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2000 to 2010: A Decade of Creativity, Debauchery and Self-Discovery

Over the past few weeks I have found myself in a rather introspective mood; the bloody remains of 2009 already becoming the birthplace of one “twenty ten,” I felt nostalgia’s hand slap me from both palm and back… both a year’s and decade’s end. As it is with every end of every journey, most of us look back at the road traveled with the hope of feeling like it was worth trekking despite its ups and downs and this year it was no different. In fact, for me it held double importance as the last year of this decade was, in many forms, a trial by fire for me. Once I had come to terms to that I unexpectedly went back to how things were ten years prior exercising my Eagle Eye and, lo and behold, the changes from how things were to how things are now are absolutely drastic.

The year 2000 was a pivotal turning point for both me and my home country. In Panama, the biggest change was one for the record books: the promise of the Torrijos-Carter treaties in 1977 was finally fulfilled and the U.S. Military forces stationed all across Panama left the country, but most especially the Panama Canal and its surrounding areas, where plenty Panamanian blood was shed, would be given back to Panama. For the first time in Panamanian history, despite it being a “sovereign” nation since 1903, we would have a real taste of what its like to be free as a nation. Completely autonomous, with 100% right to do what we want anywhere in our own territory; no more segregation, no more second fiddle to anyone. Starting at 12 noon on December 31, 1999, Panama was free to find its own identity. We came into the new millennium as the truly sovereign Republic of Panama… God help us all.

While Panama stood in front of this brave new world free to find itself, I stood in front of a brave new world of my own: the last year of high school. One step away from “freedom.” I never really liked school since I never liked being told what I could or could not do, but that particular year planted a lot of seeds in the boy I was and turn me into the man I’d become, humbly spinning this yarn for you.

I was seventeen at the time, the youngest in my class. I was a shy boy, someone who would’ve rather stayed reading his books and comics or playing video games than spending time with his family or most other people, for that matter. In my class there was this sort of “boys vs. girls” thing going on, something I find rather ridiculous in retrospect, but there was something there that I picked up and carried over to everything I ever did in the ten years since: the value of fellowship. I’d go everywhere with my friends from school. Silly guy stuff, really: swapping music and video games, talk about girls, watch movies, eat pizza, set stuff on fire, the usual. It was a very great time that I will never forget. I think that, in the back of our heads, we all knew that these days were fleeting: everyone would go to college and we’d see each other less and less, if at all, and we had to make these as great as they ever will be. And in many ways, we did. It was the end of an era, for sure: All the students from the Oxford International School before our prom remember us while the teachers and administrators would rather erase us from their records, and I believe that’s the only way we could’ve gone out. It would be a turning point for us, the school, and in its own way, the country. I weighed 180lbs and wore a bowl cut.

As the excitement over the Panama Canal coming back to us reached its highpoint, I was reaching a personal milestone as well that would, again, inform my actions over the following decade. You see, I was in love. Or at least at the time I thought it was since I was seventeen and didn’t know any better at the time. The thing is that the girl I was in love with wasn’t the same girl I was sleeping with around that time. And so, one of my first real life lessons came upon me with great vengeance and furious anger: love is not like in the movies. It is possible to be in love and see other people. I was heartbroken and a very lovely girl came by to pick up the pieces. It was great while it lasted, as it almost always is. Said girl I thought I was in love with would become a recurring character in my adventures and, eventually as time would pass I would slowly come to the realization that I didn’t just think I was in love, but I actually, umm… was in love. So basically, I was a boy who would discover this great freedom and not really know what to do with it. Lots of love to give but no clue as to how to do it. Someone who had a vague idea about how things would be from that point on, but of course little did I know that would not be the case. Panama and I were wearing the same shoe size.

Panama, who had been living under the United States’ skirt since our independence in 1903, and before that we pulled Colombia’s skirt, and Spain’s before them, would finally have no more skirts to follow. After doing things like others did for so long, what’s a country to do? In the same token, I wanted to draw for a living (at the time). Panama had almost zero cultural incentives in the arts for me to know where to start. There was no model to follow. Now, what do you do when you want to learn how to play an instrument? Simple: learn how to play other people’s songs before you can make your own. And that’s what both Panama and myself did. Panamanians would copy how they would do things from other countries while I, in turn, did what other people in my position would do and get into architecture. Over the passage of time both Panama and I began to find our respective rhythms and realized that we had to do things in our own ways. So, Panama eventually stopped doing like the “gringos” did because it realized the U.S. ain’t as hot as it was led to believe and I got out of the college system because I realized I wanted to write for a living. and so, the mid-00’s began. I weighed 190lbs, and my hair was up to my shoulders.

Like me, Panama was starting to accept itself and feel more comfortable under its own skin. As such, the real estate boom began under the principle of Panama feeling like the hottest shit in the world. “Come one, come all.” Still in love, I went out with other girls because I felt like the hottest shit in the world regardless. Around the time of the real estate boom and the beginning of the offshore business craziness that would flood the country in the following years, I got into a relationship with a girl who I will never forget, for better or worse. Like Panama’s love affair with foreign business, my relationship with her was something that was much more crucial to my personal growth than I care to admit, and it led me to cement a creeping belief I had only but slightly considered until the aftermath of our breakup, much like the real estate and Panama’s: “bros before hos.” In both instances, we gave ourselves our space and still sorta talk, each on their corners of the party. What that relationship did to me though, was a different way of living that wanton debauchery attributed with feeling like you can do anything. I call that time of my life my “844 years,” in honor of a long-gone club that used to be in Casco Viejo around 2004 – 2006 and the friends I hung out with at the time, not the same ones as the ones from school, mind you, would go to almost every night. We would chase tail, listen to club stuff and pretty much cement our position as alpha dogs in that club.

Feeling like you’re the hottest shit in the world has its advantages in that you’re rather fearless. With that in mind, I thought my writing was hot shit as well, so it was around this time that I also published my much-talked-about “Mada Faká” in March, 2004. I have very fond memories of it now, as it’s become more than just a bloody reminder of that ill-fated, turning-point break-up. This book would start a trend that comes from my inherent aim to misbehave: if there’s no path to follow, then than means I have to make my own. Especially if someone tells me I can’t. The way I spin a story was not something the established community of Panamanian writers was particularly fond of, continuing my long-standing tradition of being a misfit. When I discovered there was a “community” to begin with, I wanted to take part because of my belief in fellowship but then I started seeing the cracks on the painting since I got the sense that the community was content with creativity, as long as it was by their guidelines. And since I didn’t like being told what to do, I would play around with the form and what not and they did not take it well.

The ASEP (Asociación de Escritores de Panamá), which is the writers’ association, began in 2004 if I remember correctly. I’m a founding member, but I got out of it after the first year because of the reasons stated above. Out of that burn (because it was very disheartening for me, I was only twenty-one after all) I started becoming critical of everything around me, and I soon began to see the cracks in everything. And so, the 844 Years came to an end. I weighed 200lbs and still had hair up to my shoulders.

I got a job as a copywriter for an offshore company in January, 2005. It was my first real experience in a workplace and I was just happy to be doing what I loved, even if it was writing for weird websites of little-to-no-consequence. The sedentary life took its toll on me and, still in love, as I became more self-aware of how far I could push myself with things, I’d get into crazy adventures. In that same token, Panama got to a point where it discovered itself and decided it was time to do things its own way and under its own terms. Actual culture started being cool but was largely ignored in favor of the clubbing culture. In fact, it got to the point where all there was to do in Panama City was to go to a club or bar and dance to the same tracks over and over again. Drink the same drinks over and over again. See the same people over and over again. Ever since 2000 I had complained about how there was never anything for a “misfit” like me to do and, having gone to proverbial Rome during my 844 years and returning with all my limbs intact I kept complaining about how someone should do something about it… and then I aimed to misbehave once again, creating what you know today as Porto Diao.

Like Panama itself, I knew there was something wrong and I felt that no one was going to do anything about it so I might as well do it myself. I had no clue what I was going to do or how I was going to do it, but fuck it: I’ll do it or die trying. Thankfully, I wasn’t alone and other people, each in their own microcosms came to the same realization. This would be yet another turning point for one and all; 2006 was the year many of us pulled our thumbs out of our asses.

The next three years would see both Panama and myself acquire much-needed experience in just about anything we could get ourselves into… honing, perfecting, being better at things. We also started getting street cred in our respective neighborhoods, hard-earned and well-deserved. We were on our way. Even though we were both adults in the traditional sense, we both still had a lot to learn and used this decade to find ourselves. And find ourselves we did. By the start of 2009, we cemented our places in our respective neighborhoods and are now comfortable with who we are. At this point, I weighed 220lbs, and I sported a rockabilly look.

So today, ten years after our emancipation, I humbly stand before you and, looking back at the road traveled, feel like it was worth it. Of course, there is still much to travel. My country still has much more ground to walk through, much more to learn. I am still in love. My experiences have allowed me to see the gray area in everything, and even though I’m beginning to sound old saying “that shit was better when I was a kid” I like the feeling of having acquired wisdom in my young age. After getting into trouble with skirts more times than I care to remember, piercings, tattoos, near-death experiences, awkward situations out the yin-yang and much more, I can safely say that I am the master of my domain. As it is with me, Panama is much more different now than it was ten years ago; you can see it in every street corner, on the web, on TV, in the way we do things. Sure, old habits die hard and we’re both at the stage where we have to make a conscious effort to subdue the bad and bring out the good qualities in ourselves, but it’s never too late… there’s a long road ahead.

I now weigh 200lbs, and thankfully am not going bald.

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