Reviewing Panama as it relates to Costa Rica nowadays is a little like doing a case study on apples and babaganoush. Should I be primarily discouraged that they have no similarities at all? Am I supposed to state the fact that both can be placed in a bag? You can hold both in your hand? Do their vague similarities even merit an article or must they be explained totally separately so no one gets any wrong ideas?

When Pete Carril was coaching men’s basketball at Princeton University, I was growing up there and it wasn’t unusual for me to see him around town drinking coffee or reading the newspaper. Because Princeton University did not award sports scholarships, the teams were never able to recruit the best talent and were, more or less, tied to the imagination of their coach. Carril, by all looks and appearances, was not someone whose imagination you’d want to be tied to. He was crabby, old, and balding: a man who, most of the time, actually looked like he was about to cry.

Standing at the base of the Chagres, I see some Embera tribal women washing clothes in the river. Something agitates a nearby tree and a flock of 100 gorgeous yellow Tanagers suddenly takes off across the water. Two young kids play around in a little waterfall: one jumps off a rock into the water. I don’t have a tour guide to explain anything to me. And although no one’s really doing anything of interest, it’s interesting to me as an outsider. It’s interesting because everyone acts like they’re living unwatched. That and I have zero idea what might happen next.

From the humble setting of Maria Chefa’s dining room table, Dan Britt and his girlfriend Reagan Merril, two vacationing Manhattanites eating at this – a fantastically untouristy lunch spot in Panama City’s historic district – may not realize it or not, but they are part of an emerging group of geotourists: a relatively new industry term for travel that focuses on a destination’s unique culture and authenticity value.

My childhood friend Adam lives in Manhattan and occupies a lucrative job placing executives who are looking for work. I say lucrative because, on paper, he makes more than ten people my age in Panama combined. He enjoys this disparity when he visits Central America, buying dollar beers and $0.25 hotdogs from vendors in the street. I imagine it's like going to the plate after shedding a batting donut: this sudden sensation of power and might.

The Republic of Panama is offering 25% Off everything from hotels to restaurants to tours to car rentals. The Panama offer applies only to tourists and is an attempt by the country's tourism board to attract recession-time visitors to the isthmus. The contact website and description outlined below are applicable to tourists from any country.

Under-promise and over-deliver. It's a customer service motto I first learned working as a waiter at a famous seafood chain in Baltimore, Maryland. The restaurant was frequented by tourists, the occasional old couple, and a large contingent of local hoodlums that wanted to show their girls a classy night on the town. My boss, an overweight man who went by the name Jimbo, revealed this slogan as the secret behind his personal success. "You don't get them there promotions," he said, pointing to the badges affixed next to his employee plaque, "without knowing a thing or two about customer service. Under-promise and over-deliver. That's all I'm gonna tell ya's." I wanted to point out some ketchup on his lapel - it had fallen as he tried to gobble up a handful of waffle fries.