Panama's Promised Land - Without Water

There's an article on the University of Miami School of Communications website about a little town called La Tierra Prometida - the promised land - about 30 minutes outside of Panama City. It sounds like it might be in the direction of Darien. It's a village of 500 people with no water. Their situation is rather desperate. People, especially children, fall ill constantly to diarrhea and fever from drinking fouled water.

Please read the article and the accompanying video. I want to know what can be done about this situation. Those of you with experience in such maters, please comment.

Here is the article in full:

La Tierra Prometida: Panama’s waterless Promised Land

By Andrew Donovan & Natalia Vanegas

LA TIERRA PROMETIDA, Panama –

Tucked away among the rolling hills of Panama’s impoverished Sector C countryside rests a small and secluded village known as La Tierra Prometida. Just a 30-minute drive from the sultry skyline of Panama’s thriving cosmopolitan capital, Panama City, La Tierra Prometida – translated means “The Promised Land” in English – represents a far different world than that of the country’s well-known capital city.

Rotting wood and rusting scrap metal adorn the small, dirt-floor shacks that line the rocky and winding dirt roads of this seemingly forgotten shantytown in southern Panama.

However, this represents only part of the cruel irony of the place called The Promised Land. The approximately 500 men, women and children who inhabit the close-knit community of La Tierra Prometida live most of their days without running water.

Water only flows through the village’s pipes once every three to six months and the government car that brings water during the dry times only comes every eight days, if at all, resident Maritza Correa said. Even when the car does show up, that water lasts only two or three days before it becomes contaminated and unusable.

Without the proper means to store and conserve the transported water and without a dependable supply of fresh water from the pipes, citizens of La Tierra Prometida have done their best to cope, but continue to endure unending problems.

Residents collect rain water in large barrels for drinking, taking showers and washing clothes, but due to changing climates and insufficient storage procedures, this water source is not reliable and undrinkable.

“During the winter, we have fewer problems, but during the summer, sometimes it doesn’t rain,” Correa said. “And even when it does rain, the water only lasts two or three days before it starts to smell bad. This has affected the kids. It gives them diarrhea, vomiting and fever.”

Hoping to prolong the water’s useful life, one resident added Clorox to the rainwater, hoping to clear up the black residue that had accumulated at the bottom of the barrel. The residue cleared, but the resident, Clara Santos, was left with rashes throughout her body after bathing in the improperly-treated water. “Look at me how I am,” Santos said, painfully revealing several scars spread across her forearms.

Like the rest of the people of La Tierra Prometida, Santos is fed up with the waterless conditions.

“For a whole week, my grandson had a fever and diarrhea, and he was vomiting,” she said. “There are no more options. The water from the rain is making us sick.”

“When there is no water from the water car, from the pipes, from anywhere,” Correa said. “We have to go to the stream to shower. The stream is in the woods and there could be snakes or other animals. That’s dangerous. Aside from that, there are people with bad intentions living in the woods. They can take a girl and take advantage of her,” she added.

From the car, to rain water, to the streams, Correa said the people of La Tierra Prometida have tried tirelessly to come up with a solution, but have yet to find one. “I have been living here for seven years and the problem is still not over,” she said angrily. “We have tried in everyway to solve this issue, but they haven’t solved our water situation.”

“They,” according to Correa, is the Instituto de Acueductos y Alcantarillados Nacionales (IDAAN), the country’s national aqueducts and sewage institute.

“We’ve ask the IDAAN to do something about it, but they haven’t solved our problem,” Correa said.

Their pleas to the IDAAN – the country’s water distributor – have gone unanswered other than the time some of the villagers banded together in protest, creating a human roadblock on a nearby street.

“When we did that, we got water,” Correa said. “And what does that tell us? That tells us that there is water available because the day we closed the street, the engineer from the IDAAN came here and the next day we had water, and a lot of it.”
But, within days, the village’s pipes were again dry, leading Correa and other residents to believe their situation is the result of a lack of compassion and competence on the part of the IDAAN rather than an issue of supply.

IDAAN officials do not deny the accusations of the village’s residents. However, officials say they have no foreseeable solution to the problem and they do not know when running water will be consistently available to the area. “The people that live in the metropolitan area have different conditions of service of potable water,” IDAAN official Catalina de Guema said.

“There are zones in the city of Panama that always have the flow of water. “There are other zones that have it sporadically.” La Tierra Prometida is located in one of those zones and its lack of water is due to the nature of its establishment said fellow IDAAN official Julio Cefar.

”Those are zones that were not planned and the communities are growing without the government being able to keep up,” Cefar said. “Because of that, we cannot always cover those areas with water.

“Despite that, I believe we have one of the major coverage areas of potable water based on population in all of Latin America,” Cefar said. “That’s what the statistics say.”

But, it’s not the statistics that matter to the people of La Tierra Prometida. “They always tell us to wait and it seems that we are going to stay waiting,” Santos said. “Nobody listens to us or comes here to see the situation. We’re totally abandoned.”

Here is an accompanying video::

VIDEO: Tierra Prometida: Panama's Waterless Promised Land

And here is a blog post about it by one of the university students:

Panama Day 3: Harsh Reality

Why is the rainwater undrinkable? Why does it go bad so quickly? What storage solutions can be implemented so that rainwater can be cached safely for longer periods of time?

Comments please.

Living in the Past, Living in the Future

Living in the Past

I have an American friend in Panama who seems to dwell in the past more than the present. He grew up in the Bahamas in the 1970's, a particularly carefree place, and his walls are covered with photographs of the days when he flew high in many ways - he was a surfer and a pilot, but also a drug and alcohol abuser and lived in what was essentially a commune. Someone in his life was a painter and he has several of her paintings on his walls, most of them depicting idyllic scenes of the Bahamas: a curving beach lined with palm trees, the water lapping at the shore.

He began to lose his vision in his late teens. It was a progressive condition with no cure. He sobered up and became a drug and alcohol counselor. He can still see, but not well.

His life is very different now. He has been sober for fourteen years, he is divorced, and he lives alone in a comfortable house in the Panama countryside.

He speaks of the past often, and when I visit we frequently end up talking about one of the photographs on his walls or in his albums: him sitting on the stoop of a ramshackle house with a big German shepherd dog on his lap; standing next to a small airplane, wearing shorts and a tank top; sitting in a bar with his arm around Count Basie, a famous jazz pianist who died in the 1980's.

This friend of mine becomes easily discouraged when things don't go his way here in Panama. He doesn't have a clear idea of what he wants from Panama, aside from a comfortable, peaceful place to spend his days (which would certainly be enough for many people, but is not enough for my friend); and I wonder if his inability to visualize his future is what causes him to turn to the past for comfort. Sometimes I think that the loss of his sight is responsible: that in losing the ability to see the beauty around him, he is forced to detour in his mind into the past, where everything is as bold and bright, and pleasantly nostalgic as he wants it to be. Herb Caen, who for many decades wrote a column for the San Francisco Chronicle before he passed away, said half-jokingly that he tended to live in the past because most of his life was there. I wonder if my friend believes this as well.

The Unreality of Linear Time

What is the past, anyway? Sure, there are physical remains of the past all around us, such as volumes of ancient books under glass in museums, or the bricks of the pyramids, or the bones of a dinosuar embedded in the earth. But those things exist in the present. What happened to the past? Where did it go?

Nowhere, according to modern physics. Einstein believed that the disctinction between past, present and future was an illusion, and that all exist simultaneously. It's only we humans who are limited to our linear reality and our moment-by-moment perceptions.

The Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) said in what Muslims call a "hadith Qudsi," or a statement in which the Prophet is narrating a statement of Allah that is not a part of the Quran:

"Allah said, 'Sons of Adam inveigh against [the vicissitudes of] Time, but I am Time, in My hand is the night and the day.'"

So if God himself is time, and He is eternal, existing in all times and all places, then time must also be unconfined by our incredibly limited linear perspective.

I find it interesting, by the way, how much of modern quantum physics echoes and confirms religious concepts expressed in the Quran.

Coming to Terms With My Personal Past

But I'm thinking more of my personal past, or yours: my childhood, my pains and joys, my humiliations and victories. Are they just chemical markers in my brain, perhaps remembered wrongly, or do they exist? What am I supposed to do with this past, how am I supposed to use it?

You see, I don't have quite as comfortable a relationship with my past as my friend.

I know that I need to come to terms with my past. I have a vast and motley assortment of memories colored with regret, shame, confusion, and yes some happy memories as well but they are widely spaced lights on a dark road.

Virginia Woolf wrote, "Each has his past shut in him like the leaves of a book known to him by heart and his friends can only read the title."

This not to say that I have no worries about the future or that I am supremely confident. But I am strong. I always have been. Watch me wrap my knees and get under a 450 lb. bar on a squat rack. I'm strong, mind and body. I can take whatever the future might throw at me (but that's not a challenge, God)! I can ride it, bust through it, go around it, tunnel under it. I'm strong.

What I want is not to be free of any ill that might befall me, but to conduct myself well. I want to do the right thing and have no regrets. And that's the thing about the past you see, that there are times when I did the wrong thing, and there's nothing I can do about it now.

Like the time, many years ago, that I was walking along Seventh Street in San Francisco with Laura, only a block from our building. We were probably on our way back from the Brainwash Cafe or some SOMA restaurant, I don't recall. Seventh street is a sketchy neighborhood, especially at night. Lots of drug dealers, homeless folks and nutcases. We were coming up to Market Street from Mission, when across the street in the dark mouth of Natoma alley we noticed three men beating and kicking a man who was on the ground. Laura said, "What should we do?"

I could see that this was not a case of some innocent tourist getting robbed. All the men involved looked like thugs. I didn't feel like running over there and getting stabbed or shot. So I said, "Leave it alone, we'll call the cops from the apartment." We kept on walking.

This was not the right thing to do, and I knew that even then. At the very least I could have shouted from my side of the street, or hollered for the cops. Maybe the three men would have run off. I could say that I was thinking of Laura's safety, but the truth is, I was just afraid to intervene.

There are other examples in which my behavior was less understandable or rational, and I don't particularly feel like discussing them. Suffice it to say that I have caused pain to others deliberately and inadvertently, and now that I am older, calmer, wiser, more understanding of other peoples' behavior, and more in touch my own soul, I regret many of the choices I made when I was young.

I can't go back and re-do any of it. I just have to live with the regret. All my strength and courage in the face of the future seems to avail me nothing when thinking of the past.

I know the AA folks say that regret for the past is a waste of spirit. And I believe that. In spite of this post I don't sit around crying over the past. I mostly just avoid thinking about it. And that's exactly my point. I wish I didn't have to do that. I wish I had a better relationship with my own past and could allow myself to experience it, relish the bright parts, laugh over the stupid mistakes, and remember the day to day pleasures. But in fact my memory of the past is very poor, perhaps because I avoid it. I find that when I meet old friends and they tell stories of things we have done together in the past, I rarely remember. I rely on them to be my memory, in a since, which is rather pitiful for someone who hasn't been in a coma or car accident.

I acknowledge that some of the problem may not be my actions themselves, but the way that I veiw them. My life in Panama was full of small joys and happy days, but now that I am back in the USA even that has become tinged with sadness.

Living in the Future

Perhaps because my past is a closed book of regrets, I focus on the future, almost obsessively so. Unlike my friend in Panama, my vision of the future burns like lasers. I am constantly thinking, planning, dreaming. I have bright dreams and no shortage of self-confidence. I am willing to take risks. I try to expand my horizons every day. I try to challenge myself mentally, physically and spiritually. I take tremendous pleasure in parenting my daughter Salma, though she does run me down sometimes like an Energizer bunny on its last legs. I'm a person of faith. I believe in God, the essential goodness of the world, myself, and the people I love.

Still, I need to find a way to come to terms with my past and even find joy in it. Focusing exclusively on the future is like driving a car and never looking in the rear view mirror. There are times when you really need to know what's coming up behind you, for your own safety. I'd like to remember my past better. It's been said that past is prologue, and I'd like to have a clearer insight into my own early chapters. I don't know how to go about this.

Any ideas? And please, don't just say, "Get over it." Give me something real to work with, ha ha. Share your insights, I am open to them.

San Francisco, California, and El Valle de Anton, Panama

I want a magical room. This room would be fully equipped with a small library, a comfortable reading chair and desk, a small but cozy bed, and a cupboard stocked with good food. And of course a bathroom with a claw-footed tub and large fluffy towels (the room in the photo, by the way, is the Captain's Cove suite at a lodge called A Place by the Sea, in British Columbia, Canada. I've never been there).

You may be thinking, “That sounds like a wonderful room but not necessarily magical.” Yes, but I haven’t told you the best part. This room exists outside of time. You can spend a month in this room, relaxing, sleeping, getting caught up on your work, eating snacks and reading novels, taking hot bubble baths, and when you emerge no time will have passed in the outside world.

And since we’re dreaming, let’s dream big. You can access this room from anywhere, and exit anywhere. Just walk through any door anywhere in the world with the idea in your head that you are going to your magical room, and voila! There you are. When you are fully refreshed and ready to leave, envision any place in the world and when you exit, there you are.

I would use this room to relax, catch up on my work, read, and best of all, to travel back and forth between San Francisco, California, and El Valle de Anton, Panama.

Wow. Wouldn’t that be something. During the day I’d be in San Francisco, maybe exploring the incredible bounty of new restaurants that are giving flavor to the Union Square/Tenderloin area. Union Square itself has been renovated and is now an inviting open space in a uniquely San Franciscan style. Yes, the Tenderloin retains its dangerous edge, but it’s changing. There are Indian, Pakistani and Thai restaurants everywhere, along with cafes, edgy art galleries, smoke shops, and corner ethnic grocery stores (not liquor stores but real grocery stores). And this is considered one of the worst neighborhoods in The City!

The Ferry Building is now a gourmand’s delight. The Yerba Buena Gardens area (seen in the photo) is bustling, with so many new shops and restaurants you can hardly count them, and of course the distinctive MOMA building, with the art deco PG&E building towering behind it. There are a few unwelcome additions as well. The new Federal Building at 7th and Mission is a monstrosity, I’m sorry to say. I haven’t yet had a chance to explore the new Third Street corridor, the lower and upper Haight, the Mission, the new Academy of Sciences at Golden Gate Park, the new Asian Art Museum in Civic Center, or to check on the well established neighborhoods of North Beach, Nob Hill and Russian Hill, the Sunset and the Richmond.

After a day enjoying San Francisco’s bounty, I would walk into my magical room and take a restful nap. Then I would exit in El Valle, Panama in late afternoon, with a light breeze blowing and the mist draped over the forested hills of the caldera. I’d look up at Cerro La Iguana standing proudly in the sunlight, and on the opposite side Gaital hiding behind its shroud.

I’d walk down the main road and stop in at Carlitos and Veronica’s Galeria to say hello and admire the original handcrafts for sale there. I’d buy a candy bar at the pharmacy next door (they have the best selection of chocolate bars in town), and walk further to the Mercado. There I would visit with my friends Cleo and Niko, both of whom are crafts vendors, and enjoy some fresh fruit. I’d go for a short hike in the hills around town, or just a pleasant stroll beneath the mango and acacia trees. I’d check in on Zach & Danyelle and Rudy & Christina and see how their home construction projects are going. I’d drop by my own house and make sure Marina and Alex, my friendly Russian tenants, are happy, and I would see how my home improvement projects are progressing.

In the evening I’d go to Pinochio’s Pizza for dinner, or maybe to Mar y Tierra or El Rancho for grilled corvina and french fries. I’d get a room at one of the many local hotels and sleep to the sound of the frogs, barking dogs, crickets, and cicadas. In the morning I would wake to bird song and rooster calls, ready for my return to the city by the bay, the city of fog, San Francisco.

Differences Between Panama and California

I'm back in the San Joaquin Valley of California and I miss Panama so much! My first few weeks back in North America were strange. I had forgotten the strange ways of the gringos.

For example, a few days after arriving I was driving along Blackstone Avenue in Fresno and was stopped at a red light. Intersections here in California have these strange four-stage light patterns where people go North-South, then North-South left turns, then East-West, then East-West left turns. Please, could we get any more organized? Can't I just push my way out into the traffic and turn, like I'm used to? So I was waiting and fiddling with the radio. Then I looked up and saw that I had the green light and all the traffic in front of me was long gone. And the people behind me were just patiently waiting! What? Come on people, how am I supposed to know the light has changed if you don't honk at me?

In fact the traffic here is eerily silent. Have we all gone deaf? Why do cars have horns if we don't use them? I feel like I'm in a silent movie.

So that's one thing.

Another is the dryness (see photo above). Ouch! My lips are cracked and my skin is drying out. I have to moisturize twice a day or my eyelids dry out! My friend Nora told me that she has the same experience when she visits Texas. She has to use eye drops every night, and eye gel during the day. I went for a vigorous walk and was breathing hard, and afterwards I had a slight rattle in my throat, almost a cough, from the dry air. Oh yeah, remember that? Never happens in Panama.

Do you have a problem with your jeans and heavy shirts mildewing? Just send them to California for a week, and I'll send them back bone-dry and summer sweet. Only a small fee for this service.

Rain... I miss the rain. I was filling my gas tank in Los Banos last week. The sun was beating down mercilessly, the air shimmering, and everything dry as a cow's skull (again, see photo above). The "Fresno River" outside of town looked like it had last seen water in the Jurassic period. Suddenly I remembered the daily rains in El Valle and I felt homesick for Panama.

People invite you to dinner at 7pm, and get this - they expect you to show up at 7pm! Ha ha! What kind of attitude is that? That leaves me no time to get ready, read a magazine and stop for ice cream!

You can't get anywhere on foot. Even in Panama City I could get around on foot, and in El Valle of course feet and bicycles were the norm. But here, only homeless people go on foot. Even teenagers take the bus if they are girls, or ride skateboards if they're boys.

Yes, so I'm experiencing some culture shock. My three years in Panama are such a sweet memory. I'll be returning soon to take care of unfinished business - I don't meant that to sound ominous - and I'm looking forward to it.

Earl Hall and the Anton Valley Hotel

I recently sold off most of my DVDs, and in the process I met a number of people who came to the house to browse my collection. One was Earl Hall, co-owner of El Valle's Anton Valley Hotel.

Earl, who is 55 years old and came to Panama from South Florida, has been in the hotel industry all his life. He got his start working as a busboy at the Holiday Inn when he was 15, going to school half days and then working the rest of the day, and working full shifts on the weekends. Most recently he was part of a hotel management group.

Earl says that owning his own hotel is the fulfillment of a lifelong dream. I think everyone in El Valle would agree that he and co-owner Les have done a great job with the Anton Valley. The hotel is always busy,and their Sunday morning breakfast has become a popular meeting spot for locals. It's one of the few places in El Valle where you can get an American-style breakfast. My only gripe is that I went there once on a Wednesday morning and was told rather brusquely that breakfast is only available on the weekends.

I looked up a few of those TripAdvisor.com reviews. Here's the first, by "LandCruisers":

We stayed here after a root canal in Panama City, and it was just what we needed. The place is beautifully decorated and maintained, with fresh flowers, towel art, stained glass, metalwork, and a wonderful garden. We took advantage of the free bicycles to explore the valley and had Juan take us birdwatching in the hills on his day off. The reasonably priced breakfasts were wonderful, and set in a lovely room filled with light and the sound of a gentle fountain. Our room was a little small; we "borrowed" a couple of the chairs from the patio, which allowed us to relax in our room without sitting on the bed. We also enjoyed the patio, where one can sip a glass of wine and watch the birds that are attracted to the flowers in the garden. Even without taking price into account, this is a very special hotel. Given the value, it can't be beat.

Rewards and Challenges

When I asked Earl what the best thing about owning a hotel in El Valle is, he responded with genuine emotion that it is the wonderful people who work for him. He pointed out that many of the staff are mentioned by name in TripAdvisor.com reviews. That's something you don't often see.

What's the greatest challenge of owning a hotel in El Valle? "Government paperwork and bureaucracy," Earl replied without hesitation.

What about the guests, where do they come from? According to Earl, about 40% are North American, 15% Panamanian, and the rest from all over the world, literally, with every continent represented.

Please note that the hotel will be closed the month of September 2008 for vacation.

Taking an Animal Out of Panama

Are you making a trip to the United States or some other country and planning to take your pet? Panama requires that you complete certain procedures and get a license (naturally). Your destination country may have its own requirements but here's what you have to do to satisfy Panama's bureaucratic muckety-mucks.

You need two documents from a veterinarian in Panama:

Vaccination card showing that all vaccinations (especially rabies) are up to date.
General certificate of health.These documents must be dated within ten days of your departure. In other words, if you get them one month before your departure they will not be valid.

Make a copy of each document, and take it to the government office called Ventanilla Unica. This office is in Edison Plaza at the corner of Via Brasil and the Tumba Muerto in Panama City. The office is on the Via Brasil side, a few doors down from Mango restaurant. The words "Ventanilla Unica" are written in large letters on the window. You must pay to park in this lot.

By the way, if you haven't had a chance to make copies of your documents you can do it at the pharmacy a few doors down from the Ventanilla Unica office.

Tell the clerk in the Ventanilla Unica office that you want a "licencia de exportacion." The clerk will give you a form to fill out and a payment slip for the $5 fee. You must take the payment slip to the Banco Nacional, also in Edison Plaza, at the corner, in the base of the tall conical building. The line in the bank is often quite long, unless you are a jubilado in which case there is a shorter line. Wait in line there and then present the slip and your $5 to the teller, who will give you the yellow copy. Take that back to the Ventanilla Unica clerk, along with all your documents including the form that he gave you to fill out. Hand the documents over to him and he will tell you to wait until he calls your name.

Have a seat and be prepared to wait. The clerk will eventually call you up and give you a yellow paper titled, "Licencia fito-zoosanitaria de exportacion." Check the information on the paper and make sure it is correct. If so, you are done. You now have a license to take your pet out of the country.

Of course you should also notify your airline and make all appropriate arrangements with them. Continental Airlines, Copa and TACA allow dogs and cats in the cabin as long as they weigh 15 pounds or less. They must be able to stand and turn around within the carrier.

P.S. The dog in the photos is Molly, a rottweiler from Wales that adopted these two lambs.


Update August 25, 2008: I have completed my trip to the United States with Lil Fishy, my cat. No one asked to see any of my paperwork whatsoever. Really. But of course you have to have it, just in case someone does ask for it.

Poverty in Bocas del Toro

I spotted this story in an old issue of The Bocas Breeze, and I found it to be rather touching:

A National Geographic Moment, or A Big Wake-Up Call
by someone who cares

Yesterday we decided to have a sleepover and each of our girls could invite one guest. The older one phoned her friend and it was a done deal.

My younger daughter asked me to walk to her friend’s house to ask her parents for permission. Her friend had been to our house many times and she seemed to be a bright and happy child. I suggested we take a taxi, and my daughter laughed, saying, “Mommy, we can’t take a taxi there.” And I soon found out why.

We walked, and we walked, and we walked. Down a dirt road, through the bush, along trails to another path. Along the way I told my daughter to please ask that her friend remember to bring her toothbrush. She said, “Mom, she doesn’t have a toothbrush. They’re poor.” Stupidly I said, “Then be sure she brings her pajamas.” At this point my daughter stopped me and said, “Mom, they don’t have pajamas. They sleep in their everyday clothes.” I thought my heart would fall out of my chest.

Arrangements have been made for our Saturday dentist, Dr. Wong (who I highly recommend), to donate 50 toothbrushes and toothpaste. I have extra fabric that I will sew into clothes. Please look through your closets to find shoes and clothing of any size, or buy a few personal care items. The Bocas Breeze newspaper has graciously agreed to accept these donations and I will deliver them to this village in need.

Good car for sale at a great price!

As my readers know, I am returning to the USA for family reasons. I am selling my car for only $5,000. This is a great deal! It's a four-door 2003 Nissan Sentra B-15. An excellent street & city car with a great engine, good acceleration, strong AC, and in all-around good condition. Only a few minor cosmetic problems. If you live in a rural location with an unpaved road I don't recommend this car, but if you are in Panama city or on a paved road then it's a good opportunity to get a nice car at a good price. If I were staying longer in Panama I'd ask for more, but I'm leaving very soon and want to get this done before I go.

You can contact me through the email form on this blog or call my cell at 6707-8250 anytime. My name is Wael.

Salma at the Beach in Alameda, California

My daughter Salma recently attended a birthday party at the beach in Alameda, California. This is not an ocean beach but a bay beach. Here are some photos:





Salma's not in this last photo, but I think it's cool the way downtown San Francisco appears so close, as if it's just across a narrow strip of water, not on the other side of a broad bay.

A Tale of Two Cops

Yesterday I headed into Panama to once again attempt to get my car up to date. I needed to renew my auto insurance policy, get the car inspected, and then renew my license plate. All are expired. They must be done in that order, as each step is a requirement for the next step.

Past Gorgona, coming over a rise, I saw a traffic cop parked on the side of the road (that's not him in the photo above - it's just a random shot of a couple of Panama Tourist Police). I immediately reduced my speed but I was too late. He had already hit me with the radar gun. He waved me over (that's how they do it here) and I pulled over a short distance beyond him. I've heard of some people ignoring the wave, driving past and successfully evading any consequences, but I also remember one person who did that and then was pulled over by another car that was waiting for him up the road. When I was younger and stupider I might have tried it, but not anymore.

The officer looked at my U.S. passport and California driver's license, told me I was doing 110 kph in an 80 kph zone, and wrote a ticket for $70. Then he let me go. He didn't seem to notice that my plate was expired, nor did he say anything about my visa status. I made a short trip to Costa Rica recently and returned to Panama on June 2, so I have only been here 2 months. The tourist visa is 90 days and I am allowed to drive with my U.S. license during that time, so I am within the law on that.

I will have to go to the municipal office that handles traffic tickets and wait in line for the better part of a day to pay the ticket.

Continuing on my way, I noticed that the traffic cops seemed to be out in force. This is "spring break" in Panama, a two week school vacation, so maybe the traffic cops are targeting young, reckless drivers, I don't know. I also saw many accidents, and the InterAmerican highway was undergoing major roadwork in several places. I quickly realized that it was a bad day to be on the road.

Entering into Panama, I made my way to Avenida Balboa where I found myself stuck in a traffic jam due to a bad accident on the road. I was inching along in traffic when suddenly I was struck hard from behind. I got out of the car. The trunk lid had popped open. I shut it and it seemed fine. I studied the rear of my car but amazingly could see no damage. The driver behind me had not emerged. His windows were tinted and I could not see inside. I continued to check my car carefully and finally the driver got out. I didn't understand everything he said but I gathered that he was apologizing. Since there was no apparent damage to my car and I did not want to spend the next two hours filing reports, I told him to forget about it.

I went to the insurance office on Calle 50 and found that they had moved. Fortunately the new location was easy to find. It took only about an hour to renew my insurance for another year. I chose basic liability coverage only as I plan to sell the car soon.

I needed to stop at a Western Union office so I made my way to the main office at Plaza Concordia on Via España. By the time I was done it was too late to do anything else that day so I decided to go home. I knew that the route that I usually take to Avenida de los Martires (the road that leads to the bridge) was under construction, so I tried a new route and got stuck in a horrendous traffic jam where I was boxed in by diablos rojos and moved slower than the pedestrians on the crowded sidewalks. I spent an hour and a half in that, listening to the radio and watching the pedestrians, and then realized that I was lost.

When I finally got back to a road that I recognized I found myself once again in very bad traffic. Thoroughly disgusted at this point, I said to myself, "Forget it," and decided to go to Albrook Mall where I could eat something and wait for traffic to die down. I headed that way, talking to a friend on my cell phone as I drove. Yes I know it's illegal in Panama. So of course as I'm about to pull into Albrook Mall I pass a traffic cop and he waves me over.

Right away I knew I was in trouble. This cop said to me, "It's prohibited to talk on a cell phone while you drive! Show me your license." He looked at my passport and driver's license and then said, "When did you enter Panama? Show me the stamp." I showed him the immigration stamp that said June 2, 2008. He studied it and said, "You have overstayed your visa. The limit is 90 days." After this pronouncement he folded his arms on his chest and looked up at the sky.

"I have been here just a little over two months," I told him. June and July, and the beginning of August.

The cop squinted at me. "You entered at the beginning of June. So that's June, July and now August. More than three months! Furthermore, your plate is expired and you were talking on your phone. I am calling a tow truck. This car will be impounded."

Wonderful. I didn't try to argue with him on the visa issue. He had me dead to rights on the plate and the cell phone anyway. I began to pack my stuff into my backpack, thinking I would go home on a bus and come back the next day to sort the problem out. I know that some people might try offering a bribe in this situation, but I did not do that for a few reasons:

1. I don't believe in encouraging corruption. If a police officer is honest and doing his job, then I would not dream of attempting to corrupt him. My religion of Islam teaches that it is wrong to demand a bribe or to offer one. Both are equally corrupt.
   
2. If the cop is honest then my offer of a bribe could get me into deeper trouble.
3. This just perpetuates the perception of the rich gringo as an easy target and can buy his way out of anything.
   

The cop spoke into his radio, calling for a tow truck. Then he turned to me. "It's going to cost you $80 to get your car out of the impound lot, plus $50 for the cell phone ticket, plus the ticket for your expired plate, plus your expired visa. Altogether about $400."

I don't have that kind of money to spend, but what could I say? I just shook my head and began taking my important documents out of the glove box and putting them in my backpack.

Suddenly the cop said to me, "So, what are we going to do about this?"

Aha. In an instant the situation changed. I understood exactly what he meant, which was, "Make me an offer." Maybe it's hypocritical of me, maybe it makes me guilty, but if a corrupt cop is offering me the option of either suffering some pretty serious financial/legal consequences or getting away with a small dent in my wallet, I choose the latter.

Playing along, I said, "What are my options?"

"Your options," the cop replied, "Are to pay $400 in fines and lose your car for a few days, or if you help me then I can help you."

"How can I help you?" I asked.

"You tell me," he said. "How much can you help me with?"

"Thirty dollars?" I offered.

He raised his chin and looked down at me over his nose. "Only thirty dollars? The tow truck is on its way. It will cost you hundreds of dollars."

"Ok, how about forty dollars?" I said. This was a new one for me. Negotiating a bribe just like I would haggle on a purchase at the market. In a way I felt comfortable, back in familiar territory. It was just a matter of finding a price we could both live with.

"Is that the best you can do?" the cop said. "Maybe you can do a little better."

"Fifty dollars," I said. "That's all I can manage." At that point I took out my wallet and began to remove the money. I held the wallet low, so passers by could not see, but the cop said, "Not here, follow me."

The officer got back in his car and drove several hundred meters to a quiet spot beneath some trees. I followed him. He walked back to my car and said, "Put the money in your passport." I did so. The cop took the passport to his car, removed the money and returned. He gave me the passport and said, "Don't talk on your cell phone while you drive." Then he drove away. Looking back, I suspect that he only pretended to call the tow truck. He probably did not key the radio when he put on that show.

These guys earn maybe $300 per month and nowadays it's impossible to feed a family on that, so "rich gringos" like me are a tempting target. I'm not justifying the corruption, but I do understand it. Anytime you have a society with vast disparities in wealth you're going to have corruption, and a disenfranchised group like foreign expatriates is especially vulnerable. I have a great admiration for those honest police officers who resist temptation.

I finally made it to Albrook Mall, ran into a friend from El Valle and talked, ate at Crepes and Waffles, then on the way home visited with Tracy and Ela in La Chorrera, and a made a final stop at El Rey grocery store in Coronado. I got home at midnight.

If you're driving in Panama, be careful out there. It's wild and woolly these days.