At last, I are here! The descent into Panama City is both beautiful and intense. We come in from the northern, Atlantic side of Panama, instantly confronted by lush mountains. Quickly we descend into the clouds, not sure where exactly the mountains below may be. We emerge from the clouds screaming low over the southern beaches on the Pacific side of the country. We pull a hard bank to the right, revealing Panama City’s skyline and at least 20 huge tankers milling about the harbor, waiting to get into the canal. We come out of the turn not 20 meters above the ground and quickly touch down at Tocumen Panama airport.

After breezing through a rather unorganized customs area (the customs guards just talk amongst themselves and don’t even look at their x-ray machines) we are met by Jon, a driver for the Gamboa Resort and take off in a Toyota Landcruiser. Panama City is by no means third world, just an odd mix of shanty shacks and glistening LG neon signs and Blockbuster Video stores, kind of like a tropical Saugus, with just as much hair product.

We careen up the 2 lane road that runs along the canal. Jon nearly rams an oncoming truck head on while watching a plane fly over. If I hadn’t said “Um, Hello!” This entry might not be coming to you at all.

Gamboa Resort is crazy. It’s a huge sprawling 5-star resort that smells of mildew yet has a fantastic marble bathroom in each room. As much as I admire the opulence, there is no way I could stay here for the duration. It is full of Anglo retirees and feels very corporate and stale. They do have a kick-ass ping-pong center going, which piques my ex-frat boy beer pong curiosity.

Much to my pleasure, the Patriots game is on TV, albeit in dubbed espanol which is actually really fun. It’s snowing back there in Boston, it looks pre-taped to me because it’s about 89 degrees and sweltering here.

As for wildlife, I have seen but one agouti. Unfortunately he was smushed on the road. Perhaps tomorrow on BCI I will see something more 3D.

Special notes: Mom, the rose petal bath is $50, and so is the Cleopatra Bath “based on milk & honey.” What, like the John Lennon/Yoko Ono album? An homage?

Also, Hispanic girls are beautiful, I should date one. Oh wait, I do, nice!