Our latest leg takes us to the easternmost point in our trip, a point so far it´s practically in a different continent, past the canal that divides North America from South. On Monday we had a rocky takeoff from the rocky San Jose valley. We climbed above the turbulence, above the mountains, above the clouds and over the Atlantic to reach Panama City (satellite view). We got a magnificent view of the Pacific end of the Canal and the Bridge of the Americas as we lined up for landing.



The next mountains we had to face were mountains of paperwork. We were greeted by a committee of industrious officials from the departments of public health (the infamous $10 squirt of bug spray), police (drug-sniffing Cocker Spaniel), customs (thorough bag inspection), immigration ("fill out this form, and we need to have 17 copies and 23 stamps"), and operations ("please push the airplane to the other side of the airport"). But that's alright, since they asked with a smile. 

The city itself seemed as hectic as any other Latin American city, only taller. High-rising building mark the boundaries of the financial district, while crumbling barrios comprise most of the rest.



We took a walk today in the southern part of the City. We passed some docks and an aromatic fish market, where the major clientele consisted of seagulls, vultures, and pelicans.



This part of town also contains many historic buildings, such as the lovely national theater, the crumbling remains of ex-dictator Noriega´s mansion, and a few museums. We visited the too-small emerald museum and too-large Canal museum (how many commemorative coins, stamps, and medals can a single event accrue anyway?). We'll write more about the Canal after we've explored it, but after visiting this museum, we know more than we ever dreamt possible about it's history. 

We continued exploring the narrow streets, where crossing a street is always the victory of optimism over reality. The reality of blind-deaf drivers and colorful retired school buses that ignore all traffic rules.


 
We arrived at Avenida Central, a pedestrian-only area (and therefore slightly safer), where any imaginable junk is sold by any imaginable ethnicity. For us it felt more like a Cuban street, although admittedly neither of us ever saw one. The cultural diversity, that increased as we travelled south and east, seems to have peaked in this city. Perhaps appropriate for the city that connects the two oceans.

Lastly, we visited three little islands that are connected to the mainland by a causeway. In stark contrast to the busy city, everything here was wide-spaced, clean, glittery—and mostly empty. Rows and rows of empty shops seemed to have been constructed for tourists that never came. Nevertheless, it offered a few sunset views of the city and ocean, which signalled our time to return to the relative safety of the hotel.