JJ's Travelogue

The bus from San Jose was also sold out, geez. I didn’t get a window seat, but still had a glimpse at the pretty scenery. The first half of the journey south through Costa Rica was through cloud forest – visibility was maybe 30m for about four hours. Lovely. Then we dropped down into the lowlands and were pelted with rain for the next few hours. We stopped for a bite and the rain smelled so sweet. One of my favorite scents in the world, warm rain.

Finally we hit the border. Panama isn’t very welcoming compared to it’s northern neighbors. Maybe I’m spoiled being an American and am finally getting a taste of what other nationalities normally go through. Endless lines, not knowing what they’re asking or where to go. Turns out you now need a visa, an onward ticket, and to show $500 cash to enter. What?! I don’t remember any of this from four years ago when Chloë and I visited briefly. Fortunately the bus conductor helped me sort it out in exchange for a tip. The visa was just some paperwork and $5, my credit cards served as the cash, and they let me slide without an onward ticket. Glad I don’t look like a dirty hippy anymore. They did an ineffectual search of our bags, putting on a security theatre performance that would make the TSA proud.

Borders fascinate me. They’re completely imaginary divisions, solely perpetuated by most of us agreeing that they’re real lines drawn on the earth. The plants and animals couldn’t give a damn. Yet for being imaginary lines in the sand, they have an enormous impact on societies. It’s surreal how simply moving 1km across one of these lines completely changes the feeling in the air – the way people behave, dress, eat, relate to you, their standard of living, the quality of the infrastructure, everything. It’s an obvious observation, but profound to actually experience over and over.

The bus dropped me off on the Pan-American highway, just outside the town of David (don’t you love the name?) Actually, this is Panama’s second largest city. It feels totally different here. Wide boulevards, clean streets, sidewalks(!), the people have darker skin, almost Caribbean. All the buildings are from the 20th century, generally 30′s to 50′s architecture. The town feels a bit like Belmopan, back in Belize. Nothing higher than two or three stories, very spread out and residential. I wish I had a bike (or blades!), it would sure make exploring easier. Nowhere to rent them, though, since the locals all have their own (even the cops!) and there are hardly any tourists. David is the industrial hub of this end of the country, which I didn’t really know what meant until I started walking around. Let’s just say that there are a dozen places to buy a new tractor, building materials, or get your car fixed – but good luck finding a restaurant. I guess most people eat at home. Still, it’s a good places to lay up for a few days and do some life maintenance.

It’s also hot but very humid, totally different from Nicaragua.
For some reason I’m always hit on by the hookers and gays. I’m taking it as a complement.
Last night I wandered into a couple of casinos, since the two discos in town were shut. Odd, there don’t seem to really be bars or places where people hang in the evening. I don’t know if I’ve ever hung out in a casino. They’re such weird places, the height of artificiality. People sitting in front of video screens for hours, not interacting with one another. And burning their money! Isn’t it obvious that for the casino to stay in business, you’re guaranteed to lose money. I just don’t see the appeal, it feels like some dystopian vision of the future.

Stop signs say “ALTO”, which means “stop”, but it also means “high”, as in “high speed”. I think drivers are reading the wrong meaning into the signs, judging by the way they fly right by them.
The spanish word for “fireman” is “bombero”, which to me sounds like “bomb”. So whenever I see a firehouse (“BOMBEROS”), I always think of Fahrenheit 451, in which the firemen are in charge of burning all the books. I know, I have a weird mind.

Panama isn’t the cheapest country down here, but it sure beats Costa Rica. I’m in a much nicer hotel for 1/3 less. Food is very cheap. You can have a complete meal of grilled chicken, fries, salad, plantains and a drink for $3.50. The paper tells me that the country has been experiencing explosive growth in the last few years. The cost of living rose 17% last year. They’re adding a 3rd set of locks to the canal, a massive engineering project that will cost $5.5 billion, and won’t be finished until 2015.

My hotel overlooks the central park, and there is a group of deaf people who hang out day and night, signing away to each other. Last night I was kept up by a quinceañera party – Latin’s version of our Sweet 16.

Their currency is called the Balboa, and the bills are.. U.S. dollars. Like, with the same value as U.S. dollars, but they call them “balboas” instead. Huh? They do mint some of their own coins, but mainly use U.S. coins, and exclusively U.S. bills. [Actually, in 1941 they issued their own notes before recalling them a week later ("The Seven Day Dollar"), the only time they have printed their own currency.] I wish they would call a spade a spade, admit the emperor has no clothes, a few other cliches, and take after El Salvador (which calls the dollar a dollar.)

I went for a run this morning before it got too hot, boy that felt great – first time in weeks. Just when I was starting to die of thirst, I came across an old man by the side of the road surrounded by literally about 80 coconuts. He was slowly hacking the top of each one off, pouring the contents into a cooler filled with ice, and selling cups of the coconut water for 30 cents. Heaven.