Our last 24 hours in Panama City started with a trip to Panama Viejo in a death mobile. One of the tires had no air, there wasn't enough pickup to make it up a hill without being passed by an enormous water truck, and the driver may have been speeding but we wouldn't know for two reasons. First, the speedometer stayed on 5mph the whole time and second we got kind of dizzy with all the exhaust that was pouring in from the engine. Oh, and we shared the cab ride with another woman who needed a ride to the police station.
While I'm on the subject, let me take a minute to discuss Panamanian driving. First, there are about 7 traffic lights in the whole city (population of the metro area is about 1.3 million) and even those are largely ignored. If you want to turn onto a street you simply start edging yourself in until the traffic coming at you is forced to slow down and allow you to enter. Truth be told if DC drivers could learn to merge a little aggressively like that the traffic circles wouldn't be so miserable around here. A telltale sign of how frightening the streets are in Panama City is that we did not see a single biker in the city, even though the flat landscape and distances just out of walking range would seem to make it a perfect place for bikers. What really amazed me was how all of our cab drivers seemed to try to get where they were going making as many turns as humanly (but not humanely) possible, as if they enjoyed the rush of a near death experience. Or maybe it's because turning into one lane of speeding cross traffic is easier than crossing a street of two lanes. Though when our drivers did want to cross both lanes they simply edged into the first lane until the oncoming cars had to stop and wait for them, then repeated to cross to the other side. Then, in turn, they get pissed off and start honking three seconds later when another driver does the exact same thing to them. One thing to the credit of Panamanian taxi drivers is that even when they charge the tourist 'tax' (lord how we longed for a metered ride where we actually knew we were being charged the right amount) it was only a dollar or two more than they'd charge a local. Unlike in SE Asia where the rates could jump 500% (or more if you make the mistake of telling them you're staying in a real hotel). There are few buses to speak of, and they are almost exclusively modified chicken buses like the ones in Nicaragua. The only difference is they are newer (or at least less old) and decorated much more aggressively. The Nica drivers personalized their space with Jesus stickers and occasionally some bold paint colors on the sides. The Panamanians went all out with hyper detailed Looney Tunes graffiti and paintings of mostly naked ladies all up the grill and windshield of the bus (leaving a six inch horizontal stripe across the glass in order to see the merging taxis), as well as neon lights and shark fins on the roof.

Anyway. Luckily we made it to the old city, gasping for oxygen, but in one piece. The museum there was about 1/3 translated into English, enough for us to learn that there used to be a settlement there. Then the Spanish built it into a big capital. Then pirates looted it. Repeatedly. Then they moved. Now it is rocks. The end.
Outside of the museum is a trail that passes through some ruins on the way to a restored cathedral tower, but we were a bit delayed when the skies opened up and began dropping sheets of rain upon our heads. We hadn't seen rain this hard since...well, I suppose we've seen it a bunch of times this trip. But it was still really hard. After playing some cards(we always come prepared) in the Artisan Market o' Crap the rain let up enough for us to walk through the ruins and climb the tower. It was fine. Not the most impressive ruins we've ever seen, since we've spent more than our fair share of time surrounded by piles of rocks, but nicely done and well taken care of. After stuffing ourselves silly at another kosher place for dinner (the third Darna restaurant we've eaten at on this fine planet of ours) we got to bed early to wake up for another early morning jungle walk.
This time we headed to a closer park, the Metropolitan National Park within the city limits of Panama City but still a pristine rain forest. One minute you are driving through city streets and the next you are in the jungle. Walking through the thick jungle with cicadas and birds making a racket in the canopy is a good way to start a day, though the small prop planes landing in the nearby domestic airport sounded like helicopters flying overhead and gave me some bad flashbacks to 'nam. Some of the bird calls we were hearing in the trees were totally unique and interesting - I'll practice them on the plane so make sure you ask next time you see me. Reaching the top of the hill in the park we were greeted by toucans bouncing from tree to tree and about six Geoffrey's Tamarins, a tiny little primate about the size of a small cat. (Or about 2/3 of a Raya). We actually had much better luck today than in the more distant jungle yesterday, making us think maybe we should have spent the day yesterday at the beach, instead. Oh well. There's always next time.
After yet another restaurant lunch (though not as good as the others we've had) we killed time playing skeeball and air hockey in the mall, now we're waiting for the taxi to take us to the airport. <Sigh>. We liked our driver so much this morning that we asked him to pick us up at the jungle when we were ready to come home, then to come back later and take us to the airport. He was very friendly and chatty, though it was a bit over the top when he took out the pictures of his kids (while driving on the highway) to show us how proud he was of his older three children. Not the youngest though, all he told us about him was that he was short and fat. Oh, then he told us there are too many Columbians entering the country and the stores in the malls we passed were all owned by Jews and Muslims who took all the money. Nice guy, though.
Well, now we're home and ready to start planning our next trip. Any ideas?
P.S. - Our trip home featured an American teen tour (ugh) that surrounded us at our seats in the waiting area at the gate to form a circle and start sharing their end of trip emotions. Now I wouldn't have minded had they asked us to move over a bit to give them room to sit as a group, but was it nice to completely ignore us and pretend we didn't even exist? I don't think so. I hope they all get very mean teachers this year in school. On the plane we sat next to a college student with an IPad and the attention span of a flea. He watched a few minutes of a movie (one of the Bournes, which really took us back to Thailand), played a game, switched to reading Harry Potter, went back to the movie, played some Angry Birds, went to a different book, then switched to another game. All on his IPad, all before we even left the gate. Kids these days and their toys. Speaking of which, the sweet little munchkin in the seat behind us turned out to be stark raving mad, spending most of the flight screaming his adorable little face off and kicking the back of Adina's chair. Then he took out a DVD player or something and started this horrible kids program (lady, give that's why they give out headphones). Then, after deciding to kick Adina's chair a bit more he went back to his favorite game of screaming. It wasn't the "ouch, I'm hurt" scream, or the "my ears are popping and it scares me scream" or even the "I'm a little hungry and I could use a cracker" scream. It was the "I've got nothing better to do so let's make every one miserable" scream. Even his sister couldn't take it anymore and switched seats to get away from the little runt. I'm pretty sure this is the kid the book was based on. When the drink cart passed by for a second time I slipped a little Jack in his apple juice and it got better from there.