This is Gentrification in Progress, Can’t You Tell?

When we first moved to Budapest, there was a huge banner that spanned across the New York Hotel. It said “Opening Soon”. That was in 2001. The hotel did not open until 5 years later. Our Lonely Planet book, which is 3 years out of date states that the Casco Viejo area of Panama City is in the process of being gentrified and should be completed in the near future. That was 2010. 

Casco Viejo, meaning old compound, is where the Spanish moved their city after Henry Morgan destroyed the original city they had developed. According to our ‘host’ it is only a 40 minute walk. That seemed reasonable, so we headed out. The most scenic route was to walk the promenade along the shoreline. This was an exquisite decision; however, it was strange that at low tide, there is no water other than puddles along what should have been the shoreline, let alone any remnants of a beach.

The highlight of this route was not on the waterside, but the landside or causeway. For 2 kilometers, we walked this promenade, which is stunningly beautiful. There the scenery alternated between children’s playgrounds, outdoor fitness machines in perfect condition, lush manicured gardens, and a small meditation park within a park complete with a waterfalls. There are separate walking and bike paths and there are turn offs at various points where you can climb a small hill for a better view or walk around it and sit for a spell. A part of this was reminiscent of Guayaquil in Ecuador, but less commercial. There were no food stands or shopping places here at all, only nature.

Being prime real estate, the high rises directly across the street are 30 or more stories with amazing architecture that is mod, modern, or quirky. Any direction you look in, there is some eye candy to satisfy your cravings and all calorie free. 

As directions go, there were no surprises with those we received. The 40-minute walk, turned out to be an hour and a half before we set our eyes on Casco Viejo. We felt like that old TV commercial where the announcer states “Welcome Pilgrim, your search has ended.” The question was “Was it worth the effort?” Almost immediately, facing you are dilapidated buildings that some would classify as slum-like. More than one building had the doors opened wide due to the heat; they resembled a place for squatters rather than one having been in the process of being upgraded over the last 3 years. Not all was lost, there were stores and cafés, which have seen the almighty dollar, transform them from tattered and tacky to upscale and in vogue. 

We stopped for coffee in one such establishment. A Black couple ran it. I would venture to say they were US African-American transplants. Their perfect English had an eastern tingle in the accent, they perfect bagels, and a book by Virginia Hamilton amongst other books. When the lady found the bathroom was being monopolized by one customer, her perfect English again betrayed her origins as did the way she pronounced ‘occupado’. One espresso latte, one smoothie and a bagel was $14.00, giving Starbucks the opportunity to say how inexpensive they really are in comparison.

According to our guidebook, the cobble streets added to the charm. Brick has since replaced them; nary one cobblestone has survived. In Plaza de la Independencia, we witnessed the local crew putting up the Christmas tree quite similarly to the type of tree we had in CA. This plaza is where Panama declared its independence from Columbia in 1903.

Other sites were the Plaza de Francia commemorating the French role in building the canal. The French lost 22,000 workers from France, Guadeloupe, and Martinique due to malaria and yellow fever. A statue of Cuban physician Carlos Finlay also decorates this plaza. He is the one to discover how mosquitoes transmit yellow fever.

Another attraction of this area is the Panama Viejo ruins, which according to the book, we could explore independently. These were the ruins of old churches and other buildings from historic times, but they are all now guarded with fencing. Not even paying an admission allows entrance. Being declared a UNESCO World Heritage site, makes me wonder how prestigious this designation happens to be after all. Yes, there are many charming parts of this section, but they butt up with buildings that are being held up with steel supports from the street. 

One realtor's office window had signs offering flats for sale starting at $450,000. It would seem reasonable to expect the entire area to be gentrified, before suggesting such fees.

 We hunted down this restaurant written about in the book. It is called Café Coca-Cola. Still open for business, it was filled with locals and we discovered the reason. The food was great, but cheap. We both ate lunch and with drinks, the bill came to $10.59. 

Afternoon heat is horrendous, so we decided to take a taxi and test the stories that it will only cost $1-$2. Our first attempt, the driver wanted $12. No fare for you! The second one offered the ride for $5. We accepted and went straight to the travel agency to arrange for a tour for tomorrow. 

We returned to the horrendously expensive grocery store for some supplemental supplies for dinner. We will eat in tonight and watch the birds at the feeder. 

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Dolphins to Monkeys

Being punctual, we were sitting outside waiting for our tour guide to show up at 8am as they told us he would, but at 8:2o, he finally showed, and took us to the van. There 2 Norwegian young woman were being roasted alive waiting for us. After he had us captive, the guide took off again by foot into the streets once again, leaving all four of us to prematurely experience what hell must be like. Getting out of the van was not a option; there was no shade to hide under. The driver returned alone, drove off and picked up 2 others at yet another hotel, followed by 2 more from where we started. I wonder if they were not ready when he went initially to get them, so we had to make a return trip.

Along the route to the beach, our guide and driver stopped at the outdoor market, at a car parts place, and some roadside stands, all for unknown reasons. We all suspected he was doing his weekly shopping or running errands for extra money. We didn't get to the beach where our boat was waiting until 10:30. For those of us who were going snorkeling, they fitted them with fins and a mask. I had no intention of going in the water. Little did I realize at the time I had no choice.

All of the dhows, the boats they use, looked lovely as they floated out at sea during low tide; however, I had no idea how they were going to get us out to one of them. Thankfully, I did not wear jeans today, because we had to walk to the boat. Yes, we walked about the length of six blocks wading through the water to the frick'in boat. The other nugget we had not been warned about was that you cannot go barefoot through the water due to sea urchins and coral that will slice your feet open. I had on my Crocs sandals, Ron his Birkenstocks (is water good for leather?), but the others were not all so lucky. The couple from Uganda actually did go barefoot rather than ruin their good footwear. It took them twice the time to reach the boat as the rest of us. Mountainous lumps of coral, hardened over the ages were treacherous to walk over, causing each couple to work as a team in stabilizing each other to make it safely, or  cameras were going to become floaters. By the time we reached the boat, the water was up to my knees, approaching my thighs. Since I am taller than most of the others, they were practically wading.
 

Basically, the Lonely Planet book had it correct, Frommer's forgive me. A number of dhows chase after the dolphins and stalk them like suspects in a murder mystery. Really, I felt like we were on a wet version of a fox hunt. Dolphins were the foxes, dhows were the dogs chasing them down, and those of us diving in after them were the hunters. Dolphins being intelligent, love this game of hide and seek and can dive deep and reemerge a distance away. The way the next 2 hours went were like this. Dolphins were spotted, never more than 4 and probably the same 4 the entire time, what would we know? All boats would rush over to where they were swimming, all divers would jump in the water to catch a glimpse, the dolphins would freak out, and swim away. Divers would climb back in the boat. Repeat scenerio. Repeat scenerio. Repeat scenerio. 

At the last attempt to witness dolphin majesty, the 2 Norwegian, the 2 Brits, and Ron started feeling something strange. Jellyfish were stinging them. Each of them had burning little red bumps, Ron the least, but he did pull out a bit of a barb from one. No one became ill, just uncomfortable for an hour or so. That was the end of the good will hunting for dolphins.

Back to shore, the tide came in a bit, so the water was higher, meaning the boat could get 2 blocks closer to shore then when we went out. Soaking wet, we went to a lunch spot on the site, included in the fee. Ah, the fee for the tour was a topic of conversation. The Uganda couple paid $30 each for theirs, the Brits paid $50 each, the Norwegian and we paid $40 each. The Brits fee did not even include the Jungle tour, which ours did. The Ugandans thought they were paid up for seeing the monkeys and the Norwegians were clueless about the second part of the tour.

When the guide came and said "Are we ready to see the monkeys?" everyone said sure, thinking we were all going to get this extra. When we arrived, he announced we were the only ones paid up and the others would have to pay 10,000 shilling a piece to go forth. The Brits joined up, the rest stayed behind. We were issued umbrellas being the rain forest, following the local guide, a sweet young man, like little ducklings. He pointed out red mahogony, regular mahogony, different plants, insects, and even a fresh water crab. We were all hot, humid, sticky from traipsing through the Indian Ocean twice getting to and from our boat, all we wanted was to see the famous Red Colabus monkeys. This is the only place in the world where they exist. Our guide was reciting things like he had learned them for the school play, so we felt horrible when we pushed him along. One question lead to detailed responses, prolonging the experience. We all learned not to ask more questions. Finally, we had to say "Just show us the monnnkey." At that, he walked us back to our van. We thought we missed out for bad behavior; no monkeys for us. Instead, we had to walk down the dirt road we drove in on and to the forest across the street. This is where it gets fun.

Ron being the eternal social worker, tells the two Norwegian girls to follow us across the street, since we have left the paid area. The guide, the two Brits, and I are up ahead and almost to the monkey habitat. The guide turns around and sees two intruders and asks them where their tickets are, when Ron pipes up "They are with me" like that should hold some authority. Unless they could produce tickets, the guide refused to take another step, so no one was going to see the monkeys. I told Ron more than once when I was a kid, I loved reading Ann Landers, the advice columnist. My favorite answer she would provide to writers is M.Y.O.B. Mind Your Own Business. He just refuses to follow the advice. You get him on a van with 6 others and he is trying to orchestrate everyone's life. He thinks he is a combination of social worker, cruise director, entertainment director, and guest relations all in one. Finally, finally, we were able to see the monkeys. Adorable! Now, I can say I saw the monkeys that only exist in Zanzibar. My life is complete now.

When we reached the hotel, I literally showered with my cotton safari pants on. It was the best way to get them washed and get the salt water out of them at the same time. Then, I soaked them in more laundry detergent along with my t-shirt and showered myself yet again. 

Later this evening, we went to The Spice Road Restaurant for dinner. We went first to the Archipelago Restaurant, but it is Halal (Muslim law), so no alcohol is served, including beer. Ron suggested I go over to the Monsoon Restaurant, buy a couple of beers and meet him at the Archiplago Restaurant, but when the waiter wanted to know why I did not want the bottles opened, he refused to sell them to me. Aside from the beer, the menu was not inviting for me since it was mostly fish, making the beer a moot issue.

When we went into The Spice Road Restaurant, there was 1 other diner in the whole place. Hoping this was not a sign, we allowed ourselves to be seated. By the time we left, they were turning people away, not free tables.

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