City Tours and Traveling Mishaps – From Panama to Medellin

“Stop worrying about the potholes in the road and celebrate the journey.” – Fitzhugh Mullan

For those of you aching for more blog posts, you’re in luck.  I’m covering a lot of ground in this one.

Enough Spanish for One Month

For my last Friday in Panama city I skipped my Spanish classes and played tourist for the day.  Don’t judge me.  I wasn’t just playing hookie because I didn’t want to go to class (which I didn’t).  I also didn’t plan my Panama City flight itinerary very well.  My arrival in Panama City was on a Sunday afternoon.  I then had class all week, and a flight out to Colombia on Saturday morning.  If I wanted to see the city sites I had to skip class.  Hear that??  I HAD TO SKIP CLASS.

Believe me, it was for the best.  On Thursday I told my instructors I wasn’t coming back and I mentally checked out midway through my four hour morning session.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  My mind couldn’t string a simple sentence together.  I couldn’t pronounce anything.  My tongue was getting tied up in the simplest of words.  By the time of my afternoon one hour ‘private session’  I wasn’t so cheerful.  Wisely, my afternoon instructor and I agreed the day before to hold our lesson on my hostel’s front patio across the street.  I supplied wine.  He supplied snacks.  It was a fair trade.  The younger instructors like to go off campus and I don’t mind.  It’s really good to get out of the building.

My afternoon instructor is Sergio.  He’s the kind of hipster that purposefully didn’t own a cell phone for several years and thinks credit cards are the end of society.  But he’s interesting, is adamant that I learn something, and is patient when I’m in a bad mood which has been a lot this week.  Even with the vino he’s still persistently trying to teach me the subjunctive.  On other days this has helped me learn. On this day, I can’t handle it.  I try a few things in futility, but I just can’t get the concept.  I really hate that feeling.  If I were him, I’d be frustrated with me but he doesn’t show it.  I tell him I’m having a cranky day.  He tells me that everyone goes through this and it’s common in learning another language.  I know that’s true, but it doesn’t make me feel any better.

So yeah, I skipped my last day of classes to be a tourist.  I went on Viator and I booked a city tour for foreigners. It was overpriced. It was touristy. Also it was in English.  For a few hours I spoke comfortably without feeling frustrated by my language skills or stressed about where I was going.  It was positively lovely.

Touring Panama City 

The tour was all Americans.  Two couples from Chicago who coincidentally didn’t know each other prior to the tour, and another solo traveler from New York.  Everyone but me had jobs and/or children to get back to after a week or two of vacation.  On the tour I was so emboldened by my ability to express ideas in words that other people understand that I was a Chatty Cathy all afternoon.  I find out about everyone’s careers, children’s names, dog’s names, countries they’ve visited, favorite sites in Panama.  Talking is SO MUCH FUN.

We explored the old city (Casco Viejo) by foot for the first part of the tour.  At long last….after nearly four weeks in Latin America….I step foot in a church.  We learn about the colonial history of Panama, the French and American efforts to build the canal, and it’s Independence from Colombia.  I see a whole bunch of old buildings.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The second part of the tour is the Panama Canal itself.  The tour guide calls ahead to make sure we’ll be there in time to see a ship pass through the locks.  The ‘old’ canal has three sets of locks, as beautifully demonstrated here in the Canal museum.  We visited the Mira Flores locks which are the closest to the Caribbean Sea.  These are part of the ‘old’ part of the Panama Canal which opened in 1914.

The canal was expanded in 2016 to include a new lane of traffic and lock system able to accommodate even larger ships. I know this because I read about it in the Panama Canal museum in the tourist center.  I even read it in Spanish.  The museum translated all of its information into both Spanish and English.  Cross my heart, I read it all in Spanish first and then read the English to make sure I understood the translation.  I didn’t always understand everything, but I understood more than I expected.  I even learned some new words.  And I enjoyed doing it.  At this point I was beyond giddy with my decision to be anywhere but in a Spanish classroom.

If you’ve ever wondered what it looks like to see a giant cargo ship go through the Panama Canal, here it is.

At the end of the tour I wander around Casco Viejo for a few more hours in the rain before making my way back to my hostel to pack up.  And that’s the end of my time in Panama.  It’s the end to four weeks of Spanish lessons.  I hiked a volcano and climbed some rocks.  I sat through a very long baseball game.  I drank a lot of wine and a moderate amount of beer.  And I got to see a giant ship squeeze through a man made engineering marvel.   It was fun while it lasted but I was ready for something new.  Peace out Panama.

Lost Luggage and Lovely Vistas in Colombia

I arrived in Medellin, Colombia, on Saturday.  I arrived on Saturday but my luggage did not arrive with me.  It got ‘misplaced’ along the way.  Surprisingly, this is the first time this has ever happened to me.  I have flown all over the US and the world. I’ve had flights where I barely made my connecting flight, but by some act of God my luggage made it without issue. And today my luck ran out.  On a one hour flight from Panama City to Medellin, my luggage did not make it.

I don’t have a lot of experience with this type of thing, but I’m confident it’s a universal feeling that airline employees don’t express enough concern about the situation.  They’re probably told to stay calm to give an impression that there’s no reason to panic.  But their lack of a sense of urgency makes me believe they don’t take it as seriously as I feel they should.

“Do you know where it is?” I asked the airline employees. I was peeved, but calm.  This happens all the time.  And these people didn’t lose my luggage, they’re trying to help me find it.

“It’s probably still Panama.”  Is the reply I got.

“Probably? What does that mean? You don’t know where it is?”

“It’s probably just on a different flight.”

I asked them about the barcode. I thought airlines scanned the barcode on the luggage tag so they always know where your luggage is located.  Isn’t that the WHOLE POINT OF THE BARCODE(?). Apparently the barcode is a useless, imaginary tool of whimsey and false hopes and dreams.

“Write down your information and we’ll call you. We’ll send it to the apartment where you’re staying. You’ll probably get it later today.”

This was one too many utterances of ‘probably’ for me.  “What if I don’t get it today? When do you think you’ll know where it is? What if you can’t find it?”

“I’m sure we’ll find it.”

“What if you can’t?”

“We will.”

I don’t think they understood my question. WHAT IF YOU CAN’T???

This is the one question airline employees will never answer.  They’re not sure what happened to your luggage, or when it will arrive. They’re not sure of where it is right now.  But they’re absolutely sure you’ll get it back.

I had no power or control in this situation.  So I leave my information, take a picture of my luggage tag, and a copy of a form with my name on it for lost luggage.  I’m annoyed but surprisingly calm (but I refuse to admit that I’m calm because they were calm).  I have my passport, wallet, computer, and phone with me.  All is not lost.

I find a driver to bring me into the city. Any frustration I’m feeling doesn’t last long because, well, Medellin is mother f*ing beautiful (hopefully my family appreciates that I finally bleeped a swear word in here).  Like gorgeous. As we drive into the city, we’re surrounded by plush green mountains.  There are tall buildings and houses are built on  steep cliffsides overlooking the city below.  We drive down a winding road through greenery, and flowers, and people walking horses on the side of the road.  I feel like I’m in an animated children’s movie, driving into a fairytale wonderland.  It’s my first day here and I’m already wondering why I’m leaving so soon in 10 days. Can’t I become some kind of princess and live here forever?

I check into my Airbnb and aside from the tiny detail about having no clothes, toiletries, or other belongings, all is good. I’m renting a room in an apartment in the safe but touristy area of El Poblado.  The room is clean and nice.  The apartment is on the 11th floor with a view.

After a few hours of radio silence from the airline after multiple messages, I get more unsure of what to do.  At what point should I buy a change of clothes and toiletries?  I call my brother who’s always good about listening to me complain about something.  He tells me to buy a toothbrush, soap, and clean underwear, but wait on everything else. This seems like sound advice. I use this as a an opportunity to explore my surroundings and head out to the streets of Medellin.

First Night in Colombia

The Airbnb host gives me some directions and I head out towards the closest grocery store to pick up a few personal hygiene essentials.  But it’s early in the night, and I have nothing else to do so I keep walking.  The area is surprisingly cleaner than most US cities. And well…nice.  Nicer than my neighborhood in DC, that’s for sure.  There are dozens of swanky bars and restaurants nearby.  I know I’m in the touristy part of town, but I still didn’t expect this.

Eventually I came across one of the most confusing but nicest malls I’ve ever visited. At first I thought it’s a fancy strip mall; but I turned down a hallway and found myself in a weird high-end shopping maze.  It was partially enclosed, and partially outdoors.  I followed the sound of music playing and found a full stage and band playing next to a store selling housewares.  To add to the confusion, there’s a car park right in the middle of the mall.  Periodically I looked up to see a car driving through what I thought was a straightforward walkway in front of a coffee shop.  And I guess it’s ok to bring your unleashed dog to the mall in Colombia (?).

The unleashed dogs and cars driving down the hallway all feel very out of place because everything (and everyone) looks incredibly exclusive and expensive.  Except for me.  I look like unshowered plane trash.

I eventually pick up my essentials as well a reasonably priced shirt just in case my luggage doesn’t arrive anytime soon.  When I get back to my Airbnb it’s after 9pm and there’s a message from the airline saying my luggage is on a flight arriving in Medellin at 11pm. I should have it by morning.  This was yet another bold faced lie but I was just happy to know that someone knew where it was located.

When my luggage eventually comes, it’s not in the morning, or by 1pm as the airline told me after a half a dozen follow-up WhatsApp messages.  It showed up at 4pm the next day.  I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I cried a little when it finally arrived. I didn’t expect that to happen.  I was getting mentally prepared in the event it did not show up.  But I was frustrated from waiting for it all day and feeling like a slob. Also I had started to mentally inventory the things in the bag. While things are always replaceable, I had realized what a pain and stress it would be to buy all new clothes and travel needs if it didn’t come.

So yeah, I got a little teary. Traveling can be stressful, and it’s emotional to think you may have lost all your stuff.  Even if it’s not super nice stuff.

City Touring It Part 2: Medellin

With my belongings in my possession and clean clothes on my back, I was finally ready to be a tourist.  And what better way to start than with one of those free city walking tours. This is one of my favorite things to do on the first day of any new city, and Medellin has a really well ranked one called Real City Tours. Even after tipping these tours are cheap, help you get your bearings, and can be a great way to meet other travelers.  And at this point I was starting to miss hanging out with other people.  Therefore I distinctly went into this tour with the goal of making a new friend. Someone WILL hang out with me after the tour. I’m going to get someone’s What’sApp information and eat a meal with another human being. These are my goals.

As I arrived at the metro station to meet the tour, I had to remember to calm down my friend making tendencies.  Anyone who’s single and has been to a bar with me knows I can be a real assertive wing woman.  Here on this city tour I was acting as my own friend-making wing woman.  I didn’t want to come across as too weirdly desperate or aggressive.  People don’t like that.

The tour was mostly couples talking amongst themselves and a few older travelers.  I chat for a minute with an older duo in line with me, but they end up being split up into a different tour group.  Eventually I spot another single woman traveler, looking about my age.  I walk over and strike up a conversation.  I meet Antonia who is from Germany, and is traveling around South America for several months by herself.

Jackpot. Antonia doesn’t know it yet, but she’s my new friend.

The city tour itself was fantastic. The tour company’s selling point is that it tells the whole history of Medellin, not just the tourist friendly happy side.  The guides will also talk about the dark past and violence in the city.

The really famous thing Medellin is unfortunately known for is Pablo Escobar. The drug kingpin is sometimes portrayed as a robin hood because he gave houses and money to the poor. The context from a native Colombian who lived through those times, however, is quite different.  While some people choose to recognize Escobar’s acts of ‘generosity’, others see these acts as simply buying public support so people will turn a blind eye to his many other crimes. Escobar helped make Medellin one of the most violent and dangerous cities in the world for a period of time in the 80’s and 90’s.  While giving away houses, he was simultaneously torturing and killing people.  Tour guides won’t state his name in public and recommend that tourists don’t either.  For obvious reasons, Colombians can have a strong reaction to his name.

Beyond the painful history, Medellin has undergone an amazing transformation.  I know I keep saying it, but it’s so beautiful here.  Not to mention the city has great museums, a super clean and reliable metro system, lovely park space, and impressive public works of art.  Most people are also incredibly friendly.  I’ve had plenty of moments where I can’t figure out the train’s card system or which way to turn on a street.  It takes all of 10 seconds for a Colombian to notice my confusion, stop what they’re doing, and politely and patiently try to help.  The other day an old man tried to carry my bag while I stood on the train.  In other cities I would think he’s trying to steal from me.  But in Medellin, this was legit old fashioned curtesy.

It’s taken me a minute to get used to this helpfulness. I’ve since had many native Colombians explain that the friendliness is just as much due to their violent past as despite it.  It’s a city and a people that have faced tough times, but they’ve persevered.  The people pride themselves on positivity and their ability to keep looking forward instead of backward.  And that also means looking out for one another and helping out when you can.

   

 

 

 

 

By the end of the tour I made Antonia give me her What’sApp info and we talked about meeting up for some other city touring later in the week. She has other plans after the tour, so I move on to Plan B to accomplish my meal eating goal. Plan B involves a new level of friend making which borders on stalking but I call being outgoing. I linger around at the end of the tour, waiting to see what people leave together and where they go. Then I pick a group, follow them, and if they duck into a bar or restaurant I catch up and ask to join them.  I’m telling you, as long as you don’t come across as too creepy, this shit works.

I pick a group of four people leaving together who are heading towards a bar the tour guide just recommended.  Bingo. The group included one couple, and two single travelers.  All of them are French, meaning they probably left together so they could enjoy a conversation in their native language. Or that was before I invited myself to the party.

We chat for awhile over a beer and then everyone decides to part ways to make other tourist stops.  A solo traveler named Lorenzo asks if anyone wants to get some lunch.  Luckily for Lorenzo, he just walked right into my friend trap. I WOULD LOVE TO EAT SOMETHING RIGHT NOW.  Lorenzo and I find a restaurant with a balcony near a church nearby and settle in for a traditional Colombian meal called Bandeja Paisa, which consists of beans, rice, a plantain, a fried egg, and a giant plate of meat. Check box on goal #2.  I’m eating with another human.

Lorenzo is originally from France, but has lived in the UK, and now in Peru. Interestingly enough, he used to work in banking, but similar to myself he quit after about 10 years in the industry to travel and experience something else in life. That was 3 years ago. Since then he’s been mostly based in Peru.  He doesn’t have a visa, but leaves the country every 90 days to get his passport re-stamped. He does some consulting work for an NGO which pays the bills.  People are so interesting.

We finish our lunch, pay the bill, and part ways for different tourist activities. I head to a café for a coffee (and maybe…..an ice cream too) and a rest.  I’m worn out after 6 hours of a walking tour and successful friend making. But I also feel pretty proud of myself. I found a new friend to meet up with later in the week, ate a meal with another person, and learned a lot about the history of Colombia and Medellin in the meantime. As toursting goes, that’s a successful day.