emeraldcity

By the time I’d crossed the room and turned off the alarm, I was fully awake and starting to rehearse the emotions I expected when I made it to the pier. Not much chance of going back to sleep once I started doing that, so I alternately worked on my embroidery and a Suduko puzzle while I waited for a more reasonable hour to take my shower.

By 6 a.m. the folks in the next room were up and clearly in a very happy mood. Maybe they were going to be cruising, too. In any event, I figured I wouldn’t be disturbing anyone now if I took my shower. Chalk up another plus for the Toscana Inn – the showers boasted outstanding water pressure. I couldn’t help but wonder what we could expect in that department once we got on ship.

It was uncharacteristically easy to get my DD motivated to face the day. She was just as excited as I was to get to the ship. We went down for the hotel breakfast that was included with our room cost, but I wasn’t overly impressed. It was clearly a meal designed to appeal to Latin people and we ended up settling for fruit and toast. We were surprised to hear a number of people speaking French at breakfast. We would find out shortly before leaving the hotel that a group of several dozen Europeans was touring Central America by bus and they had stayed the night at our hotel. They were headed for Costa Rica and Nicaragua.

After breakfast, we packed up and checked out of the hotel about 8:20. The bellman took charge of our luggage and we settled into the lounge area to await our ride. In a sharp departure of what one can normally expect in Panama, Miguel arrived promptly at 8:30. With the help of the bellman, our luggage was soon loaded into his van and we headed off to see the Canal Locks. As we rolled through town, we found the traffic to be especially light. I would guess that was due to the fact that it was Easter Sunday morning. We heard plenty of tales concerning frequent traffic snarls, so I doubt that our experience on that front was typical. As we headed out of town Miguel told us something of his background. He had left the country and gone to America when he was a young man, escaping the oppressive regime that was in place at the time. When he eventually returned to Panama he discovered that his country was thriving. He expressed a great deal of appreciation for the helping hand that Panama has gotten for so many years from the United States. He commented repeatedly about how much he loves his country and how much he values the democratic changes that have taken place since his youth.

We passed the community that was originally built by the Americans as a base from which to work on the Pacific side of the canal construction. We also saw the air field that was used, and that clearly wasn’t something that had received any American defense dollars in over 80 years.

We passed over a bridge with a view of the dam that is used to release water from the lake when the levels get too high. When we entered the parking lot for the Miraflores Locks there were only about 5 cars there. We crossed to the stairway and began to climb to the admissions booth just as the first of many buses pulled into the lot. We had to wait about 10 minutes before the tellers opened and collected our $10 for admission. This got us into the viewing area for the locks (I believe it would have been an additional $3 each to see the museum as well) and we climbed the stairs to get to the viewing platform. Our early arrival allowed us to grab a spot right along the railing, so our pictures didn’t end up with lots of heads of the people in front of us. There was a ship just entering lock #1 and another ship leaving lock #2. We stood and watched while the mule trains guided the huge ship in expertly and then the massive gates were closed. Having read a good bit about the Panama Canal before the trip, I was intrigued to see that they were only using one set of gates. In the original design plan, they had allowed for two sets of gates to close off each segment of the locks. This would prevent the water flowing unchecked from the massive lake if there should be a failure of one set of gates. Perhaps the engineers no longer deem that a potential issue.

52 million gallons of water began to flow from one lock to the other and we watched the water fall in lock #2, while the ship slowly rose in lock #1. There are no pumps involved in the process; the locks are filled by gravity alone. The massive amount of water released into the ocean each day from this round-the-clock operation is staggering. Lake Gatun handles the demand easily in this country where the rainy season lasts for 8 months. In fact, they have to open the spillway at the dam from time to time to take additional water out of the lake.

Once the levels were identical, a warning alarm sounded and three workers scurried across the narrow top of the gate doors to reach the other side of the locks. Then the gates slowly opened. While all this was going on there was a narration in Spanish, followed by English that advised those on the observation deck about the specifics of the process. I turned to look back at the bleachers and was stunned to find them full. The walkway between the bleachers and the railing was jammed with people as well. I’m not sure if that is normal or if it was due to the number of visitors who may have come here on Spring Break. Miguel directed our attention to the top of the building where a new observation deck was under construction to give future visitors a better experience when they visited the locks. In any event, the gates soon were fully opened and the mule trains moved forward, guiding the ship into the next lock. As it slid past the announcer encouraged the crowd to give the Spanish equivalent of a “Hip-Hip-Hooray!” We were clueless the first time, but DD quickly figured out what was going on. So when they gave it a second go-round, we joined in. The crew of the Omega Prince waved an acknowledgement and we waved back.

We turned and stepped back from the railing, and our previous position was quickly claimed by someone else. Miguel was just behind us, letting us make the call concerning when we were ready to go. We retraced our steps, easing through the crowd that now filled the stairwell and the level below the observation deck. Returning to the parking lot, we found that it was now a sea of cars and buses.

We climbed back into the car and headed for Colon. There were a series of local roads until we reached the expressway and then we picked up speed. Miguel told us with pride how his country is capitalizing on the revenue generated by the canal to fuel progress. He advised that they collect an estimated $5 million each day in tolls and they expect the new set of locks currently under construction for larger ships to greatly increase that figure. Currently 8% of the ships on the seas are too big for the canal. Those ships handle their current shipping needs by off-loading containers at one of the Panamanian ports and then sending the containers by rail to the other side, where they are loaded on a different ship. I commented on the impressive skyscrapers and he told us that they don’t build any of them until they have sold the space. They first design the building and then use models and virtual tours of building space to market it. Once fully sold, they the building is built. As soon as it is completed, the new tenants promptly move in and it is 100% occupied. I would hear a different story from a Panamanian who would sail with us on the 3-day cruise to Miami. He advised that a great number of buildings were uncompleted and construction had stopped, due to lost contracts or financing arrangements that collapsed mid construction. Somehow, between the two stories lies a gulf of uncertainty, and you have to wonder at the wisdom of committing funds to a building project that may collapse before it is complete.

We zipped along the relatively deserted expressway and I wondered again if everybody stays home on Easter Sunday (unless, of course, they are taking out-of-town guests to the Miraflores locks). There were rarely more than two or three other vehicles within view on any stretch of the road during the entire trip across the country. I would later hear that the locals would rather spend a considerable amount of additional time behind the wheel on local roads than have to pay what they considered the relatively high toll that was required to use the road.

At some point we crossed the continental divide, but it wasn’t marked. It really couldn’t have been quite as dramatic as when you make that kind of crossing in the United States. The mountains of Panama are soft-rolling affairs … more like green-shrouded hills, than mountains.

Eventually the land leveled out and we began to enter an area that was undoubtedly less affluent that much of Panama City. Miguel warned us that Colon was considered terribly unsafe and cautioned us to avoid venturing off the ship on our own. As we got closer to the center of town, the shabby nature of the town didn’t improve. I kept straining to get a view of the ship, but the buildings blocked any view of the port. There was a final stretch through a warehouse district and then we cleared the last building and there she was! I caught my breath. I wanted to say something like “there she is!”, but these days DD makes fun of my child-like excitement when I do something of that nature. What I view as an exercise in sharing the moment, she views as an instance of stating the obvious.

So I savored the moment and hoarded the memory for myself. It was an aft view of the Grandeur, towering over the low building that was handling the duties of the passenger terminal. There was our destination. We’d made it and now all that remained was the final formalities to get on board.

Security waved us through the gate without examining any paperwork and Miguel pulled up to the terminal. About 100-200 passengers were already queued up with their luggage along one wall and there were a number of porters in blue shirts wandering back and forth shouting and waving their arms. As a matter of fact, the overall number of porters was ridiculously high, given the small size of the ship (particularly since many passengers had boarded in Columbia and only a portion of the 975 cabins was changing hands that day). It was Easter Sunday morning, but it looked like their quality family time consisted of bringing all their brothers and cousins down to the dock to shake down the folks who would be boarding that day. Up until now, my impression of pushy porters always conjures up an image of the guys in Miami, but these guys were in a class all their own.

The car barely stopped and we had three of the porters pressing close to try to commandeer our luggage. Miguel asked us if we were OK without them since the luggage was on wheels and I said “yes”. So he waved them away, got us to the curb and walked back to get into his car and leave. We were immediately the target of plenty of incomprehensible Spanish as each porter began gesturing that we were to go either right or left. I wasn’t sure which way to go, but I was determined to not be misdirected. Miguel quickly reversed his direction and returned to us to challenge them in rapid fire Spanish. I ignored the exchange and searched the area for a Royal Caribbean employee. I finally spotted one and left DD with the luggage and Miguel. I approached her and noted, ”We’re suite guests. Where do we go to check in?” She led me to a counter and retrieved a clipboard. She asked my suite number and confirmed my information. Then she walked back to the vortex where the commotion continued unabated and asked me which pieces we wanted to check. I pointed out the biggest pieces and she marked an “F” on the tags and then told me to put them in the nearby empty luggage corral and then join the line of 6 people near the door who were luggage-free. The porter hovering at the luggage corral had his hand out and I gave him $2, which was nothing more than hush money.

DD and I then joined the short line and within 10 minutes we were let inside and directed to the priority check-in line. All the paperwork was in order and we were soon in possession of those nice impressive gold boarding cards. We paused long enough to get our boarding picture taken, as well as the picture for security and then we headed out the back to the ship. In a tradition that never fails to annoy her immensely, I made DD pause long enough to get a pre-boarding picture and then we headed up the gangway.

I handed my confirmation email to the lady at the desk, who possessed passable English and she began the check-in process. As I stood in the small, but tastefully decorated lobby I could feel the last vestiges of stress slipping away. All the connections had come off without a hitch. Now the only thing that separated us from the ship was about 22 hours and a ground transfer. I’d already found that it was an easy matter to procure alternate ground transportation in the event that My Friend Mario didn’t show up at 10:30 tomorrow morning. And frankly, I didn’t see why I should even bother to count on him.

We were graciously welcomed by the hotel staff. Check-in was smooth and we soon had our key cards. The young bellman smiled and deftly assembled our luggage as we headed for the elevators. I glanced back through the main doors out onto the street and spotted our taxi driver still out front chatting with the doorman. I experienced a flash-back to Hawaii where we were advised that we needed to appreciate “Island Time”. Rather than leaping into his cab to get back to the airport for another fare, the driver was casually enjoying a chance to chat with someone he had probably just met for the first time. I let go of that last little bit of travel anxiety and decided it was time to get laid back and relax.

The bellman got our luggage into the room and then showed us that we needed to slip a key card into a slot on the wall near the door in order for the power to come on in the room. I tried to tip him but he smiled and refused, then left us to get settled. This privately owned boutique hotel was turning out to be a delightful surprise. I’d picked it based on its number one standing on TripAdvisor and it was a very good call. It was a very nice room with all the expected amenities – upscale toiletries, safe, frig (and no mini-bar stocked with pricey up-sell add-ons, thank you very much), iron and ironing board, scale (I refuse to step on one of these until I get back to Ohio, at which point I’ll need to institute an austerity program), blow-dryer, flat screen TV. Additionally, the hotel possessed a small room off the lobby with two public computers that were available for guests to use for free. We got settled and then headed downstairs to have lunch in the café right off the lobby. Initially we punched the “1” button in the elevator, which let us off onto the elevator lobby of the first floor of rooms. So we got back on the elevator and hit the “PB” button. In our week-long search for a way to understand Spanish we never did discover what PB meant, but we simply announced “Plobby” every time we stepped into the elevator and it would get us to the right place.

The cafe turned out to be another delightful surprise. This under-used venue served us both a delicious lunch of grilled chicken and vegetables with mashed potatoes for $9.00 each. The chicken was moist and lightly seasoned, artfully arranged on the plate. Then to assure that the dishwasher had plenty to do, the main white plate was nesting on a larger gold plate. The waitress had to summon the desk clerk to interpret and she was terribly apologetic about it. We assured them both it was fine – after all, we were the ones who chose to come to a Spanish-speaking country without having bothered to learn the language ahead of time.

We returned to our room and discovered with some confusion that there was no slot to stick our key card into. We tried poking the card at all potential edges of the large metal frame that surrounded the door handle, but the slot just didn’t exist. We finally hunted down the housekeeper on the floor and asked for assistance. I’m not sure she spoke any English, but she figured out what our problem was as we waved the key card around. I’ll give her loads of credit that she managed to keep a straight face as she walked us back to the door and then tapped the card flat against the panel above the handle. The door unlocked and we sheepishly went inside. We finished checking out our room and discovered we still had an issue. Although we had both tugged strongly on the shower door we couldn’t get it to open. Rather than resort to climbing over the top, we figured we were going to have to consult the housekeeper again, so we asked her to come and clue us in. She didn’t say a word this time either; she just paused as we explained our plight and then reached forward and gave the door a gentle push. I truly understand her inability to stifle a smile this time and we are quite certain that she spent the evening regaling her family with tales of the inept American females who clearly don’t get out much. Let the record show that DD pressured me into being the clueless traveler who had to make the inquiry in the first place. I did make her pay for her cowardice when I later handed her the ice bucket and said that her penance was to go fill it. She avowed she would wander the halls until she found the ice machine on her own, because there was no way she was giving the housekeeper any new dirt on us. Alas, she returned empty-handed and crestfallen. A staff member had spotted her with the ice bucket and taken it from her. He told her he would take care of the matter and bring her the ice.

We had the good fortune to be on floor number 4, because the paintings in the hall were particularly striking. I didn’t check out every floor, but there had been that confusion that had landed us on the first floor where the hallway art was far less dramatic. The artist had made liberal use of bright primary colors to depict charming scenes about town and I stopped several times during our stay to study them. I don’t know if all the rooms also had the same kind of paintings, but there were two of them in our room as well.

I had arranged for a visit to the Miraflores Locks with Miguel Espino for the afternoon, so once we were settled into our room and the meal was over, I called him to confirm the arrangements. He advised that it was a “terrible day” to go and suggested going in the morning. I’m not sure if he referred to his personal schedule or the decidedly chancy weather we were having, but I was fine with the switch. I arranged to have him expand the tour to include the transfer to the ship after visiting the locks and we agreed he would come for us at 8:45 the following morning. He assured me he would arrive at least 15 minutes early.

This was a delightful turn of events, because this left us free to explore the near-by area. After being assured by our favorite desk clerk that it was safe to walk about the nearby streets we set off to discover the local area. All the signs of an emerging economy were there. Many of the sidewalks were patched and uneven, but a number of corners had been altered to provide wheelchair access to those wishing to cross the street. There were some nicely restored buildings right next to buildings that were abandoned and fenced off – suggesting they were very shortly slated for demolition. Many of the shops we passed were closed, which was likely due to the fact that this was late in the afternoon on the day before Easter. The clothes in the windows were so brightly colored that we wished we could wander through the shops to see them better. There were a few shops open, as well as a number of street vendors. The vendors were not the pushy kind, which made for a very pleasurable experience. Window shopping is an art form at which my DD and I pride ourselves on being among the most proficient. We can window shop for hours and simply admire the wares, without ever making a purchase. It’s really very similar to visiting an art museum without feeling like you need to tuck a Monet under your arm as you leave. You learn a great deal about an area by seeing what they have to offer in the shops. We did both make a purchase before we headed back to the hotel. DD found a charming little wooden puzzle box and I found a light airy top in beiges and browns that would help me endure some of the hot days we would encounter later in the cruise. For the record, it was about 85 in Panama City and a bit humid, but there was a nice breeze. I don’t handle extreme heat especially well, but I found Panama City to be quite comfortable that day.

We had been warned to expect a certain amount of attention in Latin countries from the male population. As advertised, by the time we returned to the hotel, the presence of a hovering mother didn’t dissuade the local men folk from expressing their approval of my DD. Or maybe all those horn honks and wolf whistles were for me!

When we returned to the room, we decided to kick back and relax. Out came my embroidery and DD settled down with her Nook, where she was well into the third Hunger Games book. As it started to get dark, we decided we weren’t all that hungry, so we chose to skip supper. I opted to go downstairs for ice cream instead. I got a large Strawberry Sunday for $1.25 (did I mention how reasonable the prices were in the café?). DD opted to hit our stash of smuggled snacks, which had the nice bonus of destroying the evidence in case the Customs folks decided to raid our hotel room that evening.

One of my objectives in a country is to try and collect a bit of local currency, but I didn’t think there was any point in attempting it in Panama, since they use the US Dollar. Imagine my surprise when I received a 2-dollar Panamanian Balboa in change. I’m still not sure why they also mint coins if they are using the U.S. Dollar for trade, but I was just happy to have gotten this marvelous prize while I was there.

Although only a couple of people at the hotel seemed to speak English, there were a few others that seemed to understand some of it as well. In any event, communication didn’t seem to be much of a barrier. They would apologize sweetly, “Sorry, no English” and I would apologize back “Sorry, no Spanish.” Then we’d share a smile at our mutual deficiencies. And in that attitude of graciousness our lives were each enriched in some small way by the encounter. Come to think of it, had communication been easier, I would have actually gotten an ice cream shake that night instead of the sundae – which would have prevented me from receiving that shiny 2-tone Panamanian Balboa in change.

We tried very hard to pull as little as possible out of our suitcases, but it seemed that there was always something else we needed, so we were constantly sorting through all four cases to find some elusive item or another. Clearly we could have done a better job of organizing the cases before we left Ohio. By bedtime, there was clutter spread from one end of the room to the other, and it was obvious that we’d have to do some serious repacking in the morning. DD had brought her clock to handle iPod recharging duties, as well as offer a large night-time digital display for us both. She struggled a bit trying to figure out how to handle the time change before giving up and doing the mental adjustment for setting the alarm. Unfortunately it wasn’t her finest hour (pun intended) and I awoke at 4:40 a.m. to the happy verses of Dancing Queen.

The day dawned bright and early … OK, so at 3 a.m. it was bright somewhere – Iceland perhaps. Here in Cleveland it was just early. But neither of us cared. The long wait was over, and my DD and I were about to set out on our long-awaited trip.

You know those people who say that “life is a journey, not a destination”? They have never cruised. The ship is a destination, filled with excitement and life. And that Saturday morning, I was focused on all the connections that were going to have to come off smoothly to reach that destination. Every one of those connections was looming in my mind as a stress point. The journey to get to the ship was fraught with the possibility of a break-down in any of those connections which could prevent us from making it to our destination. As the day unfolded and each connection was made along the way, I could feel a little bit of stress slipping away. DD, of course, felt no stress. Just recently turned 18, the biggest stress she was anticipating was the reality that she would have to turn off her cell phone for 11 days. [Gasp!]

Promptly at 4 a.m. the neighbor across the street put his car in gear and began backing down his drive and into mine. Of course, I’d had my nose glued to the window for several minutes previously until I saw him emerge from the house. Admittedly, it would have been a nice touch if I had gone over there and helped him scrape the frost off the car windows … but that might have made me look too eager. (That’s my story and I’m sticking with it.) As we loaded up the car, we secretly enjoyed how cold we were in those light jackets, because we knew we’d be basking in 85+ degree temperatures by early afternoon.

It was a quick ride to the airport and we were soon opening our brand new passports for inspection and check-in. Naturally, neither of us had remembered to sign them so I had to dig out a pen while the airline hostess watched in amusement. It was clearly a pretty common blunder. The two pieces of luggage were checked in without charges, due to the fact that this was an international flight. That was a nice plus.

The TSA people have apparently been though some customer service training lately and the process was cordial, as well as efficient. I’ve always wondered why the Americans who choose to fly are supposed to accept the Gestapo demeanor that airport security personified for so long. Hopefully things are improving in that arena.

As we moved through security we chatted with the folks nearby and it was no surprise to find that many of them were heading off for Easter Break Get-aways with their kids – Disney World, Aruba, Martinique, Hawaii. Do our kids realize how lucky they are? I had never even boarded a plane until I was grown and on my own. The guy headed to Hawaii commented that his childhood involved trips to places you could drive to. Yep! That was my dad, too! See America by the car – from the car. And don’t stop, especially if it’s on the other side of the road. I have lots of pictures of scenic America … taken from the car window at 70 MPH.

We stopped at Dunkin Donuts for a breakfast sandwich, since I was relatively certain there wouldn’t be anything of substance offered on the flight to Houston. I also bought a glazed donut for good measure. While donuts are available on board ship, I knew they wouldn’t be quite the same caliber as these and I needed one for the road.

DD settled down at the gate to await departure, while I walked the concourse. Once they started boarding, I wandered a little farther away to buy a drink for the flight. This little gambit had the happy side effect of stressing my DD, who had frankly been far too stress-free up until that moment. I don’t understand the big hurry to get on board a plane, unless you’ve managed to secure comfortable first class seating. The spaciousness of the concourse is a far nicer place to spend your time than in the standard seats of a rather large plane. But I returned to the gate, ignored her peevish tongue-lashing and joined the line of people who were inching their way through the jetway and down the aisles to our seats in the back. The flight was full, so I tucked in my elbows, pulled out my puzzle book and settled in for the flight to Houston. The plane took off on time and my stress level dropped considerably. We had less than an hour to change planes in Houston and a delay of any consequence would have been a huge issue. It was a smooth flight and we were treated to the view of the sunrise from 30,000+ feet. It’s always interesting to try and pick out features of the land from this height and we were both pretty sure we identified the Mississippi River late into the flight … then we saw it again … and again. Either it does an awful lot of twisting or the country boasts some imposter rivers under the flight path of Cleveland-Houston plane. The pilot must have had a hot date in Houston because we were advised during the final approach that we would be at the gate ten minutes early. As the plane coasted over the runway, DD commented that it was the smoothest landing she’d ever experienced. “We aren’t down yet,” I replied. And then there was a bump and a jolt to prove my point. “Now we’re down.” I’m sure she appreciated my wit, but was too cool to admit it. We checked our tickets for the next flight and found that we would be leaving from E12. As the plane taxied toward Terminal C I noted to the guy next to me that we were passing E12, “Can I get off here?” He laughed and reached up to pull an imaginary cable “Ding!” he said. Wow! Does that ever take me back! I thought the gesture was lost on my DD, but she would later tell me she knew all about it. But it left me wondering … do they still have those cables on city buses? Everybody drives cars now and the buses tool around the city empty (your subsidiaries funding public transportation), so who knows?

We deplaned without issue and started the trek to E12. I made an initial guess of a half mile walk, and if 2000 steps really is approximately one mile, then I was close … it was just over 900 steps. Boarding was already in process, so there was no time to buy any additional provisions. In very short order, we were aboard, stowing our carry-ons and settling into seats that boasted a TV on the back of the seat in front of you. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were giving headsets away for free, which was such a nice touch. My delusional euphoria persisted until I found the on-button for the TV and discovered that the airline had no intention of overlooking a potential revenue stream. There was a credit card swipe slot available and a repetitious ad running to advise you that it was only $7.99 per passenger to be able to spend the duration of the flight plugged in and duly entertained. This strains the bounds of credulity – if I decided to forgo watching those films four months ago when they were on the big screen, why would a $2 discount entice me to watch them on a screen the size of a Kindle?

It is important at this point in time to witness that gut-wrenching moment when the American teenage girl has to sever her lifeline to her boyfriend … the cell phone was turned off and she didn’t start twitching at all. I was so proud of her.

On this flight there were a number of empty seats and we were delighted to discover that no one would be seated in the aisle seat. I quickly moved over when they closed the cabin door and we were able to spread out and enjoy a bit of breathing room. My stuff went on the floor between us and once we were airborne, DD turned sideways to curl up on two seats and fall asleep. I pulled out my embroidery to pass the time.

About an hour into the flight I got another surprise … free breakfast … in coach! I’m not sure if this was due to this being an international flight, but it was a welcome sight. I was pretty hungry by this time and the bagged hot omelet in a pita was not as bad as I thought it would be. The fruit was actually very fresh and pretty tasty. There was a muffin, too, but the less said about that item, the better. Let’s just chalk this up to “2 out of 3 ain’t bad”. I topped it off with an uninspired cup of lukewarm coffee in a Styrofoam cup – always a treat.

DD caught about 45 minutes of sleep and then woke up to a cold breakfast. She actually put away half the pita omelet (and she later delivered a scalding criticism of how awful it was) and 2 grapes – then hit our stash of food. Fruit snacks, munchies and mini cookies would have to do to hold her until we could get a decent lunch.

I borrowed her iPod, since mine had apparently played to the interior of my purse all night and seemed to be powerless. How interesting! I’ve heard plenty of the music she has on her iPod, and there’s some stuff on there I really like. However, I found that I was skipping thru 5 or 6 songs before I got to something I was interested in. I hit a couple of fun pieces and tested my ability to embarrass her by dancing in my seat. It was very effective, but I decided not to push it, given that I risked having her repossess the music machine.

An hour outside of Panama, they began to pass out forms that we would need for customs. I’ll pause here to point out that my past includes a fair number of years designing mundane forms. I tend, as a result, to be rather critical of forms in general. Rule Number One: Make the boxes big enough to put a legible symbol in it. These forms were apparently designed by someone who was told that paper was being rationed and they would have to fit everything on a 4 x 6 index card. Tiny boxes to put in your name and passport number, too many boxes for the hotel phone number, too short of a line for the hotel name and address … in general I was rather confused by what they really wanted. What is my destination country? For one night, it’s Panama, but my real destination is the Grandeur. And no one was available to ask if I should admit to bringing Lay’s chips into the country, so I held off on checking any of those boxes. I forged ahead with what I could figure out, such as the easy stuff like birth date. But then after reading the fine print (English was in very, very fine print) I found that I had mixed up month and day. Corrections are not permitted, so I had to start all over again with a new form. I finally decided to leave all the destination stuff blank and ask them at Customs what I should put on the paper. Of course, DD had not had a problem with the birth date thing, and she clearly felt ridiculously superior about her achievement.

The clouds gave way a bit as we neared the airport and we had a clear view of the Pacific locks of the Panama Canal from the air. I was terribly excited. Never in my life had I ever identified this as one of the places I would visit some day and it was a thrill to think I’d actually come here. There was a ship entering the locks and dozens of ships clustered in the bay apparently waiting their turn. I’d read several books about the canal in the last few months, so I had a deep appreciation for the incredible series of events that had occurred to make this canal a reality. DD graciously allowed me my enthusiastic moment, although she is far too young to appreciate what she is privileged enough to be able to visit. As we glided through the sky above the Miraflores Locks you would think that I would have thought to dig out my camera and get some of those incredible pictures that exist only in my mind now (after all, I have extensive on-the-fly photographic experience from my childhood vacations with dad). But I was so busy drinking in the details of the scene below that it wouldn’t be until I went through the pictures later on my camera that I noted I’d left one of the most memorable moments of the journey to the ship unshot.

The clouds closed in again as we made our final approach and when the plane touched down it was pouring rain. The plane didn’t taxi very far before we’d reached the gate. I was focused on collecting my stuff and I didn’t really take in my surroundings much, but I have to say that I would look back later and be amazed at just how small that airport was. It was a rather short walk from where we deplaned to Customs. We found that arriving passengers were to head right, while returning passengers were to head left. The signs were in both Spanish and English, so I was lulled into a false sense of security that language was not going to be an issue at Customs. There were only a few people in front of us and I passed the wait trying to anticipate which Customs agent would be the easiest to work with. It was not a happy moment when our turn came and we were directed to the agent who had just rejected someone and sent him off with a man in uniform. To make matters worse, we found that she didn’t have much of a comfort level with English (did I mention that my grasp of Spanish doesn’t progress much farther than “Gracias” and “Por Favor”?). This rather humorless woman poured over our passports and then wanted to see our papers regarding where we were going. I produced the hotel confirmation email and she kept snapping at me about “one night”. DD commented on how pretty her earrings were and the woman clearly didn’t understand a word of what had been said. I pulled out the travel docs for the two cruises and she poured over them intently. I tried asking questions about how to fill out the forms, but she waved off my questions and kept leafing through the papers. By this time, I was convinced she didn’t have a clue what she was looking at. If she couldn’t carry on a conversation in English, it’s pretty hard to believe she could read it. She finally decided she had made a big enough show of studying the papers and she shoved them back at me. She grabbed her rubber stamp to do that Hollywood style double-slam on the ink pad and then whacked out passports with gusto. We were then waved us on to the next formality. Grateful that I hadn’t been handed over to the Reject Officer, I collected everything and headed for the groups of folks who were manning a diagnostic machine of some sort. I handed the incomplete forms to the woman at the desk and tried to ask about how I was to finish filling them out. She grabbed the form, flipped it over and made a couple of x’s. Then she pushed it back to me, brusquely noting that I needed to sign and date it. I did so and she just kept repeating that we needed to put all of our luggage through the machine. Dutifully, we followed directions and then went around to the other side to collect them. At that point we turned and discovered we’d arrived at the point where people were holding signs for those who’d made arrangements for a ride. I was dazed. Clearly, we’d just been processed without much form or substance to the operation. For the record, I doubt that the missing hotel phone number was going to set of international alarms, but I worried about the unanswered questions about whether I was smuggling in fruit, pets or food. I had at least a half dozen breakfast bars, several packets of fruit snacks and a large canister of Lays Stax clearly sticking out of my carry-all.

I had arranged with My Friend Mario for transportation to the hotel. I had read a fair number of posts that said he gets great reviews, but he’s hard to contact. I can attest to the “Hard to contact” part. It was two weeks before he responded to my multiple emails to set up arrangements. But I was being open-minded and convinced that he would have followed through once he’d committed to the transaction. There were at least a half dozen transportation services holding signs near the door to the taxies. Every sign had somebody’s name on it, but none of them were mine. I looked twice to be sure. Well, I’m not going to waste any more time on this guy and I wouldn’t recommend anyone else do so either. I turned and headed over to the taxies and asked them what the fare was to the Toscana Inn Hotel. Guess what? It was only a dollar more than Mario had quoted me. Having made sure that both the taxi manager and the driver confirmed the rate, we loaded up and headed off for Panama City. At this point the stress was virtually gone. Having made it this far, the rest was clear sailing. If your ground transportation gets screwed up, you have options. You don’t have that kind of flexibility with your air arrangements.

The rain had quit before we emerged from the terminal, so we had a good view of the surrounding countryside as the taxi sped along the roads. I was a bit surprised that the blacktop road with ill-defined shoulders was the main route to the city. I wasn’t even sure it was a two-lane road. The taxi driver did an apologetic shrug early in the ride to let us know that he couldn’t speak English, so we were left to our own devices to interpret what we saw along the way.

There is a considerable amount of rural countryside to pass through before you actually start crossing the mudflats along the shore that lead to the city. As we closed on the city, we saw the first set of distant skyscrapers. Shortly afterward we saw another cluster of them. The vegetation thinned and we found that the road was set on a causeway at this point. It was pretty clear from the nature of the waves on the ocean that it’s incredibly shallow for quite a ways out to sea. But it was the city itself that captured our attention. I don’t think I’ve ever seen another city like it. With no vegetation on either side of the taxi, the viewer sees a skyline consisting of multiple clusters of pencil-thin skyscrapers separated by vast tracts of low profile buildings. I tried to pick out the biggest cluster in my effort to determine where the center of town was located, but I’m not sure I figured it out. I’ve wandered the streets of a fair number of major U.S. cities, fascinated by the different forms of architecture that they contain, but the one thing they seem to have in common is a solid street presence. Here in Panama, I got the sense that the architectural mindset was completely different. Either the builders had been unable to secure a sizeable number of adjoining properties for their project or they had set out to construct a building where everyone gets a corner office. As for the low profile buildings, there seemed to be a great many residential developments ranging from upscale same-style condo types to corrugated steel roof shantytowns where the most significant feature was the sea of satellite dishes on the roofs.

Our taxi driver had assured us he knew where the Toscana Inn Hotel was and we soon turned off onto a series of side streets that felt like the kind of area just a few blocks off Waikiki Beach. It was a mix of small hotels, local restaurants, and residential properties. The driver pulled up to one of the hotels and consulted with the doorman, because he clearly had us in the right church, but the wrong pew. It turned out that our hotel was only a few blocks away and we were soon unloading our luggage and the doorman was assisting us into the lobby.

My DD and I have taken a cruise every two years since she was 8. This year, I let her pick the itinerary, since she is 18 and this is probably our last cruise together. She chose the Grandeur out of Colon. We booked the April 8th sailing back in November and two months later, I decided to upgrade from a balcony to a Grand Suite. I sat back and waited for her to stumble on that little tidbit while looking at documents, but she never did.

So if you're interested in a frank evaluation of what a Spanish immersion cruise is like, sit back and enjoy the ride ...

Worried? Not hardly.

Curious? Oh yes.

I have to believe there's a great deal of truth in Mark_k's belief that Miami levies higher fees; we've certainly heard plenty about how much the longshoremen make to load the ship. And Miami is a very nicely developed port. I haven't been to Colon yet, but I suspect I'll find it is rather like a freight terminal used for passenger ships on occasion.

If memory serves, I was refunded about $80 in port fees when we couldn't go ashore in Grand Caymen. That was for two people. It appeared as four separate credits for some reason, two for each person. A seven night cruise with four ports. Not really sure how they calculate it.

Interesting ... If Grand Cayman is charging RCI $40 per passenger just to allow people to come ashore and spend money there, doesn't that strike you as odd? I associate the concept of port fees with expenses that the port has to incur to provide facilities to docking ships. The key word there is "docking". There is no pier in Grand Cayman, so they charge $40 per person for a cruise ship to anchor off-shore. What a racket!

Port fees consist of this mysterious number that gets added to your total and I've always wondered where they come up with such a random number. Is anyone in the know about how they figure it?

I thought there was probably a set amount per port that got added, depending on what the local port authority assessed the cruise line ... I just wasn't sure if that was a cost per passenger or a cost per ship. My guess now is that it might be per ship, and they divide it by number of expected passengers. I'm coming up with that because the port fees/taxes for my 3-day comes to 68.43/pp (2 ports - Colon and Miami), while the 7-day cruise prior to that is just 58.15/pp (4 stops in addition to RT Colon). I'm guessing that's because the 3-day repo isn't selling well, so they have to spread it out among fewer passengers. I'm guessing someone's asked this before, so somebody should have some insight.

Inquiring minds want to know.

If you are trying to redeem points why not just call the Royal Rewards Dept.?

1-888-305-4626

I got this far reading this thread and I just keep shaking my head. I followed your advice last night CF and it was a 5-minute process. I generally look for way to avoid using balky web sites. Phone numbers are a wonderful thing. Thank you for the info ... saves me a lot of stress.

Well there is more than 1 set of locks. You'll have to figure out if you have the time to visit the Gatun Locks, near Colon; or the Miraflores locks near Panama City. There's also the smaller Pedro Miguel locks.

 

Which city are you staying in on that Saturday night?

We'll be in Panama City Saturday night.

Not sure how I missed the link ... thank you.

Has anyone used MarIvy for a Cartagena tour? I see she gets top billing on TripAdvisor, but I didn't find anything that told me how to contact her for more information.

Thank you both for your responses. I'd still like to try a Segway tour, but this may not be the right locale from what I'm seeing. I do want to actually tour some of the buildings, not do a drive-by. DD is pushing for a different tour, so I guess I'll have to re-think this.

I have a full transit booked with Mario on March 10th. I will try to remember to post a review here when I get back.

I'll be interested in your review. We'll have several weeks left before we leave by the time you get back, and I just can't make up my mind about how to manage my Panama time. We get in about 2:00 on Saturday and head for the ship on Sunday. The following Sunday, we'll be going through a reboarding process for the 3-day cruise to Miami, but we have till 3 before she sails, so I'm thinking taht's the best time to visit the locks.

There's certainly no time in there to do a full transit, and not sure a partial transit is important to me either (altho DD is interested). But I absolutely want to visit the locks.

I suspect it's cheaper than Bingo and looks like more fun.

Has anyone done the Segway tour? I've always wanted to try one of these.

I'm sorry for your loss. It must give you great comfort to be allowed to honor their memory in this way. I am deeply touched by your story. Thank you for sharing this moment.

I can't imagine a better place to have as your final resting place. I have told my DD that after I pass, she is to take her brother and sister on one last cruise with my ashes to the Caribbean ... and leave me behind. I've set aside one life insurance policy to fund their cruise.