| Jogging in Panama, Against the Grain |
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| Written by Matt Landau | |
| Friday, November 09 2007 | |
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As Americans we are known for a number of embarrassing
things, among them being loud, fat, and terribly unpleasant when it comes to ordering
a steak. But there do exist some US
customs that, while perfectly ordinary in nature, still tend to mystify locals
in Panama.
Panama was never really a predetermined decision for me, but rather the type of thing I just kind of stumbled upon. Some expats make the conscious decision to leave the US, angrily whining about taxes or the rise of foolish lawsuits, but for me, checking out the isthmus was actually an accident. I had intended to go to Panama City, Florida. While not eager to live like a king by any means, I did set high expectations for myself and my new pet gecko I would plan to call Carl. I envisioned doing all the things I did at home in the States with Carl, but bigger and better in Panama. I would cook gourmet on lazy Sunday afternoons like at home, but instead of four courses, I would explore the realm of the ten-line amuse bouche. This culantro leaf, I'd tell my guests. I picked it fresh in the rainforest last night. As opposed to drinking beers in happy hours with friends at home, I would extend the Panama version into happy days in an attempt to turn the art of relaxation into a pastime. It was also part of the new me to start doing things I had been too lazy to do at home. Not unlike making New Years resolutions, I set out to concentrate on praiseworthy habits like writing and reading and making my bed; things that a proper adult was meant to uphold. But just like the week following New Years, I'd eventually slouch back into my normally lethargic routine. What New Years resolutions I'd ask. I don't know what you're talking about. One facet of the new me was to maintain my health and while I don't consider myself to be terribly fit, nor really absorbed in the idea of exercise, I figured a daily jog was easy enough to work into my schedule. Jogging in Panama was a great idea for me I figured, because unlike swimming or biking, I'd get to see new things without the possibility of drowning or getting wounded. I started to prepare my iPod every morning and load it with a special playlist depending on my mood. The concept of listening to awful American music while jogging in Panama amused me; most notably the contrast of Jimmy Buffet in my ear while passing a man selling baby tropical toucans. These sorts of delicious disparities I had anticipated. What I wasn't expecting were the bizarre looks I'd soon get from the people of Panama City who gazed at me running the way you might a seal in the grocery aisle as if to say what the hell do you think you're doing here? I soon came to find out that very few people jog the urban streets of Panama City and I still haven't found a good reason why. Perhaps it's because there are so many other picturesque spots here to run; take for example the palm tree-studded lanes of the Amador Causeway or the misty jungle paths of Metropolitan Rainforest Park. Maybe it's because of the hazardous way people drive-running the chance that if you go for a jog you may get thumped by a diablo. Maybe it's the depressing heat...who knows. But after a couple of days of repeating my morning jog, I saw myself acclimating and getting over the intimidation of it all. I started to imagine what the locals, who'd never seen urban joggers before, might think of an athletic guy like me and his Nike shox shoes. I even pictured families gathered over the dinner table, arguing about what the hell I was doing. He gringo have to go somewhere very fast, one member of the family might say. Yes, why all gringo always run everywhere? At this point, the youngest of the family would chime in, being the foremost authority on American culture. Maybe he gringo have to go to bathroom or something maybe. Weeks would pass and I'd soon discharge my fitness resolutions as emphatically as I took them on in the first place. But there was nothing like those few weeks, being one of the only people jogging in downtown Panama City, and the remarkable reactions that brought about. During that time, every morning brought about new sketches in my mind, new ideas. People would watch me and wonder...and that was a wonderful thing. Were I to be awarded an honorary medal from the Panamanian authorities for excellence in fitness, it wouldn't please me half as much as knowing I was recognized by locals as the funny gringo always running places. And to me, that's what being an expat in Panama is all about. |
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