We have urban vibe,
sunshine, seafood, and shopping opportunities galore – after
that, no comparison whatever
Ceci
Connolly, a Washington Post reporter currently on leave, is
based in Mexico City. |
A Washington
Post writer, having apparently seen ads touting Panama City as "the
next super swanky Miami" decided to come down to see for herself.
She commented that she could see why Panama City gets the Miami
comparisons, with its "urban vibe, distinctive skyline, sunshine,
seafood and shopping opportunities galore". Apart from that,
any comparisons were forgotten. For journalist Ceci Connolly, who
is based in Mexico City, Panamá was surprisingly different.
In the
Casco Viejo, the city’s Old Quarter, she recalls: "It
was sticky hot, and I was grungy after a morning exploring the cobblestone
passageways of Panama City's Casco Viejo, a 300-year-old cross between
the crumbling charm of Old Havana and the restored glow of New Orleans'
French Quarter.
"In
my baseball cap, khaki shorts and sweaty T-shirt, I was dressed
for a sidewalk hot dog stand. But a Panamanian friend had been raving
about S'cena, the new Mediterranean restaurant in this colonial-era
part of town, and when I stumbled upon its entranceway, it seemed
the food gods were summoning me.
"Still,
I felt a little sheepish as I passed the first-floor jazz bar and
stepped into a scene of sophisticated serenity: white tablecloths,
fresh flowers and waiters in pressed shirts. I braced myself for
dirty looks and a dreary table near a swinging kitchen door.
"Instead,
the owner greeted me like a lost cousin, whisking me to a prime
table and gently draping a linen napkin across my lap.
Panama
Canal Museum
After visiting Miraflores locks she returned to Casco
Viejo to check out the Panama Canal Museum, " a lovingly restored
four-storey building built by the French in the 1870s. At one fifth
the price and almost emply, it is a much better deal than the locks
museum.
"The
story of the canal -- from the failed effort by the French in the
1880s to current widening plans -- is presented in bright, colorful
interactive exhibits. There's a full recounting of the 22,000 workers
who died, most by malaria or yellow fever, and a sobering account
of the segregated system that left dark-skinned workers with less
money than “whites” in their pockets at the end of each
workday.
"Outside
the museum, the neighborhood offers the best of Panama City -- past,
present and future. In 1671, after pirate Henry Morgan burned the
original city to the ground, the King of Spain chose this boot-shaped
peninsula to rebuild.
"Although
Casco Viejo fell into disrepair in the 1950s, today it is enjoying
a revival. The two worlds meet on its labyrinthine streets: Elderly
women hang laundry on wrought-iron balconies as construction workers
transform dilapidated convents into swanky loft-style condos."
The
Golden Altar
Next on Ms. Connollys list was the church of San José
with its Golden Altar. As she studied her map a man of about 30
offered his services. She recalled: "In most big cities, this
would be the signal to sprint in the opposite direction. But with
squadrons of tourist police patrolling on bicycles, I accepted the
invitation.
"Ricardo,
a native Panamanian, makes the sign of the cross as we step inside
the plain white church. The interior is an odd, even unsettling,
jumble of periods. But the baroque altar, salvaged by a priest who
hid it from the plundering Morgan, is a mouth-gaping gem, an enormous
mahogany piece covered in gold leaf.
"Later,
another local, Julio, guides me to the dungeons used first by the
Spaniards and later the Colombians. One has been converted into
a touristy restaurant. But Julio leads me to another. I climb through
a low-slung doorway, and in the dank, poorly lighted room is a genuine
surprise: paintings of every shape, color and style. Portraits of
the Virgin Mary lean up against seascapes; stacked in another corner,
geometric abstractions are mixed with battlefield images. Many look
to be schlock, but a few are captivating.
"The
paintings, Julio says, are all from the collection of jailed dictator
Manuel Noriega. There's no proof of this, but the dungeons are super
cool and Julio and his tale -- true or not -- sure beat the standard
tour guide spiel."
Sight
of both oceans
Venturing outside the capital, the writer finds another
world: "We are driving through Cocle Province, 75 miles southwest
of Panama City. As we negotiate yet another tight curve, the landscape
shifts from the tropical palms of the capital to the sturdy pines
of this mountainous region -- all in less than an hour.
"As
we reach the top of one particularly steep hill, I holler, "Stop
the car!" On our right, in the distance, is the Atlantic Ocean's
Caribbean Sea, and to the left, down a terrifyingly steep rocky
cliff, is the Pacific.
"There
are many reasons to escape the city and explore Panama's natural
wonders. But it is hard to imagine a better one than this view,
arguably one of the most distinctive vantage points in all of Central
America.
In El
Valle Ms. Connolly lunches at a boutique hotel with its renowned
restaurant, La Casa de Lourdes.
"New
Panamanian friends have arranged lunch on the patio of La Casa de
Lourdes, a Tuscan-style mansion with an idyllic poolside restaurant
and terraced gardens. Surrounded by Panama's leisure class, we follow
their lead and order a bottle of wine. It goes well with a table
full of fresh Panamanian and Creole seafood dishes accented by spice
rubs, mango salsas and yucca, the ubiquitous root that locals mash,
fry and even toss into cakes.
"We
take a room in the adjacent building, which is not nearly as architecturally
inviting as the main house. But our suite is enormous, with a luxurious
modern bathroom and tiny terrace looking out on a ring of mountains.
At dinnertime, we stroll through the gardens to the restaurant,
now aglow in candlelight.
"The
next morning, heading back to the city, we stop at a roadside stand
and order two chichemes, a heavenly blend of milk, sweet corn, cinnamon
and vanilla. If we sip them slowly, they should last us all the
way to Panama City".
The
fish market
Ms. Connolly’s parting shot: "With just a few
hours left in Panama, we decide to go to the source of the country's
culinary goodness: the Mercado del Marisco, or fish market.
"We
slosh around the smelly warehouse, marveling at the piles of beautiful,
slimy sea creatures. The vendors, friendly if slightly surprised
to see a pair of gringos, teach us words in Spanish. The mero we
devoured one night is grouper, longo is a giant tubular clam, and
corvina a buttery, rich seabass.
"We
meet a vendor named Niño. Standing five feet tall in his
rubber galoshes, Niño tells us he has worked the same stall
for 33 years. He recommends prawns and calamari. A pound-plus of
super-fresh seafood for $5.25? Who can argue?
"With
our catch in hand, we climb a rickety wooden staircase to a restaurant
of sorts. Our waitress is brusque and the napkins are paper. There's
a menu, but we don't need it.
"We
ask the kitchen to grill up Niño's goodies. The chef adds
a pile of perfect French fries, and our bill comes to $6."
