my safety in this area though it was fascinating.  We gringos were out of place. 

We continued along the waterfront and passed the meat market.  It was set up pretty much the same as the fish market although the workers were not friendly or anxious to have their pictures taken.  We passed rows of women with card tables and folding chairs selling lottery tickets that we lined up in neat rows across their tables.  We passed the other markets that were small stalls crowded together with dark narrow walkways that sold just about anything.

It was an amazing site but I was glad to be getting nearer to the old city.  I could see the pleasant colonial architecture up ahead and was anxious to leave this part of the city though fascinating I did not feel safe.  As we walked up the hill to the old city we could see the modern skyscrapers in the distances and the poverty and decadence of the poor section in the foreground.

CASCO VIEJO

The old city is immediately charming in that the buildings exude history and ambience from a time long past.  Most of the buildings are run down and boarded up but many though are under renovation and some are completely restored and when they are restored they are magnificent.  We walked along the waterfront of the old city and came to a heavily guarded area, which was the President’s Palace, a huge white colonial building.  Young smart looking armed guards in dark khaki uniforms with red berets an polished black boots guarded the access to the palace grounds.  I asked one of the guards if I could take a picture, which he posed very proudly.  He then invited us to come into the gated area to see the front entrance to the palace that overlooked the waterfront.  He also gave us a small brochure on the history and present function of the building. 

The grand old building was well taken care of and the front entrance was graced with steps leading up to three arches, all protected by iron gates with another armed guard standing at station with his legs spread apart and arms tightly behind him in an “at ease” position.  I then noticed the grey herons behind the gates on the front portico and in the inner courtyard were some more.  They were huge and looked very elegant like they had grey dinner jackets with crisp white colors and black ties, the illusion created by their beautiful feather formation.  They were very spry and flighty and were comical as they hid behind the large white pillars of the entry arches.  They were very shy as you approached them and then if you walked away they would come out in the open and sort of chase you to tease you back to them.  They must have been about 5 feet tall.  The guard would crack a smile as I played with them.  The president of Panama resides within the building much like the white house in Washington.  Many functions and state affairs occur there.

We walked along further down the waterfront and turned a corner, admiring the colonial architecture and the restoration that was going on.  We came to the Simon Bolivar Square, which was left over from the canal days when the French were in charge of the construction of the canal.  The bronze sculpture in the center was typically French flamboyant and large ficus trees filled each corner of the plaza perfectly trimmed to gum ball shapes.    It was back dropped by a beautiful white cathedral small in stature but very colonial in style.  As we walked on the cobble stone streets further into the center of the old city we remarked that the buildings had a New Orleans feel with many balconies, with ornate ironwork and large colorful plantation shutters and ornate overhanging eaves with detailed, ornately designed corbels.  Each building was a different color and accented by painted trims.  Some were occupied and filled with colorful laundry hanging out to dry.  We came to the main plaza, small in size but large in style.  It was a place of many historic happenings during the early years.  The centerpiece of the plaza was a large gazebo, which I’m sure, staged many important historical events.  The gazebo was flanked on four sides by large trees and grassed areas that were cordoned off by ornate iron fences.  One side of the plaza had the huge old cathedral with two white bell towers and the center was a brownish stone material with ornate carvings.  To the left on the other side of the park was the old hotel that many important historical figures had stayed.   We could picture the old days as the horse drawn carriages would clamber down the streets and stop in front of the hotels loading and unloading dignitaries that were involved in the most massive building project the world had seen or dreamed about.

We continued on to the other side of the old town, which faces the ocean on the other side; as the old town is build on a point.  There is a grand old walkway on the waterfront that curves around with a large dramatic curving stairway that leads down to another plaza and cathedral.  This is also where the old dungeons were and are now occupied by a fine restaurant an upscale art gallery.  

This area again had a flamboyant flair that only the French can do.  There was a display of many busts of famous Frenchmen of the early 20^th century.  The site was also to honor the more than 20,000 workers that died from yellow fever, malaria and land cave-ins while making the canal.

We stopped at the only sidewalk café we could find to get some drinks and have lunch.  There’s so much so see and enjoy here but the heat was beyond bearable and zapped the energy right out of you.  We had a nice lunch and watched the world go by.  Many Zuna Indians dressed in their full regalia paraded by, looking out of place in this city, and workers busy running back and forth with their old fashioned tools and wheel barrels, busily involved in the renovation business of the old city.  We had a nice lunch but when Larry gave them a $50 bill for lunch (because they didn’t take credit cards) it took almost an hour to get the change back because they had to go to the bank to get change.   We finally gave up and Larry had them give us less money back so we could leave.  The errand guy was still not back from the bank when we left.

We caught a local taxi and headed back to the area where the boat was.  We decided to go to the old YMCA building that used to serve the Americans in the days of the canal, to the Internet café inside.  Next to it was a large old open-air warehouse filled with artisan vendors selling Zuna Indian Molas and other Panamanian native crafts.                              

 Now on to Balboa