My folks got to Panama on Sunday night around 9:30.  It’s been pretty exciting to have them here after telling them about our lives here for so long.  They are also our first visitors in this apartment.

On Monday, my Mom joined me for a field trip with my Spanish teacher, Marianela, to a street called Avenida Central which is the closest thing I’ve seen to a market since we’ve been here.  It is closed to traffic, and people sell fruits and vegetables in the street, along with – at this time of year – a fruit cake type bread called pan bon.

 

It was fun to have an outing and to have Mom along instead of Marianela and I just staring at each other for 4 hours straight.  Here’s what Marianela looks like:

There are also…I guess department stores?…along the street too.  Old stores with clothes that TJ Maxx probably wouldn’t take, but Marianela tells me that occasionally you can find name brand stuff for $10 or so.  Then there were the furniture stores own by the Spanish folks, and apparently people of each nationality owns a particular kind of store.  Interesting.  She spends so much time telling me that Panamanians aren’t racist, but then she also tells me not to eat in restaurants in that area run by Chinese people because they are dirty (the restaurants, not the people).  Race is a very funny thing down here.  I would be interested to read an American student’s thesis on the subject of race and racism in Panamá.  Okay, I’ll be honest, I wouldn’t want to read it.  I might want a brief summary of it though, and perhaps a 45 minute conversation about it.

We went down this street called SalSiPuedes (Sal Si Puedes, meaning Leave if you Can) where kids apparently can get everything they need for school.  The way Marianela described it for me, I was expecting Diagon Alley.  If you don’t get that reference, please call me immediately because your life is not yet complete.  I was a little concerned at first because of the name since it sounds kinda shady.  Should I be worried that I won’t be able to leave?  No, no.  It’s just a really really skinny street, and that’s why they call it that.  A few pictures of it:

We capped off the afternoon with a visit to Café Coca-Cola for pineapple batidos (smoothies/milkshakes).  It’s said to be the oldest café in Panamá (the city), established in 1875, and has had famous visitors like Che Guevara.  Back in the day, only men were allowed, as it was a place where they discussed politics and sports.  As we sat and talked, I kept catching Marianela eyeing a group of old men in the corner.  She told us that they were doing just that – talking sports and politics, just like in the old days.  She surprised us, however, by saying that the sport they were discussing was not futbol, but rather baseball!  Apparently Panamanians are really good at baseball.

 

Anything having to do with Coca-Cola down here is special for me and for my family because my Great Uncle Bill Solms, my favorite for several reasons, one of which was because he reminded me so much of his brother, my grandfather, who passed away when I was 7, was the President of Coke for Latin America (family – correct me if I’m getting this wrong) for several years several decades ago.  He and his family lived in Mexico City, and I enjoyed speaking Spanish with him when I visited with him and his wife.

Yesterday, Mom, Dad, and I went to Casco Viejo (the old city – was run down, but now everyone is investing a lot in it and it’s become really cool and beautiful and hip – if the kids use that word anymore).

 

 

The highlight was when my folks discovered an artist who said he had been painting watercolors out there for 40 years.  They liked his work and we talked to him for a while about it, about his life, and about which paintings were his favorites.  He was super cute and we had a great time talking to him.  I translated a bit, but my mom also speaks some Spanish, so she enjoyed talking to him as well.  The guy played all the games, proclaimed that it was his birthday and he had to go home soon to have his traditional chicken and rice, said he’d give us a special price, told us that our favorite was his favorite too…he’s done this before.  But he was good at it.  At the end of it, he went from $45 + $35 +$35 for three paintings to a total of $50 for all three.  In hindsight, I’m sure we could’ve done better, but I was just playing translator.  My folks were happy, the guy was happy…no harm done.

The best part was when Mom asked him to write his name on the back of one of them for her.  He wrote it and then wrote the date…but had to verify the date with us.  It was then that we began to question whether it really was his birthday…

Dad wanted a photo with him:

Today, Eric went with them on a tour of Lake Gatún – a lake in the middle of the Canal.  They kayaked and fed grapes to monkeys and saw big ships.  Same tour that Katie did – mostly due to Katie’s recommendation and because she was kind enough to show my parents her photos when Katie watched Addie for a weekend last month.  A guest blog posting from my parents might be forthcoming with some of those photos.  At the very least, I’ll have a photo of Eric holding a very very tiny crocodile.  It’s hilarious.