First Oregon, leaving Oregon, and feeling weird about leaving, again, the place where I´ve always been happiest. I remember Liz describing the sadness she felt when she drove accross the Oregon border last. You leave because you have to go off and do these things, but in your heart you´re already scheming to get back. The Paul Theroux quote- travel is just the intrepid person´s journey back home. Salmon.
On the other hand, what an incredible feat to extract oneself from job, apartment, ways of life!This was an incredible rush, a celebration with friends and family and co-workers. And to get going felt great- the train pounding South through California, past a LA and on to New Mexico. I didn´t realize it at the time, but New Mexico was probably the beginning of my travel in Latin America- the first city settled by the Spanish and built as such. It was a later colony, established in 1706, then passed to Mexico and finally the US. But it has all the trappings of a Latin American capital- the old town, with a church and plaza and market. This was foreshadowing for the next few weeks.
Texas was wonderful, more than I realized at the time. To see old friends is a rare and precious thing. I want to remember this, as time goes on and the people I know move along- friendship is so rich and there are few things more important than holding on to it. I would trade all the pesos and brochetas and museos de arte moderno in South America for a few good friends in Medellin.
From Texas, the transition to Mexico. And quite the transition it was- I felt it as I crossed the border at Nuevo Laredo and language and currency and culture changed. It happened gradually at first- Monterrey feels a little bit like Texas South. It´s industrial and developed and the part of it still on the Lat Am grid is very small compared to the roads and trucks and factories and smog that give their particular taste to that city.
Oh, but Mexico City, what a gem! "24 horas en mi largo periplo"- My experience in that city was as manic as the city itself. I awoke, raced around on the metro from one museum to another, then crashed with Patricia. The next night I was off again. There is so much consolation in the fact that Mexico and I will stay close. Oaxaca and Juchitan had plenty of charm as well. I didn´t make it near the Yucatan peninsula- so much left.
What I did see in Mexico I loved. It starts with Mexico City- the scale of metropolis and neighborhoods and the metro system that makes it all work. The trains are cheap and run on time. They stretch across the city so that much of it is accessible. As far as I can tell, metro trains are the mark of a working, happy, healthy city- they replace the networks of roads that make cities unwalkable, and they prevent the culture of individual car travel- the loneliest experience in the world- as well as the culture of combis and cobradores and grifos and vulcanizadores- all the things that make Lima so unbearable. It´s a treat that Portland, even a small city, has the max.
The metro, and then the Arts. I had fallen in love with the muralists years ago- I will admit that I do love art with political and pragmatic purpose. Maybe I forgot, or seeing the murals out of context, in New Hampshire, they just seemed dumb. All this fuss about these men and their walls and Frida is the only real artist there. Then to see the Zocalo painting next to the Zocalo, and the Palacio del gobierno, the murals made so much sense in context. Diego Rivera to used his paint and walls to reclaim Mexican history, to retell stories whose narrative had been first written by the Spanish. One hundred years after Mexico´s independence, and a century of dictatorship and oligarchy, it was striking to see the masses of people, the faces of people who had been subjugated by church and industry. And then to know that very little of this has changed- that all those people on the metro are more or less racing around in this colonial hangover. So... Mexico.
I have little to add about Guatemala, El Salvador, Honduras, Nicaragua. They were sacrificed on the alter of Africa.
Costa Rica, woah. To be perfectly honest, the country´s charms did not fit my own particular tastes in terms of travel. It´s an excellent place for a gringo to run around- lots of people speak English and culturally it´s just not so different. Combining this ease of travel with the natural attractions- the beaches, jungle canopies and coffee mountains- and it´s understandable why so many people from the States and Canada and Europe want to visit.
Costa Rica also has a donkey island feel- drugs are decriminalized and prostitution is legal. I consider myself to be very socially liberal and these are ideas that I advocate for at home. The reality is different than the thought experiment- what it means is that many people earn their living by providing drugs or sex work. Costa Rica seems to run on tourism, and the cities and towns where tourists go having booming distribution networks for both vices. My brain says: there´s a market for this stuff and it´s better that it happens safely and legally. My heart says: it´s just not good for so many kids to spend their time selling weed to gringos, and for so many men and woman to view their bodies as an economic resource. I worry that this changes the way that Costa Ricans relate to each other, fundamentally. If sex is monetized, how much is it worth to find a partner, or to do anything without money, for that matter?
The other beef between my and Costa Rica has to do with my paisa´s relationship with it, and with Latin America in general. The Spanish came and conquered and slept around and eventually their kids declared independence from the crown. It was brutal, destroyed cultures and left Latin America to constantly search for its own identity and systems and ways of life. Gringos, somehow, are even worse. They come to check it out- do some snorkling, eat a casado, practice a little Spanish. Within a few days of arriving, it seems like everyone talks about buying land in Costa Rica. It´s never good enough just to visit, or pass through. It´s about owning it. Such a simple human function- there is this thing that I like, and now I must work to own it. The only claim that my paisas have on anything in Costa Rica is a stronger curreny and access to credit. But when you set foot in Latin America, this makes you god. You buy your beach and build your dream home. For what reason I can never tell- it seems like the loneliest life, to live alone on the beach in a country rampant with drugs and prostitution.
Costa Rica has its charm, and I was blessed with a wonderful place to stay and another old friend. Jaco was a mess but I adored the small town of Cahuita on the Carribean coast- the pounding waves and reggae and the national park. In the end, I suppose I enjoyed my time there. Like all things at places, it is what it is, amirite?
Finally, Panama. I had relished the chance to get to know Panama- the country that inspired the greatest palindrome, where masses of men carved through an entire country, where my mother lived and worked thirty years ago. I spent a couple days in the Bocas del Toro islands before travelling to Panama City and the canal.
Panama feels South American, unlike Costa Rica. Unlike Costa Rica, the culture is not homogenous, and there are still some hints of an indigenous past. Unlike Mexico, where a strong, independent culture has emerged, there´s still plenty of hangover from the Spanish and its awkard meeting point with the campo and people who have not totally assimilated. It felt good to me that my frame of reference for Panama, as it would be for Colombia certainly, was Peru, and not Mexico.
That said, Panama City has built itself in Miami´s image. Or vice versa. I´ll have to get some of my video up from PC. It´s a beautiful city- tall white towers bound on either side by leftover colonial buildings. People with money built upward and left the older architecture to poorer folks. Basically the opposite of Cartagena. This makes for some incredible neighborhoods, where shanties surround the oldest parts of the city, and the more recent colonial center is run down sketchy. But very, very cool. I started thinking, maybe I could get my hands on one of these buildings...
The canal, the part of it that you can see from Miraflores, is boring. A boat comes into the locks, sinks a few feet, and then continues on. I´m not sure what I was expecting- it´s a such a massive project, and idea, that I thought maybe the earth would open up somehow and boats would glide through via magic. Instead, it´s concrete and water. Looking at the map and the canal, the wonder is contained in the idea itself. Who thought of this? Whose idea was it to split these continents in two in the name of economic advantage? Who believed it could be done, and then had the audacity to do it? I´ll tell you who: a man, a plan, a canal, Panama!
I liked Bastimentos and David and Panama City and didn´t really want to leave. I worried over my departure- months ago, when this whole plan was hatched, I did some research on how to get by the Darien Gap. This is the stretch of land between Colombia and Panama with no roads. It remains undeveloped and several small tribes still live there. As it´s only 50 kilometers (of swamp and death) some people have crossed it successfully. That was not going to be me with my backback and Huck Finn and headphones listening to Paul Simon. I then hoped to catch the boat through the San Blas archipelago- a week´s trip through 100s of islands that would deposit me in Cartagena. I would have had to wait at least 10 days to do this, and that would have kept me out of Peru for Carnaval. Finally, I bought a plane ticket and made my way to South America proper.
And here I am, almost four weeks into the trip. So far, so good. I am healthy, happy and on budget. There have been many highlights and a few bummers. The trip goes on. After Colombia, I will race to Peru and it will be so good to see the families and friends I know there.
I don't really get the video you uploaded, but I do agree on your commentary about Costa Rica, spot on.
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