If you follow me on
Instagram, you'll have some inkling that R and I just spent two weeks in Panama. And now people keep asking "How was it?" and mostly the answer is "good" but if we really get into it, well, it's actually kind of a bit sort of longer. This, then, is the long answer.
Panama
was good. That is, we had a good time. We snorkeled, we hiked, we rode horses, we played cards, we drank a fair amount of beer and milkshakes. Nothing wrong with that. Let me start with the facts:
We arrived in Panama City early Saturday morning -- early enough that we could drop our bags off at the
hostel, but not check in yet. So we stashed the bags, got changed, and headed out in search of breakfast. Working our way along the Cinta Costera towards Casco Viejo, we found a local food court and got some fish stew (questionable) and a pineapple horchata shake (very nice). We took in the sights for as long as we could stand (i.e. check-in time), and went back to the hotel to crash.
(One of the nice things about Panama City is that it's only a 4.5-hour flight from NY and in the same time zone. The downside is that if your flight leaves at 1am you're not exactly jet-lagged, but you're certainly sleep-deprived. Especially since
Copa decided they needed to serve breakfast at 3am.)
Next day we hit the Canal -- Miraflores Lock -- then walked along Amador Causeway, then back to Casco Viejo for an uninspiring lunch and some excellent
gelato (pain d'epices and chocolate orange for R; blackberry and mango/passion fruit for me). Again, by mid-afternoon we were done, so we picked up a six-pack and hung out in the hostel's garden. There are worse ways to pass an afternoon, but I have to say that Panama City wasn't inspiring, by any stretch. It was incredibly hot and humid, which made wandering the streets -- usually one of my favorite activities -- just too demoralizing. We managed for a bit, and found some great street art, but it wasn't really sustainable. And frankly, even though we did manage to bop around the city a fair amount with a combination of cabs, buses, and the metro, none of it really seemed worth the effort of exploration.
Next day we were out the door at 5:30, on the road to Guna Yala. The first bit of the drive was on a standard highway, but once we hit the Comarça it turned into an extremely windy, up-and-down track through the hills to the coast. I spent most of the last hour forcing myself not to throw up.
Anyway. We got to the coast, we got in a little motorboat, and we headed out into the Caribbean. The next four days we spent snorkeling, reading, snorkeling, reading, playing cards, eating, reading, and snorkeling. Accommodation was a hut on the beach: sand floor, bed, mosquito net; very basic. There was a shower, but I never bothered using it. (All fresh water is either rainwater, or transported in from the mainland.)
They served us three very basic meals a day, most of which were fried fish, rice, and a few slices of limp vegetables. It did the job, but I'd recommend bringing hot sauce in your bag. There was beer and rum for sale, but I think they'd make a killing if they offered some chips and cookies as well. Luckily we'd had the foresight to at least bring a stack of
Maria biscuits, which we hoarded carefully (two each every tea time). Pipas were provided on demand for $1/per, by a very spry staffer with a machete.
Meals were communal, and once the sun sets you've got a few hours to kill before bed, which made the coolness -- or lack thereof -- of our fellow travelers an important concern. Night One we weren't very lucky. It was pretty much us, a douchebag Russian, and a selfie-obsessed Czech. At least they played Asshole. Night Two we had an influx of Canadians, Austrians, a Finn, Germans, and an Argentine, and it was much better. The Canadians demanded a "
fyoogo" on the beach, and miraculously the Germans had thought to bring marshmallows. Of course we had nothing but palm fronds to toast them on (and to burn), and they turned out to be mint flavored, but still. Night Three was similar. Night 4 R and I sat in the hut and played Rummy 500, which I have
finally convinced him to like. It's the small victories.
The next day it was back to Panama City. All I really remember was that we had some exceptionally garlicky ropa viejo at
a Cuban place on our way to the only English-language bookstore in town. (R had made the mistake of bringing two shortish books, and no Kindle, and four days on a desert island had done for both of them.)
Next day we flew to David, with Boquete as our final destination. This was probably the best flight I've ever been on. You can't even get through security until less than an hour before the flight; there's wifi in the waiting lounge; you walk across the tarmac to the plane; the flight is 45 minutes -- just long enough for them to bring you a snack! and a drink! (pear juice!) before you're landing again.
Boquete came as something of a relief. The weather was far, far more livable than in Panama City. With the eucalyptus and orange trees, it felt like being in San Francisco in the summertime. We hiked, went horseback riding, and hung out at the local brewery. A very refreshing three days.
One school bus, two minivans, and a boat ride later, we were in Boca Brava. I'm going to skip getting into that here, because I wrote a review for TripAdvisor, which was rejected for profanity, and it's not worth the effort. Suffice to say I wouldn't recommend bothering.
That was pretty much it. We killed a day in David, where a couple of excellent
pisco sours helped take the sting out of our assorted disappointments, then flew back to Panama City (for some regrettable fried chicken and very hot hiking in the
Parque Natural Metropoitano) and home the next day.
All in all... We had a good trip. But when people ask how Panama was it's hard to answer, because none of what we did seemed intrinsic, exactly, to Panama itself.
Definitely go snorkeling. Definitely ride horses and hike and drink milkshakes and chill out in and near the ocean. But... no need to definitely go to Panama. I mean you can do all of those things there, and it will be good, but...
How to put this? If Panama had a pavilion at EPCOT, what would it look like? No idea. For better or worse, this is country that has been defined, for the last century, as a place to pass
through, not a place to go. Every other country I've ever been to I can say, confidently: Go; specifically, go to X country. In this case though: Do X things, wherever that may be.
RECIPE: Coconut Cake with Chocolate Chunks & Drizzle. The wedding cake R and I baked for ourselves.
