When the guy at the immigrations window told me to put on a shirt, I considered it a matter of personal preference, an individual aversion to sunburnt gringo flesh.

When the Panamanian cop at the open-air border crossing told me to put on a shirt, I deduced it was localized mandate, an attempt at creating an official atmosphere.

When the machine-gun wielding soldier a few kilometers down the road flagged me over and told me to put on a shirt, I realized the bare-chested ban was a national phenomenon.

I gathered the words "camisa," "boleta," and "cárcel." He clasped each wrist with the opposite hand, illustrating the concept.

Which struck me as odd.

Who decides to enforce a no shirt, no service law in a sweltering hot Central American country? It seemed presumptuous and uncouth. Even worse, it was cramping my style.

The Pan-American stretch to David was long, dull, hot, and bumpy. About halfway to my destination, I wiped-out in some gravel and lost most of the skin on my left shoulder. The stinging pain kept me more or less present for the remaining hour to David.

I stayed at a hostel on the outskirts of town. I went out to a disco with some fellow travelers and the hostel owner- a lively, good-hearted dude from New York. We drank Abuelo rum and talked over the booming Reggaeton beats. The hostel owner looked like a young William S. Burroughs. He told me his story, part of it - former producer of the Cannabis Cup, old friend of the producer of the Broadway presentation of "Hair", member of a yage church, and past owner of a travel agency which was, in fact, used by William S. Burroughs. A tranquil dude with a keen sense of humanity. We stayed out most of the night talking, sipping rum, and occasionally dancing with insane Panamanian girls.

The currency here is the US dollar, called "balboas." Everything is unbelievably cheap.

Beer, the Ultimate Denominator, is 35 cents a bottle.

--------------------------------------------

God
and I have become
like two giant fat people living
in a tiny
boat.

We
keep bumping into
each other
and laughing

- Hafiz

written by  chaddeal on January 24, 2009 from David, Panama
from the travel blog: The Great Pan-American Synchronistic Cycle Extravaganza Unlimited
Send a Compliment

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Hey Mike here, owner of www.bambuhostel.com the place that chad stayed at. thanks for adding me warmly to your piece, your writing is really great, and swapping bike for beer and bed makes you an ace mensch. you are welcome anytime here or in woodstock New York..

written by  mike esterson on February 8, 2009

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