TheExpatJournals.com

And no, I’m not talking about Bush’s visit last week. Isn’t that what they call Air Force One? I’m being literal. Honestly, sometimes life in Casco Viejo seems to fall into that category of ‘who could invent this stuff?’ And everytime, something rich unfolds, it just feels like this little part of the universe is something more special than most.

Yesterday, I had 3 hours that started with an appointment, but unfolded in ways that had nothing whatsoever to do with me. I just happen to be at the right place at the right time and for some reason, that seems to happen a lot more in Casco Viejo than in most places.

I spent some time with the gentleman who heads the government’s Office of Casco Antiguo, Ariel Espino. Let me preface this by saying that, a few weeks/months back, I walked a couple into his office who bought a building here and are about to begin restoration. When he asked which building they bought and we pointed it out on a map, his whole face lit up. His genuine enthusiasm and pleasure for the property so obviously came from being thrilled that it will be preserved without being broken up. I knew then and there that he was a man who did what he does because he loves what he does. He himself is an architect though I assume private practice is out while he runs this office. But the combination of his passion and his knowledge put him in a place of privilege in the way I view the world.

So, yesterday, I was able to sit with Ariel for quite awhile and learned quite a lot. As I left the office, I noticed a family of Kunas I know sitting in a row on the steps of the Paseo. It made an interesting visual plus I haven’t been out to say hello to them in awhile, so I headed up the steps. I sat down beside Edith, pronounced eedeet and for the purposes of this discussion is Mama Kuna. We chatted for a moment and then she said “Look!” in an excited manner. I looked and what I saw was a very large bird in the water, wings extended in a way that made it look dead. I asked if it was dead. None of us were quite sure until we saw movement. I then suggested maybe it had a problem and they agreed, but then much to our surprise, it lifted out slowly as though even it wasn’t quite sure it could do it and then did manage to take flight. That was when they started saying “Eagle!” Fortunately, as I had already snapped their photo…and Edith loves for me to take her photo, I was able to snap a couple of shots. Unfortunately, I didn’t have a long lens on the camera.

So the eagle circled for a bit, went in for the kill and then headed over to the roof of a building to enjoy his lunch. I decided to head over to try to get a better close up shot, but unfortunately, just as I approached, he flew away. Meanwhile, in front of me now were these little boys using drifting, dead palm trees in the sea as a boat to play on. One little boy kept jumping into the sea in front of me. He wanted his picture taken doing it, so I complied. He jumped for me several times. Honestly, kids always ask you to take their picture around here. They LOVE it. And because my camera is digital, they can’t wait to see it on the little screen afterwards.

One of the things Ariel had mentioned to me was that renovation of El Arco Chato was about to get underway on Thursday, tomorrow. One of the things I’ve been doing is trying to capture the old before it’s changed. So, I decided to stop by there. Attached to the ruins is the Museum for Religious Art where some items are from the original Panama Vieja ruins. Two woman were more than happy to tell me many things and some of the things I found most surprising was the fact that, the story about the golden altar isn’t true!

Now granted, they speak no English and my Spanish is…shall we say limited, though improving…nevertheless I did manage to spend the better part of an hour talking with a local woman named Doris and the director of the museum named Noris. Doris and Noris, two interesting woman with a lot of information to share. Doris told me she is a teacher. She also told me that, unlike the accepted and widely published idea that the famous Church of the Golden Altar (Iglesia San Jose) has a solid gold altar saved from the pirate Henry Morgan by priests painting it to disguise it, that the altar is not at all gold, but is wood with gold leaf. She said this type of golden altar was common at churches in Panama and indeed, there is one in the museum in front of us. Now from my limitations in Spanish, what I understood her to say afterwards was that there was also a golden altar in the church near Penonome, the church that is known to be the oldest Catholic Church in the Western Hemisphere. This ended up prompting me to later do a Google search and now, I’m left wondering if perhaps what she was telling me was that the famous church with the Golden Altar in Panama Vieja, the very same one that is said to have been painted and later moved to Casco Viejo, is perhaps instead, residing in Cocle. I say this because one of the things I discovered in this little side trip was that between 1671…after Morgan destroyed the original Panama City…and until 1673, when Casco Viejo was founded, Penonome served as the capital of Panama.

One of the things I found very disturbing and very baffling about my trip to the museum was how there are simply no funds to protect Panama’s treasures that are housed here. One stunning ornate carving of the Virgin Mary with cherubs, etc at the base of her gown is about 3 feet tall and carved completely from wood…and what I would guess to be one piece of wood. It was never painted and is beautiful work that dates to around 1700. This piece is just sitting unprotected in this large room that can be dusty, is un-airconditioned and has visible tunnels of termites circling the ceiling. And it certainly shows signs of ‘white mold’ rotting it away from the bottom up. Nothing in me understands how a treasure like this (and many others in there) aren’t encased in glass with humidity control dessicants and air conditioning. The museum is across the street from the sea to boot! Noris simply says, “No money.” I found it heartbreaking though I must admit, standing in front of some of those pieces, unimpeded by protection, was also a powerful experience. Of the three old bells in there, one is dated 1676. There are many beautiful paintings as well, mostly from the 1800’s.

So after I left the museum, I then ran into a local sitting in the little Plaza on the sea at the corner of Ave. A and Calle Segunda that I hadn’t seen in awhile. She tells me she moved and has come back to visit with her two friends. These 3 ladies were together most days that I’ve been here. They are the ones I pictured long ago playing cards on a makeshift table on the sidewalk, the ones who played cards for a quarter a game and always pooled the money all year long to spend on gifts and fiestas for their family and friends at Christmas. She informed me her building had sold and she had to move. The other two informed me that they were told they had to move in January.

This is the building immediately behind where I used to live and the one so much noise comes from, that any semblance of quiet on the block is mission impossible. They start telling me that now, the police come and bother them if they’re having a party but that the police don’t bother the ‘rabiblancos’ if they want to have a party. I look at her and say (in Spanish), “Yes, but in all fairness, the rabiblancos rarely have parties, but at your building, there is ALWAYS a party.” They laugh and agree, that’s the truth. I told them the reason I could live on the corner was the noise in their building. They knew that. We sit and talk about how they have no work and don’t know where they will live. Apparently, the landlord did tell them they could stay if they would start paying rent, but to them, that is the same thing as saying, Get out. No work, no money, no means of paying rent. I asked her how long she had lived in the building. 21 years for one, 23 years for the other. I asked her how much rent she paid. Nothing…not one dime in all those years. One said she did pay the water. I asked about paying light and they said no. I said, I knew that because when I lived next door to you, my electricity bills were so expensive. I PAID your electricity. Again they laughed, knowing this was true.

They weren’t asking me for help. They were simply talking like women do. And while this is happening all over Casco Viejo, unlike old women getting kicked out of their apartments in NYC because owners could command far higher rents than they were paying, this is different. Those old women in NYC were paying. I do feel empathy for them, but Jeesh, I wish I knew how to live rent and utility free for a couple of decades. So empathy yes, sympathy no. I was surprised to hear they weren’t ‘bought out’ but were evicted. No wonder it seems easier to move people out in order to restore these days. As someone did explain to me, the laws of eviction were always in place, but getting the government’s signature with the previous administration was nearly impossible and the current administration is doing, rather than avoiding, their job by addressing paperwork that needs signing.

One did ask me to take pictures of her grandaughter. So I did. I took pictures of them, too, bought them all a coca cola and said goodbye. I don’t know why it didn’t feel sad. It would have just a few short months ago. Maybe I’ve just experienced enough of my own difficulties here to be reminded that all problems are relative. Every human faces their own version of hell, of trauma, of happiness and hope. And it’s all relative.

So, that was 3 hours of my afternoon yesterday. An enriching time at the Office of Casco Antiguo, my first up-close view of an eagle feeding, mingling with little boys swimming in the sea and floating around on palm trees, the museum, and the squatters being evicted. Because all of my work is either phone or computer and is all very time consuming and because I normally eat at home, sometimes, it can be rare for me even to leave my apartment. But when I do…