Map of Panama

Saturday, Feb 13 1999

In the morning I woke just before dawn to watch the sun rise over the Pacific.

On the way to to pick up Michael at the airport, Chris dropped me off at a surf shop that was scheduled to open in a couple of hours. I had decided not to spend the money ($60 each way, plus I would have to buy a boardbag, >$70) to ship my own surfboard on American and was hoping to buy a used board or rent one. Since I had two hours to kill I started exploring the neighborhood. There were already many signs of  the afternoon Carnaval festivities beginning to appear: Giant speaker arrays blaring what seemed to be latin rap music, vending booths stocked with beer, and Policia armed with army-green-dirtbikes, automatic rifles and pistol-grip shotguns.

.    View of Via España

Unable to find a vending booth selling anything other than beer, or an open restaurant, I resorted to eating breakfast at a Burger King. Somehow I managed to explain that I wanted no meat on my Croissan'wich, using the words huevas, queso, and the international symbol for "only": a crossed-hands sweeping gesture. I knew about a dozen words in spanish, including the numbers uno through cinco. As a result of this trip I've probably doubled my spanish vocabulary, although I still can't count past five.

I did not want to suffer through any more of spanish-dubbed "Andy Griffth Show" playing on the B.K. T.V., so I vamoosed out of there and headed back to H2O (the surf  shop).  Luckily the lady there spoke a little english so I was able to find out that they did not rent boards, but they had a decent used board for $85 which I promptly bought. I had to walk a mile back to the apartment through the city carrying the surfboard under my arm. I toyed with the idea of trying to get one of the heavily armed Policia to pose for a picture with me but chickened out. With age comes wisdom.

Back at the Sky Palace, I waited a short time until Chris and Michael arrived. Then, after a quick enthusiastic tirade of anti-American (Airlines) sentiments, we stuffed all the necessities into the yuppie SUV and headed west into the Panamanian interior. The road we traveled was called CA-1 ...Central America not CAlifornia. However this same strip of asphalt snakes up through Costa Rica, Nicaragua, Honduras, El Salvador, Guatemala and Mexico right up to Tijuana. Perhaps it turns into California Highway 1 at San Diego, but we're not sure.

We were heading west and then south along the coast of the Peninsula de Azuera towards the village of Pedasí. The land we passed through was hilly and dry-season brown with mostly low stubborn-looking vegetation. We passed small roadside villages full of concrete and debris with dusty store fronts and packed dirt parking lots. We passed massive trucks spraying water onto cheering bare-chested Carnaval celebrators. We passed men standing on the shoulder of the road holding aloft fresh tamales wrapped in leaves.

Lunch was in Penenome (hereafter known as "Lunch Town") at a roadside diner. Like many restaurants in the Panamanian countryside, this one was outdoors. Tables sat on a concrete slab with a high pitched palm leaf thatched roof for shelter. This was an oft repeated architecture throughout the trip. Although it was warm in the sun, the shade from the thatched roofs and the breeze filtering through the neighboring sugar cane field cooled the dining area perfectly.

Sated, we moved on and within a few hours found ourselves on the outskirts of Pedasí at the Hotel Residencial. The hotel consisted of a few one-story lengths of whitewashed buildings with room entrances opening into a grassy courtyard. Arcades of fig trees stretched along the building and reached up past the eaves. There was a bit of a struggle between Chris and the owner over our room. Since it was in Spanish I couldn't follow a word of it, but it was soon clear he wanted to put the three of us in a tiny room with only one bed.

Michael and I left Chris to work this out while we went on down the road to check the first surf break described in the Panamanian Surf Report Michael had procured. Following the article's directions we passed on through Pedasí (all 4 blocks of it) and turned left onto a dirt road which came at four kilometers past the town instead of the described seven, but we were feeling lucky, punk. The dirt road wound up and down through cow pastures and planted fields, occasionally traveled by small herds of cattle and lasting much longer than expected, but finally terminating

.    The Pedasí Hotel Residencial

at a deserted beach. The surf was not exactly "up" but we had to marvel at the pristine character of this out of the way spot. On a bluff overlooking the shore a house stood sentinel with a tall windpower turbine spinning grandly into the offshore gusts, but there were not much other signs of civilization.

The sun was setting so we headed back to the hotel where Chris informed us that we had been moved to a much more spacious room with a double bed for the siblings and a single for myself. We celebrated this pleasant turn of events with bottles of fifty cent Panamanian brew and reposition in hammocks. In time a friend of Chris' named Harishe dropped by. Harishe is a young man from Elon College in Atlanta, GA working in Pedasí for the Peace Corp. He told us about a restaurant a kilometer or so on the other side of town. We ended up meeting him there an hour later, along with a few of his friends: A Colombian zoologist who worked for a shrimpery and a Colombian electrical engineer who worked for Panama's telecommunication utility, Cable & Wireless. Dinner consisted of ceviche, fried fish, rice and beans for $1.75. We learned some interesting things, such as the fact that if you cut off one of a shrimp's eyes its gestation cycle is significantly shortened. Betcha didn't know that.

.    Fellow travelers on the road to Destilladaros

Sunday, Feb 14 1999

We awoke to a flat tire on the SUV, which we changed after locating the spare tire and struggling to comprehend the elaborate mechanisms used to release it. It was like an Egyptian tomb poser from an Indiana Jones story. At the only gas station in town with a tire repair technician, we opted to wait until the next day for the repair since the technician was pulling on a bottle of beer and already looking a bit pie-eyed at 9 AM.

Breakfast was huevas y tortillas maiz at the hotel and then we trucked back down the road to Playa Destilladaros, the break Michael and I scoped out the previous evening. Again there were not many waves but Michael and I paddled out anyhow to see what we could scrounge up. The bottom was rocky, and our boards scraped submerged boulders many times. I camped out near a friendly rock which jutted out during the passing troughs, but was not able to catch more than a few blinkingly short rides.

After and hour or so we decided to head further south to the tip of the peninsula where another beach break was described in the Surf Report. This place was called Venao, although some signs listed it as "Venado". The local dialect often drops the "d" in words. Venao was around 30 kilometers further down CA 1, and the road was much worse through this stretch. Alternating between gravel/dirt sections and severely pot-holed asphalt sections. It was good to have a sturdy four wheel drive for this journey. There were very few buildings along the way, and no villages. It was mostly wilderness and pasture spreading over abounding tall narrow hills. Occasionally the road would afford a view of the Pacific horizon or a tree-lined cove below.

Traffic was very light, just an occasional truck or a car picking its way slowly around the broken asphalt. When we arrived at the Venao beach however, we were not alone. Due to the holiday weekend, Venao was teeming with folks, well compared to the solitude of Destilladaros anyhow. There were several dozen people on the beach, or surfing, or under the roof of the Jardin Venao dining area.

Of course our first order of business were the waves, and they were good. In short time Michael and I were in the water enjoying the fruits of the pacific, reconciling with nature. The waves were lining up long and peeling fast so shoulder hopping was necessary to avoid close-outs. Not perfect conditions, but not bad either. And of course we were just happy enough to be catching waves sans wetsuits in February.

.    Michael Rei reconciling with a Panamanian wave

Lunch and cervezas at the Jardin were affordable, well received and followed by another enjoyable surf session. We were in a cove with the land wrapping off to the side towards the open ocean. There was no undertow or side current, and a nice offshore breeze holding up the walls of water. We stayed in the water until our arms could take no more paddling. I napped most of the drive back to Pedasí, waking only occasionally to see animal oddities such as an escaped cow trying to stand inconspicuously in the roadside brush, and later the biggest pig I'd ever seen.

We consulted the recently published Lonely Planet Panama guide for dinner restaurants (see also CityComparator). One place that sounded good was a place which was owned by a French Chef serving gourmet cuisine. This was quite out of character with all of the more modest and traditional spots so we decided to try it out. We could not find the restaurant named in the guide, but there was another restaurant named J.R.'s in nearly the same location. We went inside an noted a large poster blow-up of a caucasian Chef with arms thrown out exclaiming a table of fruits and vegetables before him. We figured this must be the place. Turned out that it was; J.R. served us the most delicious meal of the vacation and told us the story of how he came to Panama City to open a restaurant with a partner 20+ years ago and ended up striking out on his own in Pedasí after his partner ran into financial troubles. Although the meal was 3 or 4 times more expensive than the typical fare you can find in Pedasí, I highly recommend a dinner at J.R.'s if you are there.

.    Carnaval Float Queen

After dinner we drove back north to the larger town of Las Tablas where a Panamanian band, El Plumas Negras, was playing. Chris was a fan, as were most Panamanians. The main star of Latin America bands tends to be the accordion player, not the lead singer as is common in the U.S.A. and U.K.. When the accordion player of El Plumas Negras died the previous year the entire country was in mourning and the funeral procession stretched for miles. Subsequently, the lead singer took up the accordion to carry on the band. We paid $1 and received admission tickets stapled onto our shirts. The dance hall was packed, as were the streets of Las Tablas, with Carnaval celebrators. An interesting dance hall custom: It's $1 to get in, but if you want to dance it is another $5 and they staple a dance ticket to your lapel.

Out in the streets Carnaval floats loaded with neighborhood Queens and Princesses passed by followed by dancing citizens and trucks carrying brass bands. Vendor stalls were set up selling festival food, knick knacks and drinks. We stayed for a couple of hours before heading back to Pedasí.

Monday, Feb 15 1999

Lundi Gras. Opting to avoid the hotel waitress (She had been dubbed Senorita Sourpuss the previous morning) we instead walked into town for breakfast. On the way we met Harishe who joined us and selected the restaurant Angela. Again we had eggs and corn tortillas, and the cheerful charming waitress was a vast improvement over the competition. Chris opted to stay in the village with Harishe and check out the afternoon Carnaval festivities.

Michael and I returned to Venao where the waves had deteriorated somewhat and the surf crowd had thickened. At lunch at the Jardin Venao we were inundated with Latin pop/rock music blaring from automobiles backed up to the dining area with open hatchbacks. Since the conditions were less than perfect we headed back to Pedasí but stopped along the way at Jardin Brisas del Sur (Southern Wind Garden). This small out-of-the-way jardin sat on top of a hill overlooking another cove. Some locals sat at a table under the palm leaf roof singing and playing small drums. Michael and I relaxed on a bench looking over the water, drank Atlas (a local beer) and enjoyed the scene. Before leaving we walked down to the beach where I found a sizable collection of interesting shells and animal bones.

In Pedasí we relaxed some more and read our  books. Michael and I, by coincidence, were both reading Cold Mountain by Charles Frazier. When Chris came back we all headed out to dinner at Angela's. This would be my cheapest meal of the trip; since they were out of fish I had the rice and bean plate for fifty cents.

In the middle of dinner, Pedasí lost electrical power. Candles were lit, and the Carnaval brass bands played on in the darkness. Out in the streets the sky was filled with a plethora of twinkling stars; it was so clear that one could easily discern the Milky Way. We walked through the dark town looking for dessert cake and entered a small candlelit storefront. The proprietor's pre-teen daughter was learning English in school and, although she was shy, with a little encouragement she handled the cupcake transaction as her father proudly looked on. If only my Spanish were so good. While waiting for the corn cakes to come out of the oven, I chatted with some other customers, a mother and daughter who spoke excellent English. We talked about the differences between Pedasí Carnaval and Las Tablas Carnaval (Las Tablas was losing traditional customs and becoming more of a drunken party) and about the state of the road to Venao (They could no longer make the trip in their small car since the road had become so bad). Before heading back to the hotel we enjoyed some more of the Pedasí-style Carnaval with singing, dancing and grand costumes. The electrical power had returned, obscuring the canopy of stars and lighting our way home.

Tuesday (Carnaval!), Feb 16 1999
 
On our way to Venao in the morning we ran into a Louisiana woman named Roberta whom Chris had met the previous day. She and her boyfriend Mark were charter boat captains who were staying at Playa de Pedasí for Carnaval. As any good Louisiana woman on Mardi Gras, she was loaded with beads and left a few with us when she went on to find a ride to Las Tablas.

In Venao we found waves breaking further inside and irregularly but lining up nice with a bit of barreling action thrown in. Best of all, there was hardly anyone else on the beach or in the water.  We surfed for awhile, and Chris brought out his water camera for photographs. It was a good time although the waves were far from perfect.

At lunch we decided to get food to go from Venao and eat at Brisas del Sur which had a much better atmosphere but no food menu. After lunch Chris and I tried snorkeling off the beach at Brisas del Sur but the visibility was very poor, so we spent a large amount of time just relaxing and reading. A couple of men rode horses down on the beach, guiding them deep into the water until the horses' heads were stretched barely above the water line.

That night in Pedasí Carnaval was in full swing. The rival neighborhood floats circled the village square with their entourage of chanting followers and brass bands while fireworks exploded low in the sky showering purple globules of light everywhere. Men exploded strands of roaring firecrackers to clear the streets for the floats. So many strings of explosions and cheering and band music that we had to shout to be heard over the din. The streets were thick with the shredded paper remnants of firecrackers. We ordered Batidos (fresh fruit milk shakes) from a vendor and enjoyed the fracas until the clamor of the explosives grew too much to bear.

On the way home we stopped to watch kids ride a carousel and ferris wheel which had been set up for the night. And later we drove down the road, away from the village lights, to try to view the starry night again but the sky quickly turned opaque urging us back to the hotel for some reading and sleep.

Wednesday, Feb 17 1999

We checked the spare tire in the morning, which the local tire king had plugged on Monday. It was flat. So we stopped again to have it filled, this time by the tire prince-in-waiting (as the tire king was probably still recovering from Carnaval no doubt) and then headed back to Venao where we found no other beachgoers, powerful waves breaking in shallow water and a strong parallel undercurrent. After an hour or so of trying to catch a ride-able non-life-threatening wave, Michael and I gave up and we headed back to Pedasí stopping only to take some photos at a roadside cemetery. In Pedasí we collected Chris and our belongings for the journey back to Panama City.

We had lunch in the town Chitre, the capital of the next province past Las Tablas (which was the capital of Pedasí's province, Los Santos (pay attention, there will be a quiz)). I also bought a great unraveled brim woven palm leaf sombrero for the undisputedly bargain price of $0.99. Back in Panama City I finished my book and spent the night on the balcony couch, exposed to the cool breeze and the sounds of the Pacific.

Thursday 18, 1999

We started the day with some shopping (postcards, souvenirs and a cigar Michael owed Chris from a lost wager) and then visited the Miraflore Lock, one of the two lock systems on the Pacific end of the Panama Canal. We watched a Liberian cargo ship go through the lock, being raised approximately 40 feet (the next lock will raise it to the full 80 feet above sea level). The locks are an engineering marvel, massive concrete structures which serve as a tangible testament, but only a prelude, to the saga of the Canal construction.
 
 

.    At the Miraflore Locks

Children ran up to the truck when we parked at the fort and Chris selected the oldest one for the fifty cents service of "watching our car" while we looked around the fort. The fort had seen better days, as it was currently incapable of fending off a timid breeze, but it was quite picturesque with cannons facing out into the Caribbean blue waters of the bay. At the church we tried to view the famous "Black Christ" or Jesus de Nazareth statue but its display case was being cleaned. No problem, there was a second Black Christ in Panama and it happened to be at Isla Grande.

When we got to the end of the road where we could see Isla Grande across the water, we parked the truck at a dock and entrusted local teen Mario to guard it for a buck. We had barely carried our stuff to the dock when a man pulled up in a long wooden motorboat and agreed to take us across to Isla Grande for $1 apiece, so we loaded the boat and set off for the island.

.    Arrival on Isla Grande

A string of pastel colored buildings lined the edge of the island facing the mainland with thick jungle vegetation rising behind up into the island's interior. The water was clear as a swimming pool and blue as the cover of a travel magazine. At the dock we unloaded and the brothers Rei wandered off to check our hotel options while I watched the gear. There were a score or so of vacationers near the dock, snorkeling in the water or dining at the tables of the nearby hotel restaurant where coconuts with straws stuck in them were being served. The Black Christ statue stood out in the water past the end of the short dock watching over the snorkelers. A sand crab walked along the dock and into a hole in the hollow interior of a concrete table. The weather was gorgeous and I lazily watched small waves peeling along the channel just past the statue. I don't think my heartbeat could have been any slower.

The boys came back to report several of the hotels were still in disarray due to the Carnaval activities. For instance our first choice,  Moon Cabins, on the east end of the Island (right in front of the purported best surfing spot) had no sheets. So we ended up further to the west at the Super Jackson where Chris had stayed on a previous visit. Quickly we dropped our gear in the room and walked back out to the channel with our snorkeling gear. The water was clear but not many fish were floating around at this point. I was looking at that little wave which kept peeling along the channel and decided to go back to the room for my surfboard.

This turned out to be a bad idea. As I walked out toward the wave I came unto a reef which was only ankle deep beneath the water. I trudged slowly forward, stinging my bare feet on sharp rocks for quite awhile until Michael, who was wearing booties and was walking out with me to watch, noticed that the waves were breaking on a wall of jagged rock on the far end of the reef. Finally admitting the futility, I started stepping carefully back towards shore, subjecting my loyal feet to undeserved cuts, slivers and pain. After a couple of days that all went away though.

Friday 19, 1999

In the morning someone had a wonderful idea, who was it? Oh yes, it was me! I woke up thinking that we could probably cheaply hire a boat to take us around the perimeter of the island. Everyone agreed, so at breakfast Chris (our official communicator) found someone who agreed to take us around for $10. Chris also arranged for him to stop at a reef on the ocean side for some snorkeling for an additional $5. Quite the bargain, I have to say.

The water was fairly clear for snorkeling but a bit dark for photos. We had a great time following fish around the reef until the man with the boat indicated he was ready to go. Chris negotiated another $2 for 10 more minutes, so we finished exploring the reef and then climbed back into the boat. On the way back to the channel side we noticed a grand hotel built into the verdant jungle on the ocean side of the island which the boat driver explained was very expensive. We also noticed that there was not any sort of road along the ocean side of the island, it was only accessible by boat. As we passed by the Moon Cabins cove we saw that there were some decent waves but they were breaking close to shore on scattered rocks so we decided to stick with snorkeling for the day.

.    Some of the smaller sea critters

There were young children on the dock as we pulled up in front of the Super Jackson. They were fishing with a block of wood wrapped with fishing line and had just caught something so they were quite excited and dancing around squealing. We walked to the west end of the island where a sharp sandy point jutted out into calm blue waters. The snorkeling was very good here, as the water was shallower and much brighter than the open ocean reef. Despite the fact that we kept running into a barracuda we spent a much longer time exploring this reef.

On the walk back to the hotel we passed locals carrying a lot of fresh catches, what looked like red snappers and tuna, which set us hankering for lunch. In the afternoon we walked around the village, taking some photographs and relaxing until we checked out of the hotel and hopped a boat back to the mainland. At one point in the mountains as we drove back to Panama City we were caught in a sudden rain storm. It was short but thick and intense; there was quickly a river of water running down the road. I'm sure the rainy season is a sight to behold.

The Sky Palace in Panama City was loaded with a fresh crew of guests when we returned. Those guys keep it hopping. We had dinner at a nice restaurant in the city and then had tea & deserts at a stylish place located in the Old Town section of Panama which is mostly a run down old city core (like in many U.S. cities) except for this place (Cafe de Asis). The sidewalk tables were crowded with yuppies posing and preening under the open night sky.

Saturday 20, 1999

It was back to the Old Town in the morning to use up the last of the film, and then Chris and I went to try and sell back my surfboard while Michael got showered and packed.

The place where I bought the board was not interested in buying it back as they do not usually buy used boards. This one has been there as a trade-in, they explained. So we went to another surf shop located in a nearby shopping center which I had seen the previous Saturday. This one was not open yet but some local surfers waiting outside told us it would open in a few minutes. We chatted with them some about local surfing while we waited. Chris, who does not surf, translated for us although I was able to pick up The Wedge just from the way the described the break along with some english words they knew like "body surfing." They talked about a decent rocky break next to the Old Town area. Chris, who works with the city's solid waste management system, told them it was not a good idea to surf in the waters off Panama City as it contains a lot of sewage. The boy agreed heartily saying that you always have to wash with anti-bacterial soap immediately! They also talked about another break named Catilla which had been breaking with 10-15 foot waves recently. This was also listed in our Surf Report as one of the best places to surf in Panama. Maybe we'll check it out on the next trip.

After 45 minutes or so the owner opened up the shop, where he agreed to sell my board on consignment. I slapped a $60 price on it and left him Chris's phone number. We picked up Michael and decided to have breakfast at a Balboa Blvd diner before heading to the airport for our trip home. When we left the diner a man who had told us he would watch our truck had a hissy fit when we gave him a $1. He wanted two dollars and got in a big argument with Chris, calling him racist and so on. Michael and I were pretty sick of this "parking attendant" crap so we refused to give the man another dollar. Finally the Policia had to be called as the man was holding the truck door and would not leave. Panama City is not a very nice place in general. There is a huge class difference with a wealth gap that is growing wider according to Chris and his roommates. The true beauty of the country is only apparent when you get away from the cities, but then it is abundant.
 

[Many additional photographs of the trip] [The hawaii trip]