1972
Thanks-giving in Panama
I
was stationed in Panama in November of 1972. The guys in the barracks
didn’t want to spend Thanks-giving thinking about home so we
decided to take a road-trip.
We'd spent months by the ocean in the sweltering heat at Fort Sherman, which
was situated on a small sandy finger of land situated between the Atlantic Ocean
and the Bay of Colon.
Most days were slightly less humid than a glass of water and we needed a break.
You can only take so much of a tropical paradise
Someone said, "You know, in the highlands near David, Panama, there are square
trees." That was enough to send us on a mission.
We all hopped the train and rocked our way to Panama City, which was on the Pacific
Coast of Panama. We pooled our money, rented an old Ford Galaxie and hit
the road.
We’d been driving several hours, gradually climbing above sea level when
we saw a roadhouse that served food, so we decided to grab a bite.
The place had a large outside dining area that doubled as a dance hall. The area
was illuminated with Christmas lights.
A band was playing an odd mix of salsa and meringue with a touch of reggae. The
waitresses couldn't speak a word of English and we couldn't speak much Spanish,
but we managed to order up some chicken and some kind of bread/biscuit/roll things.
We listened to the music and had a few Panamanian drinks.
We decided it was unwise to drive after dark so we slept in, and on the car.
My friends Dave, Doug and I took the hood and laid there watching the stars on
a moonless night. Panama is only a few degrees above the equator and from
that vantage point, without competition from city lights, the night sky was stunning.
We talked late into the night and continued our journey at daybreak.
The road was as crooked as a river and we silently soaked in the scenery. The
trees got somewhat taller and we saw sloths, raccoons, and a ton other critters
that we couldn't name.
We spent Thanksgiving bumming around the town of David (pronounced Dah-vid) taking
in the sights and keeping an eye out for square trees.
My buddy Dave stopped a “policia” on a big ol' Harley Davidson motorcycle
to ask about the square trees. None of us knew how to say square or trees in
Spanish so we used hand signals to get the message across but it was no use.
I guess the policeman thought we needed a bathroom because he pointed us towards
an outdoors toilet. I know it probably doesn't sound funny now, but we laughed
until we cried.
We couldn’t find any turkey and dressing, but we did find some kind of
meat on a stick that was actually a lot better than we expected. We asked the
guy what it was, but the language barrier made understanding impossible. We
all agreed that it was probably better not knowing.
On Friday, we headed back toward Panama City to catch the last train back across
the isthmus to Fort Sherman.
It’s a Thanksgiving that stands out in my mind even after all these years.
That trip was like so many road trips you take in life. You set out with
goals and expectations. You are looking for one thing but you find something
quite different.
We never did get to see the square trees, but we saw some remarkable things.
It was a fun a diversion that kept us from sitting in the barracks and spending
our Thanksgiving pining for home. |