Ok, the last few days have been...eventful. That is a good word. So its gonna be a bunch of separate blog entries to keep all my lovely faithful readers (hah!) faithfully reading rather than falling asleep at the keyboard and drooling all over it.
This one will be for Panama City. To me, this city was such a vast improvement over San Jose, and although I have never been, I could see why some say remniscient of Miami. Of course I had a dodgy taxi driver though who tried to take me to another hotel (a boring expensive looking one in not a great location) where he clearly got commissoin from and then tried to charge me more to take me to the hostel I wanted to stay at. I don't f***ing think so. And the fact he didn't put up much resistance is proof he was overcharging. I hate taxis.
I checked into Mamallena's, which had scored high ratings on hostelworld.com, despite Lonely planet describing the atmosphere as sterile as a hospital waiting room. I wouldn't say that was entirely true, but I am sure a more atmospheric place existed, such as Luna's castle in Casco Viejo, but I wasn't sure about that area at night, whereas the area Mamallena's is in meant I could walk on my own at night with minimal worry. I also found out later that Luna's was closed for renovations so I couldn't have stayed there anyway. everything for a reason.
The staff at Mamallena's were cool, the facilities pretty good (though the terrace could be made a bit more atmospheric, maybe with some of those funny chilli fairy lights or so), but I would have to say, its hit or miss with the people. And for me, it was largely a miss. I was quite disappointed to arrive to a bunch of zoned out space cadets glued to the television with vacant stares. I mean, some were there for HOURS. One has to wonder, why waste the airfare...
However, I was determined; this city was meant to be known for its nightlife, and if it meant kitting up and going on my own to explore it, so be it. But I did find a kindred amongst this decidedly anti social crowd - A great Argentinian girl called Dolores. She was cool, and at first I was disappointed to hear that she was to be flying out that night.
However as our conversation wore on, it was revealed that she did not actually need to leave the hostel until 2 am, so I asked on the offchance if she would join me rather than hang about the hostel and she took me up on it. So I pulled some nicer threads out from the bottom of the backpack, and even put on a bit of makeup (gasp) and the blasted heels I had been travelling with to blend a bit better in the clubs with 'the rich and beautiful' (lonely planet strikes again).
We headed down to Calle Uruguay, which is supposed to be a main going out area of Panama City, and found it quite dead. And also remniscient of Miami. Was wondering if it was me being destined to never party or have fun again. But then we realised, it was just too early for people to be out. we grabbed some food at a little corner diner called Don Blas with a cheap and varied menu, as well as a wrapaound terrace that would allow us to observe the progression of people going into the various clubs. She was great company for dinner, and afterwards we noticed one particular club with a second floor terrace getting busier and decided to give it a go. We had barely walked in when we were set upon by Jim, an obvious American and his Serbian friend whose name eluded me all night. They walked us to the bar to get some drinks and we were introduced to a load of Panamamanians - they were referred to as 'the Panamamanians' and we were 'Canada girl' and 'Argentina girl'. We grabbed some drinks and hung at the bar for a bit, danced it up and that was great. Jim came back later and was doing a pretty good cowboy dance.
To end the night off we went to chill on that terrace in the warm night air (now, there is no way one could ever say that in Vienna..in January!!!), and met Annette, yet another displacement person (Venezuelan, living in...Miami!) and headed back to Mamallena in time for Dolores to get her plane. Top night, I really enjoyed it. Jim had told us that the scene rotates a bit there, and finally, i had hit it right and that was THE place for Tuesdays. He told me where Wednesday's was and said I should meet them there.
The next day was my one and only day to see the city. I woke up early, attempted to make pancakes (but breakfast was more like pancake goo owing to the dodgy frying pan..cos I CAN make pancakes, damnit! note to self, do not do this next day when have international plane to catch).
I still set out rather early though, right as the first slaves of television and internet emerged from their dorms, and on a tip from Dolores, decided the first thing would be the Canal, at the Miraflores locks. I wanted to go by bus on the 'diablos rojos' (red devils), and this was actually a great way to get around the city and dead cheap. I had no idea which one i needed, or where to get off, but i just shouted my destination and they told me correclty when it was time. people on the bus were also helpful, pointing out which stop for me to get off, and then telling me again which bus I needed for Miraflores. Which was definitely impressive. Along the way I gained the company of an Israeli couple and a super hyper Brazilian, who took some photos of me. I caught the sight of one ship leaving and another entering, but with a tight schedule could not linger too long and headed back down to Avenida Central to walk into Casco Viejo and explore it.
Casco Viejo is under a major facelift, and it showed. some buildings were well restored, next to ghetto ones that looked like they had fallen victim to bombs. the area had a beautiful dilapadated feel to it, and was spotted with some stalls selling Kuna items - it was great to poke around. After which I randomly got on a bus that displayed 'Via Espana' and hoped it would go where I needed it to. It came close, and thankfully my lesson from walking back from Calle Uruguay the night before stuck and I made my way back to TV central to wait out a rainstorm before heading to the Mola shop.
Molas are colorful pieces of patch artwork done by the Kuna Indians of Panama and I was obsessed with them. I bought up quite a lot and my Christmas quota had been fulfilled! (well, along with a Balboa lager to add to my colleague Conor's international beer collection from me). I also tried some fruit juice from a fruit that I had no idea what it was but very tasty. and whilst I popped into the supermarket..which, I am going on a tangent here...is fantastic! It had far more variety than those here in my city of residence, open 24 hours and CHEAP CHEAP CHEAP!!! As I picked the Balboa out of the fridge, a man walked by and said 'solimente una??' (only one??) which made me laugh.
Yeah, I got a good impression of the people of Panama City, which was nice as it would be my final impression of the trip.
Dolores gone, I headed out on my own that night, in hopes that Jim and company would show at the next club, but no go. probably too hungover from the night before, har har. I wound up talking to some Norwegian guy, but he certainly lacked the life and character of Dolores, Jim, or even my cat, so I danced a bit on my own, avoided conversation with random approaching men by pretending to speak neither Spanish nor English, and ended up appearing to be mentally challenged, or deaf, as my racing mind could not settle on another one to try, for fear they would also know it, and know it better than me, as French, German or Japanese are not all that rare...note to self, learn some words in more obscure language, like maybe Irish, or pick up the Swahili again. And that was that.
I awoke for my journey the next morning with a bad feeling about the day. I shook it off, figuring it largely to do with the fact I had forgotten to take my driving license, yet had hired a car in LA. ooops. little did I know that was the least of my worries.....and thus we have the next entry....
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