It’s 11:04 AM and I am somewhat confused as to what happened already today. I will try my best to summarize all of it.
I waited for 30 minutes until my Agent accountant to print up a lot of copies of B/L Pro Forma. They stamped it and I took my car to get it inspected through the gates. That cost $6. I don’t know how many people I got it inspected by, but by a lot. But it was a quick inspection, no one gave me a hard time about anything, never had to take anything out. Along the way, they took a couple of the B/L Pro Forma copies with them.
Then I drove it all the way down the port and up the ramp on the left hand side, where they quickly inspected it again. They took a B/L Pro Forma copy here as well. Everything was fine and dandy on that side as well, and they said I need to buy a sign to put on the container because the gasoline is flammable. So I hitched a ride back to Seaboard Marine (you can’t walk down the port where the containers are being moved), and bought a huge sticker sign that said “WARNING. May contain explosive mixtures with air. Keep Ignition sources away when opening.” That cost $5.25. I hitched a ride back again, and talked with Edmond, the chief loader who helped me drive the car into the container. At first someone else was going to drive it in, but they were saying that the car’s too wide and the guy, being fairly chunky, won’t be able to get out once the car is in. I left the car keys on the door and left.
I hitched a ride back to the entrance of the port. It was the third time the driver took me for a ride, and he asked me if I can get him a coke for his troubles. I obliged happily. This wasn’t some random guy walking up to me for a ride. I was glad he was able to give me a ride, and all he wanted was a coke for breakfast.
All that took 2 hours, but not being able to understand what most people were saying was the hardest part. Now I just gotta catch my flight to Catagena, Colombia, where supposedly, it’s even harder than what I had to do in Panama.
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Of course, as soon as I wrote that and went outside to use the internet, I got robbed. It was about 12:05PM.
The internet place was closed, so I turned around, heading back to the hotel. I was then shoved into an alleyway, and 2 young black men, no more than 20 years old, were on top of me. They started shouting something in Spanish I didn’t understand. One of them ripped off my money belt, and started running immediately. The other one followed, and I started running after them. They ran up this heap of trash and around upstairs to an apartment complex. I went into a couple places where they may have gone into, to no avail. I did, however, surprise a few people in their apartments with their doors open.
I ran out, hoping someone caught a glimpse of the guys and could lead me to the right direction or something. Considering all of this happened in broad daylight, I was hoping for some help. But no such luck. I run to the nearest cop car which isn’t even that far away, and tell him I’ve been robbed. He calls for backup, and a pickup truck comes and takes me to the police station.
This was quite possibly more frustrating than the robbery itself. No one in the police force apparently speaks any English. I walk up to the front counter, which isn’t much, and they ask me the same questions everyone else would ask: What is your name, your age, and citizenship? That’s pretty much it. And they wrote it all in a piece of paper, surely to be lost in a heap of other unnecessary mess, similar in stature to what an old used up telephone record book would look like.
None of them spoke English, so I somehow kept going up the chain. Asking me the same old questions, telling me that they don’t speak English, telling me to sit down, wait. One guy wants me to make a phone call on a payphone, fully knowing I just got robbed. More than a few people start laughing at my demise. Somehow, I ended up in the chief of police’s office. He had some couches and a laptop with a large desk, but nothing too fancy. I asked and he wrote down his name along with his title, Mayor Carlos Delgado’s. I must have looked surprised because then he said, “What do you think?”
I left after a few phone calls to the embassy, which was closed due to the 4th of July. But that police station… it was so pathetic, for a city that size. I was there for almost 2 hours, and got no official paperwork done, and was laughed at and ridiculed, and forced to wait to use a payphone with absolutely no computers or any electronic equipment other than phones and radios.
Inside was my Passport, Driver’s License, Fidelity Credit Card, Bank of America ATM Card, 2 Gig memory stick, about $30 in cash, and $200 in traveler’s checks. After a visit to the Police and the Seaboard Marine, I immediately cancelled the Fidelity Credit Card and my Bank of America card. So I didn’t really lose too much, except my Passport obviously.
But see, I lost a lot more than just my passport and some $30 today. A lot more. I lost every respect for Panama. This country is falling apart, and they can’t seem to be able to fix it. I can barely go by a couple seconds before I hear honking on the streets. I just… I don’t know. I haven’t hated a city before, not in Africa, Middle East, Eruope, Korea or in the states. I hate Colon. And minus the Canals, which isn’t even a Panamanian invention, I hate Panama.
I also lost my sense of objective to help the world, a sort of self imposed obligation. I always thought there was more to life than simply going about my own business, looking after myself. I always felt like I needed to strive higher for the sake of a community at large or the general population outside of the United States. This experience has, almost thankfully, freed me from my own sense of obligation to this world. Which means that I’m not going to be pressuring myself to strive for something great. I will settle for a good, stable job and a loving family in a quaint suburban house. Along the way, hopefully I get to help out my family. It’s not my fault if a particular group of people cannot help their own country.
Tomorrow, I need to call the US Embassy and see what my options are. Explain them my situaion and ask them 1) Can I continue to travel by my vehicle? 2) How long would it take? 3) If I do get a new passport, how the hell is Colombia going to accept an American citizen without an entrance stamp from Panama into Colombia from a Panamian Airport?
You know why they should ban guns in these countries? Because without so much as a respectable Police force and a civilized society, it’d be total chaos.
Scam #1
Couple scams already. The mechanic Van had told me he’d be back here by 6:30PM tonight. I gave him $10 to go to Panama City and find out about possibly going to Cartagena and traveling abroad. He never returned.
Scam #2
The other one involves tonight. On one of my first days here, I had met a skinny old man on a bicycle, telling me in good English that he makes his living by helping foreigners. He actually did know one of the shipping companies that I hadn’t gone into that shipped cars overseas. I run into him again today and tell him my situation. He immediately says, I know who, and says he can get it for me. I don’t hear from him, but when I go out to the restaurant across the street to get some water, he says, ‘there’s the guy I’ve been looking for.’ He asks me what and where it all happened and tells me not to worry about it. He calls me downstairs of the hotel after about an hour, telling me he’s the investigator and wants to talk to me downstairs. He says that he talked to some of the guys where it all happened and that one of the guys actually saw it all happen and knows exactly who it is who did it. But he will only tell the ‘investigator’ for $5. I give him the $5 and he takes off, telling me to relax, watch some tv and just wait for him to call again.
$5 is a risk I’m willing to take, but I’m just tired of the scams here. Even the entrance into the country was one of the worst things that could happen to any traveler. And now all of this. I highly doubt I will be coming back to Colon or Panama, at least not by myself.
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Colon is a city that harbors a world which I will never know or want my family to know.
I am tired of waiting, and just tired overall. I’ve had a full day, getting my car in a 20 foot container at the port, getting robbed, spending a couple hours at the police station to no avail, canceling my credit cards, and asking a few people I had gotten to know about the robbery.
Juan is the name of the guy on the bike that knew the contacts. At around 9PM, I try and go to sleep, watching Carlie and the Chocolate Factory. I turn the TV off, and try to fall asleep but I’m not so much tired as I am just stressed. At this point, I’m doubting every lead I may have had in getting my passport back. About an hour and a half after I gave him the $5, he calls me downstairs. I slowly walk down, fairly skeptical about the chances of finding a passport in the middle of the second largest city in Panama.
He’s sitting next to a guy (probably in his late teens) in an orange polo shirt, which reminds me of a guy in the orange shirt that robbed me. But he’s too skinny to have robbed me. I let it go, and after some time, he explains to me that he wants $60. Juan translates somewhat, says that Edgar, the boy in orange, took a great risk by telling the guys that took my money at gunpoint that he wants the money belt or else. That he’s not a bad guy, he just knows all the bad guys. At this point, all Edgar has told me is that he has what I’m looking for and that he wants $60. I ask what for, I want to see what he has. Juan’s sitting down on the bench with him, and says Edgar’s got a tiny green bag. Inside is my torn up money belt. Inside is my passport. I am overjoyed. I can continue on my journey without having to wonder what if.
They took my some $30 in cash, the $200 in traveler’s checks, my 2 GB memory stick, and even my phone card from Panama.
Meanwhile, my Scam #1 comes back from Panama City, and walks in. He’s spent some of my $10 I gave him for the trip to the embassy at the bar. He’s a little out of touch. Juan thinks he’s attacking me for a bit and puts his whole skinny old body in front of mine. I tell him it’s ok, he’s Vans (Spelled Van), I know him. I tell them that I’m going up I go upstairs and gather up some cash. To make it look all legit, I bring down $60 in 20s, and another $12 for Juan. Little do they know I have about a grand in cash upstairs in my room, to pay for the shipment of the car tomorrow.
I also brought down a camera and took pictures of both Juan and Edgar. Both of them give me a hug, and Juan says I look like a different person now. Edgar even offers me to call up a taxi for me when I leave Colon. I tell him I need one on Friday monring, so he writes down his phone number. They leave soon thereafter, and Vans and I start talking. A couple of the ladies that work the hotel are listening in, and we talk about how they were probably all in the scam. Vans is pissed off that he wasn’t there to protect me, to tell me which streets to take and how to be more careful. The ladies say I should have gone upstairs to get part of the money, call the police, and stall the guys a little bit. But I tell them that I wanted absolutely no cops to be involved. Some of them may be dirty. And I knew that both Juan and Edgar had connections. Which meant that someone that could do me more than a bodily harm would very well know where I was staying for the night if something happened to either one of them. I didn’t want to take that risk. There’s almost a secret society of mobs, gangs, and just bad people, and Juan and/or Edgar probably went to each one asking for information. I’m sure a lot of the $60 is being divided among several very happy mobsters. For some reason, I wouldn’t be surprised if the original robbers get a hefty share in that as well.
Vans says he did go to the city, and they need to fax some paperwork to Guiana and need to wait for some word to come back on Friday. He’s going to come get me downstairs to look out for me. My throat was congested the entire afternoon and evening following the robbery.