Marking Time

I miss living in a van; specifically I miss living aboard GANNET2. We received confirmation our container should be offloaded in Cartagena, Colombia on the 16th of this month which is a Friday…so the customs process will begin the next Monday morning. If we are lucky our ship’s agent in Cartagena, Ana Rodriguez famous among overlanders, will have our van out of customs after a mere three days. Three days! That would be fast work in these paperwork heavy bureaucracies. 

Then Sergio our electrician will fly to Cartagena on Friday the 23rd, reinstall our a/c and take his family on vacation in Colombia. Nothing complicated about all that would you say? Meanwhile I bought a suitcase. 

Our collection of back packs and plastic bags needs an upgrade for our Sunday flight to Cartagena. We don’t have room for or a need for suitcases in our nomad life in a vehicle. I had to pay a visit to the ant heap that is Albrook Mall:

However we’ll check the bag and Rusty our emotional support dog flies in the cabin with us as we were ready to buy his own seat.  Seemed like a deal to me even at $200. He has his passport, his health certificate and his Panamanian export permit, I kid you not. And his travel bed which he loves.  

We had a slightly messed up parcel delivery from the States which was sent direct by mail to the Overland Embassy instead of being shipped to their forwarder in Miami who collects their mail and flies it direct to their office. 

I took an Uber ($6) across town to the post office at mall of the Americas and found the place empty. I’m not sure why they have a postal service in Panama anymore as clearly no one uses it. This CB place has abysmal reviews on Google maps and they deserve it. They made me wait an hour to get my package after I paid $46 for some tax they charged. 

And then I only got my package when I threw a fit. My second in Panama. I went into pissed off Italian mode which is a lovely language because they don’t expect it from a man who just showed his American passport plus they think they should understand it but can’t. I wasn’t very polite so they got the gist but boy my parcel suddenly appeared. I gave them the Italian bird (fist in crook of elbow) and stormed out leaving them literally agape.

I had to go for a walk on Avenida España to calm down but really I am sick of this country. I start out cheerful polite and always speak respectful Spanish and I end up getting treated like some canal constructing colonizer. I’m old but I wasn’t around in 1903 when the US gave Panana its independence and what happened since in the Canal Zone isn’t my fault. Now they have total sovereignty and are screwing it all up but all they seem to do is resent us Americans. It’s getting old and I am anxious to leave. They fly their flag on Ancon Hill but the neighborhoods around it are a mess.

I got back to the apartment ready to think happy thoughts and after lunch Layne wanted to walk to the local market so off we went.

It soon became apparent to me this was a bad idea. Layne was trudging along but I was getting the no bueno vibe and I don’t often get that. 

We were getting sullen stares like we were far out of place and when I suggested to Layne we get out of the neighborhood she seemed surprised. 

Rusty is surprisingly good protection in a country terrified of dogs but I wasn’t keen to push it. We headed for the nicer part of town as fast as we could. 

I didn’t see any point in pushing our luck. Besides if we’re leaving on Sunday why do we need the market? Layne said she wanted the cultural experience but I reminded her of the sailor we met in Colon in 1999 when we were staying at the marina. He stepped outside the gate and got stabbed to death in that market for reasons unknown. I was getting that vibe here. 

Back we went. Layne went to the canal museum and I’ll go Saturday. Nice and middle class tourist attraction that it is. 

We went to the supermarket around the corner from our apartment and Layne went inside to shop while Rusty and I stayed on the sidewalk. No smoking, no guns and no pets in the grody store; okay then. 

Of course I got yelled at again, this time by a street food vendor who thought Rusty was too close to his food bins sitting on the filthy sidewalk. I’ve had street vendors give me the same gripe in other countries and of course I move on. In this case I asked him if he thought I didn’t feed my dog…He eats better than you do I said to the hunched back. I really am in a foul mood. 

Meanwhile Layne was getting her share of Panama Delight inside the store. She was asking an employee a question when he just turned around and walked away. She was muttering a bit too when we met up outside. We meet indifference all the time and I’m find with that but social hostility is tiring and normally I can just drive away. The root of the irritation here is that we can’t. 

I had talked that morning to the cab driver who brought me home from the Albrook Mall where I bought the suitcase. He said the reason they shut the mine down with the general strike last November was because the government was stealing the money being paid to Panama by the mine concession. 

He pointed out there are four million Panamanians in the entire country and in the course of ten years the mine could have paid every single Panamanian  a million bucks instead of throwing the money at the government.  There would have been no protests then, he said, no one protests when they get money in their pockets. They could have mined all they wanted and the ecology be damned. 

Call him cynical but he has a point. Meanwhile Panama struggles on and I for one don’t plan to look back. Luckily our apartment is easy to find. Just look for the fire department training tower. 

Panana feels like a land of missed opportunities. I suppose I shouldn’t blame them for feeling resentful, but I’m fresh out of patience. Time to try somewhere else and stop thinking about how much I miss the serenity of the mountains of Colorado. South America is a commitment.