Bienvenidos a Panama

In 1925, six hundred bayonet-wielding U.S. soldiers marched into Panama City intent on putting down a massive renters strike protesting the announcement of large rent increases by the in the city´s poorest barrios. Three protesters died that day at the end of American bayonets. Back home in the states, the media portrayed this intervention as a necessary measure against irrational (and, of course, non-caucasian) radicals. A passenger of a cruise shipped that happened to be docked in Panama City at the time was quoted by the New York Times as saying, ¨the nucleus of a revolution is a bottle of rum, two halfbreeds and a negro armed with rifles and machetes.¨

Ok, hi. I started my first-ever blog entry with the above paragraph because I heard that dry, overtly leftist historical anecdotes are a sure-fire way to get the kids to tune in and keep them coming back. Are you hooked? Welcome to my blog (I never thought I would say those words). I am quickly realizing that I can´t possibly keep up with everyone this summer and that some of my stories, ramblings, and pseudo-intellectual musings may therefore be lost to some of you. Sad but true, my friends.

On the off chance that I don´t corner you individually in a smoky bar Georgia or North Kakalak and beat you repeatedly about the head with Panamanian trivia, the blog format provides a relatively painless means of skimming my summer and partaking only of what you will. You can then, just by reading the titles, pretend when you see me later that you already know everything and thus avoid the subject altogether. Get it? So, think of this as the Golden Corral buffet -- it´s in your own best interest to stuff yourself now and skip breakfast and lunch tomorrow. But, no free desert and I will be looking to see if anyone has hidden their second helping of chicken fried steak under the table.

First, a little background. I am presently ¨living¨in the outskirts of Panama City conducting preliminary research for my dissertation. I sweat out the nights in an extra room rented by a Panamanian couple (1/2 of which is my good buddy ¨Ricky,¨whom you will be hearing more about) in the suburban neighborhood of Diablo (¨devil¨in Spanish) right near the Canal. Until 1999, when we ¨gave¨the Canal back to Panama, no Panamanians were allowed to live within 10 miles of the Canal. This neighborhood, with its air conditioned shopping malls and roller rinks was Panamanian-free. Seriously, some of the former ¨Zonians¨ (the real-life label for people who were raised in the Zone when it was under U.S. control) really hate Jimmy Carter for allowing all of these damn Spanish-speakers to move into their old gated community...still. I imagine a creepy Beaver-Cleaveresque world, but with 100s of orchid species and terra cotta-tiled roofs everywhere.

Want evidence?
http://www.chagres.com/Photos-HB-6.html