The day after we booked our trip to Panama, Trump announced that he was basically going to steal back the Panama Canal. It’s completely unclear if he planned to take it by force with the full might of the US Army or just was kinda going to guilt the Panamanians into giving it up. Luckily his attention swung more toward Greenland in the short-term and the conquering of Canada always, so we felt relatively safe there wasn’t going to be full out invasion while we were there. Relatively.
So, why Panama? Nobody goes to Panama. Seriously, everyone we mentioned it to was like, huh. Are you sure you don’t mean Costa Rica? Nope, Panama. It’s cheaper. And less popular. And maybe just a little more hipster-y because it’s undiscovered. I mean as much as a major Central American country of over four million people with a major, international corporate waterway running through it can be. I do wish I’d boned up on my Spanish a bit before going, as English can be a little less prevalent, especially amongst Uber and cab drivers and especially out in Bocas del Toro. Unfortunately my years of high school and college Spanish are far enough in the rearview mirror that I did more shrugging and pantomime than actual conversing. Next time.
Day 1 – Panama City
Travel: Tocumen International Airport
I wasn’t sure exactly what I was expecting here. Somewhere in my head I was picturing the thatched hut roof airport in The Dominican Republic. Instead we got a totally modern joint with a Starbucks, Krispy Kreme, Smashburger and a Popeyes.
Dinner: Gaucho’s Steak House
Yes, I realize Gauchos are Argentinian and not Panamanian, but I already told you I don’t speak good Spanish. This was actually a serendipitous find, as we started out heading from our hotel toward some joint called Mangle Bar. It was already pretty late at this point, as our flight didn’t get in until late evening, so we didn’t have a lot of choice. Turns out there was what looked like a private party at the bar — and despite some reviews to the contrary, it didn’t look like some place that wanted a teenager hanging out. But Hipster Jr. Jr. took a look at the steak place down the block in Gaucho’s and was 100% in. The girl loves a steak. The restaurant itself seemed to be housed in a… well, a house. A kind of meandering ranch house that reminds me of something akin to a 1970s Mediterranean in the San Fernando Valley. Not exactly homey, ironically, but definitely not cookie-cutter. We snuck in right before the end of service, but were treated very friendly — despite this being our first real test of our horrible Spanish. We did manage to order, however, even though I think I basically asked for my steak with “more blood.” More blood than what? I don’t know. But we eventually got to the term for medium rare and settled in. They brought this lovely round of soft bread and butter, which we promptly devoured. And then the generally unadorned steaks. Hipster Jr. Jr. and mine an Argentinian version of a NY Strip (which is confusingly called a chorizo, despite not being a sausage) and Ms. Hipster’s some sort of Delmonico. After our less-than-amazing culinary experience with steaks (and everything else) on our last trip to Scotland, I wasn’t expecting much. And that thing just sitting there on a white plate didn’t inspire confidence. Turns out, looks can be deceiving. And expectations can be exceeded. Cuz that thing was tassssty. I’m telling you, one of the better steaks I’ve had in a while. Cooked perfectly, juicy and flavorful. Meaty and grassy in the best possible way. Like I stabbed the thing myself out on the pampas or whatever. I feel like this was by far the most expensive meal we ate in Panama, which isn’t saying a whole lot. But, while we were pretty damn hungry, it left us satiated and happy.
Lodging: InterContinental Miramar Panama
We went high-style for this one. I mean it was hardly roughing it, but it also wasn’t a Waldorf or something. Staying in what I have to assume is the business district in Panama City feels like staying in downtown Miami. Or what I think Miami looks like — with no evidence to prove it. It’s kind of a wall of tall, white buildings along an ocean inlet. Which might be a bay. But also might be something else all together. I don’t know my bodies of water. Our room was upgraded for no apparent reason, which I think just means we got a high floor or faced the ocean rather than facing the busy road that ran by the hotel. Which turned out to be a good call. The view was pretty cool. I’m going to assume this hotel basically exists to house people coming in to do business connected to the Panama Canal. I imagine dudes in various gulf-nation headwear and some dumb American in a Stetson to signify he likes oil and guns. The hotel itself is nice enough — there is a pool that we couldn’t take advantage of at night — but the food situation around it is relatively untenable. They have a restaurant, but as far as we could tell it’s an all-you-can-eat buffet that cost more than our room. Most everything else in the area is connected to a hotel and is along the aforementioned busy street. We got lucky with dinner, but the next day was instantly dicey on the food front.
Day 2 – Panama City / Bocas del Toro
Breakfast: Cafe Unido – Marbella Banistmo
Yes, this is a chain of sorts. A small one. In fact it looks like they have two locations in D.C. This one was in what I can only describe as a grouping of bank-like businesses. The equivalent of a Midtown NYC if NYC was put in an Ant-Man shrink ray thing. The cafe itself is basically a coffee joint with some breakfast items and some sandwiches for lunch. Honestly, the perfect stop for what I imagine is a gang of office workers in the area. Not so on the Sunday we were there. The cafe was nice and modern with an upstairs that was appropriately dark and moody. I thought the food would be like your average Europa Cafe with the pre-made grub that they nuke for a second and sell you as though they made it to order. Boy was I wrong. I got a breakfast sandwich, which included: fried egg, bacon, guacamole, cheddar and mozzarella cheese and buffalo sauce. It may have been the best breakfast item I’ve ever eaten. I shit you not. Crunchy cheese, soft four-part bun, runny eggs, silky guac and spicy-ass sauce and some salty, crispy bacon that I normally don’t eat but couldn’t help myself. Delicious. Ms. Hipster got the pumpkin pancakes with homemade butterscotch sauce and pumpkin seeds. She was equally happy. Though I think I still got the best side of the deal. Hipster Jr. Jr. got her first açaí bowl and was smitten. Though it was like a metric ton of açaí. Serendipity strikes again! Or more like a complete lack of other options.
Activity: Walking the Cinta Costera
Despite the heat we decided to take a stroll on the Cinta Costera (“Coastal Beltway”). It’s a long stretch of walking and biking paths that run along the ocean. On Sundays they even shut down the main road that runs parallel to the paths to car traffic until noon. So you can safely cross the busy road and wander around without worrying about the insanely fast traffic that rushes down the main artery. People bike and roller skate along the paths, just kind of taking in the ocean breeze. There are dudes selling shaved ice and, weirdly, a course where kids could drive a mini CyberTruck through some cones. There were guys practicing volleyball and others playing some sort of weird paddle tennis / racquetball hybrid in the park. Two dudes filming themselves for YouTube doing kettlebell tricks and being just regular doofuses. It was a really nice thing to have in the middle of city. Something I wish the US would consider more of — more green space, more public spaces that bring people together. But we’ll never do it because of property values and whatnot. We walked all around, leaving the path and wandering into the city a bit, past an antiquated hospital compound with an emergency room with a line as long as the entrance to a Taylor Swift concert. The architecture a mixture of Caribbean colonial and 90s broken-down industrial. Like everywhere else there seems to be a lot of construction going on. Some new and some maintenance. But just lots of holes and tape and cones and lots in mid-tear-down or mid-build-up.
Travel: Albrook “Marcos A. Gelabert” International Airport to Bocas del Toro “Isla Colón” International Airport
So, there are apparently two airports in Panama City. The international one we flew into from Newark and this one. I suppose you’d call it a “regional” airport. The terminal is basically one room with some movie theater ribbons in it. We hadn’t eaten all day and were going to hit up the food court (which Ms. Hipster insists was actually labeled a “food corner”) but it was either closed or basically didn’t exist. There is a small coffee nook with some pastries in that main room, but otherwise I enjoyed experimenting with the vending machine. The stuff is cheap and the packaged Panamanian cookies were actually fire (a word stolen from Hipster Jr.) Like a lot of nations we’ve visited, time is kind of a suggestion rather than a construct. So once you check in in the one room, you’re shuttle to the second room where you get to sit there and watch the crew of the just-landed plane awkwardly stand on the jetway doing what looks like nothing for a what feels like an eternity while your flight time comes and goes. With no announcements or anything, of course. Just the clock ticking and people looking around wondering if that just-landed plane that the ground crew, while standing under the wing, is scratching their chins toward, looking at each other and shrugging. Turns out, no, that was not our plane, but a fake-out. Ours just kinda rolled up and we walked out and got on. Like nothing even happened.
Dinner: Pipa Beach Bar (Bocas del Toro)
Just steps from our domicile, this beach bar is all sorts of what you’d expect in a tropical vacation. Open air with a long bar and casual dining tables with its own beach volleyball court it just screams “drink a beer!” The interesting ecological thing about Panama is that the jungle kind of meets the beach. So you step through some trees and all of a sudden there’s sand and water. It’s pretty cool. The vibe here is very chill, the help is super-friendly and somehow there are no bugs. I don’t think that’s anything special Pipa is doing, just an observation. I literally cannot remember what I ate here — despite coming back a couple times because it was so convenient — but suffice it to say it wasn’t particularly memorable. I do know that Hipster Jr. Jr. has a burger because it’s one of the six things she eats. It was… edible. But, honestly, you’re not coming here for the gourmet grub, you’re coming for the vibes.
Lodging: Villa Paraiso (Bocas del Toro)
Ms. Hipster is a master at finding outside-the-box accommodations. Granted, Bocas is full of left-of-center hotels and resorts. Most of them are of the eco-tourist variety. Yurts and whatnot. Or open-air stuff. But if there is one thing Ms. Hipster will not abide is non-air-conditioned living. God love her. So she tracked down Villa Paraiso in Big Creek. A multi-building property that worked out perfectly for our three-person party. We stayed in what they call Las Casitas, which is two separate one-bedroom, one-bath (air conditioned) houses sitting around a salt-water pool right on the beach.
Every morning, we sat in our window seat in our casita drinking coffee and looking out at the ocean. One morning we were lucky enough to see a couple dolphins swim by really close to shore. Another afternoon our clearly European young female neighbor walked out of the jungle and out into the water utterly naked directly in front of our window. Win win. It did rain a ton, but otherwise we chilled by the pool watching giant iguanas in the trees above play some sort of cat and mouse mating ritual and listened to wacky birds cluck and hoot in the surrounding foliage. And at night we feel asleep in a comfortable bed to the sound of the waves lapping and sometimes crashing the shore.
Day 3 – Bocas del Toro
Brunch: Pier 19 Restaurant & Bar (Bocas del Toro)
Set behind the Divers Paradise Boutique Hotel, this open-air restaurant turned out to be a slightly awkward choice. The space itself, right on the water, is very cool. But we showed up and were unclear if they were even open. Not that the server wasn’t super-friendly or anything, but we were the only people there. It was eerily quiet. Not a bad thing, I suppose, just a little funny to make this poor server and the kitchen crew work just for us. Oh well. Also, it was 11 a.m. and I ordered a Balboa beer — mostly because the server seemed completely unfazed by it. In fact, he seemed encouraging. Nice. I didn’t order well, however, getting some sort of shrimp tapas things that were individual shrimps on a crema bed. It was actually pretty tasty, but not enough for a full grown man like myself. So I ended up eating half of Ms. Hipster’s Burrito de Buddha and probably some of Hipster Jr. Jr.’s poke bowl — which included, oddly, rare tuna rather than your typical raw tuna. All totally fine and serviceable in a really pleasant atmosphere.
Activity: Walking around Bocas del Toro
Bocas is a funky town. The main roads are more pothole than anything else, and those potholes are mostly filled with water and mud from what feels like a constant spate of rain. Half the town seems to be under construction, so streets are blocked and drivers in cabs and mopeds and whatnot seem to be getting around with little-to-no road rules. It’s not congested, mind you, but it certainly feels a little lawless in terms of traffic control and vehicle safety. Most of the stores along the main drag are essentially bodegas and medium-sized markets manned by a surprisingly large Asian population that isn’t something I was aware was a thing in Panama. We ended up doing some shopping (mostly beer, cookies, coffee and some other snacks) at Super Deli Boy. Beer is super-cheap, which is cool. Local Panamanian coffee, Cafe Duran, was also super-cheap and actually really great. We visited a dollar store and saw a lot of uniformed school children looking like your average groups of pre-teens in every town ever. Hipster Jr. Jr. decided she wanted some bubble tea — which, again, was offered in multiple Asian-inspired/owned establishments — and ended up at a joint called Sweet Garden.
In our wanderings it does seem like there may be some night life opportunities. In fact, I feel like there was an ad for a bar crawl of some sort. Oh, it’s probably this Filthy Friday thing. I can’t tell if this is an attempt to bring this town into the Cancun stratosphere or what, but I wasn’t getting the sense that there will be roving gangs of drunken college students roaming the environs anytime soon. The town felt much more chill and family-centered. What with the occasional Euro or American hippie wandering around. In fact, as a clearly not-Panamanian family walking the streets, we felt relatively invisible and unnoticed by the locals. There were definitely times where we seemed to be the only non-locals on the streets, but we never felt unwelcome, unsafe or otherwise even noticed. Like I said, chill. Hipster Jr. Jr. was more interested in the random cats and dogs that seemed to just be part of the town life, with folks sometimes putting out plates for them to scrounge. Even they seemed disinterested in our presence, though.
We probably would have explored some drinking establishments had we not been hanging out with a 15-year-old person, but as it stood, we were able to walk the whole town in a couple slow-walking hours and head back home after getting lucky catching a cab on our walk back. But not before passing this interesting oddity. And during Passover week, no less!
Dinner: Skully’s House (Bocas del Toro)
We took a stroll down the road from our place toward what we did not know. A hostel that is also maybe a restaurant/bar that is also maybe a food court of sorts? Turns out it was all three? And what a place Skully’s is. It’s what your college student might be looking for. Beer pong and a general sense of menace and debauchery under the surface. But, in reality, a joint with a large bar, lots of booze and a pool where be-shirted families can hang while people around them get drunk to your typical bar music. There is just a whole lot going on at this place. Different walk-up windows from which to order food. A pizza place. Mexican food. Italian, I think? Maybe chili? And seafood. It’s all very confusing, but there is a good amount of choice. You order, maybe pay, maybe not and then just pick a table under the thatched roof by the pool and either get a buzz from a Chili’s puck or just kind of hope you make eye contact with someone that your food is ready? And while you’re waiting, wander over to the giant party bar and get some beers. Avoid the eager-looking Rottweiler, who seems to own the joint, and try and make yourself understood in broken Spanish over the loud music. If this was a Tuesday, I can’t imagine what a Friday or Saturday might be like. But I can bet there is a lot of imbibing going on.
The food was kind of your average bar food, satisfying but not gourmet. The pizza was surprisingly not bad, my burrito was supposed to be steak, I think, but was a little questionable. It went well with my beer, whatever the case. There was a pretty beat-up stray dog with the saddest face you’ve ever seen who came by the table to con Ms. Hipster into feeding him. She did. Meanwhile we vibed with the music and speculated how many beers the family in the pool with their large adolescent child in tow were going to drink before they slipped under the water and left him for us to raise. They seemed to be having a real good time — though my Spanish is poor, so maybe they were actually discussing their escape. Overall it was an interesting hang and one I could see going south real quick if there was a serious beer pong tourney on. Or if that Rottweiler liked the look of your burger.
Day 4 – Bocas del Toro
Breakfast: Pipa Beach Bar (Bocas del Toro)
Yes, we were lazy and just walked down the road again. They were out of pancakes. And also out of something else that would have been cool by the time we rolled up. I had eggs and potatoes, I think. Hipster Jr. Jr. seems to recall maybe having a “grocery store” bagel and maybe some lox? Or maybe they were also out of lox? Whatever it was, we ate whatever they handed us. It was the beginning of low season, so we kind of didn’t expect a whole lot.
Activity/Non-Activity: Hanging at the Pool/Beach
This was our day to just chill. We dodged rain drops and bright sun, sipping Panama beers and watching iguanas frolic in the trees. I got some reading done and thought of ways to use the outdoor kitchen on the property I knew we’d never use. We went in the ocean, which was incredibly warm and relatively calm. The bottom was also nice and sandy, not rocky or mossy or filled with biting things. We didn’t get to play with the dolphins or anything, but it was super-nice. I think we ate cookies from the bodega for lunch. Because we’re awesome parents.
Dinner: El Ultimo Refugio (Bocas del Toro)
Yet another mostly open-air dining experience in a place where the weather was less than complimentary. But we’re troopers. It did sprinkle a little on us, but we toughed it out while one of our neighboring tables went scurrying for the covered portion of the dining room. Tourists! Anyhow, this joint seems to be run maybe, possibly by an American woman? At least the lovely woman we talked to said she’s originally from Washington D.C. How one decides to make that move, I have no clue, but it made our ordering experience much easier than other places on the island, as it didn’t press our Spanish to its limits. So we went with both a gnocchi and a tuna tartare appetizer for the table. Insane, we were. It was a ton of food, especially for only $10 a plate. The pasta was just super-creamy and dense, but in a nice, toothy way. The pile of tartare (with chips) was like a quadruple portion you might find at a sushi joint in NYC. It was somehow almost too much fish! While we sat and ate, we took in the sites. Mostly the weird, oddly tall shoeless Euro couple at the table next to us, who looked like a cos-play of an AC/DC cover band on a hippie surfing vacation. It was the hat and the tank-top. People even pulled up in boat taxis to the end of the dining room to de-boat (if that’s a thing) for dinner. Classic. For our mains, Hipster Jr. Jr. did her usual filet mignon with some frizzled onions and mashed potatoes, Ms. Hipster ordered the shrimp risotto and I got chicken curry. It was all sooo much food. Heavy, sauced food. I can’t say Ms. Hipster’s was really risotto, but it was tasty. Mine was just a mix of chicken and rice and veggies in an aromatic curry sauce, which just has no way of being bad. I wanted to instantly take a nap.
While it was light out in this photo, we left in the dark. Had to track down what we were told was the one ATM on the island (I’m not even kidding) in order to get cash to tip our boat captain the next day and then track down a cab to take us back to our house. We accomplished the first task with just a little walking in circles, but the second turned out to be a chore. Not a cab to be found. And none of our “regulars” answering our WhatsApps. So we started the two-mile walk back our place in the light rain and then the heavy rain and then the medium rain. Past schools and through what we assumed were darkened residential neighborhoods. Nary a look from anyone we happened to see as we raised a hand to any and all cabs that passed. It was going to be ugly, as Hipster Jr. Jr.’s energy waned. And then, up ahead, a couple jumped out of a cab to presumably go to a house party or some such happiness. They saw my desperate face from 25 yards away, through the rain, and signaled for me to come jump in. Best $2-a-person I’ve ever paid. And we were home.
Day 5 – Bocas del Toro
Activity: Boat Tour of Zapatilla Island and Snorkeling
I’m honestly not sure how we ended up here. Literally. We had a cab maybe planned to pick us up… Let’s go back. This is a problem in Bocas: getting places. There are cabs. And there are just like dudes in vehicles. Everyone just uses WhatApp to communicate and everyone tries to be helpful by giving you their guy’s number. You WhatsApp them and they ignore you. You call, set a time for them to pick you up so you can get to your boat in town and they don’t show. So you call again — and assuming they actually answer — they act as if you never talked and tell you someone will be there in ten minutes. It’s always ten minutes. Even if it’s five. Or twenty. Anyway, we finally got the dude who was supposed to take us to town to get our boat there to take us to the boat.
And then you get there and it’s a bit unclear what’s going on. There are a bunch of small fiberglass boats with outboard motors in a shed-like thing at the back of the boat place and eventually someone waves at you and pulls out and pulls back in and you inhale a bunch of gas fumes, plop yourself in the hopefully-seaworthy shell and get started. Even several minutes into our trip, we had no clue if we were in the right boat or not. There was a guy driving the boat, a smiley woman sitting there and the three of us. That’s it. The weather was less than ideal for a boat ride on the ocean. Frankly, the weather sucked. Have I mentioned that I’m sound sensitive. And hate being wet? The grinding of the boat motor, the constant banging of the flat hull off the water as wake after wake hit us, along with the driving rain and wind and splashing water made for an incredibly uncomfortable ride through mangroves, in open ocean, past islands. One of indeterminate length, mind you. Here’s a moment before it got too rough and wasn’t raining too hard that I thought I might put my iPhone at risk.
We weren’t really let in on what was going on. We stopped for a moment to apparently maybe look for dolphins in some cay. Seems like ten other boats had the same idea. There were no dolphins — but as I previously mentioned, we’d seen some from our house’s window, so we were good. We then took off and stopped at a dock, which turns out to be an island called Isla Bastimentos at a spot called Crawl Cay. To place an order at a restaurant called Restaurant Soles for our trip back. They asked us how long we’d be. Which is not a thing we could tell them. Our lovely captain in all his barefoot glory — who seemed to be a known commodity amongst the help — was definitely an island-time kind of guy and gave them some sort of signal that indicated something and we were headed back to the boat. Weird. Also, I’m not even sure our captain spoke Spanish. Shit, we could have done that.
Next it was on to Isla Zapatillas. Again, not a thing we really understood. But Ms. Hipster had to give them our info ahead of time and paid a $10/person entry fee for the island earlier, so we thought maybe it was the plan. We got there, the rain pouring down, and were asked to present ourselves to some unofficial official-looking dudes at a desk that looked as if it was built for the set of Gilligan’s Island set up on the beach who then had us physically sign a really soggy guest book to confirm our identities. We still have no idea why any of this was necessary, but it happened. The island itself was crowded with people, most of whom were huddled in a pavilion of sorts to avoid the rain. We tried walking down this nice nature path through the jungle, but were not exactly clear where it went. I would have continued, thinking maybe there’d be a sloth or something eventually, but the rain was prohibitive and the trail kind of boring at the start. We headed back toward the beach, as the sky opened up and we took shelter under a giant tree. I imagine on a nice day and an adventurous spirit that we could have walked the perimeter of the island on the beach and maybe found an nice isolated spot to go into the water and lay out on the beach or explore. But, as it stood, boats kept arriving and everybody hunkered down all in the same spot to keep dry. With no relief in sight, we signaled the smiley lady, realized she was the wife of our captain (who we figured out through our busted Spanish rarely went out with him), and somehow got him back to the dock so we could go back to Solas to eat. Back in the chop, back in the wet.
Lunch: Restaurant Soles (Isla Bastimentos)
I would tell you there’s a Website for this restaurant, or even a Website that reviews it, but it would be a lie. Surprising, honestly, since they seem to have a deal with these boat operators to bring their people by there as if it’s the only deal in the wide, wide ocean. I mentioned the weird ordering situation earlier, but it seemed like that didn’t matter and that they just crank out grub anyway. Despite the intensely nasty weather, the restaurant was crowded and kind of hectic. It all worked out, though, and we got a table by the water that only left one half our bodies exposed to the elements. We managed to walk the somewhat rickety planks to the restaurant, though I wouldn’t have wanted to be old, drunk or just generally wobbly, as there is very little room for error if you don’t want to end up in the sea. Our food came out relatively quickly, seasoned chicken filets with rice, beans and tostones for Ms. Hipster and me, fried fish for Hipster Jr. Jr. I threw some red spicy pepper sauce from the table on that pollo and it was super-tasty. Hipster Jr. Jr. really enjoyed her fish as well. To this day I’m incredibly surprised our orders made it to us. I am a little surprised I made it back from the bathroom, however. Somehow the path to the shed that houses the toilet is even more treacherous and sans railing than the walk from the dock to the restaurant. And a giant macaw has made his home in the roofline of the toilet and squawks his head off at you as you enter, almost sending me into the drink as I jumped out of my skin. All in all, a pretty funky place that turned out better than I imagined. A place that no American city would ever let exist.
Activity: Boat Tour of Zapatilla Island and Snorkeling cont.
There’s nothing like eating a bunch of carbs and then going snorkeling. Our captain drove out to some water, tossed us a bag of random masks and snorkels (no fins) and we jumped in the shallow water. I can’t say I saw many fish. I mean there were a bunch, but nothing that interesting or noteworthy. Especially after seeing awesome turtles, rays, octopi and eels in Puerto Rico and Mexico and sharks and shit in Turks & Caicos. The coral was actually the most interesting part of this adventure. There was giant brain coral and the waving-type coral and branch-like coral. There was also that weird, disconcerting sizzling sound you sometimes hear in the water. But this was accompanied by little stings. Not painful ones, but little pricks that were equally not fun. Hipster Jr. Jr. Googled it afterward and thinks they were like sea lice or something, or possibly just all that coral trying to protect itself from us. Whatever the case, the snorkeling wasn’t a highlight. I did want to get my money’s worth, though, and went pretty far from the boat with Hipster Jr. Jr. in tow. Because, why not? I was wrangled and got back in the boat and we banged our way home.
Pre-Dinner Chillin’: The Monkeys
After our harrowing adventure, we’re chilling by our pool and I hear some new noises. Bonkers noises. Like angry-ass dogs, but different. It’s not human, but also not something you hear in New Jersey. The ladies are either napping or just otherwise involved, so my curiosity gets the best of me and I roust Hipster Jr. Jr. and drag her into my adventure. We follow the sound, walking off our property, crossing the road to the little road directly across from us. Next to what I can only assume is a hippie commune. We walk about 20 yards down the road and in the trees are tens of howler monkeys. The source of the bizarre sound. The howling. Though now that we’re hanging out under them, they’re no longer howling. Of course, I’m no monkey expert, so the monkeys we’re looking at I have to assume are howler monkeys based on the former sound and a later-on Google of the type of monkeys in the area. Though they look pretty spidery compared to the more robust frame of the photos of howlers. So, probably babies? Thing is they just kept on coming. It was like a monkey highway. I eventually went back and dragged Ms. Hipster to come see them because I would have been in trouble if I didn’t.
Dinner: Pipa Beach Bar
Yes, we are lazy. But we were not going through the taxi thing again. And Hipster Jr. Jr. was spent. So Ms. Hipster and I went to dinner, got maybe a burger and something else and a beer and hung out with a cat named Antonio. He kind of ran the joint, honestly. We brought some chicken fingers and fries back to Hipster Jr. Jr. and she was actually happy with them. That doesn’t often happen.
Day 6 – Bocas del Toro / Panama City
Travel: Bocas del Toro “Isla Colón” International Airport to Albrook “Marcos A. Gelabert” International Airport
Nothing much to note here other than they have this weird thing at the airports where they lay out everyone’s luggage and have a dog walk all over them sniffing presumably for drugs. Interesting. From the airport, we made our way in an Uber to Casco Viejo, which is the old part of Panama City. A way different experience than the Panama City we experienced on the way in.
Lunch: La Pulperia – Casco Antiguo
We actually had dinner reservations here, but were starving and just decided to hit it up for lunch. Because, why not? It’s a cool, little bar/restaurant that is about as close to hipster as one can get around these parts. I got an old fashioned that came in a smoke dome and was damned tasty. I tried to get a steak sandwich, but they were out for some reason. And for the life of me can’t recall what I got instead. I’m pretty sure it was these curry shrimps. You had to pull the heads off and stuff. Fun! Ms. Hipster got a chicken quesadilla — some of which I ended up eating because I always do — and Hipster Jr. Jr. got a burger because she is who she is. All the grub was decent and decently inexpensive. The drink, however, was their strong suit. And the space itself was pretty modern and cool. I did not eat the octopus, as I’ve sworn off the stuff since experiencing the absolute horror of being served a whole octo in Mexico.
Dessert: Granclément
I did not partake, but Hipster Jr. Jr. wanted ice cream. So we hit up this very commerical-looking gourmet ice cream joint. I’m pretty sure it’s locally made, which is cool. And is maybe gelato, but I can’t confirm because there are varying accounts online. Let’s say yes. I didn’t get rave reviews from the ladies, but it was hot and the ice cream was cool. And it’s Kosher, if that’s a thing you care about. So, win.
Activity: Walking Around Casco Viejo
Did I mention it was Holy Thursday? Which was not a thing I knew anything about. But, let me tell you, the Panamanians do it up. This day before Good Friday is like a giant Jesus party. There are seven or like 100 churches in Old Town, all of which were swarmed with worshippers who trailed in and out of their doors for a couple days straight. The streets were adrift with people of every age, shaved iced dudes and general merriment. There were bands and all sorts of religious stuff I only kind of understood. Ms. Hipster, bad Catholic that she is, tried to explain, but I think religion is just beyond me at this point.
Lodging: Central Hotel Panama (Casco Viejo)
Our hotel was literally central. A giant, old hotel that feels like what I imagine the heyday of the colonial Carribean felt like. Cuba and the like. What we didn’t realize is that all the night’s events would all kind of culminate right in front of the hotel’s doors. As deus ex machina types in purple hooded robes lined the street and carried a giant cross and a duded on a microphone did incantations in Spanish and some singing on a giant screen. It was an Easter party.
We finally got past the purple people eaters and squeezed down the sidewalk to our hotel room. Our kind of bizarre, thin hotel room that clearly was carved out of something different from the old days that had an amazing view of the big church and the goings on. The lights in the room were incredibly confusing, as there is a set that lit up the giant bathroom and a set that lit up the room, but also an overriding set that maybe, kinda lit up both? It was a puzzle we never figured out. Also, that bathroom was almost the same size as the room and had a shower that seemingly just kind of drained out onto the floor. And had a frosted window between it and the room that may or may not have exposed silhouettes in very unsavory ways. Anyhow, it was luxurious in one way and completely confounding in another — especially for a room with two beds that is clearly meant to house more than just one couple.
Dinner: Room Service
We had room service for dinner because it was such chaos outside — and a late dinner at that. I feel like someone had a pizza, someone had a burger, maybe, and Ms. Hipster had pasta, which may or may not have been Chef Boyardee. I was honestly shocked we even got that, as my Spanish failed over and over to impress the woman on the other end of the room service phone. By the time I hung up, I was pretty much sure she thought it was a prank call and we’d never get anything. Surprisingly, everything we ordered showed up. Shocking.
Day 7 – Casco Viejo, Panama City
Breakfast: Patisserie Saint-Honré – Casco Viejo
A bakery with a very small dining room and a little outside patio, it’s adorable. The small breakfast menu was perfect and my pancakes with bananas were great. Hipster Jr. Jr. enjoyed her yogurt and granola and I’m sure Ms. Hipster ate something too. The coffee, as with just about everywhere else in Panama, was spot on and the servers were cool and everything was very casual. Old Town is relatively compact and, as its name suggests, our hotel is central to everything. So this was an easy walk from our place. Thumbs up to start the day.
Activity: Walking Around Casco Viejo
The sun finally decided to come out. Which was both a good thing and a not-so-great thing. We weren’t wet, but it was hot. And Hipster Jr. Jr. overheats very easily. So our day included walking for a bit, coming back to the room to cool off, going back out for a little and repeat. The Hipster ladies went into a bunch of tchotchke shops and lots and lots of churches. We wandered around and wondered aloud how we came to Panama without hitting up the Panama Canal. Seems like that’s okay.
There is land and sea and city and all sorts of old-world charm. It’s certainly set up for tourists way more than other parts we’d visited. In good and bad ways. But there was definitely a lot to look at. It reminded my of New Orleans in a lot of ways, which is cool. But with more burned-out things and less unsavory characters.
Lunch: Cerveceria La Rana Dorada Pub (Casco Viejo)
Yes, we’re the idiots who go to a brewery on Good Friday. A day where all alcohol sales are banned in the city. Or country? Whatever the case, we go to a bar to look at the beautiful taps and beer cans behind glass with only water and soda on the menu. That’s our problem, of course. The restaurant/bar is very cool. There an upstairs area we didn’t even explore but looked very chill. And the bar space itself is high-ceilinged, two-storied and well decorated. Overall the space is just great. The menu is pretty much pub grub. Ms. Hipster ordered some empañada appetizers… And the server — whose English was relatively strong — looked at her completely at a loss. I sheepishly said empanada (no enye) and she was like, “Oh, empanadas!” Amazing. And then our typical bar pie, burger and quesadilla combo, all of which was tasty and satisfying. I do really wish I could have has some beer, but it was decent nonetheless. But really quiet.
We continued to stroll around looking at stuff, including some amazing AI-generated English swag like this.
Dinner: Fonda Lo Que Hay (Casco Viejo)
This is another pretty funky place. Modern, but fitting for the location, I’m sure it’s a party when they’re actually allowed to serve alcohol. Instead they stuck us in the back room — which may or may not be the better space — next to a table of one million children. Okay, maybe like 7 children and 15 adults? I don’t know. We did spend most of the evening figuring out what was going on with them. Turns out they were on our flight home and were mostly — based, once again, on our limited language skills — Russian Americans? They looked American-ish, but just a little off. And were bi-lingual, which meant they definitely weren’t American-born (or at least raised by Americans) since we’re a dumb society here and can only speak English for most part. The food at Lo Que Hay is definitely different. I got the LQH Cacio e Pepe. It was not, by any stretch of imagination, cacio de pepe. It was penne pasta with beef tongue bites, fried wontons and sweet plantain. Not cacio de pepe, right? Honestly, it was pretty damned tasty, had a really interesting and variable texture but had about 14 days worth of my daily salt allowance. Which would have been awesome to balance out with a nice beer or red wine. But Good Friday. Ms. Hipster got something called Beef Guacho. It was rice and beans, criollo stew, poached egg and cassava. She asked to leave off the egg, which initially drew a scrunched face from the server (there’s a note on the menu: “we kindly deny any changes to the menu : )” ) but they acquiesced when she pointed out she didn’t want to change anything, but just leave something off that is not a critical component of the dish. It was basically a version of ropa vieja, which was also very tasty but was somehow even saltier than my meal. To the point where our water was not a nice-to-have but a necessity. Hipster Jr. Jr. got the LQH Fried Chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, buffalo sauce and kimchi. Good stuff. Just wish the we could focus on the food and not the neighboring table of jackassery.
Dessert: Gelatōlogo (Casco Viejo)
Another “fancy” ice cream joint. Twee, I’d call it. Those shallow, gelato trays that make an ice cream joint feel like one of those high-end clothing stores where there are like five dresses on hangers and a $425 undershirt. It was shiny and new and the ice cream was dainty and just fine. Once again, I didn’t order anything but tasted the vanilla that Ms. Hipster ordered and it was appropriately, richly vanilla. Me? I like a more traditional ice cream — stuff you’d get at the Jersey shore or 31 Flavors or something. A green dyed chocolate mint chip or moose tracks. But that’s just me.
Day 8: Panama City / Newark, NJ
Travel: Tocumen International Airport / Newark
We got another lovely Uber to the airport. Ubers in Panama City are, on the whole, very nice. It’s almost as if there’s a fleet of cars and SUVs that they use for Ubers and not just peoples’ personal vehicles. They all seem to be relatively new — some even with the plastic still on the interiors. It’s odd, but I’m not complaining.
We had a similar mellow experience at the airport as we did on the way in. What we did experience, however, is the double-security. Yes, the US is so weird (and vaguely racist) that they don’t think the main security scan is enough. No, you have to go through an extra set of metal detectors and luggage scans at the gate. Including taking your shoes off again, taking out your laptop… It’s obnoxious. And literally only happens on flights back to the US. We obviously didn’t have to do this on the way in, but on the way back we did. So we killed some time getting food and drink before being sequestered in the secondary security area at the gate.
Drink: Starbucks
It’s a Starbucks. But one that doesn’t take points or anything. And only have Americanos, maybe? I don’t know, it’s a Starbucks.
Food: Krispy Kreme
Why not? Plus, the Smashburger and Popeyes were really crowded.
And suddenly we were back in Newark.
