2 days in the waistland

48 hours in Panama City – the waistline of the Americas, connecting Central America to South America – to soak up the punishing humidity, tropical sunshine, juicy pineapple, aged abuelo rum, cosmopolitan coastline, and of course, Panama Canal.

A mere 5 hour flight away takes you to a chíc slice of paradise dotted with soaring skyscrapers and lush green vegetation, Panana Alto’s pre-colonial ruins and Casco Antiguo‘s cobblestone streets and cathedrals juxtaposing the metropolis’ stark modernity in the form of developing Trump towers, the stunning spiral Revolution spire, and 70s honeycomb-shaped architectural atrocities. The contrast certainly leaves an impression, even on the most seasoned of travelers.

The fish is fresh (try the corvina – sea bass – in creole sauce), the ceviche is divine, and the piña coladas are to die for. Paradise comes to mind when dining so finely, a spread set against a backdrop of fiery pacific sunsets, endless water, and coconut trees.

Just 20 km off of Panama City’s shores lie a charming and undeveloped island – Isla Taboga – that can be reached by ferry from the glamorous Causeway. The island is covered in magenta flowers and emerald trees but sadly littered with remnants of colonial vandalism past. But part of the island’s charm just is its unadulterated unassuming beauty. Fortunately (for now, anyway) it remains free from falling victim to what i call ‘resortism’ – resorting to prostituting its natural beauty to make way for luxurious resort digs, but unfortunately, resortism looks to be on the horizon.

In the meantime, 2,000 miles from pristine skyline, sweltering heat, and delectable rum-infused pineapple cocktails. I’m Panama dreaming…

panama dreaming

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