Back to the Casco Viejo

So after the usual slothful morning, we headed back into the Old Quarter again in the early afternoon to fill in the gaps we missed yesterday. This time the Metropolitan Cathedral was open in the Plaza de la Independencia - and a grand old dame she is.

On the other side of the plaza is the Museo de la Historia de la Panama. Once past the guard at the door, we found a door with a small sign indicating this was the museum, but it was locked. Back to the guard and she pointed to another closed and unmarked door beyond which was a tiny office crowded with two people and one spoke a little English.

We paid our $US1 each (!) and proceeded into a couple of woebegone rooms which nevertheless were still interesting for the historical bric-a-brac there - such as the roughly stitched flag cobbled together by the wife of the revolutionary leader who then became the first President, Manuel Amador; and a couple of videos showing the riots in 1964 when outraged Panamanian students scaled a fence to access the canal zone in protest over the right of the Panamanian flag to be flown alongside the U.S. flag (which had been agreed to by JFK but he died before his orders could be enacted).

After 3 days of fighting, 21 Panamanians and 4 US soldiers were killed. This became the trigger for Jimmy Carter signing a treaty in 1977 with the commander of the military junta Government, Torrijos, for the complete transfer of the canal to Panama by 1999. Torrijos died in 1981 in a mysterious plane crash.

This was the beginning of the military dictatorship under Noriega but his time was up by 1988 when US courts indicted him for drug trafficking.

Anyway, enough of Panamanian history! We then went on to Plaza Bolívar to buy the gelato we had tried for yesterday only to find the shop shut (cerrado). It was very yummy but I suddenly realized the Palacio Bolívar closed at 3:00 p.m. and it was now 10 to 3 so we dashed across the plaza to visit the huge inner courtyard, passing a posh chandelier at the entrance where the guard let us pass via a metal detector.

Our final task for the day was to visit the National Theatre which my notes said closed at 5:30 p.m. But it was firmly closed (as it had been yesterday). However, there was a side door open which I went in through and asked a guy leaning against a piano if we could enter.

The gist of it was that we couldn't - and my conversation in poor Spanish indicating that my notes said the place should be open met with responses from him and another more senior (it seemed) man suggested the place was not open today, and nor was it open manaña (tomorrow). Then a man who spoke very good English joined us and I explained how I had really hoped to see the bust of Margot Fonteyn in the foyer and he happily took us through the theatre. He explained he lived in the Canal Zone (he was a Zonian) and that he had picked up his English on the streets from the Americans living there. He was working at the theatre as a sound technician and they were setting up that afternoon for rehearsals to be held that night for a play starting on Thursday. He also took us up to the seats overlooking the stage from up high in the balconies. Wonderful!

We finished off the afternoon with a piña colada for me (and una cerveza for My Friend) sheltered from the hot sun under the shade of umbrellas at the Casablanca cafe and watched the world go by.

Evelio picked us up as organised and we told him how we had seen all the workers from the Government offices departing work at 3:30 p.m. and he was very scathing. "And they depart at 1:00 p.m. on Fridays", he said disgustedly. And in good English! [Kathryn said later that these workers start early at 7:30 a.m.]

I reflected as we were driven home out of the Casco Viejo through the gentrified area and then into the poorer slum areas how, while we sit drinking piña colados on a street corner, less than a kilometer away is the most abject poverty: rubbish everywhere, rundown homes and shops - absolutely breathtakingly poor.

There are reminders too of the US invasion. We are now talking about the time that Jimmy Carter signed the treaty in 1977 ceding the canal to Panama (on condition it would remain open to American shipping - of course!) but which also heralded the tyrannical reign by Noriega. However, he was decamped off to a US prison for 18 years, then to France where he copped another 7 years for murder and money laundering and then extradited to Panama to serve 20 years (so, despite his close relationship with George W. H. Bush and the CIA, he got well and truly 'stitched up'. Operation Nifty Package it was called. Hasta la vista!);  tensions brewed and the US launched an invasion (Operation Just Cause) at the end of 1989 which was roundly condemned internationally. There were many lives lost, mostly civilians.

We are staying in an exclusive suburb, Cardenas, which was a township in the old Panama Canal Zone; it was originally founded to house personnel in the US national aviation authority. It has a guard on the road leading in and we have our own driver (Evelio) who takes us back and forth - emphasising for me the gap between the well-off and the poor.