Where the Streets Have No Name

There are a lot of things to love about Panama City. You can go hang out by the pool in February. The watermelon is out of this world. The people here are very friendly, and despite a sometimes turbulent history between the United States and Panama, have an incredible capacity for not blaming individual citizens for the actions of their government. Also, the view of the city skyline over the water is pretty spectacular. There is just one problem: transportation.

This is not a city for pedestrians. Yes, technically, the six-lane highway has a crosswalk painted across it. But I think that's more so that the ambulances will know where to find all the squished people, because it definitely doesn't make the cars stop. The smaller streets aren't much better. Though there are sidewalks, they're mostly filled with parked cars and food carts, so you end up walking in the street, waiting for death by Hyundai. Crossing at an intersection is a bit like playing Pac Man, when you realize all the ghosts are about to converge on your position. You find yourself saying, "I think I'll bolt in front of the Skoda. That would be less likely to kill me than getting hit from behind by the Isuzu truck."

And it's just as well, because even if you wanted to take the risk and walk, you wouldn't be able to find your way. Because the streets have no names. Or rather, some of them have names, or more than one name, but most don't have any signs to indicate what these names are. And even when there are signs, you still probably won't understand where you are. (I'm convinced that this is because Panama has no door-to-door mail service.) For example, Calle Uruguay, also known as Calle 48, intersects with Avenida 5 a B Sur, which is not to be confused with Avenida 5 a Sur, which is a block away and also intersects with Calle Uruguay (or Calle 48). At some point Calle Uruguay ceases to be Calle 48, and another road becomes Calle 48. There's also a Calle 50, and no matter where I am, I'm never far from Calle 50, leading me to believe that this road is in fact a spiral that covers the entire city. Calle 50 also has about 20 different names, depending on what part of Calle 50 you're on. Of course, my understanding of this system is so poor that all of this could be wrong, and I'd have no idea.

Clearly, public transport seems like the way to go. No. It is not. The option here is buses, which are ominously called the Diablos Rojos (or red devils). I think the scary name says it all. I have been told to avoid them.

So how does one get around? Taxis. And it is very possible to find good taxistas. I have found two, and they're awesome. (If you're in Panama City, and need a taxi recommendation, let me know). I won't mention their names on here, because I haven't asked their permission, but they are reliable and very helpful. One even lent me a phone for a week after the mugging. The problem comes when your normal taxi drivers aren't available, and you're forced to call a company. Though there's often not much point in calling, because they'll tell you they don't have any cabs to send you. So you hail a random one outside. At which point the bargaining process begins.

(Translated)
"I am going to the corner of Calle X and Avenida X. How much will that be?"
"How much do you usually pay?"
"Normally, I pay five."
"At this hour, it will be seven."
"I leave at this hour every day and I pay five."
"It's five with no traffic, seven with traffic."
"That's OK, I'll wait for another cab."
"Six."
"Ok, fine."

This is one of the more extreme examples, but it gives you an idea of this works. Then you get to join the ranks of all the crazy drivers here. Picture Manhattan, on amphetamines. How crazy the drivers are depends on the car. In the words of one of my regular cab drivers, "There are things that yellow cars can do, which other cars cannot." Commuting in Panama is a bit like going on Space Mountain. Turn signals are not widely used in Panama City. Red lights are more of a suggestion. Driving 50 miles an hour and breaking two inches before the car in front of you is just how you stop. Honking can mean a) Hi! b) My cab is unoccupied; or c) #@$& you! And you get to learn all this in the backseat, where they've likely upholstered over the seatbelts clasps. I should point out now that both my usual taxi drivers are very responsible and none of this applies to them; they're great. (One of them generously got me some watermelon on the way home from work today, which if you know how grumbly I get when I haven't eaten in hours, definitely counts as a safety precaution.)

So most of the time getting around Panama City is a hassle. I invest a fair amount of time every week playing Frogger with the traffic, wandering around lost like a half-concussed puppy, and speeding through the streets with my eyes covered. But there is an upside. When I commute by Metro at home, my goal is basically to ignore everyone around me. During rush hour, I put in my headphones and pretend that my face isn't smushed into someone's arm pit, that the woman in front of me didn't marinade herself in perfume, that the man who just took a flying leap into the train car didn't elbow me in the kidney. By contrast, when you're in stuck in a traffic jam in a taxi for 40 minutes, you actually talk. And I'm learning a lot on my cab rides. Including a bit of slang and Panamanian politics. And no one is elbowing me in the kidney. It's pretty peaceful, even if you are running the red lights.

Is It Just Me, or Do Sloths Look Like They're Doing Tai Chi?

In case you didn't know, I keep a very important list. It is entitled "Cool Animals I Want to See in the Wild." This list has dictated entire travel itineraries. It has taken me to some rather out of the way places. And sometimes, when I get to move something from the want-to-see list to the have-seen list, it makes me dissolve into a giddy five year-old. Yup, I'm a nerd for animals. (And animal facts: The world's longest flight of a chicken was 13 seconds.)

So today was a very exciting day, because I got to move a bunch of creatures off the list. I went with a company called Ancon Expeditions on their Panama Canal Rainforest Boat Adventure. In other words, I went about 40 minutes outside the city and got on a boat to look for wildlife. Awesome, awesome wildlife. Of course, I also discovered today how hard it is to take a good picture from a boat with the telephoto zoomed out all the way. Still, here are some of the highlights:

The Rufescent Tiger Heron

The Ringed Kingfisher
Panama is home to 972 species of birds, so there were a ton of them.

Osprey, eating unidentifiable meat

Capuchin Monkey
This was taken after he jumped on our boat to get that fruit. Yes, once again, I came within two feet of a monkey.

I think this is a Striated Heron, but I'm honestly not sure.

Iguana

Howler Monkey, with attached baby howler

Three-toed Sloth!

Disheveled after one of those sudden downpours that happen here all the time. We all got soaked.









So all in all a pretty great trip. I really wish I had more time to just be outside here. For one, because I'm still enjoying the fact that it's warm in February, but also because I'm dying to make a sub-list: "Cool Animals I Want to See in Panama." And I'm not leaving until I've seen everything :-).

The Story of My Mugging, or The Case of the Chunky Man and the Blue Handbag

Here are the facts of the case: It was around 9:00 at night. Jessi and I were walking on Avenida Balboa, a major street in one of the safest areas of Panama City. We were about ten blocks away from my apartment, and who knows why, but I took my keys out of my bag and held them in my hand. Thirty seconds later, I'm screaming like a crazy person, because some unknown man has grabbed me by the neck, with something pressed against my back. I think it's just his hand, but I'm not sure. It could be some kind of weapon. He tells me in my ear to stop screaming, give him my purse, and keep moving. So that's exactly what I do. Jessi and I walk another half block, before running across the multi-lane road to find the police. We were at police headquarters until midnight, so I could make my official statement.

You might be thinking, "Wow, she really did pick an appropriate name for her blog." It's occurred to me a few times this week too. And it's pretty true. I have defended my title as the disaster with a passport. (And thankfully I do still have my passport, since it was in my apartment at the time of the attack.) But the bad things that happen in life also bring out my inner Pollyanna (albeit a slightly sarcastic Pollyanna who uses colorful language). So here are some of the upsides of being mugged:

1. I get to replace the ugliest driver's license picture ever, which I otherwise would have been forced to keep for the next 10 years.
2. I have a completely valid excuse to go purse shopping when I get home.
3. I will save a ton of money, since I have limited access to funds right now.
4. The rental company offered me an enormous new apartment at the same price, because the Embassy recommended that I move.
5. It's a great excuse to a lot of dessert for a few days.

And the event itself could have been worse. Here are some positives on that note:
1. Neither Jessi or I was hurt in the attack.
2. I already had my apartment keys in my hand when I got robbed, so I was still able to get into my apartment that night.
3. I had an emergency credit card and my passport back at the apartment, so they weren't taken.

So yes, I had a bit of bad luck this week, but overall I've got it pretty good. The outpouring of concern and offers of help I've received from my wonderful friends and family this week have really meant a lot. My coworkers, who I only met a few weeks ago, have been amazingly helpful. And of course, I owe a debt of gratitude to Jessi, who made this week so much better after our terrifying experience. (She's also my sugar mama for the next couple of weeks, so that I can survive until my new debit card can get here.) I've really lucked out with the people in my life.

Today I was making copies of all the pages in my passport, since it's now the only form of ID I have here. And as I was going through it, I realized just how much traveling I've done in my life. There are 48 stamps in my passport. I seen places that lots of people only dream about going. I have had some incredible opportunities. Doing all that means that sometimes things won't go according to plan. Bad things will happen from time to time. But I can handle that, because I'm a tough cookie. Like an oatmeal raisin cookie. With hammers in it. And I'd say that's pretty damn lucky too.

But just in case this post is getting a bit too sap-tastic, let me also say that I still think the mugger is an assbag, and he can go shit frogs for all I care. [Insert cheeky smiley face here.] Have a wonderful mugger-free weekend everyone!