Colon, Portobelo, and the .45

 

December 27, 2008 – Last Day in Panama City

Today's our last full day in Panama City.  But yesterday was probably the signature day for the journey, primarily because we knocked out so much in one day, and because I got up close and personal with the Panama Canal.

Of course, nobody hates getting up early on vacation more than I, but it had to be done if were going to catch the Panama Canal Railroad train that leaves at 7:15 AM.  Fortunately, the Radisson Decapolis room service team cooperated, and we were all able to have a real deal meal before heading out towards Miraflores to catch the train.

The train itself was a classic, complete with two diesel engines on either end (one for going to Colon, and the other for coming back to Panama City), a number of passenger cars, and even one club/viewer car that has big windows for the turistas.  On the way to Colon, I ended up opting to go outside between the cars, where I could get some amazing videos of the roughly hour-long ride.

Having just read most of "The Path Between the Seas" didn't hurt.  As the train hurled through the jungle, I could only imagine what it must have been like for the French, the Americans, the West Indians, and everyone else involved in the enterprise, hacking their way through that jungle, and worse, digging a big trench through the middle of it.  You can read about it in a book, but until you've seen it live and in person, it's awesomeness fails to be truly realized.

Once we arrived in Colon, clueless turistas that we were, we had no game plan other than to try to find a cabbie to take us up to Gatun Locks and to Portobelo.  Fate, however, intervened, presenting us with a large, friendly black gentleman named Dino, whom it turned out, also spent quite a bit of time in Brooklyn, NY. 

Dino explained that for a mere $120, he would take us around the entire day, covering the Gatun Locks, Portobelo, lunch, a tour of Colon and the "Zona Libre" (the free zone) before heading back to the train.

Done.

So Dino's driving out towards the Gatun Locks first, when he pulls out a .45 caliber pistol.  He explained that he doubled as a security guard, and the gun was always useful to have while traveling through Colon.  O-kayyyy.

The Gatun Locks were my favorite part of the Canal experience.  There were a number of large vessels lined up to head south (they head south from sometime early in the AM until around noon, before reversing direction), and we're talking LARGE.  Like, there's no way that big ass ship is going to fit into that little lock large, but the Panamians move that sucker through with their 440 volt mules (small trains with large cables attached to the ship and the mule) with the finesse of a fine surgeon cutting out a brain tumor.  It was something to watch, and again, no description of it really does it justice.

I asked the nice lady providing color commentary how much these ships were paying to go through the Canal, and she indicated it was around $300K.  If you think that's high, start figuring the cost of labor, gas, time, etc. to go around South America, and you start to realize why the Panama Canal is so strategic, and booked up months in advance.

I took lots of video and pics of the locks, and will try to link to those at some point.   But once we were done with that, Dino also took us by the "School of the Americas," the former U.S. military based where we "trained Latin America monsters" (Dino's words…and I wasn't going to argue with him…he was the one with the loaded .45) like Ortega and Somoza.  Today, it's a nice 5 star Melia hotel.  Go figure.  From dictator training camp to the finest of 5 star hotels, complete with zip lines (or were those left over from the School of the Americas???)

From there, we started off to Portobelo.  The drive along the coast was quite nice, if you mostly looked left at the Atlantic Ocean tide rolling in.  Otherwise, it was a whole lot of reminders of what third world poverty looked like.  Shanty housing with tin roofs, small cervezerias here and there, a whole lot of trash amidst a gorgeous natural landscape.  I just wanted to suggest maybe cleaning up the place a bit?

Once we got to Portobelo, a sleep little town that has been noted as a "World Heritage Site," it started to rain.  But that didn't stop us from our historical rounds.

Portobelo was founded in 1597, and from the sixteenth to eighteen centuries was an important silver-exporting port in New Granada on the Spanish Main, and one of the ports on the route of the Spanish treasure fleets.

Portobelo was also visited by Captain Henry Morgan, when in 1668, he basically came through with a fleet of privateers raping and pillaging along his way.  Despite Portobelo's good fortifications, he stripped the city of nearly all its wealth over the course of two weeks.  I know, not nice, but that's what privateers did.

In 1739, the Portobeloans were attacked again, this time by a British fleet commanded by Admiral Edward Vernon. The battle and subsequent British victory demonstrated that Spanish trading practices were vulnerable and lead to a fundamental change in their approach, with the Spanish switching to a new strategy, one in which the Spanish had small fleets visiting a wide variety of ports so that they weren't as exposed.

So, with that historical backdrop, we saw the remnants of the last fortifications built by the Spanish in the 1800s which, as it turned out, they didn't really need, because everybody was SO over the territory by that time.  And until the building of the Canal, Portobelo remained a very sleepy little town.

Judging from what I saw, it's still pretty damned sleepy, and its inhabitants and their dwellings could probably stand a home makeover.  However, the fortifications themselves were pretty cool, complete with the original cannon.  And, allegedly, Sir Francis Drake was buried out there in the bay somewhere in a lead coffin, although his remains have never been found.

Looking up at the hills above the bay, one can just wonder what it must have been like to start hacking through that jungle to cover the 60 some odd miles across the Isthmus.  Thanks, but I'll take Air Panama.

Once we finished our Portobelo tour, Dino made a pitstop at an authentic tourist trap restaurant that had an authentic thatched hut roof and everything.  Though Ginger or Gilligan were nowhere to be found, we had a nice meal of fish and shrimp creole and coconut rice and, para me, Balboa beer. 

From there, we made our way into the Zona Libre, the free trade zone next to the city of Colon.  Basically, the Zone is a clearinghouse for goods from all over the globe, and a place where buyers can come and buy beacoup stuff in bulk at discounted prices before shipping them on to their intended destination countries, and all with no tariffs.  To me, it looked like a really big ass flea market with storefronts.

Little did I know that you're not supposed to buy anything for individual consumption, because Dino was in search of a bike for his two year-old tyke.  So, I found a very cool GelaSkin for my MacBook, and only as we were leaving did I discover that one wasn't supposed to take merchandise out of the Zone.  Fortunately, Dino's brother was head of security for the entire Zone, so he was quite friendly with the seguridad at the perimeter.

From Zona Libre, we drove right into the heart of Colon.  I can only describe Colon as something of a real shithole.  It certainly has its history, particularly with the Canal, but they really haven't kept the place up, and in many ways, it seems the ass end opposite of Panama City.  It's importance as the Atlantic front end to the most strategic waterway in the Western Hemisphere is not supported in the ack streets of Colon.  Now I could see why Dino carried the .45. 

The streets and buildings were extremely run down, many with tin roofs and exteriors that were mildewed and pockmarked.  Clearly there was a large poor population, so it gave me no small pleasure to see all the young kids scooting around on their new rollerblades they got for Christmas.  Those were some happy kids, and we're talking 4 and 5 year-olds, zipping around the cars and buses like true pros.  Apparently in Colon, when they say go play in the streets, their parents mean it! 

That was basically the end of the tour.  Dino dropped us off at the train station and explained he'd be happy to take us to see some real live Indians in the middle of the Isthmus the next day, and to the Gamboa preserve.  We told him we'd certainly give it some consideration, but it was readily apparent to me that Saturday was going to be a day of semi-rest, one in which we would be vacating to prepare for the end of our vacation.

More on the last day later…