Month: February 2026

Whilst Panama is much, much more than the canal, you don’t come to Panama without it being a priority. And today that priority began with a visit to the Panama Canal Museum. But let’s rewind a bit first…

After a very pleasant afternoon/evening wandering around the historical heart of Panama City, I returned to my hostal thinking to take a refreshing shower prior to hitting the hay. But there was no water. A confusing, contradictory little sign hinted at water outages, but not at the hour I was wanting it. Hence, I went to bed without said shower planning on having one in the morning. Then around 5am a staff member came into my room, obviously looking for somewhere to crash, and left apologetically upon discovering the room was occupied. On awaking again and ready for my morning shower I discovered this elusive liquid was again off the menu. Upon enquiry, I was told that the water was out for the entire block and was provided with a couple of large containers of drinking water to have a slosh with. I waited it out for a while to see if the water came back on, but ended up having to use the bottled water.

Somewhat disgruntled, I found an overpriced cafe to brunch in prior to my Museum visit. Two cups of strong coffee restored my mood and fortified me for what ended up being an exceptional museum experience. Museo del Canal Interoceánico de Panamá is located in what originally was the poshest hotel in Panama circa 1875, which then became the headquarters for the French attempt at building the Canal. When the French eventually fobbed the canal off to the US, the building continued to be the Canal headquarters until the US moved their operations closer to the Canal itself. The Panamanian Government took it over until it was eventually restored in the 90s to become the world class museum it is today.

Two floors of air conditioned bliss starts the story right from the beginning when the idea of building a canal through Central America was first mooted. It then covers first the French attempt, then the subsequent American takeover and completion of the project. Historic artefacts and a fairly honest appraisal of the racism and cultural inequities were on full display. The story didn’t just end there though. With the Panama Canal a US territory, due to a deal agreed to by the respective governments of the day, a push for the Canal to be returned to the Panamanian people was rapidly gaining traction. This was ratified by both governments in 1977 to take effect in 1999.

In the meantime though, the US decided its former CIA puppet and Panamanian dictator, General Manuel Noriega, was persona non grata. So they did what they are famous for: attacked the country to remove its head. Only Noriega evaded capture by seeking refuge in the Holy See Diplomatic Mission. So the US employed what was without a doubt the most ingenious way to weasel him out. Noriega was an opera lover who detested rock music. The US set up a barrage of industrial speakers and blasted heavy rock and metal music around the clock for several days until he couldn’t stand it any longer and surrendered.

I had messaged Mike earlier in the day to let him know I was at the museum and had arranged to meet in the Square afterwards. We were going to go for a walk but as it was later than anticipated, decided on a bar crawl instead. A detour to my hostel to see if the water was back on, led me to confirm that my room was indeed not at all secure as I proved by opening the locked door with a nail file. And there was still no water. I only had one more night there so decided to suck it up and move on the following day.

My new travel buddy doesn’t do mornings if he can help it, so it was a delayed start heading to the ‘Big Smoke’. But the delay was most certainly worth it. If I thought it was spectacular heading up to El Valle from the east, it was completely spellbinding heading back down towards the west. The spine of Panama, the Cordillera Central, rises abruptly from near the Pacific coast in this region resulting in a narrow, tightly winding road traversing its steep slopes to gradually descend to the flatlands below. Alpine summits loftily cast deep shadows into valleys cut hundreds of metres beneath them. And the vista as our little minivan trundled along was as panoramic as it was magnificent.

All too soon though, we were back down coasting along the coastline. Well, near enough to it; the Pan American Highway a stark contrast to the tight mountain road which led to it. From here on, it was a speedy traverse on to Panama City. But not before we crossed the world famous Panama Canal on the majestic Bridge of the Americas. To the north, you could see shipping coming down the canal having just completed a tightly scripted 8-10 hour journey from the Caribbean. To the south were a myriad of shipping anchored waiting for their turn to traverse in the other direction. The busy Port of Panama City lay immediately in the southern foreground.

Mike and I stayed on the minibus until it reached its terminus at the Albrook Transport Centre. I had found a cheap hostel online in the old part of Panama City, while Mike had booked something way more salubrious in Amador near the canal. We lunched together at the modern mall next to the terminal, then Mike organised an Uber, dropping me off at my new digs along the way. With a promise to let him know what I was up to the following day, I bid him farewell and checked into my hostel.

Hostel Casa Relic was one of those hostels which sound amazing and just the ticket online, but fail miserably and spectacularly in reality. As I could get a private room for just a few dollars a night more than a dorm bed, I went for that option, paying for two nights. My amiable host showed me to a dank, windowless room with an unmade bed someone had clearly been sleeping in. I checked out the female dorm room and it didn’t have a window either. There was also only one female bathroom which contained the only toilet, however, I was assured I was the only female staying at the moment so it wouldn’t be a problem. I decided to stick with the private room, sourced clean bed linen, then went out in search of beer.

The hostel manager saw that I was interested in the heritage of the building and happily offered to give me a guided tour. Built in 1688, the building is one of the oldest in the now World Heritage Listed Site. Casco Viejo was established in 1673 after the original capital was attacked by that devastatingly dashing privateer, Henry Morgan and his motley maritime mates. Rather than hand over the loot to that moustachioed monster, the City Mayor decided to torch the place to the ground. Hence, a new city site was needed after the pesky pirates sulkily retreated from whence they came. Casco Viejo was the result two years later.

Casco Viejo is also where the Panamanian President resides and has his offices. In amongst crumbling ruins, superbly renovated buildings, cozy plazas and what seemed like a cathedral on every corner, Casco Viejo is certainly a juxtaposition of architectural saviour and decay. With the Presidential Palace and associated buildings carefully carved out from public access and tightly guarded.

After a wander through the cobbled streets and exploring Casco’s many narrow streets and alleys, it was time to find a sunset bar for cocktails and something to eat. This I discovered hidden at the rear of one of the many souvenir shops lining Casco’s thoroughfares. The bar, though small, opened out to an uninterrupted view of the black sand, tidal beach surrounding Casco’s peninsula. A perfect way to finish off my first day in the Panama’s capital.

Woke to find the street dogs that came back with us the previous evening had made themselves very comfortable over night. Cushions were scattered on the floor with one dog curled up on one, and another stretched out on the main couch. They didn’t budge an inch when I came out of my room which led me to believe it wasn’t their first such campaign.

El Valle’s most famous (and hence most popular…) hike is the India Domida; sleeping Indian. According to legend, a young Indian woman had the hots for a conquistador but papa said, “No way, Jose!!” So she topped herself. A formation that creepily looks like Sleeping Beauty is said to have resulted from her demise. I personally think it was one of those warning fables to ward young Indian ladies away from the skanky Spanish. As no self-respecting Indian chief wanted a Jose for a son-in-law.

I had heard that the India Domida trail was crawling with the town’s youngsters wanting to make a coin or two ‘guiding’ tourists. And that the trail itself was crawling with tourists. That was enough for me to look elsewhere for the day’s activity. I found a waterfall circuit hike on Komoot with a bonus offshoot up the caldera slope for a view of India Domida.

The trail took me to the outskirts of the tiny village that is El Valle and straight out of town. Almost immediately, I was now passing enormous estates with stately casas primarily built with expat coin; El Valle, being the Shangri-La for many US (and other) retirees. The road gently sloped around the southern side of the now extinct caldera which I was skirting to reach the waterfall.

I met a couple of girls who were heading on a climb which took in my planned offshoot up the caldera slope. It turned out I had met their aunts the day before when I arrived in town so we got chatting as we ascended the steep caldera slope. Unfortunately, the clouds were descending in full force so visibility of the India Domida was all but obscured, but it was still a magical view of the caldera floor and surrounding slopes. I left the girls to continue their hike up the caldera slope and made my way back down to rejoin where I had left my waterfall hike.

It would seem that the person whose land this hike detoured through had had enough of randoms trespassing and had erected fencing and signage demanding a cease and desist. Disappointed, but with no option but to retrace my steps back to the outskirts of town where I picked up the main road heading out which would take me to the waterfall.

Again, the universe appeared to conspire against me as I eventually reached my destination to find it closed with a barricade stating no entry. Just as I was about to turn around (again…), a couple rocked up and told me they had just crossed the barricade and went in themselves and that there was another family who had done the same. I decided to risk it and climbed over the barricade myself to walk down to the small river the waterfall was on.

A series of low cascades led to where the waterfall was further downstream, however, there wasn’t a path. To get to the waterfall, one had to rock hop over slick boulders on the edge of the cascades and hope for the best. As it was getting late and my knee was stiff from being punished, I decided not to venture any further. It was disappointing not to see the waterfall, but I had had an interesting hike nonetheless.

Back in town, I had a well-earned shower and changed ready to meet the girls I had met on the trail and their aunts for cocktails and dinner. Their hotel neighbour was also with them and as we were both heading to Panama City the following day, arranged to meet for coffee and breakfast the following morning prior to catching the bus.