TheExpatJournals.com

There are so many men with guns in this neighborhood. I’ve not only grown used to it, I really, really like it. In Casco Viejo, there are the Presidential Guards (Guardia Presidencial) , the Tourist Police (Policia Turismo) and the National Police (Policia Nacional). All have office headquarters in this neighborhood. The National Police and the Tourist Police have virtually identical uniforms that are similar to any US police uniform except for the color - khaki short sleeved shirt and brown pants. Both have bicycle divisions who have the same uniform except they wear shorts instead of pants. All carry guns, but only the Presidential Guards directly around the Palace carry machine guns.

Many Presidential Guards also patrol the neighborhood…they’re not all stationed immediately surrounding the Palace. The Presidential Guards wear fatiques and apparently have different divisions that I still can’t quite get straight. Some are stationed around the Canal Zone, but work in this neighborhood, too. Their uniform is army fatigues and a dark green beret. Other Presidential Guards wear black fatigues with a red beret and still others were army fatigues with the red beret. I do believe the red beret signifies working exclusively in Casco Viejo.

It’s quite common to see a group with several different uniforms patrolling together or two guys `working a beat’ with two different uniforms. I took a photo of one man who was pulling double duty…he wore the uniform of a National Policeman, but wore a special armband identifying him as a Tourist Policeman. It’s also common to see a group of maybe 20 or so doing marching exercises very early in the morning ala the US army complete with formation and vocals (hup, two,
three, four only a Spanish version).

The Tourist Police chat it up with tourists non-stop. That’s their job. They are incredibly helpful and literally there exclusively for the benefit of tourists. When I first visited Casco Viejo, one evening they even gave us a ride back to the banking area! I have watched Tourist Police spend an hour with people wandering around to different parts of Casco Viejo. They seem far more relaxed than the other police around here and in fact, until querying, I was under the impression they didn’t even carry guns. They do.

Unlike the armed officials in the US, these armed guys around here aren’t scary. As I’ve become more aware of the nature of the Panamanians, the guns are even less intimidating. Now, don’t get me wrong…I don’t doubt for a moment that they would use them if necessary. I suppose the biggest difference is that I don’t feel like they will misuse them. That would be more likely to happen in the States. One of the things I feel very strongly about Panamanian people at large is that this is a very benevolent society. Panamanians are a peaceful, gentle, warm and happy people.

It was interesting taking a few photographs of the different police in the neighborhood. They always smile when talking with you and are very happy to engage with you. Being on-duty doesn’t seem to interfere with their ability to socialize. But the minute they’re in front of a camera, the smiles disappear and it’s a serious pose. I almost tricked two of them into smiling for the camera, but didn’t click quickly enough. I said to them, “When talking, you guys have such smiles, but when I am taking the photograph, no more smiles.” It made them smile. One explained to me that the serious look is part of their training. It sure made an impression on me the first time I saw the Presidential Guards. Between that icy look and the machine guns, I wasn’t about to offer up any kind of a challenge. Now I know that all I have to do is smile and say “Buenas” to get a pleasant response. Suddenly the cold man with the machine gun turns into a sweetheart. The National Police may have been trained to look serious when being photographed, but apparently the Presidential Guard were trained to look serious and keep one hand on their weapon.

I feel like the large presence of armed men is a primary reason this neighborhood is so safe unlike it’s reputation which I am guessing was based on something in the past becoming a stereotype. When I first moved to NYC, the stereotype of danger there wasn’t unwarranted, but today, it’s very tame almost everywhere below 200th Street, including Alphabet City which is now full of Generation X paying $2000 a month for small apartments. Casco Viejo is the underdog. Casco Viejo is the bet everyone believes will pay off. Once the government committed to all the incentives to attract money to gentrify this neighborhood, the money started to arrive and continues to pour in. And that merits protection in order to maintain the trend. And that is a trend politicians and investors alike seemed too invested in to turn back now. Too many people and businesses that matter are now entrenched. Casco Viejo will continue the trend of growing even safer. The arrival of money and the promise of more money guarantees it. And from what I understand, the fact that the mayor’s house is here (read: A prominent politician has a personal interest in the area.) is a very good thing. As if the Presidential Palace alone isn’t sufficient. God knows who else has invested in this neighborhood. I hope to learn more as time goes by.

There is a young Columbian architect living in this neighborhood who did his thesis on Casco Viejo and apparently managed to get the equivalent of a grant from the government to aid him in his research. He tells me he knows the history of and ownership of every building in Casco Viejo. If only he spoke better English or I spoke better Spanish. That’s a database I would love to study!

Last night was a Blue Moon and an important date in my life. I took a couple of photos off my balcony and was surprised at how much I was able to capture the moon with my crappy little camera. So I decided to take a walk and try to capture more moon shots. I wore my too-large headphones with Blur in the discman, as I usually do when exercising, and headed for the Paseo. There were times I was lying flat on my back in order to attempt to capture either the white circle
around the moon or the other colored circles of light. Never did capture what my eyes saw, but what later occurred to me was that, not for a moment, did I ever feel anything other than safe even though I couldn’t hear a thing and was carrying desirable electronics.

The night after the Blue Moon, I was sitting in my living room, looked up and there above the sea was an enormous Harvest Moon. I was tired, but felt compelled to grab my camera and head out the door. I ended up walking down some steps towards a beach in a completely dark area in an attempt to capture that moon above the shell of what was once the Union Club. It was an awe inspiring sight to the eyes and I hoped the camera could capture even a fraction of it. Anyway, I’m down there and suddenly, a policeman joins me. He’s with the National Police. He’s making sure I’m safe. As I walked back up, we started talking, in Spanish of course, as he doesn’t speak a word of English.

He asked me which I thought was the more difficult language, English or Spanish. My response was whichever language you don’t know. He laughed. It always feels like a huge step forward when I can make someone laugh while speaking Spanish. He suggested another spot for a photo. I headed over to a concrete platform with iron railings built over the sea in a small park. It is one of the many beautiful spots in Casco Viejo. And boy was he right. The huge moon casting light over the sea was so beautiful. The young policeman came with me and for the next 20 or 30 minutes, he
taught me Spanish and I taught him English.

Everyone around here seems interested in that sort of an exchange. There is a Panamanian woman who is becoming a close friend. We spend a lot of time together. She went to school in the US and speaks perfect English. She tells me I have picked up Spanish quicker than anyone she has known. She even mentioned someone else we both know who has lived here for 27 years and told me I already speak more Spanish than she does even though I’ve only been here for 7 weeks.

On the other hand, when I sat down with the architect, he was essentially berating me for not being able to speak more Spanish than I do. He tells me he can speak English, but doesn’t like to. I suppose I will really feel like I’m making progress when I’m able use verbs of all tenses, not just the present tense. Except for `went’. That’s one I’ve used enough to incorporate into speaking. I no longer have to say “Yesterday, I go to the beach.” I can now easily say, “Yesterday, I went to the beach.”

One thing the young National Policeman pointed out to me during our impromptu lesson is that, unlike English, Spanish sounds exactly like it’s written. Granted, you first have to learn what the Spanish alphabet sounds like, but I believe he’s right. And it’s one of those small things that makes a big difference to know. Think about the word `known’ in English. It might as well be `non’ with a long `o’ and know sounds the same as no. Or `knight’…we don’t pronounce the `k’, the `g’, nor the `h’.

I remember how it amused me awhile back when two friends and I traveled to Bocas. Neither of them spoke a word of Spanish and they were so impressed with my ability to deal with the hotel or taxi or order in a restaurant. I laughed. It was not very different from how 12 years ago everyone thought I was so computer literate. It never has been a reflection of how much I know, but rather how little they know. And it strikes me odd how Americans can be so impressed with an
American who knows a tiny bit of another language, but think nothing of locals who speak English so well.

Anyway, I love being so surrounded by policemen. Never thought I’d see that day. I love getting to throw everything I associated with US culture more or less out the window so it doesn’t taint learning about my present surroundings.

Yesterday, my neighbor (Gisele, who owns Manuela-the Springer Spaniel I adore so much) and I went shopping. While on the way, we were talking about how maddening it can be that Panamanians don’t show up on time for appointments, don’t apologize no matter how late they are, and think nothing of whatever inconvenience it may have caused you. Gisele is from Columbia. She said that when she moved here, she was amazed at how different the cultures were given the proximity of the countries. She is from Bogota and wondered if perhaps the cultures were more similar with Colombians who lived along the coast. Maybe it is a laid back attitude due to the tropical heat. Anyway, she also pointed out to me that there were other differences she loved, the most striking difference being how safe it is here especially relative to Colombia.

I hear so much about how dangerous Colombia is. I was so interesting listening to her perspective. She said that when she arrived in Panama, someone was going to drive out after 11PM at night to go somewhere and she was shocked. “What do you mean you are going to drive that late at night? Is it safe?” They wondered why she would even wonder why it wouldn’t be safe to drive at night. And the answer was because she came from Colombia where it definitely was a no-no to drive at night. It was like begging for kidnapping or death. She was telling me that she had to constantly change the route she would drive to work in the morning because it was not safe to always go the same way. Being predictable made you a target for kidnappers. While she is not a rich executive, she said it didn’t matter. With a 20% unemployment rate, many still prefer the career path of kidnapping because of the `easy’ money it entails. Even if they kidnap someone poor, she explained, the mindset is that even those people have something they can pay…like $300 in exchange for your life. And it would take so very long working for minimum wage…if you could even find a job…to make $300 that many opt for the criminal route. I can only understand this through the perspective of a gang mindset in urban America. It’s what you grow up with and what you know that becomes a way of life.

And once again, I’m reminded in the most profound way of how lucky I was to grow up in the US. I grew up in a small town. We never even locked our door at night. And leaving bikes or anything else outside was never a problem. Maybe I’m just a lucky person, but I’ve spent many nights in NYC with my front door unlocked and the windows open. Granted, it was by accident, but it doesn’t alter the fact that nothing happened. And on more than one occasion since living in Casco Viejo, I go downstairs in the morning only to realize I forgot to lock my door at night. And the front door to my building wouldn’t stop a determined 5 year old. It has nothing more than the kind of lock you turn sideways on a doorknob…like one might have on an internal door in a bedroom. And termites are having their way with the wood. And the door isn’t even solid wood, it also has glass panes. So if anyone wanted to get in here, it wouldn’t be much of a problem. From what I understand from the neighbors, that has never been a problem. So I guess that means that I’m surrounded by lucky people.

Or maybe it means that my location in Casco Viejo is…gasp…quite safe after all.