Living in Panama

My Living in Panama summary:

Visited: 2013-16, 2017-20

Duration of travelling: 45 days (total travelling: 60 days)

Duration of living: 2,040 days

Capital city: Ciudad de Panama

Living in Panama blog reading time: 10 minutes

• Panama City became my second home in 2013.
• Crossing the Panama Canal on a sailing boat.
• Visiting paradisiac San Blas Islands and experiencing Kuna culture.
• Encountering enormous leatherback turtles in Armila.
• Political expedition along the Rio Calovebora.
• Trip to Darien Gap to reach remote Emberá communities.

I visited Panama on various occasions for pleasure and business. The first time, in 1997, it was part of my American Big Tour, which stretched from New York to Buenos Aires over 15 months.

In 2013, our family decided to establish a permanent residence in Panama. Over the next seven years, I got to know the country well beyond the Panama Canal and the luxury of the capital’s upscale districts. It was not only about exciting places to visit, interesting things to do, and attractions, but also about understanding the lifestyle and mentality of Panamanians and many expats living there.

In this article I describe the following topics of my Living in Panama experience: definition of juegavivo, surprises and challenges of living in Panama, crossing the Panama Canal, budget trip to Darien, Emberá community near Sambú River, navigating Rio Calovebora.

More articles about my Panama travel adventures are available here:

When I first visited Panama in 1997, I never imagined it would become my second home. Meeting a young architect on a business trip to Bocas del Toro proved to be the turning point in my relationship with the country.

Years later, she became my lifelong partner, and Panama the place where I spend most of my time outside my homeland.

I soon realized there is a notable difference between traveling in Panama, visiting for business, and actually living there.

Upon relocating permanently to Panama City in 2013, I thought I already understood Latin America, as an experienced backpacker, businessman, and former resident of Ecuador.

How wrong I was!

Panama challenged me repeatedly, reshaped my views on climate and communication, and offered me high-society access and financial growth opportunities.

Panama is a great country to live, if you have money. To educate children, access proper medical care, and live safely with Western standards, I need more resources than in Europe.

A capitalist system creates a form of natural selection no written rule can match, starting with education. Public education is not good, so parents aim for private schools, if they can afford it.

More exclusive schools offer stronger networks, better education, and access to top universities in Panama or abroad. Better education leads to better jobs and higher income, completing the cycle.

Of course, there are exceptions, but a large part of our destiny is shaped by education or connections.

My working habits are highly professional: I am punctual, provide strong customer support, and treat suppliers with respect. I worked in South America for many years before settling in Panama, where I encountered some of the highest levels of excuses, unethical behavior, opportunism, and lack of professionalism.

Juegavivo is a magic word that defines many Panamanians – take advantage of the situation, even if it is unethical.

Combined with high corruption levels, it is striking how prosperous Panama looks from the outside. It offers money-making opportunities, mainly in capital-intensive sectors.

While living in Panama, San Blas Islands became one of my favorite destinations. Once the road from Panama City to Cartí was paved, the islands became reachable in about 3 hours by car plus 30 minutes by boat.

I visited San Blas many times, from Isla Perro Chico to Los Cayos Holandeses. Although visitor numbers have increased significantly, San Blas remains a paradise during the week.

I first visited the Panama Canal in the Miraflores area back in 1997, and this remarkable engineering landmark continues to captivate me. I have observed the Panama Canal numerous times while driving across the Puente de las Américas, strolling along Amador, or passing by in my car.

Additionally, I have navigated its full length from the Pacific Ocean to the Atlantic Ocean on two distinct occasions.

The first time was on a tourist boat with a guide explaining the canal’s construction, history, and operation. I received an instructive perspective on this engineering marvel.

The second crossing was even more exciting, when I was invited by Jasmin Causevic, a Slovenian adventurer, to cross the Panama Canal on his sailing boat. The journey took a full day from Colón in the Atlantic to Balboa in the Pacific. I cooked for the crew and Canal employees, who guided us through the restricted area.

In the late afternoon, when the last locks at Miraflores opened, the boat engine caught fire and stopped working. We were lucky to be towed by a friendly sailor to Balboa Yacht Club. Later, we laughed and shared impressions of the unbelievable highlight of crossing the canal and nearly setting it on fire.

In 2009, I made the decision to escape the chaos of the capital city and venture into the jungles of Darien. I packed a couple of t-shirts, underwear, shorts and swimming suit, put 200USD in my wallet and took a Diablo Rojo bus to Meteti in Darien province, where I quickly connected with mini bus to Puerto Quimba. It was already late in the afternoon, but still on time to catch the last boat to La Palma, only accessible by sea.

Drastically losing population, La Palma remains the main trading center for its sparsely populated region. I walked along its modest main street, lined with small shops, hotels, restaurants, and bars, to find the only guesthouse. The room was simple, and the fish for dinner was good. As one of the few gringos passing through, I attracted considerable attention.

“Why are you here, gringo? What is your plan?” an elderly man asked, curious about what had brought me to the mouth of the Tuira River.

“I have no fixed plan. Just to visit the area, observe local life, and stop in some of the smaller villages nearby.”

I knew that La Palma is a jumping off point for visits to the Punta Patiño Nature Reserve and Emberá villages along Río Sambú, but there is no consistent public transport in the area.

“I can help you my friend. There is a pickup truck leaving tomorrow morning to Sambú,” my new friend offered.

An opportunity I couldn’t resist.

“Sure, I am in.”

It was a tough ride on an unpredictable jungle road. I held tightly to the metal bars at the back of a pickup truck, traveling with a mixed group of locals and people from Panama City visiting their families. From Puerto Indio, I continued upstream on the Sambú River in a motorized canoe, unsure of my exact destination.

“Don’t worry, you will reach an Emberá community in Emberá-Wounaan Comarca. They will provide you food and accommodation,” one of my new friends assured.

In the final leg of our expedition, we walked through the jungle for about 30 minutes.

The small Emberá village had seen few foreign visitors, and the children were eager to interact with me.

I was offered a small bungalow, food and warm welcome. The kids invited me for a swim in a nearby river, where I spent the rest of the day.

The Emberá people settled in the Darién Province in the 17^th century. Their life is strongly dependent on the river. They practice shamanism, and survive through fishing and agriculture, living in wooden houses raised on stilts to avoid flooding.

I visited remote upstream villages, received a temporary tattoo, and relaxed in the chief’s hammock house for three days.

Jagua tattoo is a temporary skin decoration made from the fruit extract of Genipa Americana. Used in South America for centuries for body art and medicine, its dark blue-black pigment lasts 10 to 12 days before gradually disappearing.

After a week of exploring Darién Province, I flew back to Panama City from the overgrown Sambú airport. It was an incredible journey filled with unexpected treasures, friendly people, and amazing nature.

Santa Fe is a small town in Veraguas Province, where the paved road in 2010 ended. During a day visit I learned that reaching the Caribbean coast from there requires a 4WD through the rainforest and navigation the Río Calovébora.

I exchanged contacts with Manuel, a local farmer, who said he’d call when the next Caribbean expedition was ready.

He called me two months later:

“In three days, a delegation from Santa Fe will travel to Playa Calovebora. You can join if you like. Just pay for transport, bring water and some cookies!”

After some thoughts, still surprised, I confirmed my participation.

The mayor of Santa Fe, Señor Gustavo, a support team of seven people, and I were ready for a journey expected to last four to five days. Although the rainy season of 2010 was ending, the pickup truck’s massive tires showed the road was still in poor condition.

We needed two hours to complete the first half of the 40-kilometer route to Río Calovébora. After a short break, the driver attached tire chains to the rear wheels.

“From here on, the road is really bad!”

Ups! I thought that the road so far had been bad.

We needed five hours to cover the final 20 kilometers. On several sections, passengers walked beside the track, because riding on the truck was too dangerous.

Steep slopes were flooded, and the soft mud was up to a meter deep. This section is impassable during the rainy season.

We reached the first settlement in the evening, exhausted and hungry. A small indigenous community welcomed us into the local church, where mattresses were waiting for us. The shower was cold, but refreshing. After a hearty dinner, we prepared for the next day and laughed late into the night about our first day’s adventure.

From here we traveled along the Calovebora River in two motorboats.

At first the river was calm and easy to navigate, but the rapids grew stronger. At the most dangerous section, we had to continue on foot through the jungle while the boatmen navigated alone. We stopped in several villages for meals and lodging, where we were always warmly welcomed. Conversations with locals focused on politics, promises, and future infrastructure investments.

On Day 4, we arrived to Playa Calovebora, where the river meets the Caribbean Sea. The local landowner and mayor invited us to dinner, slaughtered a cow, and served drinks.

The sea was too rough for boats to leave and that the nearest road connection was too far. Unable to return by river or continue by sea, I stayed in the village for several days. I enjoyed the estuary and swimming with local kids between. By then, I was one of the very few foreigners who had visited the area.

On Day 7, the boatman knocked on my door early to say we would depart soon. The sea was not ideal, but the village was running out of supplies, so he decided to leave for Vista Hermosa with passengers and bring goods back on the return trip.

It was a long journey on the rough sea. Huge waves struck our boat from all sides, while sunshine and rain kept shifting my mood.

I was uncomfortable but glad to get a ride back home. After six hours, we arrived to Vista Hermosa.

The return to civilization was marked by cars, canteens, paved roads, and loud music. A Diablo Rojo bus took me to Colón with reggaeton playing and wind blowing through the windows. I called my family to announce I was safe and back in the modern world.

Living in Panama allowed me to visit some remote places in a different way. The main goal was not just sightseeing or visiting interesting places, but mainly understanding everyday life and exploring very remote areas.

Since my first visit of Panama in 1997, the country has changed a lot. Constant economic growth, and lack of investment in public infrastructure increased the country’s wealth, but at the same time decreased the quality of life of their inhabitants.

Tremendous traffic jams are extending commuting time to work, schools or activities. High prices of real estates, lack of accessible apartments in the city and expensive + inefficient services, have positioned Panama as the most expensive country in the region.

If the first two decades of the 21^st century were about economic growth, Panama may face difficult years when the canal stops producing “golden eggs” due to climate change. This could happen sooner than expected.