mike's web log

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién (this entry)

Our last two days were spent in Darién, the part of Panama that borders Colombia. This is real jungle, an area renowned for its inhospitality.[1] Fun fact that I only recently learned: the Darién Gap is not a gap that takes you through the area (a mountain pass, say); instead, the Darien area constitutes a gap in the Pan-American Highway between Central and South America. You can walk across this gap (extremely not recommended) or, more likely, go around Darién on a boat. Let us know how that goes.

However, people do live there, and our first stop was at Playa Muerto, which is a village of the Eberá people. This visit presented some additional touristical quandaries for me — were we respectfully learning about an indigenous culture, or were we gawping at something exotic? I was initially reluctant to just point my camera at our hosts and snap photos.

I discussed this with a thoughtful fellow passenger who noted that the villagers are not culturally isolated and have made their own choice about welcoming visitors. (There's an AirBnB in the village, I eventually learned.)

An Eberá girl and a puppy in Playa Muerto

I will note that our Panamanian guides seemed to have long acquaintance and excellent relationships with the Eberá people, and in fact, with everyone in all the places we visited.

For example, on one of the Zodiacs, the group encountered some fishermen who'd been out on the water for many days. The guide, who knew just about everyone, talked to them about their catch. They offered to sell some fish in exchange for sodas. We didn't buy the fish, but a case of sodas was dispatched from the Quest to the fishermen's boat.

A local fisherman offering some of his catch

In the village, many folks in the group got henna-like "tattoos" that were painted with ink made from a local plant that's said to help repel insects. I have mild regret that I didn't get one of these.

One of our guides getting an Eberá tattoo

This village is where the question of religion came up again. One of the guides noted that unlike most Panamanians, the locals who were religious were mostly Seventh-Day Adventists. My thought, dunno if this is right, is that someone sure had done some successful missionary work.

Then it was time for a walk in which we learned something about local flora and fauna.

One of the guides taking a photo through the telescope, with village kids looking on

What they're seeing: a bat

Our walk was my first opportunity to see leafcutter ants, which I was pretty excited about. (Really)

Leafcutter ants at work. They don't eat the leaves; they grow fungus on the plant material and then eat that fungus. They then tidily dump the used leaf material outside their nest.

On our walk, each of us was taken by the hand by a kid from the village. My escort was an 8-year-old named Monica; Sarah's escort was a girl named Kati. I never really got whether the kids were told to help us out or they just like hanging out with the visitors. For sure it's a touch-y culture, hence perhaps the hand-holding. The kids speak Spanish, so it was possible to have halting conversation with them.

Walking through the village with an Eberá escort

At one point our guide stopped to show us coffee plants. The kids gathered handfuls of coffee berries and popped them into their mouths. Someone told me that they spit out the red husk and suck on the inner soft part, then spit out the hard seed.

Coffee berries ("cherries")

The kids were barefoot the entire time, including over some rocky sections. I asked my escort whether it didn't hurt their feet to walk on the rocks? No, she said, probably wondering about these tenderfoot tourists.

River crossing during our hike. The barefoot kids were completely unbothered walking on rocks.

Our last day was a stop at Punta Patiño, a nature reserve. Long ago someone had cleared this land and set up a cattle ranch, but failed to pay taxes, oops. About 40 years ago the land was ceded for back taxes and allowed to return to its natural state. Because it was once developed land, it has a park-like quality. Our naturalists once again exhibited their remarkable abilities to spot plants and animals of interest, including this time my beloved ants. :)

Punta Patiño reserve

Fun fact from one of our naturalists: trees in Panama don't develop tree rings in the same way that trees do in colder climates, since they don't go through the same seasonal growth spurt.

Tree at the reserve. We forgot to ask what the odd growths were.

Overlooking the reserve from the old cattle ranch HQ

And that was it. Overnight the ship returned to Panama City, we disembarked and were bussed to the airport. (Another feat of organization.) We'd gotten up at 6:30AM (3:30AM Seattle time) for an 8:00 disembarkation. At home we finally lay down at 1:30AM, so a 22-hour day for us.

Back in the USA, connecting at Houston. The journey between Seattle and Panama was looooong, but everything went smoothly.

Before we got off the boat, we'd asked the staff about whether they were getting a break or whatever. Nope. We were off the boat before 9:00AM, and they were welcoming the next group of tourists at 4:00PM that day. I can see that it would be an interesting and sometimes fun job to work on one of these ships, but it definitely is work. :)

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[1] Also the area of most concern for my travel doc. Canal zone? Meh, nothing to worry about there, modulo the dogs and cats thing. Darién? Ok, let's talk. [^]

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific (this entry)
5. Part 5: Darién

Our next day we were in the Pearl Islands, where we did some Zodiac-based birdwatching. I think this is typical of any of these cruises: there were a lot of birders on the trip. I'm not really a birder, but this was interesting to me in a meta kind of way. For example, birders can spot birds (or anything, really) that I sometimes had trouble seeing even when they were pointed out.

Our guide pointing out seabirds of interest

Also, some of the birders have some serious camera equipment. (Another quotable quote from the NatGeo photographer: "If you want to make any photo better, put a bird in it.") Also, the guides know an incredible amount about birds. This last I observed over and over as we proceeded.

Serious photographers

In the afternoon there was snorkeling and/or kayaking on Pachequilla Island, one of the Pearl Islands. I much admired the organization and patience that went into herding a bunch of old(er) folks onto Zodiacs, off Zodiacs, into snorkel gear, and then back into and out of the Zodiacs. They really do have the system down. This included a status board that we diligently marked whenever we got off or on the ship.[1]

Status board to indicate whether you were on board or off. Woe betide the passenger who fails to indicate their status.

Loading tourists onto the Zodiacs

As part of our beach outing they'd set up a bunch of folding chairs and a portable bar. Us, we really didn't have to do much of anything.

They looked after our comfort at every moment

We quickly learned the terms dry landing and wet landing for how we would get out of a boat and back in, which in turn dictated our footwear choices. Between the dry/wet landings and the pointed requirement for "closed-toe shoes" for some of the outings, holy cow, I've never had to think so much about shoes on vacation before. :)

Footwear in the Zodiac. Going places by Zodiac meant a "wet landing".

Something I hadn't seen before: they brought along pool noodles for extra flotation. Worked great!

Extra flotation for snorkelers

The next day was similar — Zodiac tour and birdwatching, snorkeling, kayaking, chilling on the beach, this time on Bayoneta and Chapera islands. In the evening we got a preso on shorebirds, which the naturalist (an American woman) had titled "Boobies and their Buddies". Funny title, but I learned a bunch.

Denizen on the beach of Bartolomé Island

Beach time

Next up: Darién

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[1] There was one incident where we got a call in our room confirming that we were on board. I don't know exactly what happened, but I imagine that someone might not have followed the status board protocol. [^]

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal (this entry)
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién

We took this particular cruise because I was interested in the Panama Canal. As you'll hear repeatedly in anything that discusses the canal, it was and still is one of the great engineering feats ever.

For centuries people dreamed about a way to cut through the skinny parts of Central America to avoid the long route around the bottom of South America. After the triumph of the Suez Canal in 1869, the same French engineer undertook the Panama Canal. However, the French made the error (clear only in retrospect) of envisioning a sea-level canal, as they'd built in Suez. That wasn't possible.

The Americans took an interest for Monroe-Doctrinal reasons, sort of, fostered Panamanian independence from Colombia (ahem) in 1903, then got the necessary concessions. The successful formula turned out to be to dam the wild Changres river to create a huge inland lake — Gatún Lake — above sea level. The designers then created locks on both ends of the lake. All of this took 11 years — the canal opened in August 1914, the month that WWI started. Fun geographic fact: once the canal opened, the Changres River technically became the only river that drains into both the Pacific and the Atlantic.

Gatún Lake, created as part of the canal construction

There's an excellent American Experience program on PBS that recounts the history. Or you could delve into The Path Between the Seas, David McCullough's not-short but very readable book.

Traversing the Canal

You don't just sail up to the canal and go through; it works like an airport, where the canal authorities tell you when you can go. As with harbors, they put a pilot on your ship. The ship's crew was therefore somewhat hand-wavy about when exactly we'd enter the canal, and they explained that commercial shipping gets priority, so we'd probably traverse at night.

The mechanics are similar to any canal-and-lock system, I suppose, except the sheer scale of the thing. You enter the lock, the gates close, the water in the lock fills or drains (you rise or descend), the opposite gates open, you emerge.[1]

Entering one of the locks

To get into and out of the locks, you're tied up to some cool little locomotives that pull you though.

One of the four electric locomotives that we were tied to that pulled us through the locks

Going through one set of locks, then Gatún Lake, then the other set of locks takes about 8 hours. We didn't do that. Instead, we went through the Caribbean-side locks and then pulled up near Barro Colorado Island (island now, formerly just a tall hill) in the lake, where there's a wildlife preserve and a Smithsonian research lab.

Tower on Barro Colorado Island that lets you climb above the jungle canopy

Our goal was to spot wildlife — success, we saw many birds and a coati and a sloth. There were many birders among us, but everyone loves mammals.

Coati rooting around. One of our guides said that they're like raccoons (aka trash pandas), they'll steal lunch right off your table.

That evening we continued our traversal of the canal by heading toward the Pacific side of the locks.

Approaching the Centennial Bridge going toward the Pacific side of the locks

We entered the second set of locks after sundown and followed a cargo ship down and out of the canal. The whole process took a while, so most of us had gone to bed by the time we emerged into the Pacific.

Inspired by the photographer's lecture on phone cameras, I tried to do a little timelapse of one segment of the journey. It's a little shaky, but it was fun to try.

Next up: Into the Pacific

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[1] Someone asked, but no, we didn't go through the newer part of the canal that can accommodate Panamax ships — we went through the original part that was opened in 1914. [^]

Continuing a series of blog posts about our recent trip to Panama.

1. Part 1: Panama City
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins (this entry)
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién

On the appointed day, cruise passengers assembled, and we were then bussed across the isthmus from Panama City (Pacific) to Colón (Caribbean). I guess I envisioned the canal as traversing east from the Caribbean to west at the Pacific. Nope: the canal goes more or less north–south.[1] It's about an hour's drive across the isthmus — 50 miles or so.

Map of Panama Canal

We embarked, and all 80 or so passengers were mustered to the lounge to get the first presentation (abandon-ship drill) and an overview of life aboard the ship, Lindblad-style. As anyone who's cruised probably knows, the crew and staff are numerous, and there's a ton of work, mostly invisible to us, to make a trip like this seem friction-free. And indeed, so it proved to be. I should note that our cabin was quite comfortable, no complaints here.[2] The food was good, vegetarian-friendly, inspired by local cuisine.

View out our window-slash-porthole. (It did not open, in case you were wondering.)

View from the sundeck

During our orientation, the purser mentioned some sustainability aspects of our cruise, such as minimizing their use of plastic. I'm down with National Geographic's mission to help preserve wildlife, but there was a certain irony, imo, in talking green to a bunch of well-heeled eco-tourists who'd racked up many thousands of air miles to enjoy this experience. Hmm.

The good ship National Geographic Quest

I don't intend to give an hour-by-hour account of our travels, but the basic daily schedule for the cruise was this:

• 6:30: Stretch-don't-call-it-yoga (per the woman who led the activity, heh)
• 7:00: Breakfast
• 8:00: Outing. The various activities included naturalist-led hikes, a bus tour, and some snorkeling or kayaking. Activities were available for all levels of fitness and interest. Or heck, you could stay on the boat and chill.
• 1:00: Lunch
• 2:00: Second outing, usually
• 6:00: Cocktails+apps, then a preso about nature or history. Most of the guides/naturalists are Panamanian and have deep knowledge of the country's flora and fauna, history, geography, culture, everything.
• 7:00: Dinner
• 8:30: Maybe another presentation.

Relaxing on board. Pirates are a big factor in Panama's history, hence Sir Francis Red Ale.

All the meals are in the dining room, where you sit with other passengers and socialize. The average passenger was (predictably) well into retirement. The social aspects of the trip had worried me, but we met some cool people and had lovely conversations. Number 1 topic: Have you been on one of these cruises before? Number 2: Where are you from?[3]

A number of people had been in tech, so there were some opportunities to kinda-sorta talk shop. For example, one of the guys shared a joke that my tech-docs peeps will like: "No matter how much you push the envelope, it’ll still be stationery."

I get why the schedule was this way — sunrise and sunset are around 6:30 on both ends — but it's earlier than I would normally plan my day. The bar opened pretty early and afaik was open all day, and some folks took advantage.

The first preso was an excellent lecture + practice session from the on-board National Geographic photographer about ways to use your cell-phone camera. He emphasized that we should not discount what you can do with a phone and illustrated this point with a bunch of amazing photos he'd taken with his iPhone. And general advice: "Storage is cheap. Deleting is free. Get the shot."[4]

Our first stop was in Portobelo, one of the ports on the Atlantic side from which South American gold and silver was loaded onto ships bound for Spain. (The cargo was sailed from Peru to the Pacific side of Panama, then hauled across the isthmus on mules, gah.) There's lots of history that involves forts and pirates and the British navy, all explained by one of our guides.

Ruins of the fort at Portobelo

Portobelo is well-known to Panamanians as the town that has the Cristo Negro ("Black Christ"). This is a wooden statue that inspires a huge pilgrimage by penitents and miracle-seekers every October from all over Panama. About 80% of Panamanians are Catholic, which isn't a surprise, although the question of religion unexpectedly came up later.

Our Portobelo stop was capped with a performance by locals of songs and dances harkening back to the Afro-Caribbean roots of the Cimarrones, a community of escaped and freed slaves.

I mention this partly because I wasn't entirely comfortable with the performance; it felt, well, performative, in the way that going to a tourist-oriented luau in Hawaii does. As in, are we watching an authentic cultural expression, or is this a show that's been divorced from its original meaning and is performed primarily for the entertainment of others? This is an aspect of guided tourism that one can't escape, and it's difficult for the tourist to resolve. It wasn't the last time this question came up. Anyway, people danced along and took selfies with the elaborately costumed dancers.

Costumed dancer in Portobelo

Next up: Through the Canal

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[1] An(other) example of Mental Map Oversimplification (MMO), as described by Frank Jacobs. I doubt that I'm the only one who pictured it this way. [^]

[2] Well, one minor complaint: the A/C in the common areas was too blast-y, especially for us old folk. :) [^]

[3] A surprising (to me) number of people on the cruise answered this question by talking about two homes that they move between with the seasons. I guess if you go on a luxury cruise, you're going to meet rich people. [^]

[4] As I've been going through the photos from this trip, I think about many shots that I could have taken and didn't, sad. [^]

For our mid-winter break this year, we went on a Panama cruise. It was a kind of experiment. I've been leery of cruises in general, but the idea of going through the Panama Canal was very interesting to me. Some of our friends had enjoyed and recommended high-end, small-ship cruises. We also know some folks who've been naturalists for National Geographic; they've very knowledgeable and generous with their knowledge. So we signed up for a National Geographic/Lindblad tour.

I've written this up in a sequence of blog posts:

1. Part 1: Panama City (this entry)
2. Part 2: The Cruise Begins
3. Part 3: Through the Canal
4. Part 4: Into the Pacific
5. Part 5: Darién

This was our trip, apologies for my subprofessional drawing skills:

Our Panama cruise

Legend/summary:

1. Panama City (3 days). Bus trip (red) to Colón and embarkation.
2. Portobelo, then canal part 1.
3. Barro Colorado Island in Gatún Lake, then part 2 of the canal.
4-5. Pearl Islands.
6. Playa Muerto in the Darién province.
7. Punta Patiño in Darién, then back to Panama City.

As a prelude to this trip, we visited the travel doctor. They have all these questions: where exactly are you going? Have you had boosters for frightening diseases A, B, and C? The yellow fever inoculation can have side effects, do you want to get that jab nonetheless? I walked out with shots for typhoid and hep B, and a prescription for malaria pills and anti-runs medicine. There was an amusing moment when the doc and I talked about avoiding domestic animals and the risk of rabies. "I like cats", I told her. "Like them here", she said.

Some of the frens I met in Panama City. Per the travel doc's orders, there was no scritching.

Lindblad sent out pre-trip information with suggestions for sunscreen and insect repellent, plus long pants and shoes. (Unlike some cruises, no formal togs on this trip, all casual.) It all seemed sort of abstract when we were packing, but their recommendations eventually made sense. The long pants were an anti-insect measure, and specifically for the jungle part of the trip. Fun ("fun") fact: the scarier diseases are mosquito-borne, and that mostly means nighttime. By the time it got dark, though, we were safely back on the ship.

We got to Panama City a few days before the cruise began so we could look around. Our hotel was in Casco Viejo, the "old town" part of the city, very walkable to interesting sights. (Driving through it, on the other hand, … wow.) On our drive from the airport, our affable driver talked about the buildup of Panama City over the last few decades. You won't be surprised to hear that this involved gentrification, high-rises, and increased costs for the inhabitants.

View from our hotel window in Casco Viejo, Panama City

Panama City

I've been to Mexico a number of times, so it was interesting to me to experience something that was both familiar (Spanish-speaking culture, similar artifacts of colonialism) but also different (different climate, different ethnic mix, different cuisine[1]).

Basilica de Santa Maria & Plaza de la Independencia, Panama City

Panama exists as an independent nation because of political shenanigans much encouraged by the US. But it was only in 1999 that Panama got full sovereignty over the Canal Zone, a 10-mile-wide strip that split the country. Fun fact: there's a word Zonian that's used for Americans born in the Canal Zone — a prominent Zonian was John McCain.

Naturally, there's still American influence; an interesting one is the currency. Panama issues the balboa, equivalent to one US dollar, but American money is also in free circulation. You might pay for something in US dollars and get change in a combination of Panamanian balboas, US dollar coins, and smaller coins issued by both countries. At least currency exchange wasn't a problem. :)

Plaza Herrera, Panama City

While in Panama City, we sampled the local cuisine, which as you'd expect is heavy on seafood, plantains, and rice. We didn't really have time to go deep, but I did like what we had.

Lunch at the Mercado de Mariscos, Panama City

A notable stop for us was the Panama Canal Museum, which exhibits the history of the isthmus, its inhabitants, and the canal. This includes details about the, mmm, stressful period between 1967 and 1999 when Panama made an ultimately successful bid to regain its territory and to run the canal. More about the canal anon.

Plaza de la Independencia, Panama City, with the Panama Canal Museum behind

Side note: I looked at Panama hats (actually from Ecuador). I went to a place near the hotel and got a detailed explanation about differences in style and quality (and prices, hoo-boy) from a shopkeeper. But I'd decided that they weren't my style, so I was all, like, uh … thanks, bye. Bet he wasn’t too happy.

Next up: The Cruise Begins

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[1] A simplistic take, I realize — the cuisine of Mexico is vast and varied. In coastal Mexico and the Yucatan it's probably similar to Panamanian cuisine, but I don't have much experience with that. [^]

The surest way to cast a critical eye on the amount of stuff that you have is to prepare for moving. The prospect of boxing up all that stuff and hauling it and finding a place to put it at the new domicile can lead a person to wonder why they even need all that. This is particularly true when you're downsizing from, say, a four-bedroom house with a double garage to, say, a two-bedroom condo with a single outdoor parking space.

We did this some years ago, which resulted in a huge yard sale and a sometimes-painful culling of all our stuff, especially books. But we did it, and in our little place we're a wee bit tight, but we manage.[1]

Chapter 2. Over this last winter, we spent about six months in San Francisco for my wife's work. During that time we lived in rentals. When we drove down, we took what we needed in one large suitcase and two small ones.[2] We bore in mind the sensible travel advice that you don't have to bring everything with you — your destination has drugstores and clothing stores (and for me, hardware stores, ha).[3] So while we were in SF, we made trips to Target and Daiso and other locales where we could fill in any missing stuff.

This worked well. Our rentals had laundry facilities, of course, so I was able to cycle through my limited wardrobe. And we were indeed able to get the additional things we needed — my wife needed some work clothes, for example.

But we bore in mind that these acquisitions were either temporary (to be left behind at the rentals or donated) or we'd have to haul them back with us. This mentality helped frame the question of whether to buy stuff: for everything that we acquired, what were we going to do with it when our stay in SF ended?

(One place where this kind of failed was with books — between visiting a gajillion bookstores and going to weekly library book sales, we acquired more books than we probably should have. I ended up shipping books back home via the mail before we left.)

Chapter 3. Back in Seattle! After unpacking the suitcases, I went to put away the wardrobe that had served me well during our extended leave. But when I opened my dresser drawers, I was kind of shocked: I have so much stuff. I had been living with a collection of, like, 9 or 10 shirts. But at home I have two full drawers full of neatly folded t-shirts. Why? Why would I need a month's worth of t-shirts? I had the same experience in my closet — why do I need all these shirts/pants/sweatshirts/coats?

Well, I don't.

So another culling has begun. These days, when I pull out a shirt, I might look at it, and say yeah, no, you go in the Goodwill pile. This process is not as concentrated as if we were moving again, but it's steady and I'm determined to keep at it until I'm down to a collection of clothing that I actually use. Ditto kitchen stuff, linens, office supplies, leftover project hardware, and all the other stuff that just accumulates. (Books, mmm, that one's hard.)

Taking a break from our stuff, and living adequately with less of it, has really helped us look at it again with a bit of a critical eye. I suppose "Do I really need this?" isn't exactly a question about "sparking joy", but I hope it will be just as effective.

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[1] Full disclosure: we also rent a 5x10 storage unit.

[2] We took our cats, so there was some extra stuff also.

[3] Although one of our kids went to a destination wedding recently and reported that the resort/venue was charging outrageous prices for sunscreen.

We’re staying in San Francisco for a few months, so we’re in a rental. It’s nice enough, but there are little things here and there that feel like they could be improved. (For example, no rental I’ve ever been in has had enough lighting.) One such thing in this rental is the kitchen faucet:

I hand-wash dishes, so I like to have a sprayer attachment for the kitchen faucet. I reckoned that hey, they’re not expensive, I’ll just get one and attach it myself.

Well, not quite. I took the aerator off the existing faucet and went to a plumbing supply place, where I explained my quest to the woman. She got out one of those gauges that they use to determine size and thread count, but to her surprise, mine didn’t fit any of them.

Hmm. We went to find another guy who tried the same thing. At that point I mentioned that it’s possible that this faucet is from IKEA. Ah. “My condolences,” he said, adding that he couldn’t help me with metric sizes and threading.[1]

Being an old guy, I remembered that when I was a kid, we used to have a little shower-head-looking attachment for our kitchen sink. It just slipped over the end of the faucet. Did he have any of those? He did know what I was talking about but told me that those were long gone.

Well, not quite. I went online, and dang, there was the very thing I’d remembered:

Not only was the device still available, the web even told me that it was in stock at a hardware store within walking distance.[2] Price: $4.99.

And so I went to Cole Hardware off Market Street. The outside looked unpromising, but they’d somehow crammed a complete, old-school hardware store into a space that’s the size of a bodega—two floors’ worth.

I wandered up and down the tightly-packed aisles till I found the plumbing stuff. I had to get down on the floor and root around in the back, but sure enough, there it was: the Slip-On Wide Sprayrator (“For mobile home kitchen sinks,” wut). To my professional amusement, the instructions for installing it are wrong—they show you how to screw it on, whereas the entire point is that you don’t:

Whatever. I had to enlarge the hole a little bit, but it did in fact slip on, and I now can enjoy the benefits of a sprayer while I wash the dishes:

I enjoyed the entire experience so much—success in finding a nearly ancient piece of plumbing technology, plus my visit to Cole Hardware—that I got myself a hat that features a skyline made of tools:

At this point, it would probably be wise of me not to study our rental apartment too closely. As much as I’m now feeling empowered, I should probably rein in any further urges to improve the place.

[1] Based on my limited sampling of AirBnBs, IKEA is the primary source of furniture and fixtures for rentals.

[2] If you like to walk and are a person of leisure, such as myself, everything in San Francisco is within walking distance.