Dad is showing the same symptoms as when we were in Hong Kong, putting blame of his mucus filled cough onto the polluted air...I start fearing that he's going to catch a cold again.
Yet we walk the streets of Casco Viejo, the older part of town still within the boundaries of the capital city. Since officially assigned the title of World Heritage site by good ol' UNESCO, Casco Viejo is going through a huge facelift. Walking through town is a time-consuming drag; roadblocks are everywhere with construction happening on every other block.
The outer walls of the town buildings must be kept intact, so the workers clean and reinforce the inner rubble which is visible from the entrances and frames that lack doors and windows. Next to every refurbished block with luxurious hotels, posh restaurants, and trendy wine bars, is a block or two of locals living in meager conditions. Making a rough assessment of the situation, so far 37% of the town is for the rich and/or tourists. Within 3-4 years the supposed overhaul will be complete, and surely it will attract more of the upper-class. What is to happen to the currently remaining 63% who won't be able to afford the inflated prices for rent...?
The service here in Panama has thus far been dry and unfriendly, (bitterness towards those that are slowly taking over their hometown?), and in the midst of getting tired of it all, I ask a parking lot gatekeeper for directions. He stops me in the middle of my question and says "buenos días," and asks me about my day. After being satisfied by my answer, he permits me to ask my question.
Crap, I'd totally forgotten my manners and had started treating everyone else like crap.
What a lesson.
A long run to the post office to give my postcards some wings, finds me back in the so-called ghetto where the police scolded us the day before. This time my only possessions are shoes, shorts, a shirt, postcards, and just enough money to buy stamps. With nothing much to lose (and nothing of interest for thieves), I run the streets and see a different and livelier side of Panama city. Since I only knew the general location of the post office, I had to ask for directions to about 10 people. Something about a lost Japanese boy, sweating hard to get a card to his girlfriend in a foreign land, greatly amused the people here and I received all the help that I could've hoped for. After 45 minutes of running and asking, I finally reach the unrecognizable office and run back to our hotel greatly satisfied with the adventure and new affection for the locals.
Dad had been resting to improve his health, so I take advantage of the nice kitchen facility by cooking soup filled with tons of vegetables. Gotta get him in good condition before the soon-to-come, long-awaited highlight of this trip, Machu Picchu.
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