Day 16—The Attempt to see Casco Viejo

This is a painting in the apartment that I love.

I forgot to mention yesterday, that after relaxing for a bit, we decided we had better get our laundry dry.  They have a lovely stacking washer/dryer right next to the kitchen.  So we went  ahead and loaded  half the clothes into  the dryer, and started  it on the “more dry” setting.  After an hour or so, I went to check the clothes.  They were still very damp, and I realized: No heat.  NO HEAT! That must mean the gas isn’t working, here, in Panama City. Shit! I tried the kitchen tap.  No hot water.  Shower. Cold.  Damn. 

Then we noticed propped up on the beautiful 6 burner gas stove, a small electric 2 burner cook-top.  So, this no gas thing, the landlord obviously knew, but didn't disclose this little detail to us.  Camping in the city.  Great.  Then we also noticed a bright yellow gas line that had been installed after the fact.  The line snakes through a hole above the front door, along the ceiling, into the kitchen, and then ends in the laundry room.  Where it is attached to…nothing.  Just an open gas line. Hmm. Let’s hope they don’t arbitrarily turn on the gas from somewhere in the building.

Oh, and then there was the moment yesterday, when we were coming back from getting our groceries, that Sean took a wild guess at which key opened the lobby door, and did what he is known for doing, which is try to bully the lock into submission, rather than finesse it. And.,when he pulled the key out, it had broken in half , and part of it was stuck in the lock. Yikes! We all burst into laughter, and then the horror dawned on me that not only can we not get into the apartment, we have to go and admit to the doorman what complete idiots we are! Luckily, I thought to reach over and voila, I pulled the broken end of the key free. We then  used the other key on the ring to get in, sparing ourselves further humiliation for the day.  

Did I also fail to mention that when we first got to the apartment,  I immediately went to the balcony to take a look at the cityscape, and quickly discovered the blinds were a mess.  They didn’t want to open, and when I finally coaxed them into opening, they didn’t want to close.  So there I was precariously balanced on a chair trying to get the blinds to close in front of wall of glass, on the 13^th floor…a bit nerve wracking to say the least.  We decided not to try to open them again, but that meant we were looking at a wall of mini-blinds, instead of a fabulous city scape. 

Today, I got up to make coffee.  I started the coffee and then sat down to write my blog.  A while later Sean came out, and he said, “What’s up with the coffee?” And I realized that the coffee maker had been going for like 30 minutes, and only about a tablespoon of coffee was in the pot.  I guess the rest of the water had turned into steam and evaporated.  Well, I’ll be.  I have never had such a simple contraption break on me.  But somehow , this one was broken! This apartment was like a beautiful, dysfunctional hot cold mess. 

Sean very kindly went out to find the New York Bagel shop that was just around the corner.  He brought us back life-giving French roast coffee (still tasted like the Panamanian coffee I had been drinking) and toasted everything bagels with cream cheese.  YUM, DOUBLE YUM….Happy camper!

So it took us like 4 hours of air tumbling to get the clothes dry.  We couldn’t really leave the apartment, because all of my clothes were wet.  Then I had to take a cold shower (unfortunately,  not in a good way!) Yikes, who knew water could be so cold in a hot, sweaty, equatorial country.  Refreshing! 

We were finally ready to head out, but we realized we were all starving.  Sean, popped out to a Cuban restaurant on the corner, and picked us up some Cuban sandwiches.  They were ok, just not the best I have ever had. 

Now we were clean, dry, and fortified for our trip to Casco Viejo.  It seemed like it should be a straight shot from where we were.  But we couldn’t have been more wrong.

Via Espana ends here, even though on the map it looks like it should continue straight into  Casco Viejo.

I don’t think I could adequately describe the nightmare that is driving in Panama City.  It is not just that we do not have a good map, or that the streets are not marked.  It is even more so about the free form way Panamanian drivers drive, particularly the taxis and the busses.  Especially the busses. Who think nothing of cutting across three lanes of highway.  Right. Directly. In. front. Of. You.  There is gleeful honking everywhere, for nothing.  I realized that most of the time driving is just trying not to get killed! Which means before we knew it we were headed in the wrong direction again.  The streets here are notorious for looping around and sending you back in the direction from whence you have just come.  Argh.  It took us about an hour of circling, circling, circling to finally find the unmarked passage that would take us into Casco Viejo.

Driving Via Espana 

I am fairly sure that during that time (after Sean so rudely pointed out that I was too cheap to take a taxi, andthat is what we should have done) I screamed “I divorce thee!” three times, and threw my beloved camera on the floor of the car.  I’m not sure if we are technically still married.  I was not being cheap, I thought itwould be an adventure. 

Casco Viejo is BEAUTIFUL! At least from what I could gleen from the 15 minutes or so that we drove around in it, completely lost, dodging back hoes.  The entire area is under construction, and there was not one parking space to be had.  Just narrow, charming, cobblestoned, one-way streets, that we kept going up the wrong way.  It was breathtaking, but brief.  We realized that we would have to actually take a cab there (damn Sean for being right!) if we wanted to see it properly.

Coming out of Casco Viejo (see charming building on close left, squalid poverty straight ahead.)

The Trump Tower off in the distance.  

Then we took a deep breath to prepare ourselves for the task of finding the apartment again. 

Look, all I can say about the return trip is, that is was Friday afternoon, and EVERY SINGLE PERSON IN THE CITY WAS IN THEIR CARS DRIVING at the same time as us.  The difference was those lucky devils probably knew where they were going.  At one point, we were gridlocked, and when we finally came upon the problem: It was some guy double parked on a major three-lane thoroughfare,  washing his car.  At this point Sean started laughing until tears came out of his eyes, and Emma and I were worried that Panama had finally broken him.  Luckily his insane laughter morphed into a steely glint in his eyes. He was determined to get us back to the apartment.  We finally found the apartment,  in a weird round, about way, mainly by spotting buildings that we had seen from the apartment windows, so we knew we were close.  

 We found it!

 And then we decided to leave first thing in the morning for the calm sanctuary of the beach villa. 

That is, if we could find our way out of the City again.