| Welcome to the Jungle: Panama Tourism |
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| Written by Matt Landau | |
| Wednesday, October 24 2007 | |
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Upon first finding out I was moving to Panama, many friends
and relatives, having no idea what or where exactly Panama was, took to using
exaggeration as a remedy for their bewilderment. "So do they have running water
where you're going?" one of them asked. "Will you live on, like, a dirt floor
with pigs and cows running in and out?" This was back a few years ago when Panama was still just a spec on a map and the booms were just beginning. People knew the country for one, sometimes two things: the Canal and that guy Noriega who everyone knew was bad, but no one knew quite why. As typical Americans, my peers suffered from acute cases of geographic retardation, unable even to identify the Caribbean Sea without asking, "OK, give me a hint. Where is Cancun?" Ask them to point out Antonio Banderas in a crowd, easy. Ask them to point out Panama on a map, good luck. It always amazed me, an American's inability to understand the world outside of our little bubble and when I started packing for Panama, my skeptics realized I wasn't kidding and rushed to my side the way a mother might her child before going to war or a snow blizzard. "Take these malaria pills" they'd fret. "We don't want you to catch anything down there in the jungle." It was funny, I thought, how everyone was under the impression I was moving to the jungle, a place of mystery and danger and disease, when in reality my new lifestyle was far safer and more rewarding than anything I've come across at home. When I arrived in Panama and started sending home pictures of tall skyscrapers, fancy restaurants, and magnificent shopping malls, the obvious reaction was that I had secretly escaped to somewhere in the United States. I envisioned my friends combing through photos mercilessly to find just one piece of evidence as proof I had not left the country-a sign for the New Jersey Turnpike or a landmark building or a high-flying American flag. They sent emails and text messages suggesting I come over for parties or sporting events, as if to tempt me out of hiding. Like if I was actually hiding somewhere in rural Maryland, I would give up the grand hoax for a case of Bud Light and a Ravens game! They quickly became impressed with Panama's spas and hotels and beaches, to such an extent that many came down to experience it for themselves. And as the news and media slowly started to pick up Panama feeds, my once-foolish decision to move down here transformed into something progressive and revolutionary and trend-setting. Those same family friends who once made fun of the fact that I probably didn't even have electricity in my house were now asking me for investment advice on Trump Tower. And the ones who made fun of having no running water suddenly were interested in taking long jacuzzi's overlooking the ocean. How hypocritical! Panama's changing every day, and it seems that soon enough, everyone'll know and the secret will be out. The people who got to Costa Rica before its prime know this phenomenon all too well as the days of $0.25 beers and rampant disobedience to the law soon become obsolete. The hidden beaches and whimsical local fish shacks will become dotted with more and more people who, back a few years ago, only thought of this place as a jungle. But hopefully it'll be good for this country and its people, who'll welcome tourists to the jungle with open arms. |
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| Last Updated ( Sunday, October 21 2007 ) |
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