About 3-4 times I’ve started to follow my I-am-a-camera instincts into the lesser-travelled streets and each time I’ve been warned of the danger. The red zones are where there are no police, and many many robberies. Panama City has a even more sinister edge than San José, Costa Rica, it’s like the back side of its charm. The cops are like SWAT team guys, there are cops on mountain bikes that are chingon.
Panamanians are wonderful. Speaking what Spanish I can opens doors, and leads to conversations. The young backpackers are great ambassadors, they make their own way on the cheap, and blend in. Each time I step out of the hotel, I have this feeling of joy and adventure, it’s that kind of a city. I said to a streetside tailor, who sewed two buttons on my shirt for $1 this morning, that P.C. was, like San Francisco, a city with soul. Con alma…
I booked this room (with good wi-fi!) for 2 nights, this morning I extended it another two days. Total hotel bill for 4 days: $60.
