Saturday morning we took a taxi from the port into Balboa where we went to a bank so Paula could get cash from an ATM, but the first one she tried wasn’t working for some reason. Then we went to the post office to buy stamps and mail postcards. Nancy asked the postal clerk where we could go to buy an envelope, which I needed to send some grandchildren birthday gifts. We were directed to a shop that was in a nearby shopping center. What the clerk didn’t say (or didn’t know) was that the place was closed on Saturdays! So we walked there then walked back to the PO so the clerk could weigh what I wanted to mail and I could buy stamps for it and then affix them after I bought an envelope.
When I plopped down the gifts (wrapped in clear plastic), the clerk put it on the scale to weigh it and then walked into a back room and brought out a large manila envelope for me to mail it in (!). It seems that they don’t sell envelopes but they have envelopes for the use of people who need them. Anyway, I paid for and then affixed the stamps and the clerk took it to mail it.
Next, we walked up the street to another bank, where Paula successfully used the ATM and then I bravely decided to try my card in the machine. I hadn’t used it in an ATM for over two years (the time I was in the UAE) and wasn’t sure it would work but it did! I was very happy about that. Then we crossed a couple of streets to a large, beautiful building that used to be the YMCA when the area was part of the Canal Zone and the US Army was in charge. Now it has several artisan handicraft shops, an Internet Café and various other businesses. Unfortunately the Internet Café would be closed on Sunday, when I would have time to use it. However, we went to the artisan shops, of course, and spent quite a lot of time there and each of us made purchases.
Then we decided to catch a taxi into town since there didn’t seem to be anyplace in Balboa that sold newspapers or magazines, or at least none were open. While Nancy was flagging down a taxi and negotiating with the driver, I took a picture of the unique monument in the square next to us.
Memorial honoring a former President of Panama 7148
The taxi took us into town, to one of the hotels I’d found, via the Internet the day before, had newsstands. We went inside and learned that it had just closed for lunch but we didn’t see any English language newspapers or magazines. We went outside and walked to another hotel, whose newsstand was open but carried nothing in English. Then we looked at offerings of a corner news vendor, but he had only trashy type newspapers. Then back to the first hotel and found the newsstand open but learned for sure that it had nothing in English. We tried a couple of more hotels, to no avail, and then found ourselves close to Gran Morrison, a department store that supposedly carried magazines. There, to my relief, were many magazines in English, including several suitable for an academic library, which I bought, along with a special edition of National Geographic in Spanish. Finally, after trying several different stores, we went to a pharmacy that had some decent local newspapers in Spanish, which I bought copies of.
After our success at Gran Morrison and before starting the newspaper quest, however, we went across the street to a mall which had a food court and, near it, a real Caribbean restaurant that had about five small tables in it and a handwritten menu. We each ordered a different dish. I ordered something I’d never heard of (what’s the use of eating the same old thing when you have the chance to try something new?). It turned out to be meatballs but they were good, with different flavorings than are common in the US.
When we’d finished our entire quest, we took a taxi to Albrook Mall, where we went our separate ways and did a bit of shopping and I got a haircut which was long, long, long overdue. Then we met up at the place where the TSS shuttle would pick us up and rode it back to the ship.
Sunday
My goal on Sunday was to take a taxi to the site of the new Panama City Temple of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, to see it and take pictures, and also to attend church. I’d seen from the river on TSS’s way to Panama City that a chapel was close to the temple and since the Church website listed one of the city’s 12+ churches on the same street as the temple, thought I might be able to attend church there. I say might because the first weekend in October is always the Church’s semi-annual Worldwide General Conference, broadcast by satellite from Church headquarters in Salt Lake City. On that weekend, only church meetinghouses with satellite dishes hold meetings.
The meetings would begin at 10:00, according to the website – if they would be held there – so I got off the ship at about 9:30 to get a taxi. Taxis always hung out just past the little store at the terminal, so I walked over there and there were no taxis. The little store was just opening so I asked the man there about taxis. He said “not here on Sunday:” when I asked, he said taxis would be in town. I was debating what to do next when more TSSers came off the ship and stood around waiting for the shuttle to Albrook Mall. I showed the shuttle driver the full-page color photo of the temple Nikki had taken and the address and asked how much it would cost to take a taxi there. He said $25 from the terminal or $5 from Albrook Mall. Needless to say, I decided to take the shuttle for free to the mall and then catch a taxi to the temple.
I had printed out a full-page color photo Nikki had taken of the temple and had written the name of the street – there are no addresses in Panama City. When I got to the mall, I flagged down a taxi, showed the driver the photo and the street name. He said no, so I waited for another taxi, did the same thing and got a positive response. We negotiated a price of $5, I got in and we took off. He talked a mile a minute in Spanish. He had almost no English and my little Spanish only went so far, but he was cheerful and had a lot to say.
After we’d gone a way, the driver flagged over another taxi driver, who stopped in the road next to our taxi, blocking the road. My driver asked the other one how to get to the temple! I’d suspected my driver didn’t really know. It turned out we were close, just go about a block to the light, turn right onto the road, then drive along it until we find the temple. We turn right and see a guard on right side of the road so my driver stopped and asked him for further directions; He said it was just up the road on the left and warned us that there were guards there.
We drove a bit further along the winding road and there it was, on the crest of a hill. There was indeed a Guard shack at the side of the entrance, the driveway gates were closed but person gate beside it was open and there was no one around. The driver got out, poked his head into the guard shack and saw no one, then started looking around and calling out, “Bueno!” their form of greeting. He kept calling and looking but no one appeared.
He gestured to the open gate so I got out of the taxi and we went into the grounds. I was taking photos as we walked up the steep, winding driveway. There was a church on the right and the large, lovely temple on the left. Both were under construction so I realized there was no chance of attending church there. Behind both was a long, two-story structure which will probably be temple housing for short-term out-of town temple attendees and possibly also church offices.
Just as I was taking a picture of the housing unit, two guards came from that direction, they seemed simply to materialize, and one of them was carrying a military-type rifle, which really shocked me. The one with the rifle looked really angry and started yelling at the taxi driver – I got the idea that we shouldn’t have come inside, and I recognized the word Policia, spoken several times - and demanded to see the driver’s id. Then the guard called the police and told us we couldn’t leave and had to wait for the police to come. For lack of anything better to do, I start walking down the hill toward the taxi and everyone else did, too. I was hoping the driver and I would reach the open gate first and make a break for it, but when we got near it, the non-rifle-carrying guard, who hadn’t said a word and didn’t even look angry, got ahead of us and closed the gate. They had no English; I have no Spanish and they were ignoring me anyway. In fact, I seemed to be irrelevant to the entire situation. One thing I am quite sure of is that the guard with the rifle was NOT a member of the Church. The other one might have been and most likely their boss was.
All the while we waited by the gate I was standing off to the side nearer the temple in a bit of shade, totally ignored, and looking up at the temple, while the words to our Church’s children’s song, “I Love to See the Temple,” ran through my mind. I wonder what would have happened if I’d started singing it out loud? I felt calm and peaceful in spite of the potential of the situation (held in a Panamanian jail and never seeing the outside world again?) and felt privileged to have the opportunity to see it close up.
Finally the police (two of them) arrived and were calm and pleasant, and another car with the chief of the guards, who was very conciliatory, the non-rifle guard was totally non-committal, the armed one was still furious, explaining angrily what had happened. The police filled out some papers, asked for the taxi driver’s ID and wrote it down. The police asked me (finally, someone was asking for my input!) if the gate had been open when we came. I said the car gate had been closed but the small gate was open. That seemed to defuse the situation. The chief guard told me in limited English that the “pastor” of the church did not want pictures taken from inside the gate. I offered to erase the ones I’d taken and he said it was not necessary. Then the taxi driver and I were allowed to go outside the gate. The taxi driver started talking to the police, showed them an id (again?) and one wrote down something on his paper.
Instead of getting into the taxi, I walked along the sidewalk in front of the temple and took more pictures, since it was allowed. The taxi came driving up beside me and when I’d finished, I got in and asked him to take me to an Internet Café, so we took off back toward town. That was unsuccessful however; he started off enthusiastically but then confessed that he didn’t understand what an Internet café is and I couldn’t tell him where one was. As we went through a particular part of town, he started warning me in the strongest terms against going there. It is dangerous, thieves, guns; stay away! Once in town, he made a turn onto L Calle (L Street) and two police were standing on the street, one on each side; stopping cars. The one near us gestured the driver to stop and asked for his ID. The driver got out to talk to officer and after a few minutes got back in the taxi and started chattering in non-stop Spanish again as he drove off.
Something he said caused me to start listening closely to what he was saying because he had also said it after the previous incident with the police, namely “no problem” and “I am police.” I suddenly wondered if he was actually meaning he was police, so I asked him and he said yes so I asked to see his ID. He laughed and pulled it out and handed it to me. Sure enough, it showed him wearing a police uniform! He IS the police. No wonder we got off so readily at the temple. I started laughing and couldn’t stop. Finally I asked him why he was driving a taxi if he was the police and he said something that took to mean he drives taxi in is time off.
We eventually saw an Internet Café that was open, others we’d seen were closed on Sundays. I said, “Uno momento,” and dashed inside to ask about their connectivity but was told it was slow, so decided to give up that quest, hopped back in the taxi and told him to take me back to Albrook Mall since I could get a free shuttle ride to the ship from there. The whole trip/adventure with the taxi driver had taken two hours so I gave him his $5 and a $20 tip for his time and my cultural experience and felt it was worth it.
Later, back at the ship, I started feeling very guilty about the photos I’d taken inside the gates since the Church officials didn’t want any taken there, so I deleted them and my conscience was much relieved. Some of the photos I took outside the gates are included here, since everyone who reads this is probably wondering what triggered all that happened. Please note that the temple is under construction. When it is completed I am sure the exterior will be entirely white.
View from gap in fence; note construction area on right side 7161
View through fence, 6164
Close-up of the temple’s sign 7165
Closer-up view of spire and Angel Moroni (no, we don’t worship Moroni, we worship Jesus Christ – note the full name of the Church in the sign above) 7167
In a recent email to my daughter, I wrote, “You won’t believe some of the experiences I had in Panama City. I don’t even believe them. The experience at the temple and what followed are some of those unbelievable experiences.
This is a good place to end my Panama City tales because a few hours after I returned to the ship from this adventure, we sailed for Ecuador.
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