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The 1000 Polleras festival is a who's who of Panamanian culture, art, and tradition. One day each year, Calle 50 becomes the main stage for a celebration that might resemble Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade after sniffing one too many whip cream canisters.

There was a string of yellow caution tape but no one cared so we ducked under and walked out into the street where giant float-sized trucks carried princess-looking women waving at me with that universally-robotic wave that pretty girls atop moving objects do so well. Having essentially walked into the parade, we became quickly surrounded by celebratory shrieks of native Embera Indians: could this be some sort of ritual involving the sacrifice of a gringo? In this situation, I did what any nervous-for-his-life tourist would do: I bought a grilled sausage with peppers, onions, and home ground mustard.

But no, this was the annual 1000 Polleras festival in Panama City, organized by Panama's tourism institute IPAT. It is technically a celebration of folkloric tradition in Panama, but what first struck me was the variety of smoked meats that were available for just nickels. Sweet, juicy bits of jerked beef spiked on bamboo skewers and topped with a devilish inferno sauce, hot enough to knock over your osteoporosis-ailing grandmother in one fowl swoop.

It seems in Panama that children are taught how to dance before they're taught to walk. Because everywhere you looked, there was a little clan of children dancing in various folkloric styles as if they were possessed gnomes, prancing from one toe to the other the way you would expect in an enchanted forest just before you are granted your one wish.

“Tweedle dee and tweedle dum” they might say. “Which one of you wants to have some fun?” (Gnomes always talk in this corny sort of rhyme chatter.)

Their movements were succinct and well-rehearsed, their faces alive yet concentrated. I stepped on one by accident and he kicked me in the shin: I've been injured more so by a teenage orchid.

All of the provinces were represented in the parade, some more animated than others. The Bocas del Toro presentation for example consisted of this deep and pulsating drum line complimented by mischievous spirit-looking costumes dancing like Sean Paul and the Wu Tang Clan. The Nobe Bugle's lineup though, more resembled a memorial service with their dark face paint and somber expressions as though someone's cat had just been run over.

The people in the parade enjoyed posing for photos which translates into lots of bucket hat-wearing gringos snapping away on their Nikons and getting in the way of things: a practice that we, as a people, are very good at. But as a whole, the festival is a great show of what Panama is all about: a country rich with culture, pride, history and most importantly spicy smoked meats.

Comments (1)

Susana: ... Yes, we dance before we learn to walk. My sister and I were both at a time possesed gnomes.... Devilishly cute ones if I may say so. 1 May 30, 2007