just passing through guayaquil

*** 2/26/17

it's 8:30pm and i'm currently in the city of guayaquil inside a cuban piano bar on the outer rim of las peñas district. i just finished a 2-hour trek surveying the countless steps and dim lit alleyways of las peñas, which let me just say are countless. it's easy dismiss these alleyways as only just such; these are the front door porches of the people who live in these favela like mounds of cinderblock and rebar, which at that moment i was intruding. kids and young lovers conducted their business as i interjected my dark and sweaty mass of flesh through their world, but thankfully my parents taught me my native tongue and even though the years have chipped away at it, it still manages to get the job done.

i'm glad i made it to the top of las peñas because this club negra would've tasted a little less satisfying. why am i in guayaquil? funny story, i'm already supposed to be in galapagos but being the smart that i am, i booked myself on a flight with a 20 minute connection. did i mention that i was a smart man? deep down i knew that i probably wasn't going to going make it but thought why not give it a shot. that's been kind of my mantra most of my life and it doesn't seem like i'll be letting it go anytime soon. 

well, it seems like the mediocre piano player is getting warmed up now and with that i hold up my glass. 

what would become of him

the world he knew changed. he wasnt quite sure how but it was gone.

back then impulse and desperation had a strong hold of the boy and as the jubilee of his decision finally settled he felt the sting of a very obvious conclusion.
the morning after he walked inside a post office and handed a pair of 2x2 portraits along with a form. he stood and he waited as the agent lazily inspected and shuffled the forms.
"ok, everything's here." the boy's jaw relaxed and breath returned to him.
he was a few steps towards the exit when the agent hollered "expect your passport in about a month" his spirit was crushed, you could see it on his shoulder; the weight of everything he was fleeing from, all of it on him pressing down. 
the next two weeks a popcorn ceiling and a rusted mailbox syndicated themselves in the life of the boy. he somehow managed to come up with the extra cash to get things expedited but deep down he knew there'd be no guarantee. again and once again he was left at the mercy of his Creator.  

he woke up late one cold january morning 2 days before the big day. the popcorn ceiling looked the same and he was afraid the mailbox would give him a similar greeting. he was at the front door when his mother stopped him; she handed him the envelope not knowing if her son would ever return    

the motherland will have to wait

in this crazy economy, who in their right mind would ever voluntary choose a three month leave of absence? that would be me. especially when someone(like me) works for a company like virgin america who lets their employees keep full flight benefits.

so what does a person do with a blank boarding pass? he gets scared, lands a job at a restaurant and forfeits the gypsy lifestyle.
ok, not quite entirely. did i mention i'm in panama?

panama city, panama is a trip! pun unintended. separated by six hours of flight time, panama originally was merely going serve as our launch pad to the long awaited return to the motherland aka cuba. long story short: it didn't quite happen like that due to the complicated mess of the us embargo. but thanks to the helpful tips of jesus -the friendly copa ticket agent- i will definitely be giving it another go in the near future.
but in the meantime, with no plans, no reservations, and with quite an empty working knowledge of panama, what does one do? he smiles a hails a cab.

save the headache and do yourself a favor, grab a taxi. the cab scene didn't seem like it was dominated by bureaucratic bullshit like in bigger airports. these panamanian cabs come in different size and colors. you'll prob get hit up for a ride as soon as you walk past the terminal so poker faces on people and let the haggling begin.

the cab driver charged us $18 for both my buddy phillip and i. it took us about 40-60 minutes to get to the city from PTY airport. traffic was miserable. with all of the pretty shiny skyscrapers, you would think that panama city would buy into the concept of infrastructure; nope.

having an unlocked smartphone comes to be super handy in times like these. while in traffic, i looked up hostels and hotels nearby. we found some but all were booked so the cab driver brought us to hotel terra nova, which in panama translates into prostitute central.
we paid the cab, grabbed our room key, and just like that we were in the heart of it.

the night scene is pretty lively, nothing crazy. just your typical clubs on one side of the street, gentlemen's club on the other, a schwerma shack in the middle, and a pub at the end of it. i hit that schwerma shack hard. then went to that pub called the londoner and had some of the local brew. after, we tried walking into this locals looking club/bar called "ashe" but the tall black panamanian demanded money. he did let us chill in their patio and have a few more brews. in the midst of it all, a parade of scantily cladded women walked in and out of the classy establishment, with customers hand in hand. kinda sad to watch but it is the oldest profession in the world. business was good

in between then and now, we ditched the hotel for a hostel a few blocks away. and now perched up on top of my bunkbed i lay awake with my faithfull ipad while phillip snores his hangover away. what can i say about panama city? i can't say much honestly. from the little i've seen i feel like this place has alot to say. there are so many different shades of skin, slant of eyes, width of hips, that really has me wondering how they all came to be here. but with all those variances, the panamanian people are warm, welcoming, and friendly, which is why i'll be coming back again.