Sitting on a table with a crowd I usually don’t hang out with, the conversation immediately told me about the night I was about to have. They were ready to have fun out on the clubs, which is fine and encouraged by yours truly, but this time there was an appendage do the idea: there was a mafia-style shootout on Calle Uruguay the night prior. Time for the 411, kids: for those of you not in the know, Calle Uruguay is the unofficial party district of Panama City, where most of the nightlife congregates and even though there are several areas of the capital that are brimming with clubs, restaurants, and bars, Calle Uruguay or “Hell Street” as it’s often referred to as seems to be the most popular. It’s not a street per sé, but rather a couple of blocks worth of bars, restaurants, night clubs and all sorts of nighttime entertainment. The cornucopia of the party animal.

This party animal needs to have a lot of cash flow in order to party hearty in Calle Uruguay, though: cover charges increase every other year, and as bigger, flashier clubs open things will degrade to be like in the swankiest clubs of Los Angeles where I pay too much to have fun, too much for it to be even remotely enjoyable. And now not only do I have to pay a ridiculous amount of money to go into these clubs, but I also have to fear for my life while I’m kicking back vodka shots? Unless I’m John Rambo, I’ll have to pass on this one.

The unofficial story is that some gangs were starring in a car chase down the adjacent Balboa Avenue (Avenida Balboa) and, because they’re idiots, the driver of the car being chased thought it’d be a brilliant idea to slip into Calle Uruguay at 11:00pm on a Friday night, probably the worst possible moment in the history of car chases to go into said street since every single party-goer rides their car into the three entrances to the district, creating some sort of freak octopus funnel effect that makes driving through and around the area an absolute pain in the ass. And the gang bangers decide to add themselves into the traffic jam. Great. Not so funny though, is the fact that the car chasing these numb nuts saw “The Godfather” or played “Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas” one too many times (pick the mobster stereotype you prefer the most) and decided it’d be a fantastic idea to pull out their submachine guns and open fire on their prey admist the myriad of fashionistas trying to get to their party centrals of choice. Of course, not to be outperformed in the idiocracy department, those chased fired back. Luckily, by grace of Cthulhu, no one got killed but there were two injured… guess who got shot in the end. Seriously. Guess.

So, people are shooting each other on Calle Uruguay now. This is nothing new, considering that famous Panama City stamp Rock Café (a club, so don’t be fooled by the misleading name) has been excelling in the late night shootout category for decades. Of course, Rock Café often gets filled with ghetto-tastic folk and, I’m sad to generalize, but it’s now sort of a given that you’re most likely to get shot there than in any other club in the area. So I’ll be a monkey’s uncle when the club that’s currently and hands-down the most expensive anywhere in the country outside of strip clubs turns into the site for a CSI agent or two. To the establishment’s credit, this all happened outside but by Jeebus, you’d think they’d hire the biggest, tallest and strongest wrestlers they can find as bouncers and overall crowd control. Geez.

So, with this in mind, I start my trek around the local hot spots in the city, with not one bullet proof vest within arm’s reach. Livin’ la vida loca.

I first waltz into La Casona de las Brujas with my party of ladies, 2 out of 3 eager to party hearty. La Casona has always been a favorite of mine, since it’s an abandoned building turned into an open air bar/art gallery that’s really charming in its own unique way. I’ve done a gig or two there, and despite its shortcomings it’s a great place to hang out. Beer’s cold and affordable, and the place gives great leg room to conversation. At first the place didn’t charge any cover but ever since that Almanaque Azul party I volunteered at many months ago they’ve opened up to the idea of charging $2, $3 dollars per head, which is alright in my opinion. Anyway, they play all sorts of music depending on the mood the DJ’s are in, and it’s commendable how unpredictable the place is no matter what; their website has a mailing list where they give you a head’s up on the place’s activities but more than half the time you can just show up and they’ll have something totally different going on. Very recommended if you’re bored with nothing to do, but be prepared for the possibility of showing up and finding out the place is closed that night for who-knows what reason. Still, people dance, mingle and have a great time. Even the hobos are friendly, as I found out that night hanging out by the door where an old friend of mine was stepping in as bouncer. This guy, who looked like he stepped out of the cast of “STOMP!” walked up to us and asked if it was free entry. My friend, diligent as always, politely told him that it wasn’t. He was sniffing and grabbing his hair extra tight, so when he asked my friend how much was the cover charge he said it was $10 in order to psych his cokehead ass out. Shortly thereafter, the resident car watchman (or “bien cuidao’,” if you will) proceeded to take the middle of street that passes in front of the entrance and told the story of said hobo like I had tuned in to a live rendition of the E! True Hollywood Story but with an infinitely less famous subject. “The Rise and Fall of the Argentinian Hobo.”

Soon thereafter it was off to Hell Street, the boulevard of debauchery, gunshots and broken dreams. I might be stressing the gun-totting too much, given that these gunfights have only come about recently, but by Jeebus if it ain’t funny. With that and the notion that I wasn’t wearing any kevlar that night in mind, I hopped on my car and met the ladies off in 80’s-90’s-themed bar Sahara. I’ll give you a secret, one that could work for you if you don’t mind the legwork: what I usually do when I go to that area is that I park far away (where I park exactly is an Ancient Chinese Secret) and that way I avoid having to pay $1 or $2 dollars to a bien cuidao’ to “take care” of my car. Now, before you accuse me of being a cheapskate idiot, consider this: most bien cuidao’s are, in my opinion, extorsionists. Think about it: here is a stranger, someone you’ve never seen before and definitely an independent contractor, which is a nice way of saying “some dude that claimed X chunk of the street sidewalk as his” telling you that he’ll take care of your car. Now, if this was a true, legit business you could be able to turn it down, but they don’t give you a choice. This, of course, is because they’re under the delusional notion that they own that piece of street and as such they can charge you for parking there. If you don’t want their services, they’ll abruptly ask you to remove the vehicle from the area and, in the eventual case that you hold your ground, they’ll threaten by telling you that “something bad’s gonna happen to your car if you don’t pay the fee.” You know what that reminds me of? Wait for it:

Extorsion. Instead of sounding like Marlon Brando though, they sound like Sean Paul with a cold.

Sahara has been there for many moons, and I familiarize with as being the Unplugged Bar for yuppies, in the sense that men pay $5 a pop to go in (there’s a drink on the house for the trouble, though) and it’s full of hookers. On the plus side, there are always cover bands pulling from various sources such as reggae, the 60’s, Rush, AC/DC, and more. It’s cool after you get over the fact you paid a cover charge when in Unplugged you can waltz in without a hitch. Anyway, good times are always had in Sahara; I’ve met a lot of delightful people there and for some reason the beer always seems to hit me harder there; I think it’s the air conditioner, but I’ve never been able to put my finger on it.

After catching some good tunes at Sahara I found myself hopping in a car with these girls to a club called The Gallery, formerly known as Liquid, formerly known as Patatus. I don’t know how it is in your hometown, dear reader, but over in my dog-gone gorgeous isthmus club owners change concepts more than they do their diapers. It’s nuts. Anyway, It had been a while since I had gone inside this particular establishment, as I made it a point to avoid what is currently The Gallery at all costs because I would have a ridiculous case of Deja Vú, and not the good kind. Still, the quest for adventure (and leaving all the body driving to my enthusiastic ballsack) led me to finally get acquainted with the place. As it is with these joints, it’s all a matter of who you know; in this particular instance, it was one of my friends’ cousin who was in with the promoter that had his thing that night. In Panama, looking good goes a long way, since we live in a male-centric society that promotes events at clubs and they know that the only way they’ll have men go is if they have plenty of hot girls, so usually the girls go in for free. It’s ridiculous, but it’s the honest truth: if it had been me and three other dudes with that one hot girl, I would’ve had to pay my entry fee which by proxy would mean me cutting my night short. But since the situation was that it was me and four hot girls, they let me pass because if I don’t go in, none of the girls go in either. Sheer brilliance.

The Gallery sucked. Apparently they left the divisions of the former club in place, instead opting to put walls in order to define the sections more clearly. I felt pretty stupid, actually. I bet the other 4 dudes in the whole club that night felt just as stupid, too. It’s definitely a sense of feeling in the mood for it, but I believe that a good club should be the one that inspires you to make the best of it and The Gallery wasn’t it. I assume I went on an off night… and after an overly-expensive, shotgunned beer, the girls rushed me out of the club after being there a mere 10 minutes. Maybe next time, I suppose.

Suddenly, it’s nearing 3AM and my slightly-hammered driver felt like having a Quarter Pounder with Cheese. Or as they call it in France, a Royale with Cheese. It is at this point where I could go into a rant on how Panamanian women take the cake as the biggest cockteases in the history of our species, but I’ll talk about that on another hilarious post when I find the funny angle. As of this moment, as I was at that moment while our driver stuffed herself full of french fries, I felt enticed yet slightly cheated off a good time.

At the end of the night I have a shitty drunken haze and am out of $25 bucks for a night of club hopping, groping and one too many Heinekens. Frankly, I felt like used clothes, which is why I don’t club hop like I used to. Things are a little more tolerable, though; the new law that prohibits smoking in public venues of any kind (including clubs, bars and restaurants) makes it much more tolerable for us non-smoking folk, but there are some people out there who are genuinely pissed about the admitedly drastic measure. I’ll never understand how someone can object to the ban of something that can kill you. Still, between gunshots and cigarettes, I’d rather pick up the bad habit.

appendage, beers, business appointments, calle uruguay, cornucopia, cover charges, crazy adventures, diao, gangbangers, glitz and glamour, hell street, La Casona, labor day, mafia style, many a time, mentality, nightclubs, nighttime entertainment, night clubs, panama news, panama city, party animal, Porto Diao, rainy day, Sahara, sexual healing, The Gallery, The Godfather, video, Yamile Moral, youtube

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As it is with these flicks and their mindless disregard for property and their fellow man, the premise of this Grainjaus session is the same as always: have mindless fun with reckless abandon. The show will be held at the always loyal Ancon Theatre Guild located next to/behind the PTJ police station this coming April 30th, at 8PM. We try to start the show at the time stipulated, so try to make it early. Bring your friends and be prepared to stuff your face full of alcohol, as the TGA bar will be available for all patrons to get promptly shitfaced. Now, onto the presentations, shall we?

First, the undisputed champion of all things martial arts. A legend in every circle of every society in the world. A man who trained every single muscle in his body to the point of perfection, and ammased fame as the world’s most dangerous man; so much so that his life eventually became a sort of anime, Dragon Ball Z scenario where random challengers would jump out of the walls. Of course, this mall promptly dispatched them straight to the emergency room with one trumping blow. In his small record of films, this man garnered fame that has, and will continue to, outlive him for centuries to come. Ladies and gents, I give you Bruce Lee.

We will be showing the flick that made Bruce Lee a breakout star: The Big Boss.

Then, straight from Thailand, a man who refuses to abide by laws the rest of us mere mortals are pressed by. Things such as the laws of gravity and physics simply do not apply to this man, as has been evidenced repeatedly in both his films and tours across the world showing men and women of all ages how far physical human achievement can go. Seemingly humble and even rather shy when encountered by the press, this man turns into the most horrific, devastating monsoon when you piss him off. His use of movie magic and wires for his stunts phones in at 0%, and even though that might not be as impressive for the average moviegoer in this day and age of performance-enhancing drugs and similar things, but then you have to see this man in action in order to know for a fact that this sir is either touched by the hand of whatever personal God you believe in, or he simply has a death wish. Ladies and gentlemen, hands-down the most incredible martial artist working in movies today… Tony Jaa.

We will be showing his latest flick, a rock-em sock-em ass kicking fest: The Protector.

Two movies, back-to-back, unedited with English dubs and Spanish subtitles. We will be giving away a FREE Special Edition DVD of Tony Jaa’s “The Protector” to whoever wins our mystery drinking game and, what’s best, you’ll enjoy some fun flicks with cool people just like yourself. For more information, step into the Porto Diao portal and click on the Grainjaus link. I’ll see you there!

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It is not my intention do get scientific with this entry in particular, but it is important to note for both the people in the audience and those of you playing from home just exactly what marijuana is. As it is with most things that people fear due to lack of understanding, I find it prudent to lay down the facts on what we’ve stumbled upon here. Now, on to my personal lord and savior, Wikipedia:

Cannabis, also known as marijuana or ganja (from Hindi: गांजा gānjā), is a psychoactive product of the plant Cannabis sativa. The herbal form of the drug consists of dried mature flowers and subtending leaves of pistillate (”female”) plants. The resinous form, known as hashish, consists primarily of glandular trichomes collected from the same plant material.

The major biologically active chemical compound in cannabis is Δ⁹-tetrahydrocannabinol (delta-9-tetrahydrocannabinol), commonly referred to as THC.

Humans have been consuming cannabis since prehistory, although in the 20th century there was a rise in its use for recreational, religious or spiritual, and medicinal purposes. It is estimated that about four percent of the world’s adult population use cannabis annually and 0.6 percent daily. The possession, use, or sale of psychoactive cannabis products became illegal in most parts of the world in the early 20th century. Since then, some countries have intensified the enforcement of cannabis prohibition while others have reduced the priority of enforcement. […]

[…] Cannabis has psychoactive and physiological effects when consumed, usually by smoking or ingestion. The minimum amount of THC required to have a perceptible psychoactive effect is about 10 micrograms per kilogram of body weight (which, in practical terms, is a varying amount, dependent upon potency). A related compound, Δ⁹-tetrahydrocannabivarin, also known as THCV, is produced in appreciable amounts by certain drug strains. This cannabinoid has been described in the popular literature as having shorter-acting, flashier effects than THC, but recent studies suggest that it may actually inhibit the effects of THC. Relatively high levels of THCV are common in African dagga (marijuana), and in hashish from the northwest Himalayas.

It is important to note that even though cannabis has been related to certain health risks, it is virtually impossible to overdose on the stuff. Now, the question is: why is it outlawed? The argument has been dragged on by hippies for decades. If alcohol can end up killing yourself and others, why is that not outlawed? If you look at how things went in the Prohibition Era in the United States, and the way tobacco (which induces CANCER) is being handled, it’s easy to see why the Powers-That-Be would throw a fit over something like Marijuana. Wait. What?

In Panama, getting pot is not ridiculously difficult, but it does take some legwork. From what american friends have told me, though, getting reefer in good ol’ 507 is infinitely easier that in the United States, where from the way it sounds is just an insanely paranoid affair. The fear of being busted and having a sense of trust is, as you would expect, inherent in the heart of every pot dealer in the isthmus but one you’re on their good side, it’s all Kool and the Gang. There have been instances where, if you’re lucky, you can even get it delivered to your home or workplace! It’s like I’m living in a scene from Half Baked.

Sometimes there are droughts, usually preceded by news reports on how the cops confiscated thousands of kilos of Marijuana coming in from South America, but most of the time, there’s pot for you every time. We have our own strand of homebrew ganja in the form of Panama Red, which is (from what I hear) good for a relaxing evening of fragging online with Halo 3. There are hundreds upon hundreds of different types of pot available in Panama so check your local dealer for details; sadly, I’m not a reeferologist to tell you which way to go, sport. My advice is one that can be applied to mostly anything related to Panama in a societal manner: Panama is a small country. If you don’t know or can’t get something. Look away to two or three degrees of separation and you’ll find someone who can help you out. This rings true for everything from drugs to car parts to spots for surfing and getting the best deal for your electronic appliance.

April 20th then, as you might be wondering, is also celebrated in Panama but, as you might expect, behind closed doors. Of course, since Panama is as beautiful inside as she is outside, there is always an “Earth Day” party of some degree that’s 420 friendly. From a society standpoint, the stigma of Marijuana is still there but as generations come and go the taboo of this natural drug is dwindling; personally, my Libertarian vein wonders if this ban is even necessary. Look at how Holland is doing! But, I’ll try my best to not take sides on this one. Touchy subject and all that.

Personally, I’d rather you smoke pot 100 times more than snort cocaine, another drug that’s ridiculously easy to get here. I think the nose candy is trash, but some coast towns around Coclé sell the dope as a means to survive; every other month a shipment full of coke tries to get into Panama but is intercepted by the Coast Guard. The ship’s crew, fearing incarceration, is instructed to dump the loads of packets onto the sea, where they eventually wash ashore to these fishermen towns full of nice, humble folk that need to get by, just like you and me. as a result, you get shoddy, wooden hoses with HD TV’s, satellite television and power generators. There is a town I’ve been to where a) even the kids sell dope and b) the only business open in the entire town is a bar.

In the end, if you’re going to smoke ze reefer, make sure you get it with someone that either your pot-smoking friends know or that you trust. Rolling papers are available in your local mini-super/chinito store, and of course there’s Indika Store in the Obarrio area of Panama City, which has all sorts of paraphernalia for your smoking activities. You can also check out the backpackers and Kuna indians that set up impromptu “shops” of handicrafts along Via Veneto, by the Veneto hotel; they sell beautiful pipes and bongs at affordable prices. Get some pot, smoke it and go out with your buddies; have you ever seen Panama? Well, have you ever seen Panama… on weed?

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Exploitation film is a type of film that eschews the expense of quality productions in favor of making films inexpensively, attracting viewers by exciting their more prurient interests. Exploitation films rely heavily on the lurid advertising of their content rather than the intrinsic quality of the film.

Exploitation films may feature forbidden sex, wanton violence, drug use, nudity, freaks, gore, monsters, destruction, rebellion and mayhem. Such films have existed since the earliest days of moviemaking, but they were popularized in the 1960s with the general relaxing of cinematic taboos in the U.S. and Europe. Since the 1990s, this genre has also received attention from academic circles, where it is sometimes called paracinema. […]

[…] A grindhouse is an American term for a theater that mainly showed exploitation films. It is also a term used to describe the genre of films that played in such theatres. Grindhouses were known for continuous programs of B movies, usually consisting of a double feature where two (and very often three) films were shown consecutively. Most of these films were made for Drive-in theaters as second and third features. Since most large urban areas did not have drive-ins, these movies were shown in older theaters that formerly featured burlesque shows which included “bump and grind” dancing, leading to the term “grindhouse.” On the other hand, the producers, distributors, and exhibitors of the films were required to provide a large amount of low budget films for double features so would “grind”‘ them out like mincemeat. Beginning in the late 1960s and especially during the 1970s, the subject matter of grindhouse films was dominated by explicit sex, violence, bizarre or perverse plot points, and other taboo content. […]

[…] There remains much affection for the grindhouse era amongst some cinephiles. An example is the 2007 release of Grindhouse, a double feature consisting of Planet Terror and Death Proof, directed by Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino, respectively. Both films contain elements found in many grindhouse films, and are bridged by trailers for fictitious films that also fit into the grindhouse genre (sexploitation, slasher films, etc.). Grindhouse also features simulated film scratches, splices and some clipped dialogue, to recreate the feeling that the prints of the films are worn and battered copies, which was often true of the prints of many films grindhouse theaters showed in their heyday.

This leads me to the double feature we’ll be showing the night of April 11th at the Theatre Guild of Ancon starting at 8PM. As mentioned in the quote above, Robert Rodriguez and Quentin Tarantino made an homage to this era of filmmaking with the release of “Grindhouse,” made up of two films to be seen back-to-back, with a midsection full of fake trailers by Eli Roth (Hostel), Edgar Wright (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz), and Rob Zombie (The Devil’s Rejects, Halloween remake). “Grindhouse” was never released in Panama, surely because of the poor returns of its theatrical release in the United States. As it was, people just weren’t prepared for a 3-hour mind explosion of gleeful proportions. The flick was a darling at festivals and genre buffs eat this movie up; there’s been quickly-forming cult following to “Grindhouse,” with most of the fake trailers being in talks of turning into feature-lenght movies (they were gags, initially). Anyway, there’s no better way of telling you how an incredibly awesome time at the movies this thing is unless you see it, so enjoy this here trailer:

As you can see, “Schindler’s List” this ain’t. When it was released on DVD, “Grindhouse” was split into two, and sold separately. Ever since then people from all over have mobilized in order to present these films as they were meant to be seen: back-to-back, with trailers and huge crowd. Porto Diao is making his stab at it by celebrating the resurrection of Grainjaus! with “Grindhouse” as it was presented in theaters, along with our quirky stuff tossed in for good measure. Thanks to the Theatre Guild of Ancon, Blogs Panama, Panama Coffee Lovers and the ISAD School of Animation this has been possible. Of course, Porto Diao will be doing Grainjaus! at the TGA as a way to put it in the eyes of new potential patrons aching for different things to do. The donation is $4, and there will be a bar you can get acquainted with so that you and your buddies can enjoy the movies much better. There is limited seating as the Theater is over 50 years old and if we start throwing people up on the roof in might break. If anything, visit the Porto Diao portal, Facebook pages and the Grainjaus! itinerary page for updates and directions for the TGA… it is a little tricky to get there.

academic circles, b movies, close to my heart, continuous programs, cult film, Death Proof, diao, double feature, double features, events, exploitation films, grainjaus, grindhouse, intermission, intrinsic quality, la casona, moviemaking, personal god, Planet Terror, Porto Diao, portodiao, prurient interests, quality productions, Quentin Tarantino, Robert Rodriguez, taboos, TGA Theatre Guild of Ancon, wanton violence, wikipedia, youtube

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Vito: Hey, are you the same Rob Rivera that has that website?
Rob (startled): Uhm, I guess I am, yes.
Vito: Really? Because I was reading Google News and there was a story there that put your site as the #1 Blog in Panama. Congratulations!
Rob: Umm, wow, thanks…?

My silly chunk on the Internet came in first at something? anything? I must be on crazy pills. Either that or I was still riding on the post-coital side effects of the night prior, one that was just as weird for a whole bucketful of different reasons. Nevertheless, I fired up ze… emm, Firefox… and logged on to Google News to see what all the commotion was. If I’m going to let my ego have a field day with this, might as well corroborate it. A few clicks here and there, and well… here you go:

A good blog, like a good man, is hard to find.
1. http://www.rob-rivera.com/

Fun, satirical, and the know on the art /music scene. A busy site; it takes a while to load sometimes. Rob has thoughts from current events: “the real estate boom pushed forward by Americans, Canadians and Europeans has kick-started a strong degree of social discomfort due to the notion that Panama is being sold piece by piece, fearing that there will come a time where Panama won’t be for Panamanians at all.” to tacos: “Legends of the Rock Cafe tacos curing illnesses such as depression, the flu, breast cancer and Parkinson’s have not yet been verified, but I can tell you for a fact that they sure as hell brush off a foul mood when you’re so mad you could scorch fire and eat babies.” Funny and relevant, Rob is at the top of the pack of the Panamanian bloggers. He also has organized such quirky activities as “the zombie walk” in Panama City.

I would like to thank Robin and the folks behind Panama Travel News for giving me this very reassuring pat on the back. I also appreciate the nice touch on clarifying that you’re talking about the blog, and not the basket case that writes on it. She’s right on how slowly the site’s been loading lately; it’s like I’m driving Miss Daisy here, but like every constant struggle for dominance I (along with my code-munching friends at Porto Diao) have to constantly keep this heap in check. Even still, I very much appreciate the sentiments. I bet Robin’s cute, too. Mmph.

You can check out who came up behind yours truly (sexual implications aside; please try to ignore the ambiguously gay phrase as Bananama Republic came in at #2. Geez, I waltz into these sometimes) by checking out the Panama Travel News piece right here. You can also engage in the lovely clash of the titans going on in the comments section. I can’t wait until a Spanish-speaking nationalist comes in there and poops all over their heads.

The rest of the day is a blur, but Vito did tell me later in the day that I showed up in Google News again; that could be the reason why this here site’s been so slow these past couple of days. Anyway, thank you very much for coming and I’ll try to keep the snark in top form. I remembered I had to mention this here though because I logged on to Facebook this morning to check up on our Grainjaus Grindhouse double feature night at the Theater Guild of Ancon this April 11th (wow, that shameless plug came out of nowhere) and I saw the following. Take a look at the picture. Left column. Closely, friend. Closely.

That makes me want to put an ad of my own! In fact, I’m gonna look into it right now. I don’t want to throw Bananama Republic a banana peel (heh) because they’re funny folks, but that just struck me as funny. Anyway, you better believe you’ll be seeing my mug at some point this umm, month. I don’t know. I lost my point somewhere after I drew the “OMG!” on the picture.

Señor Loop’s MCMLXXXII album is forthcoming! Here’s a preview review: if I listen to the record a little more than I have already, there is an 81% possibility that I will, in fact, become pregnant. You can check out their single “Insensato” at their MySpace page.

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