The taxi driver from the airport to town says that I'm looking like a Panameño. A few days later, a black guy shouts at me: Hey Gringo. Needless to say, the perception of the two doesn't exactly match my own and I'm glad I possess such a firm Swiss identity that I feel only slightly disturbed by the rather strange perception of these two men ...
.Panama-City @ Hans Durrer
On my first day in Panama City, I do quite some of the things I almost never do at home. I take taxis, go to shopping centers, and eat at McDonalds …
Breakfast starts at 7, I'm told by the receptionist of my hotel. When I arrive at 8, the restaurant is full. It takes 45 minutes until I'm finally served. The next day I'm already there at 10 past 7, the restaurant is almost empty and I feel confident that I will be served shortly. However, my confidence is severely shattered when, a few minutes later, I learn that breakfast cannot be served because the kitchen personnel hasn't arrived yet. I do not feel tempted to ask when they might show up. 45 minutes later, I'm told that I can now place my order for the kitchen personnel has finally arrived. From then on it only takes another 30 minutes before the scrambled eggs sit in front of me ...
On my first day in Panama City, I do quite some of the things I almost never do at home. I take taxis, go to shopping centers, and eat at McDonalds …
Breakfast starts at 7, I'm told by the receptionist of my hotel. When I arrive at 8, the restaurant is full. It takes 45 minutes until I'm finally served. The next day I'm already there at 10 past 7, the restaurant is almost empty and I feel confident that I will be served shortly. However, my confidence is severely shattered when, a few minutes later, I learn that breakfast cannot be served because the kitchen personnel hasn't arrived yet. I do not feel tempted to ask when they might show up. 45 minutes later, I'm told that I can now place my order for the kitchen personnel has finally arrived. From then on it only takes another 30 minutes before the scrambled eggs sit in front of me ...
I want to buy a ticket to David, a 7 to 8 hour bus ride, for the next day but that isn't possible, you have to buy the ticket on the very same day. Politics, says the taxi driver. In what way? I ask. People here can't think in advance, they always complained that they were not informed and that the bus had already left. I don't have a clue what he is talking about but fact is I can't buy the ticket in advance
On the way back to the hotel, I spot a row of taxis in front of an apartment block. A lot of taxi drivers live here, explains my taxista. Do you have to be a taxi driver in order to live here? I inquire. No, no, I'm told, they simply like it here.
Panama-City @ Hans Durrer
Taxi drivers know everything, don't they? I'm teasing mine who clearly feels pleased and, in order to prove it, starts elaborating at length on the origins of his surname ... a few minutes into his speech I have forgotten how he is called ...
The young woman on the bus to David says that she is visiting her mom who happens to Iive near Santiago. Looks like a jungle to me, I comment on the forest where she is about to get off. I'm like Tarzan, she smiles. Probably more like Jane, I think to myself.
In a restaurant in Santiago: Eso es piña, explains the waiter while focussing on the water melon on the breakfast buffet. I look and wonder but say nothing. He repeats what he has just said, his eyes on the water melon. I still do not say anything. Now he says, eso es sandia. I fill my plate and ask: no hay piña? He doesn't answer, goes to the kitchen and, five minutes later, puts a plate of pineapple in front of me.
Taxi drivers know everything, don't they? I'm teasing mine who clearly feels pleased and, in order to prove it, starts elaborating at length on the origins of his surname ... a few minutes into his speech I have forgotten how he is called ...
The young woman on the bus to David says that she is visiting her mom who happens to Iive near Santiago. Looks like a jungle to me, I comment on the forest where she is about to get off. I'm like Tarzan, she smiles. Probably more like Jane, I think to myself.
In a restaurant in Santiago: Eso es piña, explains the waiter while focussing on the water melon on the breakfast buffet. I look and wonder but say nothing. He repeats what he has just said, his eyes on the water melon. I still do not say anything. Now he says, eso es sandia. I fill my plate and ask: no hay piña? He doesn't answer, goes to the kitchen and, five minutes later, puts a plate of pineapple in front of me.
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