October 11, 2000
David, Panama

“Are you married? Do you have any kids? Do you like to dance?” This is how the line of questioning usually begins. Eyes light up at the favorable responses. “Do you want a companion to travel with you? Can I go to Arizona with you? I want to have your green-eyed babies!”, is the eventual progression.

One such encounter started during a needed haircut, led to a friendly manicure and pedicure, then continued with an invitation to cerveza and salsa! (Dancing, that is.)
A female Nicaraguan friend now living in San Francisco warned me that the local Latinas would do anything to get their hooks into me and that I had better watch out!

Poor innocent me?? Oh no, far from it. Cross-Cultural-Flirting-R-Me! A sly shy smile and just enough Spanish to be dangerous. I love the attention. I’ve felt the hooks sinking in… and I liked it! 

But wait! I’m on a mission! Tierra del Fuego or Bust! A postal or even an E-mail address will have to do for now… and perhaps if the hooks are in deep enough, I’ll still feel them when I reach lands’ end.

October 10, 2000

I was cruising the Pan-American Highway south of David, Panama and I noticed a small sign announcing a point of archaeological interest, the Nancito Petroglyphs. The sign was small and poorly placed, such that by the time I realized what it was I was already past the turnoff. I decided to turn around and check it out even though the sign gave me the impression it would be less than a major monument. My hunch was dead on.

Three kilometers into the hills I found the tiny town of Nancito. It took all of thirty seconds to tour the entire town twice. No petroglyphs. Upon inquiry I was directed to a local home. I was greeted by Abraham.

A larger than life, delightfully animated character with a magnificent mustache. The mustache was salt and pepper blonde and was just as dramatic as his personality. I was soon to find out all about his grandiose plans for his little town and the collection of boulders on its outskirts. He was the perfect pitchman for his pet petroglyph project.

There may be some significance the curious carvings, but as yet, it seems serious scientific study has not occurred. The pre-Columbian carvings have a Keith Haring kind of flare, simple yet lively. They are scattered about on some Volkswagen Beetle sized boulders, in a saddle between two hills.

The guides’ presentation with his exuberant enthusiasm was an event in itself. His fanciful theories and explanations included people and religions from far and wide. Babylonians. Phoenicians. Hebrews. He called in connections to the bible, astronomy and ology! “After all” he exclaimed, “Panama is THE center of the World!” Come on, Abe, you’re close to the equator, and a bridge between continents, but the center… Ok, who am I to judge? Aren’t we all the center of our own universe?

He invited me back to his home to regale me with more of his theories and plans. A national park, a visitor’s center and hotel. He wants to write a book to put Nancito on the map. He asked if I would take the pictures and be the co-author. I counseled him to perhaps start with a brochure and a better roadsign.

He brought out a reference book and compared the Sphinx to one of the Nancito carvings, assuring me that the same people were responsible for both. I like to think I have and open mind and an active imagination, but Abe, babe, it’s a stretch at best.

Back there between some of the boulders, I spied something that fueled my own personal theory to explain the glyphs. A small toadstool growing out of a deteriorating cowpie!! My experiences in the Yucatan Peninsula years ago taught me that it was no ordinary mushroom. The carvings just may be the work of some pre-Columbian ancestor of Keith Haring munching magic mushrooms and getting crazy with a chisel.

October 9, 2000
City of David, Panama

I have only seen a small part of the country so far but I have a lot of photos and a few thoughts to share.

Americanization

American influence was instantly obvious upon crossing the border. The roads and traffic control are superb by Central American standards. Gas is sold by the gallon and by the dollar for a change back to the familiar.

Still gotta buy it, whatever the currency or quantity. The Balboa of Panama is interchangeable with the dollar and their coins are different but the sizes are identical to ours. 

Food and Such
 
I went to a finer restaurant in David, the third largest city, and was amused by their display of Sara Lee and Budweiser. Texaco, Mickey D’s and Pricesmart (Left my card at home!) lend even more familiarity.

There’s a huge cybercafe with online phone service to the states for almost nothing.

From street vendors you can get Pipas Frias and fresh cold coconut milk right out of the real container. Not to mention Jugo de Cana, freshly milled sugar cane juice (looks like pond water) with a squeeze of lime (looks like an orange). The acid cuts the sweetness just a bit to make for a very refreshing beverage. Ahhhh!

Native Panamanians

Unbeknownst to most Americans, there are many indigenous tribes in Panama. This area is home to the Guaymi (why-me) tribe. Their plight in some ways is similar to that of the Native Americans.
There are reserves set aside for them although many live outside of the reservations. They don’t seem to mix well in the latino society. Poverty and alcoholism seem to be prevalent.

The Guaymi women are known for their flowing colorful dresses and some of the men engage in a kind of tooth filing ritual. I plan to visit a reserve very soon and will likely have more comments and photos.