Sometimes the lesser-known-and- infinitely-satisfying tourist options pass under your activity radar, much to your regret when you find out about them a moment too late. From party boats to salsa dancing, to drinking frozen margaritas in leather seats at your local movie theater to MC battles, live art at bars and theater performances in your language, I hope you’re ready to dive head-first into nights you’ll never forget while out and about in Panama City!
I’m sure you can relate; for as long as there’s been people on this Earth, there has always been a power struggle for social dominance and, more often than not, the trenches are red-hot with the efforts of two recurring characters who I’m sure you’ve encountered before or currently enjoy their company: The Asshole and The Douchebag. You can find these two anywhere in the world, at any time and at any place no matter what sector of society you find yourself in because these concepts, dear reader, are sadly universal. Why am I writing about these two, you ask? Why waste my prose in such a topic when I could be talking about peaches, LSD, the mythology of Star Wars or something just as trivial but arguably far more interesting? Because I’m an asshole and will do what I want anyway.
When you live in a cramped, hectic city where it seems that there’s always something happening and there’s not a moment to rest, the yearning for slower, calmer days slithers in unknowingly, creeping up behind you until it’s all you can think of. When there’s an opportunity to let it all go away, to pause and bask in the tranquility of days that appear to be standing still, after dealing with the noise of city life for so long, the only option is “go.” Whether you’re in Tokyo, Paris, New York or any other metropolis, the feeling of being eaten alive by the freight train of modern life is universal. But when you’re in Panama City, unlike other great modern cities, there are affordable and nearby options that will take it all away. For that purpose, let’s talk about Pedasí, deep in the Azuero Peninsula of the Republic of Panama.
Panama is a prime example of how what one person does will inadvertently affect everyone else that lives with him in a society. Since the place is so small, the ripples someone’s action makes can be felt in practically every level of life here, and I’ll give you an example of this right now: I [...]
The Armed Forces Network is the television branch of the Armed Forces Radio, which is the U.S military’s official radio channel. The organization’s origins date as far back as the 1940’s, a few years prior to World War II; this wasn’t a government initiative but rather local bases in different parts of Europe trying to [...]
This is less of an informative peace and more of a love letter. I can try to bring you an unbiased report of the mysterious-looking cart that’s parked five nights a week on the corner of Sappore Di Mare and Studio F, out in Via España of the beautiful and dutiful Panama City. I could try. I fear though that my verbose will slowly devolve into an ode to the people’s craft, the sailors and sailorettes burning charcoal and serving bliss in a grilled corn patty in their surely-illegal-but-accredited eatery. I can try to keep it together long enough. I’m not sure if I can, but I will for sure try.
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.
I was on a self-imposed “vacation” in early August of 2009 given that it was my birthday (August 4th for those keeping tally at home) and, well, it’s my life and I’ll bamf out if I want to. The repercussions of removing myself from the equation without much warning or notice are not what I’ll write about in this quick nilly, but I do feel I have to explain what happened to this here website during the month of August, given that it was down and out for practically all of it. I’ll try to explain in the most hilarious way I can without wanting to punch a baby, and just like with a baby, I’ll try to keep it simple in a way that a doorknob can understand what happened. Of course this will help me as well, considering I still don’t really know what happened and what I did to fix it.
To put it in lamest terms, lately I’ve found myself with an acute lack of inspiration to write anything worth reading. Looking back at it, I could attribute this resignation with being tired from taking care of Porto and all the wonderful things he does, or recent work troubles, or somewhat personal issues; maybe it’s all of the above. Of course, since it’s in my nature as a writer to be an observer of human behavior, I find myself more interested in how other people’s actions (or lack thereof) affect me. If you’re looking for an informative piece on Panama or Panamanians and how they operate, I guess you’ll find something worth taking with you in this piece. If you want to read the musings of a jaded columnist with some snark and hilariously bitter social commentary, you’ll get a kick out of this joint. If you’re looking for news, get the fuck out of my porch.
I bet that, like me, It’s taken a lot of you some time to be aware of the problem happening to the Naso people, at the west end of Panama in Bocas del Toro, near the border with Costa Rica. Details are scarce (in English) so I’ll give you the Cliff Notes version to put you up to speed; time is precious for these people, so any help you can provide in the matter would be greatly appreciated by them.
The concept of voting for governments started out being all-powerful and integral to a healthy society. There’s an inherent trust in the people, granted by themselves, to know what’s best for them. It’s very meta, and perfect since there really is no omnipotent sheep herder to tell us what to do; most of the world has grown enough to make such pivotal decisions on their own. It seems to me that throughout the decades, centuries even, leaving us to our own devices in a social system that encourages self-growth without a ceiling, policed by ourselves, has made this fairly-simple system a convulsed affair.
With more than a million foreigners coming to Panama in 2008 and a trend that indicates we’re far from seeing the peak of visitor influx, you’d think that Panama’s immigration office would be up to the task to receive and process every single foreigner in the country. After having recently visited the main office I’m happy to report that the old addendum about government entities continues to jam its rusty blade into the annals of our society: the Panamanian Immigration Office is a clusterfuck quagmire of fairy tale insanity, the sort of unique mess that is not fantastical in its matter-of-factness but it boggles my feeble mind nonetheless.
People love music. It’s one of the first and most important means of expression known to man. People fall in love, find a cause, discover friendships and cure their ills every day thanks to the power of song. As it is with our current societies, though, sometimes being a musician (or an artist, for that matter) must come with a degree of corporate compromise: money. Virtuosos or not, an artist has to eat, and sometimes he/she has to adapt to what’s popular at the moment. In the end, the people rule even though sometimes it would seem otherwise.
In recent years measures were taken by the government and dubiously necessary Carnival Office to ensure that carnivals in the nation’s capital, Panama City, lived up to the hype garnered in no small part by the country’s dashing strides in tourism and real estate, and whoever lives near this murder scene can grab their complaints and shove them up their sour-trout asses… myself included.
Love. In very few other instances does a word cause such immeasurable amounts of change. Some of the greatest events in the history of civilization have begun thanks to the power of love. Love for a person, a place, an idea, and by proxy the ideals of one and many. Such a transcending concept has fueled our world for as far as we can remember, and as it is with every other concept that we, as a society, value above most things, love was given a holiday… and its name is St. Valentine’s Day.