With much anticipation and reverence, I am adding to the old blog with my next trip. I wonder if it will be as interesting the second time around.

This is going back a few days. We’ll start with the worst it could get.

Just at the beginning of this year, while travelling up to Yellowknife to visit family, my flight was delayed somewhat. Due to foggy conditions my plane was diverted to Hay River. Just until the fog lifted. This is fine enough. I have never been to Hay River. Now I have. ‘Nuff said about that place, but the better part of the story is how it was decided to take the majority of the passengers on the plane, most of which were teachers returning from Christmas holidays, to their destination of Cambridge Bay.

I have now been to Cambridge Bay, whose claim to fame started as a base for the DEW (Distant Early Warning) line, and now happens to be the base of government operations in Inuvik. At least that is what I think the territory is called now. It was minus 28 degrees there, the sun had been down for months, and Damit…I should have bought a hat while I was there, because I have no intentions of ever returning.

So, let THAT be the beginning of this trip. It was upon that very hour that I truly started counting down the remaining days until I ended up down here.

I missed my morning flight out of Yellowknife, got home some 10 hours later, and after 12 more days of “peace and tranquility” at home, I boarded my plane for Panama.

The cab came an hour late, I spent two full hours in line-ups at the airport making sure I wasn’t a crazed Muslim shoe bomber with dangerous gels or lotions, and my flight took off to Salt Lake City on time. 6:30 AM on time.

Salt Lake City, Atlanta, then Panama.

Atlanta has a decent airport complete with an electric tram to take you the miles you otherwise would have to walk between terminals. There was also a HUGE number of Army personel headed to Saudi Arabia via Germany and parts all over. I called them “dead men walking” and it was sort of sad to look at them. All quite young, excited to go, and I found myself wondering what it must feel like to feel so right about something so wrong. It’s amazing what a lifetime of brainwashing will do. My country, right or wrong.

Anyways, I digress. From Atlanta to Panama was a flight of a different color. The whole attitude of the plane changed, the captain was even a little bit giddy when he spoke of the weather here, and I was seated beside this nice little thing returning home from vacation. She spoke perfect English and perfect Spanish, and I was trying to get her to teach English for a living.

The Hotel Mar Paraiso sends a cab to the airport to pick you up, and it is free if you stay at their hotel, but their hotel isn’t the best. It is a room with A/C, free internet in the lobby, and a decent restaurant that serves absolutely massive meals once you have waited and waited…

The hotel is about three blocks from the walk along the waterfront where you get a pretty good view of the city and all the ocean liners sitting in the bay waiting their turn for the canal.

It also happens to be just on the edge of the red light district. This I now know, and fine, if that is what you are looking for, but getting “asked” in so many different ways gets a little tiring if you just want to something to eat. So, on the other way back, is the street full of guys. I just turned around and stuck with what I knew. With traveling, there is always surprise.

 

Panama City is HOT during the day and pleasant at night. It is humid, as it is right on the coast, but that is just a matter of dressing properly. This can be a little difficult as no one wears shorts here. I don’t know how they do it, but the thing is, people just don’t. You may say “Who cares, I’m on vacation”, but it makes a difference. In attitude, in service, it is just better.

I have a pair of pants I bought in Puerto Vallarte last year that are just perfect. 100% cotton, loose fitting, and the wind blows right through them, but the women (God bless ’em) all wear tight jeans. Well, not all, just the ones worth looking at. There is no way I could do that! Whether they are just used to it, or the jeans they buy here are different that what we have, I don’t know, but whenever I think about what it is like to get caught on a hot day wearing jeans, and then in tropical humidity… I give my head a shake and am happy the ladies do it.

There is lots to do here, though I didn’t do a whole lot. I spent some time in the malls looking for this and that, found a few leads on storage places where I could leave my car when I return, but mostly found myself on long walks, trying to get lost, taking in the scenery, and getting back into Central America time.

Now, you can get into a lot of trouble if you don’t keep your wits about you, don’t get me wrong. A few times I turned around in the middle of the block because I didn’t like what I saw up the next street. Even in daylight, there were places I didn’t like to be, and turning around wasn’t an option. Then, it is just best to walk a little faster and keep your shoulders back. There is always a taxi around if you have had enough, and you can get all the way across town for two bucks.

I have been pleasantly surprised at my retention of Spanish. When I left, I could hardly string a sentence together, but it comes back amazingly quick. Even all the old mistakes. Ha!

So, having done that, I jumped on a bus for $12.50, took an eight hour bus ride to David, jumped in a taxi from there, and I’m now back at Momentum, just outside of Boquette.

I had forgotten just how awesome the stars are here. I know that sounds a little corny, but you just have to stare, it doesn’t matter who you are. There is hardly any lights here at night, and the air clear at this altitude and this time of season.

That is about enough for now.

Published
2007/01/23